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| Earrings & Perfume | |
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| Topic Started: Jun 10 2012, 10:20 AM (669 Views) | |
| Shamma | Jun 10 2012, 10:20 AM Post #1 |
ain't never scared
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The Artist dabbed a brush delicately on her palette, being careful not to blend any of the colours available to her. The board in her hand was organised, the array of colour sectioned off to their own areas in neat blobs, only slight smears beside the blue and green offsetting the orderly display. These pastes had already been utilised in her artwork, and with satisfactory results; a great artist knew what she wanted when practicing her colours and the subject had reacted as expected. No piece of work was ever complete though, that was another thing a great artist knew, that was why she concluded that the experiments were only satisfactory. To set a ceiling of mediocrity would be disastrous. The soft yellow this time. She turned to her canvas, though it was no ordinary paper sheet spread over a flat surface. The object she painted a man, and in no great way did she decorate him. There was a dab of faded blue on his hand and remnants of the green paste on his upper lip, she took the tip of her paint brush and drew a line beneath the blue on the top of his hand, being careful not to administer too much of the substance. The Artist was confident in her work but still knew being cautious was for the best, her knowledge came from books rather than experience and there was every chance she had created some lethal poison rather than the other debilitating effects intended. If she killed this test subject, they might not pay out his full worth at the bounty office. Pulling the brush away, the artist with her face half covered by a green scarf rested the palette on the side table and waited. She thought Noctis as an unwilling test subject, only putting up with her experiments because of a shared understanding they had; if he resisted, Feyris’ death was assured. The brat did not have to be in the same room as them for that to be certain, Clover had already displayed her sniping prowess and possessed greater knowledge of the Maple Orcher than the pair of her captives. They had been allowed to roam freely around the ship, anywhere but her room. There was no means of escape, so why constrain them to a single room? It would be more difficult to contain them once they reached land, but she would only need to care for Noctis’ location at that point. They were nearing a large island according to the intermittent shouting of the brat out on deck, meaning her experiments would end with this paint, she would have to test the red another time. Clover waited for a change in his gaze. That was usually the first point of reaction to her chemicals. “How do you feel?” The Sniper asked with a mechanical ring. She was stubborn despite Noctis displaying explicit knowledge of her true gender, even creating a voice muffling device to wear beneath her scarf so she could not be caught out when faking a lower tone. Spoiler: click to toggle
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| AngelMayLaugh | Jun 13 2012, 05:41 AM Post #2 |
OPRP's Antagonist
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Things were sucking rather hard for our hero, Noctis Campesinos. He had been captured by some... well he wasn't too sure, but from what he had gathered, it was most likely a female bounty hunter that was currently holding him and his companion hostage. She had captured the two back on Labourado by using cowardly tactics and throwing coins at him. The pirate would have been able to pummel her into the ground had she been a male, but unfortunately for him, he was about ninety percent sure that his captor's gender was female. Noctis followed a strict code that was passed down to him from his father to never hit a woman. No matter what they did to him, he should never even raise a hand to them. That was the sole reason why Noctis's mom, a former bounty hunter, was able to catch his father, a former pirate. His captor was currently using him as a canvas for her painting... if it could even be called that. He wasn't looking, so he had no idea if she was merely doing this to mess with him and make him angry or if she really was trying to make him into a work of art. Noctis assumed the latter. The young man really had no say in the matter and couldn't object to being painted in fear that his captor, who established herself as an amazing sniper when they first met, would kill his friend. The paint that she was painting him with was a bit odd. Being a former carpenter, he was no stranger to paint, but the paint that she was using gave off a smell different from those that he used in his carpentry days. "I feel just fine," he said in a low tone after shifting his eyes downwards. Noctis wasn't sure if it was the the weird paint or if he was coming to grips with the crummy situation that he was in, but a feeling of anxiety started swelling up within him. "Y-You're not going to hurt Feyris, right? I'll do anything you say, so please just don't hurt her." The pirate had given this line to his captor before, but a feeling of fear within him told him to reiterate to make sure that Feyris would be free from harm. A single bead of sweat dripped down from off his head. He bowed his head to not let her see the nervousness that had been slowly overtaking his face. Though with her sharp, sniper eyes, he was sure that she'd catch the expression on his face as soon as he so much as twitched. While Noctis was being paint-tortured, Feyris was out on deck, looking out at the island that the ship was fast-approaching, Alabasta. She was calling out to Noctis below, telling him that they were approaching near land, though he was too occupied with being painted and nervous to pay much attention to exactly what she was saying. The girl wasn't in as compromising a situation as Noctis, having no bounty on her head, but she was somewhat worried for the safety of her companion. "This bitch better let us go soon, or I'll burn her ass to the ground," she thought to herself with an angry expression. The time the two had spent on the ship had been mostly used for planning an escape that didn't involve hurting their captor once they landed on the island. |
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| Shamma | Jun 18 2012, 01:33 PM Post #3 |
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ain't never scared
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((o u posted)) The change did not take long to occur. She noticed a quiver in his eye before he broke contact, a clear suggestion that her chemicals were taken a swift effect. Her nod of approval was held back till she was certain the switch of mood had been triggered. His hesitancy of tone and words earned the sharp bob of her head, an action the nervous male did not comprehend as he stared at the floor. Clover shifted her foot so the single sweat drop did not land on her boot. That was all the time she could afford to experiment unfortunately. This test subject would likely not be her canvas again in the future, the island they were heading towards had to hold some kind of Marine Outpost where she could hand him over for the bounty. Noctis Campesinos had a 32,250,000 beli price tag to his name, a high value for such a simple target to capture; perhaps the Marines had not known of his crippling weakness when his brat companion was threatened. Setting down her palette of paints on the central table, the Sniper glanced towards the half opened door that lead out onto the deck; beneath the scarf she frowned at the raving of her other captive. The brat was too loud for her liking, Clover would be glad to be rid of her once Noctis was handed over to the authorities. Returning her attentions to the table, the marksman picked up the pair of wristbows resting neatly on the edge. She pulled up her sleeves to attach each to the metal casing around her forearm, a click and sensation in her mind confirming they were operational. She had been as stubborn with her clothing as her voice, dressing heavily daily to avoid any insinuations that had thus far not been too forthcoming from the wanted bounty. The same could not be said of the brat... but Clover had found herself able to tune out the repetitive whining on the other female unless she really started screeching. Her preferred green, gray and black garbs were hidden beneath a dusty, ragged cloak that had long since lost its original colour; the Sniper made a mental note to replace it soon for fear that her pockets would soon start leaking bolts in the midsts of combat. “Steer the ship.” Clover commanded in her tinny voice. She could see the nearing land through the windows, a long stretch of sand interrupted only by the edges of civilisation further down the shoreline. The cloaked female had never sailed a ship in her life, being fortunate enough to always have some sort of lackey to do the deed for her; the prisoner served this role well enough, having even complained about them abandoning his old ship on Labourado Island. Captives whined about the weirdest things sometimes... The Sniper stepped outside into the heat of the sun, ignoring the presence of the brat so she could observe the docking process. Clover had her suspicions that the moment they docked, the pair would try something to get away from her... she was prepared for such an attempt though. There had been one last item on the table that she had taken, the long range crossbow that nearly matched her own height was slung on her back; if they tried to run, they would not get very far. |
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| AngelMayLaugh | Jun 22 2012, 10:34 AM Post #4 |
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OPRP's Antagonist
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"O-Okay," Noctis said just loud enough to be heard by the woman, though his eyes were still averted, looking down at the floor. When she had left him alone, the pirate sighed heavily. The sigh didn't work as well as he thought it would. A lot of the anxiety that he had been having stuck, and didn't leave when his captor exited. The young man sat there in the chair for a few extra minutes, just waiting to see if the woman would return. When she didn't, he got up from the chair that he sat in and headed towards the door. The pirate was very cautious while walking around, which struck him as odd because he hadn't been that nervous other times walking through the ship before. After arriving onto the deck, he spotted his companion, Feyris. The pirate called her over to his side, so they could talk in private, outside of earshot of the cloaked painter. "Feyris! Y-You're okay right? That woman didn't do anything to you?" The small scientist scoffed at the question. "Of course not. I would have burned her and her boat down if share dared to hit me!" The pirate used his sleeve to wipe away the nervous sweat that was on his forehead. "That's good. I'm glad that your're okay. I'm going to steer the ship or something, stick with me for the time being." Noctis could not shake the fear that their captor would try to do something to the girl if he wasn't around. The two went up the stairs of the observation area on the ship, where the wheel was located. Noctis, though really tense, did his best to steer the ship without messing up. His nervousness and the heat of the sun doubled the amount of sweat on his person. As the ship inched closer and closer to the island, the docks, the ships, the people and the structures on the island became clearer. If not for the whole 'being held hostage' thing, the pirate would have enjoyed the scenery much more. When the sip was close enough, the nervous scholar let go of the wheel and moved to lower the sails. While lowering the sails, he kept his eyes going back and forth from Feyris and the sniper to make sure the latter wouldn't try anything. As slowly drifted into the docks, a strong aroma bombarded the nose of the pirate. "Perfume?" he asked himself as he sniffed the air trying to grasp the scent. The amount of different smells in the overwhelmed Noctis' nose and he could not place a finger, or nostril rather, on just one scent. He sighed as he made a hand gesture towards Feyris. "I-I guess If I have to be turned in somewhere, it's good that it's in a place that smells so good," he muttered aloud to himself. The pink-haired scientist walked a few meters behind the raven-haired pirate as he moved to exit the ship. He, of course, walked at a slow pace so that his captor wouldn't think he was trying to escape and harm his companion in turn. The scholar glanced at the sniper a few times before quickly shifting his gaze to the ground each time. The feeling that she'd pull something just couldn't be shaken. |
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| Nary | Jun 24 2012, 07:51 AM Post #5 |
Artsy Lurker
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OOC: Hope you don't mind Fran waking up. Somewhere deep within the wooden annals of the Maple Orcher one could hear a low breathing sound if one were to listen carefully, the sound of a man deep, deep in slumber. Following the sound down under the hollow interiors of the great ship, it would appear as if it had been an eternity since this ship had seen anyone walk its dusty corridors. Gone were the days where the jovial laughter of a once mighty crew echo through the hallways, the annoyed shouting, the hammering of wooden tiles to patch up broken hulls, all that remained was an eerie silence which bellowed from time to time. While most would feel that someone or something dwelt along the corridors, the real culprit was located up above the deck in a meagre room beside the kitchen. Inside, an almost lifeless man lie silently in his room where only the occasional drop from an iv attached to his arm would break the silence. Fran’s room was kept decent and functional to a point, it seemed that the only surviving member of the renowned Artisans pirates who went by the name ‘Tinman’ or ‘Boss’ took care of the navigator while he hibernated. Very uncharacteristically of the mysterious masked man, but it was not as if any of the previous members knew anything of ‘Tinman’, well except for the drunkard, Galles. Time seemed rather irrelevant to the sleeping Fran who for the first time in ages began to open his eyes. His lips felt dry and his throat was parched beyond dryness. Slowly, he sat up surveying his own room. It was pretty much the same as he remembered it, the slight smell of motor oil and steel ran pungent, his tools were neatly kept inside the drawers and his worktable was still filled with plans for remodelling his cybernetic arm. Strands of light seeped between the blinds of his windows revealing the time of day it was to the navigator. Pulling the iv drip off his remaining arm, Fran got up albeit stumbling momentarily to his desk scattering his plans to the floor. He felt weak despite of having a body which was akin to a tank. With wobbly arms Fran stood back up and stammered to the front door. Grabbing the door knob he twists it open and a blast of fresh sea air immediately rushed into his room. The bright golden rays of the sun flared ever so brightly against Fran’s eyes that he had to raise his arm in order to shield it from its glorious rays. “Urgh… where are we?” As soon as his eyes had adjusted to the light, clear blue skies welcomed the semi-dead man back to the world of the living. But as soon as the realization that he alive and well kicked in hunger soon knocked in his doorsteps. Leaving the deck and entering the room right next to him, Fran waltzed in the kitchen and marched right into the fridge where he allowed himself to wolf down as much food and drink he could stomach to help recuperate his lifeless body back to its usual tanky self. “urgh… I feel like I haven’t eaten in ages…” |
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Fran C. 'Bull-Skull' Osgrave • Artisan Pirates • Navigator/Chef • Bounty: 57,000,000 • SD Earned: 208 • Beli: 78,800,000 • Location: Grand Line Strength: 55 / Speed: 30 / Stamina: 118 / Accuracy: 35 / Fortune: 55 Jager 'Hitman' Foon • ??? • Chef/Assassin • Threat: 30 • SD Earned: 187 • Beli: 58, 200,000 • Location: Blues Strength: 101 / Speed: 40 / Stamina: 30 / Accuracy: 50 / Fortune: 51 Cobalt Cross • Merchant/Weapon Specialist • Rank: Lieutenant • SD Earned: 102 • Beli: 17,755,000 • Location: Blues Strength: 53 / Speed: 24 / Stamina: 30 / Accuracy: 30 / Fortune: 33 | |
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| Shamma | Jun 26 2012, 03:31 PM Post #6 |
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ain't never scared
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Looking across the shore line, Clover did not spy the emblem she was seeking. The blue crest of the Marines had often been the first thing she noticed whenever entering a dock by sea, though this trend had been disrupted by her visit to Labourado Island and now seemed equally vacant on this land. What little she knew of the World Government contradicted this bizarre sequence; the soldiers of the law often boasted of their widespread power across the seas so it made little sense that they could visit two islands in a row that did not have a Marine presence. Perhaps they were more subtle the deeper into the Grandline one sailed, there were as dangerous criminal elements that roamed these seas and to provoke an attack by promoting their presence was probably against the peace keeping agenda. That reasoning alone gave her reason to not demand they depart at once. The Sniper allowed her captive duo to take the lead towards the edge of the boat so she could keep full sight of them. The wanted man kept looking in her direction, swift glances that betrayed his nerves in the situation; Clover nudged the hefty crossbow on her back to remind him of the reason for his panic. She did not follow straight away though. Something irked the green haired enigma. It was nothing in her eye line, she had already scoped out threats and saw few that would really cause her issues. The bothersome thing was a sound and it came from the Maple Orcher rather than the shore, a deep groaning and creak of wood as some great weight rolled and lumbered about. There was a large shadow moving around in that room. The Marksman’s frown persisted as the creature lurched out of window view, it was not just another of his spasms, the oaf had actually woken finally. He could not have picked a worse time. “Stop.” Clover ordered to the pair attempting to disembark. It would only end horribly if she left the former Artisan navigator to his own devices on the ship whilst delivering Noctis. He was too stupid, too unpredictable for her to maintain a peace of mind when handing over the bounty head, better she keep him near to regulate his actions. After All, his last moments of consciousness before the long slumber had been a mad man’s frenzy. She glared at the pair to make sure they understood, attempting to instill that last piece of authority through fear before turning her direct attention away. Clover paced across the deck to stand in the doorway to the upper hub, spotting the thing hunched in the kitchen area by the refrigerator. Fran was a grotesque sloppy eater on a normal diet, when starved for weeks it took a new uglier form, the Sniper’s frown turned to a grimaced as he chomped on some week old meat. “You.” Her new voice, metallic due to the device over her mouth, would probably be alien to the Navigator though the authoritative tone would be unmistakable. “Stop eating. We're leaving." The first command was merely a request of decency; if not for the Sniper's cool demeanor, she may have been shaken by the pig-like manner Fran guzzled his food. The latter was to keep him out of trouble, perhaps even invest in what little bounty the World Government would even place on his head. It was shame her old helmet had been lost, he would be worth so much more under the guise of Metaleye. |
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| AngelMayLaugh | Jun 29 2012, 12:20 PM Post #7 |
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OPRP's Antagonist
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Noctis and Feyris slowed their pace significantly when asked by the green-haired terror. "What the hell is going on now, you green haired witch?" Feyris asked aloud in an annoyed tone. A vein pulsated on the scientist's forehead, hidden by the pink bangs on her head. Both the man and woman recieved an 'intimidating' glare, before their captor turned her attention elsewhere. "Why I oughta-" Noctis nervously placed his hand on the girl's shoulder to calm her down and stop her from doing anything rash. "I-I don't think that's s-such a good idea," he barely said. The small girl turned around and gripped Noctis by the collar. "It was exactly this cowardice that got us caught in the first place, moron!" she yelled at a surprisingly low volume. The two laid their eyes on what the female sniper was talking to in her mechanical voice. It was some weird-looking guy in the kitchen. He was stuffing his face with. what looked like, whatever he could place his hands on. "Wh-who do you think that is, Feyris?" the pirate asked as they both looked on at the odd sight. The sniper seemed to talk to this new guy just liked they talked to the scholar-scientist duo, in the same short, blunt and authoritative tone. It really got on Feyris' nerves that someone would dare to speak to her in that way. "Maybe it's her lover?" Feyris said to Noctis aloud, but really said it for their captor to hear her. The pink-haired scientist smiled devilishly in the sniper's direction before turning away and acting like she hadn't said anything. |
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| Nary | Jul 1 2012, 02:55 AM Post #8 |
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Artsy Lurker
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Fran’s cheeks were stuffed with food as he made quick work of the contents of the refrigerator. The food tasted funny for some reason, but the famished navigator figured it might just be his taste buds being ‘out of tune’ for not being able to eat for god knows how long, probably. Besides, it was not as if he was deliberately eating poison or something of the sort. When your stomach is drop dead empty, thinking and logic seemed to instantly vanish into thin air. As he wolfed down slabs of meat at a time, Fran had failed to notice a mysteriously cloaked figure that had entered the kitchen doors. The cloaked figure then suddenly spoke, in a kind of robotic voice, along with a vaguely familiar speech pattern. Fran stopped devouring the rest of the spoiled meat he had on his hand to check the source of this mechanical voice. The owner of the voice had short green hair and a pair of very judgmental eyes, piercing Fran's very soul, along with a muffler which went around the masked figure’s mouth and neck, hiding a good portion of his or her face. Fran gave a suspicious glare at this green-haired person. “So, who are you supposed to be?” asked Fran as he continued to gobble up the remainder of the meat he had in hand, then he took a second look at the guy, “You do look oddly familiar, have we met before? You know, being an Artisan has gotten me into a lot of adventures, yeah they were the good ‘ol times, when… when…” Fran stopped after realizing the current situation of the Artisans, unless it was some messed up dream he woke from, Allen and the rest of the Artisans were gone, Fran broke into tears once more. He flailed his hands around smashing steel pots and kettles off the table. “THEY”RE GONE!!!! Huhuhuhuhuhu, GONE!!! WHY DID IT ALL HAVE TO HAPPEN? WHY COULDN”T IT HAVE BEEN TINMAN INSTEAD?” Yes, all of the members of the Artisnas were gone, save for Fran the awesomest and handsomest navigator over this side of Grand Line and the masked menace, ‘Tinman’ Fran stopped. ‘Tinman’, he sobered down a little and took a quick glimpse of the green haired person. “You…” There was something that made the scarfed guy vaguely familiar to Fran, he couldn’t lay a finger on it before but now, with the mention of ‘Tinman’ it all seemed to fit together nicely. “You… that scarf and the way you always look down on me, you’re ‘Tinman’ aren’t you?” Edited by Nary, Jul 3 2012, 04:49 AM.
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Fran C. 'Bull-Skull' Osgrave • Artisan Pirates • Navigator/Chef • Bounty: 57,000,000 • SD Earned: 208 • Beli: 78,800,000 • Location: Grand Line Strength: 55 / Speed: 30 / Stamina: 118 / Accuracy: 35 / Fortune: 55 Jager 'Hitman' Foon • ??? • Chef/Assassin • Threat: 30 • SD Earned: 187 • Beli: 58, 200,000 • Location: Blues Strength: 101 / Speed: 40 / Stamina: 30 / Accuracy: 50 / Fortune: 51 Cobalt Cross • Merchant/Weapon Specialist • Rank: Lieutenant • SD Earned: 102 • Beli: 17,755,000 • Location: Blues Strength: 53 / Speed: 24 / Stamina: 30 / Accuracy: 30 / Fortune: 33 | |
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| Shamma | Jul 4 2012, 10:47 AM Post #9 |
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ain't never scared
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The Artisan Pirates had been the most annoying things in the world. Most of them anyway. Aside from one of their number, Clover was glad she had been rid of nearly all of them during the Rust Pit Explosion and progressed on a largely peaceful voyage across the Grand Line. Those episodes of frustration when surrounded by neanderthals could never be topped surely, on a few hopeful days the markswoman had even wondered if nothing would ever disturb her in the same manner again. She was a cold and composed individual, also a quick learner but these particular lessons never did set in; Clover never acquired the ability to tolerate stupidity and irritations to a normal extent. It took very little to annoy her. Her ‘associates’ were doing a whole lot of stuff to aggravate her. Between the loud taunts of the brat prisoner and the awoken Navigator causing a commotion, the Sniper felt a red mist forming on the very peripherals of her consciousness, threatening to descend at any moment and cause a massacre. To stay calm under sustained pestering was impossible, to allow herself to go into a frenzy would only create problems; instead Clover opted for the next best thing. She lashed out a little. The enigma flicked her wrist towards the captive duo from the doorway, a signal they no doubt knew followed by the click of her wristbow as she fired a bolt. It was not to kill, not even to maim, only deter the little brat from piping up for a short while and would fly between the prisoners unless they panicked and tumbled into it. She did it all with only a glance, her main intention was to instill some discipline into the one person on this boat that might be leaving the desert island with her. “That’s not my name.” She snapped. The voice muffler scrambled the sentence towards the end, the Sniper had raised her voice and pushed the simplistic device to its limit. A static buzz persisted as she stepped inside, both eyes glaring down her nose at the imbecile in the kitchen. She hated that ‘Tinman’ name, it felt like a demeaning insult to her, it probably was judging by the way the moron declared his wish that she had died instead of the crew. Did he think he was being clever by calling her that? Her hand snapped up the wooden palette from the table. Her carefully sectioned scheme for each paint seemed not to matter at that moment. She cared only that the palette was disc like and would hurt; Fran deserved more than just a warning arrow past his ear, that thick skull needed actual pain to know when it was overstepping the mark. The Sniper lifted the palette and then threw it straight, her wrist flicking at the last moment to add spin to the projectile as it flew at Fran’s dumb face. Clover had not accounted for how well the paint stuck to the flying board, the cocktail of colours would be a secondary infliction should physical contact be made. All the paints
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| AngelMayLaugh | Jul 6 2012, 09:41 AM Post #10 |
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OPRP's Antagonist
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The pink-haired scientist shut her trap at light speed after the projectile sped past her face. He wasn't completely sure, but Noctis could have sworn that he had heard a random bird get taken out behind them. Both scholar and scientist gulped as they stood there silently. "I-uh..." the pirate decided to not say anything and just watched as the sniper turned her attention to the one rummaging the food and drinks and the kitchen. Feyris moved closer to Noctis while their captor's attention was occupied. "We should make a break for it while the lovers are quarreling! Think about it! She's fast but not that fast." The raven-haired pirate shook his head, dismissing the idea. "She doesn't have to be fast, just accurate with her weapon." Feyris pouted but eventually shut up. Noctis looked on as the painter bombarded the glutton with a barrage of different paints. The scholar thought that he had had it bad just being painted yellow, but this new guy gotten pretty much every color thrown at him. "O-ouch," Noctis winced. For a mere moment, scholar was glad that he wasn't that guy's shoes, but then remembered that he was about to be turned in to the marines for his bounty. "Geez," he said to himself with a mild hint of depression in his tone. Getting turned over to the marines was in the top five of his list of things that he really did not want to experience in his lifetime. The scholar-scientist duo went to go take a seat on the railing and watch as the scene unfolded. Surely the gluttonous man raiding the fridge would not take such an assault lying down. "Maybe they'll kill each other and then we can take over the ship? I wouldn't mind tying the 'tinman' witch to the bottom of the ship and having her near-drown twice a day," Feyris whispered to Noctis. |
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| Nary | Jul 7 2012, 06:45 AM Post #11 |
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Artsy Lurker
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As soon as Fran announced his deduction of the green-haired fellow’s identity, the guy almost immediately denied it with a stern and cold mechanical tone, bringing an absolute end to any further absurdities that the navigator could conjure from this mind. But that did not stop Fran from devouring what was left of the refrigerator, he simply kept on going and going, until he felt a multitude of wet paint-like substances cling onto the left part of his face, followed by a jolt of pain from the wooden palette which ‘Tinman’ had just thrown. The pain Fran received from the wooden dick didn’t hurt as much as ‘Tinman’ wanted it to hurt, on the other hand, it took a couple of seconds for the effects of the paints to kick in, however due to the mixing and mashing of all the colors from ‘Tinman’s’ palette, the effects of each individual color seemed to have been greatly diminished. The navigator felt a slight feeling of uneasiness, something akin to fear but at the same time felt a bit stupefied and aroused at the same time. He stopped for a moment, trying to clear his head to sort out what he was feeling. After wiping the paint off his face, Fran stood up, annoyed by who he was treated by ‘Tinman’ He pointed towards the scarfed fellow, “Now I’m quite sure you ARE Tinman, what’d you do that for? Besides, you’re not the boss of me.” Fran paused for a while, “Whatever, you better be grateful I’m feeling ait under the weather of I would have kicked your ass as far as kingdom come!” Gruntingly, Fran moved out of the kitchen and out into the deck where he, for the first time saw the dark-haired, Noctis and the little firecracker, Feyris. “Hmmm… I haven’t seen you two before? Are you two by any chance new members of the ARTISANS?” asked Fran in delight. |
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Fran C. 'Bull-Skull' Osgrave • Artisan Pirates • Navigator/Chef • Bounty: 57,000,000 • SD Earned: 208 • Beli: 78,800,000 • Location: Grand Line Strength: 55 / Speed: 30 / Stamina: 118 / Accuracy: 35 / Fortune: 55 Jager 'Hitman' Foon • ??? • Chef/Assassin • Threat: 30 • SD Earned: 187 • Beli: 58, 200,000 • Location: Blues Strength: 101 / Speed: 40 / Stamina: 30 / Accuracy: 50 / Fortune: 51 Cobalt Cross • Merchant/Weapon Specialist • Rank: Lieutenant • SD Earned: 102 • Beli: 17,755,000 • Location: Blues Strength: 53 / Speed: 24 / Stamina: 30 / Accuracy: 30 / Fortune: 33 | |
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| Shamma | Jul 9 2012, 11:16 AM Post #12 |
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ain't never scared
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((“The pain Fran received from the wooden dick didn’t hurt as much” what)) It appeared the docile and depressed Fran she had found useful no longer existed. In an undeniable display of ignorance, the Navigator cast his true colours after taking the palette to the head. That the concoctions lining the board took barely any effect on him made Clover wonder if he was simply too stupid to express the emotions they were meant to induce. Perhaps mixing them had weakened their strength, she would remember that in the future when utilising them in a combat situation. Clover stood still as the moron rebelled, returning the looks he gave her with the a-typical fierce glare. He dared to call her that name again! Even held the imbecilic notion that she was indebt to him, did he truly believe that he had somehow magically nursed himself back to full health? The idiot owed her his life and could start by expressing some gratitude and respect! The Sniper had already lashed out though, to go further would be against her intended nature as an aloof and precise individual. So she continued to glare in angry disapproval as he walked towards her, making sure that he had to shove past her in some form if he wanted to leave the kitchen. And he did. Clover couldn’t believe it as the oaf dared to step past her, the pair of them knocking shoulders and her weaker frame being unable to stop him getting by. Her eyes widened as he went by, unsure what to make of this sudden confidence Fran had achieved when interacting with her; he was meant to be a coward! Perhaps he had lost a few more brain cells and become oblivious to the consequences of his actions. She turned to stop him, but she had spent a few seconds too long fuming at his defiance. Already the buffoon was outside, grinning stupidly and running his mouth at her pair of captives. She could hardly blame him for mentioning the former crew, but she wanted to blame him anyway. To blurt out the name of a dead crew like that could jeopardize her attempt to be free of the bounty placed on Metaleye, even with the helmet long gone, Clover was still paranoid that her crimes might still be linked to her somehow. She hoped building a reputation capturing Pirates would prevent any of those former crimes being found out, but if Fran was going to drag skeletons out of the closet at every moment, he would have to go. The Sniper darted towards the oaf suddenly, her movements momentarily faster than anyone on the ship could comprehend as she appeared next to Fran, remembering the numerous wounds she had stitched up for him since the Labourado island rampage. There was a particular large scar on his outer thigh that she remembered, and drove her cybernetic knee into with full force in order to shut him up. Her attention turned to the captive pair after striking the idiot, seeking any comprehension they might have gained from his words. “Ignore him, he’s stupid.” She explained, though it sounded more like a demand. It would be easier to keep Fran apart from them in retrospect, even if he messed up the ship, at least she wouldn’t have to deal with an investigation into her past. “Now move.” Clover snapped at the duo, intending to follow. “And don’t try anything.” |
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Characters srsly guise
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| AngelMayLaugh | Jul 9 2012, 07:35 PM Post #13 |
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OPRP's Antagonist
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The effects of the yellow fumes that had seeped into his system earlier seemed to have been wearing off and the scholar was returning to his old self. The anxiety seemed to have flown away and was probably caught in the middle of the squabble between the Tinman and the glutton and got destroyed. Both Noctis and Feyris were surprised to see the gluttonous shrug off the sniper and walk up to them. Though the man seemed to have a little too much of energy, his eyes seemed sleepy and half-opened up close. The two looked at one another and then turned their stares back to the man. "The Artisans?" they asked in almost-perfect unison. Noctis, being ignorant of other crews, and Feyris, not giving two shits about pirates or the news at all, had no idea what the man was talking about when he mentioned that word. "I don't think so..." The scholar wasn't so sure that this new guy was friends with his captor. His tone was rather friendly and he seemed a bit wild which was a stark personality contrast with the green haired woman. "Well, I'm Noctis and that's-" before the pirate could introduced his pink-haired companion, he found that the man that he was speaking to was being attacked by the sniper. Noctis quickly pulled Feyris to his side to protect her. "What an unfriendly bitch," Feyris sighed beneath her breath to Noctis. The duo were about to move to help the man who had just been unreasonably assaulted, but found themselves ushered off of the boat by the assaulter. Walking down the steps, Feyris stuck close to Noctis and the two whispered to one another out of the sniper's earshot. "Are we still going to do that?" she asked as the stepped onto the wooden dock. Noctis stole a glance of the sniper, making sure that she wasn't privy to what they were discussing. "Yeah. I just need to find an opening. Maybe if that guy comes along with us, we can have him help us. He seems cool." The scientist nodded in agreement as she looked backwards to see if the man in question was following. While looking back, she took the opportunity to shoot a very quick glare at the mechanical-voiced woman. The sweet smells of the different perfumes reminded Noctis of his mother's dresser. It was always loaded with thousands of fragrances. As the duo stepped off of the wooden docks and onto a paved walkway, they noticed the perfumes became even stronger instantly; the aroma went from a nice smell to a choking gas. Feyris coughed heavily and then covered her nose. The pink-haired girl's eyes started to well up from the overwhelming mixes. "What the hell!? Do something about this, green bean!" the scientist turned and shouted to their captor. "I refused to be captured with my nose in such horrible confusion!" Edit
Edited by AngelMayLaugh, Jul 13 2012, 07:55 PM.
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| Nary | Jul 12 2012, 04:50 AM Post #14 |
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Artsy Lurker
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Apparently, the two newcomers onboard the Maple Orcher weren't new recruits to revitalize the Artisan Pirates. However, the bigger surprise was the fact that the two had utterly no idea who or what the Artisans were, given thier short-lived infamy along with thier rookie status on Grand Line waters, Fran thought it was kinda logical. But still, it hurt a little bit to know that the once promising crew of up-and-coming pirates were buried deep under Davy Jone's locker. All good things were bound to end one way or another, it just happened that the Artisans had to end earlier than anyone of the crew expected. After a short moment of silence to commemorate those wonder days, Fran quickly returned to his usual self, "Well, for starters, the Artisans are the awesomest, baddest, most powerful crew there ever was." The navigator puffed his chest out, pround to know he was once a member of the said crew. "I'm sure you two would eventually want to joi-" 'Tinman' drove a very cheap shot towards Fran's wound. "AURGHOWWWRGHTYGGGGGG!!! THAT HURTS!!!", Fran grabbed his thigh and began jumping around in circles, writhing in pain at the same time. The pain felt like a massive burning sensation slowly creeping up his thigh, spreading throughtout the rest of his body, like a wildfire eating through grass and wood, bringing everything down within it's path. The pain was so great that even the almighty Fran was sent to his knees to endure the pain until it went away. As 'Tinman' commanded Noctis and Feyris down the docks, the two suddenly were assaulted by what seemed to be a mix of gasses. Willing his body to stand back up through the pain in his thigh, Fran winced towards his room where he rummaged through his belongings until he found a large fan besides his worktable. He grabbed the giant fan he had named 'Amihan'. Hurriedly, Fran returned outside where the gas was still slowly creeping up the area. With a single might stroke, Fran cast a powerful gust of wind which repelled the overpowering smell away from the ship, pushing it aside for a while. Fran ran down the dock to check up on the two rookies. "Are you two alright?" |
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Fran C. 'Bull-Skull' Osgrave • Artisan Pirates • Navigator/Chef • Bounty: 57,000,000 • SD Earned: 208 • Beli: 78,800,000 • Location: Grand Line Strength: 55 / Speed: 30 / Stamina: 118 / Accuracy: 35 / Fortune: 55 Jager 'Hitman' Foon • ??? • Chef/Assassin • Threat: 30 • SD Earned: 187 • Beli: 58, 200,000 • Location: Blues Strength: 101 / Speed: 40 / Stamina: 30 / Accuracy: 50 / Fortune: 51 Cobalt Cross • Merchant/Weapon Specialist • Rank: Lieutenant • SD Earned: 102 • Beli: 17,755,000 • Location: Blues Strength: 53 / Speed: 24 / Stamina: 30 / Accuracy: 30 / Fortune: 33 | |
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| Shamma | Jul 13 2012, 08:22 AM Post #15 |
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ain't never scared
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Neither captive seemed any wiser after the babblings of a moron, which was always going to be the most likely outcome of that scenario. Still, paranoia kept a wary mind on edge and at its sharpest. Clover made sure to hurry them on with a gesture of her wristbows before rolling the sleeves to conceal the weapons, and then hiding her arms beneath the layers of her heavy cloak. A distance needed to be created in the time Fran was wailing on the floor in order to confuse the oaf. The male claimed to be a Navigator but Clover was quite positive simply being out of eyesight would cause the wretch to become confused and lost. The Sniper typically paid more attention to what she could see above all else. Often the shoreline of an island was powdered with long stretches of sand, but this particular place appeared to hold much larger beaches than most. The sand was also a darker hue, as one walked in land despite salt had been darker and dirtier from all the inhabitants trampling over it but this was not quite the same. It seemed more like dust. In town, the sand was more stable than on the beaches she was accustomed to, though her eyes did detect mounds where her boots would potentially sink into the ground. She was starting to inspect the weird garbs of the locals when the twerp pipped up. Clover had ignored the smell. It was an overwhelming sort of sweetness that the marksman despised, she also despised the brat so hearing that the scent caused her to suffer made it more bearable. There was also the warmth of the island to ignore, though this task was made harder by the amount of layers she wore at all times. Hopefully they would find a Marine office and avoid being exposed to the sun for too long, if not the Sniper would insist on them finding covered pathways or long shadows beside tall buildings. The wind caught her by surprise. Even hearing it the second before did not quite prepare her for the sheer force of it, only just managing to raise her arms to protect her face from the minor sandstorm that was whipped up by the gust. Her cloak flailed in the commotion, some shadows in the veil of dust seemed to have trouble staying in one spot; her cybernetic advantage allowed her to remain fixed to the spot as the blast passed over as quickly as it appeared. Sand fell slowly around them, the air purged momentarily of the smells. Her glare fell on the Maple Orcher as the idiot bounded down the ramp towards them. He was meant to be confused and lost, she had intended to abandon him as some sort of mercy. He would find none in a dingy World Government prison. Revenge did not always have to be personal. It was not tolerance she used to prevent herself from plucking out the Navigators eyes, but the promise of a worser fate awaiting him under the watch of the law. The haunting stare turned on the duo, a reminder of her words only moments before about ignoring the idiot. She touched the top edge of Farsong and nodded her head, urging them forward again despite the presence of Fran. Clover would walk behind them to keep watch, ready to make a sound should they stray from the path she wanted them to wake. To the heart of the town was where she urged them, there she would be able to find someplace to hand them all over and be free. |
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