Welcome Guest [Log In] [Register]
Posted Image

Welcome to One Piece RP. We hope you enjoy your visit.

Set sail with your own, unique character in the world of One Piece! Make some friends, join a crew, and sail to adventure!

Join our community!


If you're already a member please log in to your account to access all of our features:

Username:   Password:
Add Reply
When You Build Upon Nothing; You’re Not Really Building Upon Anything
Topic Started: Jan 22 2013, 02:53 AM (1,028 Views)
NeonCactus
Member Avatar
Farragoic Imbroglio
[ *  *  *  * ]
Alternate Titles


Cyrus hadn't really seen most of his "crew" after they reached shore. He heard Hugo had brought him back to the ship, and had thanked him since. The girls were nowhere to be seen. Cosmo was in some hospital for his injuries. He was hurt worse than anyone else.

'Besides me...' He rubbed his rough hands over the fresh scars on his face. There had been others before, countless others, and these new ones were joining them in their faded glory very fast. He looked at his hands, examining all the pale evidences of old wounds that decorated them, intermixed with new nicks and gashes, all closing and leaving. He followed them up his arm, knowing they wrapped across every inch of his body. Any other day, he would feel something about the hurt. He'd join a Barbarian Guild and take pride in his battle scars, or hide his old shame beneath his monastic robes. Something about that explosion, that vision... he just didn't think about it. He couldn't.

There was work to do. That was something that he could always retreat into. He wiped off some imaginary dirt and straightened the jersey he had received recently. It was a Santamas-y affair, but he liked the color of it. It matched his inexplicably undamaged red bandana, and the number on the back made him feel like he was part of the group. He didn't know what group, or even remember where the jersey had come from, but it didn't really bug him. He tucked a few of his dark green bangs back under the indestructible piece of cloth that held his hair back and picked up the toolbox he had been given.

The Marine force that had rescued him and his ship were building a base on Gesso Island after some rather nasty pirate business had gone down. Cyrus' orders and the base/ship he was to serve on in the GL had been lost in the roaring rapids of the Reverse Mountain stream, so he saw no harm in helping this effort while they found out what to do with him. His "crew" was mostly hangers on and only technically Marines, but they were decent people, and he agreed that they would help where they could. He thought about what to do with them when he actually got to his post, but decided it wasn't his decision. They were all adults... mostly. They could sort out their own lives.
Maxwell Rogard
What He Has To Be
Rank: Lieutenant (15) SD Earned: 143 Beli: ::beli:: 34,820,000 Location: Where Justice Dwells
§ Strength: 67 § Speed: 36 § Stamina: 36 § Accuracy: 36 § Fortune: 43 §

For Her Pleasure
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Leens
Member Avatar
Social Chamloen
[ *  *  *  * ]
Catching up

"It's certainly a good thing we found you all, you probably would've died out there with no ship." The high-pitched woman's voice had sort of echoed around the sickbay, and Natalie found herself sort of annoyed. It was true that the passing Marine ship Augustus had probably saved the Duchy's life, but their apparent care for the crew was actually rather shallow. Well, all except for one..

"Yes, positively wonderful..." Natalie responded in a sarcastic tone, but the other woman didn't seem to notice, and just continued on tending to Cosmo and Cyrus. Everyone else had been seen to, and each of the St. Jesus... crew was sporting at least one 'battle scar'.

Fortunately (or perhaps unfortunately) for Natalie, she hadn't been knocked out or even particularly damaged during the St. Jesus... ascent and descent of Reverse Mountain. She had sustained a few cuts and bruises, but nothing capable of holding water to Cyrus or Cosmo. It would seem those in the club of 'C' were doomed to be beaten like dead horses. It should be noted that Natalie didn't feel sorry for that awful joke, she was too mentally exhausted to give a crap. Self-awareness is hard for teenagers, yo.

Looking around the sickbay would show that the fiery-haired teen had sustained only one noticeable bruise, but she probably had a few hidden away under her clothes. The visible injury in question was a purple blotch on her collar area. The nurse tried to put her arm in a sling, but Natalie would have none of that. She was too tough for things like that..

"Ooow..."

But she still winced every time she moved it. Whenever the motherly nurse lady would try to think of clever ways to convince Natalie to take the gesture of healing, Natalie would only scowl and dismiss the woman. After awhile Natalie decided to just leave the room, since there was no point being here anyways. She walked out of the cabin and onto the deck, leaving behind a moody sigh. Somehow sailing tended to make things better. Well, except for the Duchy's ship. Sailing only made the St. Jesus... worse, as well as the care of it by the marines on duty aboard the Augustus.

"I mean, it's positively ruined.." Well, couldn't be much more ruined than it had ever been. Given that the St. Jesus... was already a deathtrap, the way it had been "repaired" was horrid. In place of the area that had contained the engine (and violently exploded), there were now charcoal-black wood panels. The Augustus' repair crew had overlooked the general shoddiness of the St. Jesus... engine, and the wood they put in place of a metal wall had been roasted. It was a miracle it hadn't all just fallen off the ship yet, as parts of it were still-glowing cinders. But enough of that piece of shit, let's talk about things more important. Like fashion!

Today the sun would find that Natalie looked rather unkempt, which was rare for the teenage girl, as she was apt to take great care of her personal appearance. But like, being on an exploding ship and dodging death tend to push all those other worries aside, at least for a few hours. Natalie had been forced to change into yet another outfit in-between being marooned on the St. Jesus... and being rescued, but now she decided she would need to change again. The lookout on the mast above called out that they were nearing their destination, and Natalie wanted something a bit more sporty for what was to happen next.


--------------------------Almost there..

The Augustus began pulling into port with the St. Jesus... being tugged unceremoniously behind it. The dockworkers didn't seem to impressed at the sight; there were probably a lot of wrecked marine ships around here lately. Well, maybe. Natalie stood around the deck, ready to run off onto the island. She needed only two things; food and exercise. But she needed them bad. That sort of need where like, a dude is looking for the next fix. Except with delicious food and physical exhilaration. Well, they docked pretty quick, and Natalie managed to ignore the pain in her shoulder as she jogged along toward..

..a marine base? They had like, little tents set up for the camp out. And by camp out I mean the time it would take to finish a full-blown base. So, probably forever.

"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, but I definitely am kind of disappointed." After awhile Natalie managed to find some decent grub, and she ate quite a bit. When it came time to get some jogging in though, she found her arm to flair up once more. Maybe she could help out somewhere else?..


--------------------------
Aaaaaaand present


Natalie stepped back out into the sun, looking down to admire her new ensemble. She had taken a bath and smelled rather nice, like lilacs and vanilla or somethin'. The young girl had managed to create a new outfit out of clothes she hadn't known that she owned. The new duds consisted of close-fitting jeans, some brand-new-looking shoes (R/W All Stars!), and strange jersey that looked as though it belonged to a soccer team or something. It even had it's own number, and Natalie would later swear that Cyrus had a jersey from the same team. Maybe it was in honor of their supposed marine division?

"Who cares, I look simply wonderf-!" Natalie covered her mouth with a quiet gasp, nervously looking around to see if anyone had noticed. She almost broke character; again! She would ignore any possible suspicion and continue on her way to the work site. Natalie had followed Cyrus outside, though of course he hadn't noticed, and she was determined to help him with whatever work he was planning on doing. It would seem that he was to help with the construction of the base, and Natalie secretly hoped they wouldn't have to stay on this island much longer. It was pretty drab.

In fact, she felt all her previous excitement over her new clothes to be slowly draining away. Or quickly draining away. Who has time to be so specific anyway? So she was following Cyrus, ready to help him with all sorts of work because he was probably injured worse than Natalie, but her arm ached so she was sort of lazy in her pursuit. And while we're on the subject of boredom..

"Aren't we missing a few people?"
Edited by Leens, Feb 18 2013, 06:26 PM.
Characters


Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Khepri
Member Avatar
Owner of Khepri
[ *  *  * ]
Yep, they were missing a few people. Although, she should of known Cosmo was supposed to be released from intensive care the following day. Then again, Natalie probably knew that things never went as planned for Cosmo or really anyone in the Grand Duchy.

This time, Cosmo’s choice of garb was what he was wearing at the time of his injury, which meant his jogging suit looked like it needed to be ironed something fierce, and also washed because it was drenched in dry blood. A break from the norm, Cosmo had on his hospital gown, which was covered in wet blood, of which only 20% was actually his.

The biggest change was perhaps the fact he was riding an elephant, when Cosmo never came off as the elephant riding sort. The elephant continued its charge, its eyes filled with malice, and just plenty of the negative emotions needed to kill. Its grey skin was now a light crimson, and several marines were on the ends of its tusks. It honestly didn't look good with Cosmo riding it, if he had was the sort with bad luck he may have been in the running for another charge of homicide, or a rather abundant list of homicides. Although once the Marines opened fire on the elephant, he was finally thrown from its back, violently. While this was probably the end for Cosmo, it was hardly the end for the elephant.

Cosmo was finally free from the elephant, and that brought on a moment of happiness as he just flew through the air in an arc. Luckily, Cosmo was able to land somewhere soft; right into the freshly put down cement. There was a very audible crack once he landed, and as a result. Still, he managed to make it out okay. He got onto his two feet and held his now probably broken arm. He looked around all dazed and confused the light of the outside still hurting his jail-darkened eyes… but yet, there was something off in the distance.

At the brake table there was a glass orb filled with a black fluid that looked almost red with the light penetrating through it. Cosmo’s eyes widened, he could smell the very faint notes of roasted White Mountain beans. Operating solely on instinct, Cosmo marched forward like a complete zombie towards the machine, the aroma within becoming all the stronger the closer he got. After only a few tension-less seconds, he reached the machine and with a disposable cup in hand he filled it to the brim.

But before he could take a single sip, he caught something rather distracting in the corner of his eyes. Something moving towards him, given his accuracy, he honestly didn’t have the reflex to avoid it. By the time the object shattered its way through the glass container which held the coffee, Cosmo pretty much knew it was an axe, and he also knew there was fuck all he could do about it, especially now, since the axe killed him on impact.

In a life filled with close calls, it was finally the end and a very anticlimactic way.

Appropriate Death Theme





He was dazed by the time his sight was returned. This time it was all mental, rather than being the result of getting hit in the frontal lobe with a rusty axe. He wasn’t where he was before, not in any sense of the term. The surrounding was alien, all blurry, cold, and crowded. In front of him there was a long line, behind him the line only grew. Yet, those who occupied the line weren’t people, or at least they didn’t seem to be. They were puffs, little clouds, each one about as confused as him. Cosmo couldn’t really worry himself over it all that much, because he felt a rather alien feeling himself. He couldn’t feel his body or anything at all, well, other than his confusion.

He blinked, and in that split moment he had been pushed forward in the line. He could see all the other clouds were heading towards a door, a door being guarded by a new figure. Over time, Cosmo realized that the chill was coming from the door itself. Every now and again, he would hear a shriek from the door, followed by the bellowing laughter of something that wasn’t even human. It was then and there that Cosmo realized where he was, or more accurately, what had happened to him. He was in line for the underworld, which meant he was dead.

That was a lot to take in. For sure, his existence was over or at least his physical existence. He didn’t know what was in store in the underworld, but because of the noises and the cold coming from the door that lead to it, he inferred that it wasn’t all that grand. Still, this it was a bit more than Cosmo was prepared for, “Oh…Well damn.” He uttered out loud, only to get a reply of, “I know, right?” From behind him in a gruff voice with an added echo.

The line was moving rather quickly for a bureaucratic body, despite the fact that there was only one service window open… so to speak. So after only a week, Cosmo was at the front of the line. Where he was able to see the blurred figure in all of its majesty; it was death, a skeletal individual with a crushed soul hunched over a desk. To his left side was a pile papers neatly stacked into a tray labeled “in” and next to it was a smaller pile in a tray labeled “out”, and to his right was a massive pile of ash and cigarettes in an ashtray that spilled out onto the floor.

Death let out a weak sigh; it was obvious he was having a rough century, “Name?” He questioned in a blunt and stressed manner.

Cosmo was silent for a moment, only to chime in with a broken, “C-C-C-Cosmo.”

With that, Death stood up, and opened the cabinet marked C. He fiddled around with stacks upon stacks of folders within the file cabinet, after several fruitless seconds Death looked back at the quivering and shivering ghost, “Surname?” He questioned once more.

“Periwinkle.” Cosmo added.

Death sighed and looked through the folders. After no time at all, Death pulled out a folder with an unflattering photograph Cosmo mid-sneeze paper clipped to it. He perused the various pages, and nodded as he did so. Of course, instead of tossing the folder into the trash, or the pile of folders that obscured the trash, he pulled a sheet out, and returned the folder to the cabinet. He staggered back to the desk, cracking his back as he did so. He slipped the single sheet from the folder onto the out tray after stamping it with a stamp stating [VOID], “Mhm… Okay, you get a second chance.” Death frankly replied as he got back into his seat.

While Cosmo was never really quick to react, the whole idea was a bit too absurd for him to just accept right off the bat. He raised a spiritual eyebrow, “What?” He asked.

Death did not pay Cosmo any mind, “Thank you. Next!” He shouted, gesturing for the next person in the line to hell to come. And they did, and their incorporable body was able to knock aside Cosmo’s. Still, Cosmo was confused, “Wh—!?!” He shouted in a long echo only to stop as he realized he was just in the middle of a sea...
Leens & Khepri by Neon


Andrei Myshkin • Holy Paladin • Thief/Entertainer • Underdogs • Rank: Ensign • SD Earned: 285 • Beli: Some number • Location: Khepri

Xanthippe • Sheepherder • Weapon Specialist/Chef • Odd Jobs • Threat: 0 • SD Earned: 40 • Beli: 500,000 • Location: Silent Hill

Percival Aloysius Periwinkle • Legitmiate Businessman • Merchant/Marksman • No Crew • Bounty: 130,000,000,000 Extol • SD Earned: 148 • Beli: 21,000,000 • L: Alabasta

Others
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Hugo
Member Avatar
Dimwitted
[ *  * ]
The nurse had a fairly normal day, until the crew of a "Marine" ship had been brought in for medical treatment. One individual was heavily injured, another somewhat less so. The rest of the crew was relatively unscathed, though a particular member left the medical staff at a loss for what to do.




"So, what is actually wrong with him?" It wasn't a question. Something was clearly wrong, and the individual in question was clearly not normal. "W-Well..., he's a fishman... I think," another voice answered the first. The current interior was apparently a medical facility, though two of the staff were standing, their heads close together, whispering. They were facing toward the door, behind them a fishman sat on a table in a hospital gown, a mysterious slime dripping from the table, produced from nowhere in particular.

"I gathered that," the first voice replied sarcastically, "But what exactly... is he...or she?" the high pitched female voice almost sounded frightened. The second individual, apparently a doctor, turned around to face Hugo. "Let's start at the basics," he said with a sigh, "Nurse! You can start... I'll... check back in after your done..." the doctor retreated with a shudder.

The nurse, clearly upset, sent a pleading look at the doctor, before hesitantly approaching the fishman. She raised a popsicle stick before him, "Say 'Ahh'..." Hugo, who had heard every word, had a smile on his face. "Sure," he opened his rather large mouth wide, a rather intimidating display, but this nurse was no pushover. "Ahh!" he sounded out as his tongue rolled out of his mouth like a red carpet. His tongue stretched down and lay on the floor. The nurse at this point had walked out of the room sprinted out of the room.




Hugo was walking rather dejectedly along the shore of Gesso Island, the white sand sticking to his feet. The nurse who had attempted to diagnose his injuries and problems had ran out, and no one had come to even check on him for a full hour before he realized she wasn't coming back. Depressed, he withdrew his tongue back into his mouth, and looked for his clothes.

He walked out of the room, and went to the shore to brainstorm. He inspected his new garb whilst walking. His robe, which had been somewhat burned and overall beat up, was placed in his bag. He instead wore his shorts and vest, with the addition of a new purple jersey underneath the vest, and an Iron Ramen Bros. Jacket over the jersey and vest. Resting on his ears, and with a thin black cord across the back to keep it attached (Since he has no nose), a pair of aviator sunglasses covered his eyes.

He was a rather strange sight, and that was putting it lightly. He snapped out of his clothing reverie, and brought his mind back to the matter at hand. He was sick. Swimming in the toxic water surrounding the ship had brought a miasma into his system. The terrible fuel that burned in the St. Jesus made its way into his system, and even Hugo wasn't sure what to do. Cosmo had said something back in the ship, and had instantly prepared a drink that he said would cure Hugo. But Hugo had no idea, he was no doctor, only a scientist. Though, his area of expertise was with his own body, and thus he needed only to think deeply about what exactly the problem was, and how to fix it.

He eventually made his way back to the building, spying Cyrus with Natalie close behind. He stealthily made his way past, intent on curing himself. He slid through the entrance, an ever present trail of slime mixed with white sand a telltale sign of his passage.

He snuck into the dining hall, empty now, luckily. He made his way to the kitchen stockroom, looking for the solution to his problems. There. He spotted it, a large frown spreading across his face as he reached for the large bag. He spent a moment untying the knot with slimy hands, and reached inside. He gripped one, and brought it to eye level.

The all-too-familiar smell assaulted his senses as his ire raised at the site of this object, an object that was the bane of his existence, but ironically enough, was the one thing he needed to be cured.

He brought it to his mouth, hesitating before throwing the entire object in.

Hugo wasn't going to enjoy this next part...
Characters

Retired
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Randumb
Member Avatar
Perpetual Confusion
[ *  * ]
Mary was probably one of the least injured members of the little expedition into the Grand Line, what cuts she had were covered by her own special blood. It saved her from infection as well as more blood loss so in the end the only thing Mary had to worry about was a pounding headache, and a lack of blood supply. While everyone was getting their injuries and maladies looked at (or ignored) Mary was given some standard painkillers and had some blood taken just to make sure she was ok.

This lead to a lot of panic on the doctor's part when a little bit of air was let into the sample and it all turned to frozen glue! Almost instantly the young Cyborg found herself being carted off to an emergency room where she was hooked up to a blood infusion and monitored by panicking doctors from another room, as they feared whatever was wrong with the young woman could be airborne. Because that was clearly the most logical conclusion to what they had seen.

After a sleepless night of watching nothing happen or change in their patient the doctors ended up taking a few minutes off to try and grab some food and take a break. Mary did not waste any time with her moment of loneliness. The infusion which had not been working because of a tiny bit of air that caught in the tube and her blood was blocking off one end, but that suited Mary just fine. The Cyborg took down the blood bag and used her utility knife to cut through the plastic.

As soon as it was open the young woman drained the pack, filling up her fuel canister and pulled the tube out of her arm. By the time the doctors came back Mary was gone. The smart girl would keep away from doctors for the rest of her stay, both on the Marine ship and the island. Mary spent the rest of her time cleaning her cloths and equipment of muck and slime from the St. Jesus before heading out for a nice dinner out at one of the whitewashed island's pubs or public eating places. It did not matter much to her.

The interesting part actually happened while she was out in the middle of of eating. The pale whited-out people around her all had their own little conversations going on all around but one really interesting one caught her attention - a discussion on the value of colour and the illegal colour trade. "Things used to be a lot easier before SHE turned up." one of the men said to another, "Now even proper trading is coming under scrutiny, I just want things to go back to the way they were before the outsider started searching for that strange 'Red Hair'."

This kind of information perked Mary's curiosity for obvious reasons. "I know someone with red hair... maybe I can deliver what this 'she' wants and make some extra money out of this foolish adventure into the Grand Line! At the very least it would enable me to be ready if I ever need to leave on my own." It was simple really. All she had to do was raid a marine ship, steal an acquaintance's hairbrush, and attract the attention of this mysterious 'she'. What could go wrong?
Posted Image

Evelynn Carter • Captain/Cook • Chef/Entertainer • Looking to form a crew • Threat: 9 • SD Earned: 132 • Beli: 23,100,000 • Location: West Blue

Elaine • Lieutenant, Apprentice Shipwright • Carpenter/Martial Artist • Division 5Commendations: 6 • SD Earned: 49 • Beli: 12,050,000 • Location: Grand Line

Dr. Mary Elizabeth Smith • Tagalong • Inventor/Doctor/Marksman/Martial Artist • Cyrus Fangirl • Threat: 0 • SD Earned: 58 • Beli: 28,012,000 • Location: Route 4, Grand Line

Scoop FodderBounty: 3,000,000 • SD Earned: 43 • Beli: 11,050,000 • Location: Grand Line
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
ThtGyNmdFsh
Member Avatar
That Guy Named Fish
[ *  * ]
In the years that Stache had been aimlessly wandering the Grand Line, he had done his fair share of good deeds for the every day stranger. However, the number of times that he had volunteered to do work for the marines paled in comparison; not because he chose not to, but because they rarely needed more help than they could muster with their own men. And it was for that reason that Stache had been able to volunteer his service to help build this Marine base on Gesso Island. In fact, his eagerness to help and his physical capability earned him a promise of payment; based on the number of days he worked. It had now been a week since Stache had volunteered to help in the construction, and each day it seemed his job would change, based on who was available and when.

Today, it was his duty to remove nails, staples, and screws from recycled lumber that would ultimately be re-used for this base. With claw hammer and screwdriver on hand, he removed piece after piece of hardware from various sizes of lumber, and deposited them into plastic bins that were categorized by type and size, with a non-discriminant for those that weren't re-usable. Every couple of minutes a man would stop by to carry off the cleaned pieces of lumber, and another would drop another pile of wood yet to be processed. The work went by quickly and easily for a man like Stache, though he had to admit that it was a bit boring. Luckily, the Marines had thought ahead and installed an extra large tone dial, mounted on a tall post that constantly played inspirational music to pump up the workers.



Unluckily, only one song was stored in the dial, and Stache had been listening to it on loop for the past 5 hours.

"I'm not being paid enough for this.." He gritted his teeth, plainly irritated at what was supposed to be a morale-boosting anthem. His work area just had to be positioned 10 feet away from the tone dial that boomed the now-resentful song directly into his unfortunate ears. He looked up from his desk (which was really just a large piece of plywood clamped on to a trio of tall bar stools) and noticed a group of marines rolling white barrels toward the center of the base. Each barrel was labeled with a color, and Stache was able to make out Brown, Green, Blue, and Yellow. Following directly behind them was another Marine, who seemed to be carrying a large sack of empty plastic tubes, and he was reminded of the strange color-based currency Gesso Island ran on. They assured Stache he would be paid in Beli, but the locals who did work for the marines were paid in these tubes of colored paint, explaining their need to have so goddamn much on-hand.

"Speaking of which.." Stache mumbled quietly to nobody in particular and looked down at his hands. He had been on Gesso Island for a week and it had rained twice, both times Stache was unfortunately working outdoors for the majority of the day. His normally slate gray scaled body had become nearly pure white, his normal coloration only showing through where he had been scraped or bumped during his work. He wasn't thrilled with the idea of his body blending in with his mustache, nor did it feel particularly pleasant being covered head-to-toe in primer. And so he resolved that he would clean up when the chance next presented itself. With a smile he went back to the mind-numbingly boring task he had been assigned to.
Edited by ThtGyNmdFsh, Feb 21 2013, 12:21 AM.
Nei -- Inventor, Doctor, Marksman, Navigator -- Threat: 0
SD Earned: 110 Beli: 10,100,000 Location: Grand Line
Strength: 30 Speed: 30 Stamina: 27 Accuracy: 50 Fortune: 37 Focus: 65

Dialogue Color: #6B8E23
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
NeonCactus
Member Avatar
Farragoic Imbroglio
[ *  *  *  * ]
Cyrus was being depressing and questioning his, and every other human's purpose for and right to exist, but the pop music hit a particular chord with the easily swayed chef. The mindless optimism was exactly what he wanted to hear at the time, and he adopted the mindless smile he had before his existential crisis in the waters of Reverse Mountain Pass.

"Hey, where's your station, bub?"

"I have no idea, friend." Cyrus gave the foreman a penetratingly dense stare.

"..."

" ::sparkly:: "

"J-just go to the nail pulling station..." He fiddled with his clipboard nervously, scribbling 'Smiles' under the appropriate heading along with Frank, Jonouchi, Fish and Frank2. Cyrus went in for a hug and was only barely conscious enough to realize he wasn't down with that. He instead gave him another big grin and made his way towards the station he had been assigned.

The other four gentlemen were already hard at work; the Franks, the mustachioed fishman, and the man in the kimono.

Cyrus approached what he assumed was a man from Wano Country.

"Is this the nail pulli-"

"Oh my kami! Desu! They're kugi, baka gaijin!" He spun on the still stupidly smiling marine with a red, pulsing face. Frank looked up from his work, clearly used to dealing with this.

"Come on, Joey, he ju-"

"BAKA BAKA BAKA! JONOUCHI!"

"Okay, okay... god... Come on, he's one of the wrecked guys, let him off easy." Jonouchi calmed down a bit, at least decent enough to cut Cyrus some slack, but he was clearly still steamed about the apparent misstep in communication. Cyrus' face, of course, was still split from ear to ear. Frank pointed him to a empty spot between the fishman and the rest of the group. He'd have felt bad for Stache if he was aware enough to notice the persisting racism.

He scooted his 'desk" loudly across the primer stained dirt they were working on, close as he could to Stache's. He gave him a friendly smile and offered a handshake, the other hand blindly pulling nails with the back of his hammer. He did so with practiced ease, clearly used to manual labor, both the backbreaking and the repetitive.

"Hi, I'm new here! Let's work hard together, compatriot!"
Maxwell Rogard
What He Has To Be
Rank: Lieutenant (15) SD Earned: 143 Beli: ::beli:: 34,820,000 Location: Where Justice Dwells
§ Strength: 67 § Speed: 36 § Stamina: 36 § Accuracy: 36 § Fortune: 43 §

For Her Pleasure
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Leens
Member Avatar
Social Chamloen
[ *  *  *  * ]
It had not taken long for Cyrus to reach his destination, and as he arrived it was a rather awkward moment, for the foreman and Natalie both. Cyrus probably wouldn't notice, but the would shoot Natalie a worried stare, as she was standing next to Cyrus while he was creeping out. The stern-faced girl had yet to understand that Cyrus zoned out women, and at this point she was just assuming he was really spacey. So, she offered the almost-worried an almost-apologetic shrug and nothing more. Not like she cared all that much if Cyrus was a freak.

"Well, what's my job then?" One could hear the impatience in the teen's voice, but the man had opted to notice that she was not only a girl, but very young at that.

"Sorry kiddo, but I just wouldn't feel okay letting onto this dangerous construction site." At this Natalie leaned slightly as if to see around the man, a disapproving look on her fact. He responded by surveying the work around him, and his eyes settled on Cyrus' work station for a second before turning back to Natalie.

"Just go along and play somewhere, eh?" With an angry sigh and a pout that would curdle the milk in a cow's udders,
A lot of big tags
Natalie stormed off towards the biggest tent in the area. It only took about twenty seconds for her to arrive at a tent that wasn't all that different from the rest, except it had a piece of paper reading "MAIN OFFICE" in marker tacked onto the front. She walked in to a bespectacled man with hair in full-disarray flipping through papers. His face was completely straight, yet for some reason his body language suggested he was frustrated. Natalie gave him the customary three seconds to notice her, as her parents had instructed was polite. Well, they'd said to wait much longer, but forget that.

"Ahem!" Man, Natalie had gotten more bossy all-a-sudden. Not being around Cosmo seemed to be doing wonders for her St. Jesus... Blues-style apathy.

"Ah, yes, sorry!" The man's voice showed considerable surprise, yet while he had responded as such his face remained completely straight. Like, not even a little queer. "And what is it that I can do for you?" He stared at Natalie with his un-moving face; he had recognized her as one of the "Wreckers" right away. He probably expected some ridiculous demand in the form of-

"Gimme a work permit." Wait, would it really be that easy? Yeah, it would be that easy. Without a word the man grabbed a comically large stamper and beckoned Natalie over to the desk. He stamped in black ink on the back of her hand "APPROVED", but her hand was just a little too small so it just kinda looked like "PPROVE".

"Eh, close enough."

Natalie stomped on out of the tent back towards the foreman, ready to do some menial work. Because she had nothing else to do.

--------Meanwhile-------


Elsewhere, a woman was greasing palms and readying herself. Colors and money being exchanged in a basement somewhere foreshadowed events beyond the Duchy's comprehension. A mysterious woman had recently taken foot on Gesso, and more notably on Gesso's illegal color trade. Rare colors, high prices, crime-related shenanigans and much more were now commonplace. The trade had only gotten more strict since "She" had wandered to the island, and perhaps it was a good thing, though there was speculation among many that this enigmatic individual didn't really want anything to do with money (or colors for that matter). "She" had just declared the start to a very important meeting..


---------------

Getting the "go-ahead" from the foreman had been uneventful, so we skipped past that part. Natalie was now moving towards her station, which as per-request, was something that involved heavy lifting. No matter how much the girl's shoulder ached, she would never admit defeat. But first, there was a detour she needed to make. It hadn't been so bad at first, but the "motivational" music was getting pretty damn annoying, but nobody was willing to take care of it. Natalie was pretty sure nobody else liked it either, so she would buck up and fix the problem. Luckily, the post wasn't stood up very well.

"Just sort of lift.." The sound of creaking wood could be heard by anyone within twenty feet.

"Almost.." The teenage girl didn't seem to noticeably strain herself, but it was odd that she was shoving at the pole with only one arm. But after a good fifteen seconds..

*crunch*

The base of the wooden pole cracked, the wood splintering and the pole crashing to the ground. The tone dial flew off somewhere to the side of the construction area and into the water, where it would grow silent forever. In fact, nobody even bothered to reprimand Natalie for her destruction of marine property. Nobody was gonna get wet to save that piece of shit. Then, out of the blue, it all snapped into place, sort of like the opposite of that wooden pole-

Natalie realized she had no good reason to be here, putting up with crappy music like this. So, why was she sticking around?

---------------

"Soon, yes, very soon..."
Characters


Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Hugo
Member Avatar
Dimwitted
[ *  * ]
Foul winds were blowing as a creepy individual with a rather pronounced slouch emerged from the building. His face was drawn, and clearly saddened deeply by something, possibly the death of a loved one, or a foreclosure on his home. Hugo sighed melodramatically, the onion he ate put him in a terrible mood. He moped along the path towards town, passing a random marine or two, as well as a white-washed island denizen or two, all gave him a wide berth; Sigh...

A slimy hand pushed open the door to the pub, and a slimy foot was place inside as a few individuals turned to look at the new arrival. They quickly averted their gazes back to their food and drink, eager to forget what they saw. A trail of pungent slime was left as Hugo made his way to the bar and sat down. He pushed the sunglasses up onto his brow, and looked at the startled barkeep, his black and yellow eyes meeting the man's white. "Your strongest drink," he said bluntly, with a deep gravelly voice unsuiting his regular demeanor.

The barkeep didn't argue, and brought out a glass and reached for a nondescript bottle- "I'll take the lot of it," Hugo interjected, his eyes squinting. The barkeep glanced at Hugo incredulously, but didn't argue. He placed the glass back and placed the bottle in front of Hugo. "I'm hopin' you got the money for that, it ain't chea-" Hugo interrupted again, this time slamming a rather large amount of beli on the table, whilst tilting his head and glaring at the fellow with one wide eye. The barkeep stood for a moment, an unreadable expression on his face, before he rolled his eyes in exasperation and went to tend to other customers. A large number of customers were staring at the slimy fishman, who apparently had an attitude problem. Hugo shot them sharp glares until they looked away, leaving the fishman to his strong brew.

The bottle was rather large, surprising for a strong drink. It had no label, and was a metallic silver-white. Hugo didn't give it a second glance before uncorking the top and downing the entire bottle.



Strong; that's a good word. Potent; pretty much means the same thing as strong as far as alcohol is concerned. Metallic; that word isn't used too commonly. That being said, the drink seemed to be about 90% alcohol, and 10% assorted metal-based paints. After downing the bottle, Hugo didn't remember much personally. He remembered ordering more, and after the barkeep said that was their only bottle, Hugo ordered the next strongest drink. Another bottle with no label, this time the liquid contained within was black in color, he drank it equally as fast. This one seemed to be around 78% alcohol, 10% heavy metals, 12% ink. Safe to say, Hugo didn't drink any more.

Rather, he got up, and looked around the pub, spotting someone he thought was familiar, though he was also seeing a multitude of creatures around him that didn't seem altogether real. He stumbled towards the door, managing to press through safely, and upon exiting promptly slid and fell on his face. He picked himself up, stained white by the ground, and made his way back to the marine base.

After taking a mere five steps, he was accosted by a giant fishman, standing no less than 20 feet tall. "Jean! G-get out of my way!" Hugo yelled at the tall crustacean-based fishman, who looked back down at Hugo, an angry expression in the form of a large black V over his eyes. "Hugo. Go back home, you are drunk." Hugo stared at the giant mantis shrimp fishman for close to a minute, his mouth agape. "You go home! Y-You'rrrr-," he stopped himself from throwing up, "Drunk!" As he shouted back at the giant, another shadowy giant appeared on the horizon. An enormous seaking this time, "Boomer?!" Hugo yelled at the top of his lungs, "You too!?" his now high pitched voice incredulous.

He felt as if there was a shadowy specter missing, and he stumbled around, his eyes searching. Hugo took a bad step, and tripped again, landing in a puddle of slime reeking of alcohol and heavy metals. As his vision, still blurry, recentered, a small fish tail raised out of the puddle. Hugo looked at it for another moment, before jumping to his feet. "No! Get out of my way, I need to get back!" By this time, residents of the town had heard the fishman yelling, and gathered some distance away. Hugo turned to look at them, a rather frightening expression on his face. Women and men alike screamed in fear, and some began calling for Marines.

Hugo laughed, "Ghaaaaaaaaha!" and turned back to Jean, but was met instead with another visage. It was the shadowy specter he had been searching for, this one was a greenish shadow, but was incredibly alluring, from her long hair down to her fish tail, she was quite the normal sized mermaid. She was a mermaid Hugo recognized, "Aspen..." Hugo looked at her, his drawn face grimacing in apparent pain. Suddenly, a large Marine walked straight through her, dispersing the image into greenish smoke that lingered for no more than a moment.

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to stop all that...shouting, it's making the citizens nervous," the Marine told Hugo. A look of ire crossed Hugo's face as he looked at the Marine. "Yea!?" he said rather ominously, and loudly, at the Marine, "An' what are you gonna do about it?" the Marine looked darkly at Hugo. The Marine was at least the same height as Hugo, but had at least one hundred and fifty pounds on the fishman. He hefted a rather shiny cannon easily on one shoulder, emphasizing it by switching it to his other shoulder easily.

Hugo gave the man a single look before pushing his sunglasses down over his eyes. The reek of metal and alcohol still emanated from Hugo strongly, and the Marine wrinkled his nose in disgust. Hugo remained motionless for a moment, and as he was about to give up, a voice came to him; "Don't listen to this schmuck!" it was Jean's voice, "Show him who's the boss!" Blueish shadows coalesced on Hugo's right shoulder, and a miniature version of Jean stood there, whispering into Hugo's ear. More shadows, this time colored green, coalesced on Hugo's left shoulder. "Don't listen to this schmuck!" Aspen whispered seductively, "Show him who's the boss!"

Hugo was rather confused, and was in no state of mind to make a clear decision. "N-no!" he stammered out suddenly, he would have startled someone if anyone had still remained around him. It appeared that the Marine and the onlookers had left after Hugo had stopped yelling, and had apparently fallen asleep standing up. Hugo looked around, befuddled, and lifted his right leg to take a step, but noticed drag on his foot. He looked down, noticing the huge puddle of slime again, still heavily scented with the alcohol from before. Curiously, the slime was also tinted metallic, and even had black swirls from the second bottle.

Even stranger, Hugo was becoming noticeably less drunk. It appeared his slime cleansed his body of the alcohol and metals passively. Hugo was still rather tipsy, and bemusedly walked away from the toxic puddle toward the Marine base.



As he walked towards the base, he stopped momentarily at a bounty board he had failed to notice in his earlier depression. He noticed a few high bounties that looked fairly old and white washed, nothing worth investing in. His eyes were caught on a more recent, less white stained bounty. It was a bounty for a rather well-dressed human woman with brown hair. The bounty was 20 million, so a fairly high bounty. Hugo remembered the last large bounty he had caught, which was about 5.5 million. He had gained some experience, and certainly his new crew would help him?

Hugo shrugged to himself, and grabbed the bounty, shoving it into one of his packs. He resumed walking in the direction of the Marine base, noticing Cyrus and Natalie near a construction sight. Others were working at other stations and, more notable, a fishman was also working with Cyrus and Natalie. Hugo jogged energetically towards them, stumbling once or twice, the buzz from before still present. "Need any help?" he asked tentatively, though it seemed they already had more than enough hands."
Edited by Hugo, Mar 9 2013, 03:09 AM.
Characters

Retired
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Randumb
Member Avatar
Perpetual Confusion
[ *  * ]
It all seemed easy enough when Mary thought of it. Sitting happily, eating bland food, surrounded by bland people and extremely colourful furniture and indoor decorating. She had even noticed when the Fishman from their trip over the Reverse Mountain entered and started drinking, though she did her best to ignore Hugo. He was not being very pleasant at the moment and Mary really did not want to be involved with the half drunk Fishman at the moment, the loud commotion that occurred shortly after outside emphasising this belief.

When Mary was finally done she happily payed for her meal and skipped out the door, excited for the afternoon of espionage and sneaking just so she could make a quick beli. This excitement would soon come crashing down however, when Mary slipped and fell in a puddle of inky sludge and smacked her head against the whitewashed concrete. The cyborg probably would have seen stars if her eyes were not so robotic in nature. Instead Mary skipped ahead of that part, saw purple, and blacked out.

When the young woman came to again she was hooked up to machines on the Marine ship again. Her head was pounding and no one seemed to be anywhere near her. "These doctors really are useless..." Mary sighed to herself as she sat up, wobbled a bit and lay down again. "Though I guess I will not be going anywhere just now..." Mary sighed again, laying her sore head back on the pillow behind her and closing her eyes.

By the time Mary came to again a few more hours had passed, though strangely it was still light outside. When the young inventor sat up carefully she was happy to find her head was not pounding as much and with a little bit of effort Mary was soon able to stand. After a few moments of incoherent mumbling the young woman pulled the tubes and things from her body and stood up, only to be disappointed to find she was left in nothing but a hospital gown.

"It seems the doctors want to play hardball." Mary mumbled to herself as she started to scout the room for possible weapon to help her break out of the place that only had her best interests at heart. "Actually this is good." The cyborg soon realised, "I just need to find my way to the St. Jesus's bathroom and swipe Natalie's brush." A quick glance downward at her greatly lacking ensemble made her adjust that plan. "Finding where they stashed my cloths first, money making hair second, go team!"

Ignoring the fact that she was all on her own Mary stuck her hand out, only to throw it up in the air in a little 'team' cheer on her own. It was sort of weird and pointless but it encouraged the strange young woman as she started to sneak out of the hospital section of the Marine Ship in search of her own clothing. Mary had no idea how much of the day had really passed so far, but then again time was not too important right now. As far as she knew they had not been told how long it would take to get their ship seaworthy.
Posted Image

Evelynn Carter • Captain/Cook • Chef/Entertainer • Looking to form a crew • Threat: 9 • SD Earned: 132 • Beli: 23,100,000 • Location: West Blue

Elaine • Lieutenant, Apprentice Shipwright • Carpenter/Martial Artist • Division 5Commendations: 6 • SD Earned: 49 • Beli: 12,050,000 • Location: Grand Line

Dr. Mary Elizabeth Smith • Tagalong • Inventor/Doctor/Marksman/Martial Artist • Cyrus Fangirl • Threat: 0 • SD Earned: 58 • Beli: 28,012,000 • Location: Route 4, Grand Line

Scoop FodderBounty: 3,000,000 • SD Earned: 43 • Beli: 11,050,000 • Location: Grand Line
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
ThtGyNmdFsh
Member Avatar
That Guy Named Fish
[ *  * ]
"Hi, I'm new here! Let's work hard together, compatriot!"

"Dohohohoho!" Stache chuckled happily as the green-haired marine held out his hand in greeting. Stache responded promptly by answering the handshake, though his large hand not only eclipsed the size of Cyrus', but encompassed his wrist and a portion of his forearm. Stache accompanied the greeting with a smile that was equally as large as his hand looked when side-by-side with Cyrus'. When the handshake concluded, Stache gave Cyrus an assuring nod and turned back to his table and continue his assigned duties. Stache had noticed the gap between his own station and those of the other marines; but between his own work and the brain-numbing music that had been metaphorically drowning his willpower, he had paid it no mind. However, he thought it was nice that the young Marine had taken a position next to him, and appreciated the company.

"Speaking of which.." Stache mumbled while prying a particularly stubborn nail from a plank of wood. "Aren't you one of those Marines that came over Reverse Mountain on an exploding ship..? Cyrus, was it?" He had heard second-hand discussions about the crew that came over Reverse Mountain in what they refused to believe was an actual Marine ship; and given the condition of said ship it could be said that they had miraculously survived. He had also heard whispers that the "captain" of the ship, Cyrus Reminoak, had survived not only the initial explosion of the ship's engine, but had fallen off of the ship and was carried into the Grand Line by Reverse Mountain's current, only to be fished up later by a crew member. Whether or not the rumors were based on fact or fiction Stache couldn't be certain, but it was a story that nonetheless piqued his interest, and the green-haired Marine standing next to him definitely fit the description he had of Cyrus. Ever the gentleman, Stache didn't want to pry too much into affairs that were none of his business.


*crunch*


All of a sudden there was silence, beautiful silence. Stache turned to where the massive tone dial had once been mounted, only to see the pole broken and the dial nowhere to be seen. In addition, an orange-haired teenage girl was standing right next to where the pole would have been before; it seemed Stache wasn't the only person that was annoyed by the music. That thought was soon reinforced when a group of marines began cheering and working harder now that the terrible music was done-for. "Dohoho." Stache laughed while giving a smile and a thumbs-up to the girl to express that he approved of her vandalism. Whether or not she would care to respond he couldn't be sure, but.. wait, was she wearing the same jersey as the green-haired marine next to him? Stache made a double, triple, and quadruple take before he was certain that his eyes were not in fact deceiving him. These people undoubtedly belonged to the crew that came over Reverse Mountain.

"Need any help?"

"Sure, the more the merri-.." Stache turned and saw the strangely dressed Fishman that stood before him. His eyes lit up with excitement, he hadn't yet met another Fishman since he had arrived on Gesso Island. He looked the man up and down, sizing him up so-to-speak, and couldn't manage to identify what particular variety of Fishman he was. Nonetheless, Stache was the last person to judge a figurative book by it's cover, and so he approached the fellow Fishman and thrust his arm out toward him, presenting his hand for a handshake. In addition, he gave Hugo a big smile, though it would be difficult to see under his mustache.

"Nice to meet'cha, you can call me Stache, who might you be?" He introduced himself in his usual polite manner, but his attention was suddenly ripped away from the fishman and stolen by a ruckus that had come from seemingly out-of-nowhere. He turned to see a half-constructed wall of one of the main buildings just as it had been reduced to rubble. There was a moment of silence afterwards and a cloud of white dust concealed the cause of the event. However, the heavy primer-stained dust settled quickly and three figures became visible a moment later. "Pahahahahaha!" Raucous, high-pitched laughter could be heard in the immediate vicinity as a man and what seemed to be two henchmen sauntered away from the under-construction Marine base. The supposed leader of the three was a rather androgynous looking fellow who had a slender, almost feminine build. He was wearing stereotypical pirate captain clothing that was entirely white in color. The most notable feature of this man was his long beard that seemed to be an amalgamation of every different color of the rainbow.

"Paintbeard's plunder of paint was performed perfectly!" The man boasted as the two figures behind him came more clearly into view. Two of the large paint barrels that were rolled in by Marines not an hour before were now being taken away by this Paintbeard figure and his henchmen. The barrels were labeled Blue and Yellow respectively, and were so large that they would normally need to be pushed around by two of your average Chore Boy Marines. Not only were these men strong enough to accomplish this task themselves, but they were fast. Paintbeard's goons fled from the scene at a full sprint, disappearing into the hustle of Turpintown just as hastily as they had arrived. Paintbeard himself, however, stopped and turned to engage the Marines that had given chase. He thrust his arms out to his sides and chains unraveled from both of his sleeves, each at least 15 feet in length.

"Pahahahahahaha! Property of pugnacious personnel, particularly paint, will promptly be procured by Paintbeard!" The man said in his unusually high-pitched tone as he began whipping his chains toward the marines, forcing them to give up their chase on the paint-thiefs. It made sense to Stache why they had chosen the blue and yellow barrels; in his time on Gesso Island he had learned that brighter hues of paint are considered more valuable than others. What didn't make sense was this Paintbeard figure, in his time on the island he had never seen nor heard of this person; there wasn't even a bounty on the bounty board for him. So why was such a capable person so suddenly thrust against the Marines on Gesso Island? The answer to this question would probably come to light in due time. However, Stache dropped the thought for the time being in favor of decision-making; as far as the marines were concerned, he was nothing other than a citizen who had volunteered for work. That being said, he could see that the average Marines stood no chance against this Paintbeard character, even en masse.

"Hmm.." He elected to observe for the time being so he could better understand the situation. But nonetheless, he found himself automatically slipping on his gauntlets and fastening them, just in case he would need to jump in at a moment's notice.

Spoiler: click to toggle
Edited by ThtGyNmdFsh, Mar 14 2013, 10:21 PM.
Nei -- Inventor, Doctor, Marksman, Navigator -- Threat: 0
SD Earned: 110 Beli: 10,100,000 Location: Grand Line
Strength: 30 Speed: 30 Stamina: 27 Accuracy: 50 Fortune: 37 Focus: 65

Dialogue Color: #6B8E23
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Khepri
Member Avatar
Owner of Khepri
[ *  *  * ]
Purgatory was damn empty, usually only filled with one person, the person who had the Yomi Yomi. So for a long, long, long strength of a day Cosmo just floated around aimlessly in in the middle of the sea. The chill that he felt in Death’s line was nothing compared to the frigid chill of the outside, and the creepiness of the soundless still sea of purgatory outweighed having too look at Death’s skeletal face. But for a moment there was a familiar sound a shout of, “Forget about it!”

Cosmo looked up in the direction of the shout. For a moment he saw a large yellow blur, but as he focused it became clearer. Among the clouds there was a large sprawling golden city in which fine music and positive energy radiated from. There was one thought going through Cosmo’s mind as his ghostly gaze caught this wondrous sight, a simple sigh of, “Skysino…” Cosmo knew he couldn’t return home while he was alive, because he’d surely be killed. Now that he was dead there wasn’t anything stopping him from returning to the glistening and bright neon lights of the Skysino strip. In an almost heavenly assent, he floated upwards once he was in the right spot of the Calm Belt. As he got closer, the banging noise of slots, shuffled cards, roulette wheels, and “this whole strip is fucking rigged!” came to his ears, almost filling him with a sense of nostalgia. But then… there was a scream, a loudening scream, a scream that was getting closer.

He squinted the eyes he didn’t have and he was able to make out a speck in the distance, coming towards him. Over time, the speck became increasingly more humanoid, or at least that’s what Cosmo could gather from the violent flailing. By the point he could clearly make it out, it was more obvious what was happening. He stopped dead in his tracks, shifted himself in a forward (rather than) upward facing position. As the falling man came by, he shifted and watched his decent down, until he couldn’t see him anymore. Any doubt he had of this place being Skysino was quickly done away with once he caught that, but as he continued to go up, there was one question in his mind; where was the bird?

After several minutes, he was up to the edge of the island, which was a scenic viewpoint with telescopes to look across the vastness of the cosmos in its entire splendor, so needless to say it was damn near abandoned at mid-day. Damn near, because there were at least two people there, looking over the edge with a bit of confusion on their face. Still Cosmo recognized them at first glance. On the right was Becky Cartwright, a young woman with voluminous 80’s hair which was accented by the antennae that marked the Skypieans. On the left was Phil Giles, a short, crew cut (antennae aside) wearing man, who seemed to have a gun drawn for very little reason. Both of them were former friends, like, actual friends that Cosmo had growing up.

Cosmo had been floating there for several minutes, wondering if the long and awkward silence was because they could see him, or something else. About ten minutes in, the silence was finally broken, in a long drawn out question of, “Hey… did you forget to send the bird?” From Phil in the most sheepish of tones.

Afterwards there was another ten minutes of awkward silence as they both arched their necks and looked down the edge of the sky island, “What!?” Becky squawked.

Phil took a deep breath, “The bird to snatch him up before he smacked into a large rocky formation 10 kilometers down! We were supposed to scare him, not kill him! How are we gonna get the money now?” He barked, his violent movement almost sending him over the edge.

Instead of going back into another awkward silence, Becky just went straight into a reply, “Fuck!” She shouted, throwing her arms up and taking a few steps away from the island’s edge. Her hands nervously fidgeted with her deep purple hair, “Percy is gonna be pissing blood again.” She thought out loud.

Phil wasn’t having it, “Yeah, good luck with that, I’m not gonna take the fall for this. I'm not the one who forgot to send the fucking skyhawk.” He boldly stated, making sure his position on the matter was well known from the start.

Becky turned around, “For fuck’s sake, Phil, always with the goddamn 20/20 hindsight!” She violently replied, marching back over, probably ready to push Phil over the edge.

“Hindsight!?” Phil retorted, making his way forward, his face now red with rage, “This is about a fuck up in foresight!”

It was just like when he was a kid, Becky and Phil always yelling at each other. Of course, when they were younger, it usually wasn’t about how torture turned into manslaughter, but rather cheating at a game. That was how life went; children grew up, and stopped caring about dolls and went on to care about extortion money and giving out loans with high interest to gambling addicts.

Still, old friends and old crushes were one thing, but one bit of dialogue stuck out in Cosmo’s mind. They had mentioned Percy, and he only assumed that it was his cousin Percy, Percy Periwinkle. Perhaps the years had been kind of Percy, and he had forgiven Cosmo for what he had done. And even if he didn’t, perhaps all Cosmo needed to do to be absolved of his ties to purgatory was reconcile with those he had wronged. So he followed behind Becky and Phil as they began their saunter down to where Percy probably was, unless they made a few stops.

“Got pretty cold all of a sudden.” Phil said as an offhanded comment, referring to the chill of an ghost within their midst.

“Ah, shuddup, Phil.” Becky barked.
Edited by Khepri, Mar 18 2013, 09:46 PM.
Leens & Khepri by Neon


Andrei Myshkin • Holy Paladin • Thief/Entertainer • Underdogs • Rank: Ensign • SD Earned: 285 • Beli: Some number • Location: Khepri

Xanthippe • Sheepherder • Weapon Specialist/Chef • Odd Jobs • Threat: 0 • SD Earned: 40 • Beli: 500,000 • Location: Silent Hill

Percival Aloysius Periwinkle • Legitmiate Businessman • Merchant/Marksman • No Crew • Bounty: 130,000,000,000 Extol • SD Earned: 148 • Beli: 21,000,000 • L: Alabasta

Others
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
NeonCactus
Member Avatar
Farragoic Imbroglio
[ *  *  *  * ]
Cyrus was so glad Stache was a friendly fishman, as he had met some before that hit him a lot. Before he could begin work, his escapist trance was shattered along with the music. He turned to Hugo and Stache with some alarm registering on his face, but they almost looked happy. Insane from lack of music, no doubt, as Cyrus would be if he didn't fix this. The first thing he saw when he turned to remedy the situation was some vibrantly colored idiot talking shit. The blame was so easily assigned to the eyesore and his alliterative ass-hattery, Cyrus didn't even need to distract the demi-human duo.

He approached the would-be blue-bandit, the yellow-bellied yoinker, without a second thought. Passing the marines that were held back by the chain-y charlatan, he calmly laid out his demands for the chromatic crook.

"Turn the music back on."

There was an audible groan from almost the entire workforce behind him.

"Pahahahahahaha! Perhaps you're perplexed as to Paintbeard's purpose!" He swung a chain at Cyrus' feet, hoping a elicit a response and getting nothing but a clod of dirt stuck in the first link. Cyrus started walking again and breached the 15-foot attack range, probably without even knowing it, or knowing there were attacks.

"What did you do to the music?"

Paintbeard ran a finger inquisitively between the red and orange sections of his nominal facial hair, trying to figure out both Cyrus' 'bravery' and his insistent inquisition as to the elimination of the the tone dial's emanations.

"Possibly puerile..." He swung again, this time lashing right across Cyrus' face with impressive accuracy. The dirt clod exploded, masking Cyrus in a cloud of dust for a moment. When it cleared, it was hard even for Paintbeard himself to see where he had hit him. The chef had just gotten close enough for Paintbeard to see all the little scars and bruises Cyrus had accumulated, many of them still fresh. He acted quickly, wrapping one chain around the green-haired gangly goof's left ankle. He swung the other one around his neck, and then pulled with surprising force for such a thin man. Cyrus was a heap at his feet, unprepared and too far gone in his stupidity to react to such practiced maneuvers. Paintbeard hoisted up the limp form and held him over his head, again demonstrating his power.

Cyrus was hacking, trying to regain his breath. He strained against the chains around his wind pipe with wild ferocity.

"Penultimate proclamations, plebeian?"


"T-turn the mus-"

Posted Image © 2013 Shamma

Cyrus' mouth was open in a silent scream. He fell to the primer-stained earth as the chains unraveled, neither man with any reason to hold them tight any longer. Paintbeard started whipping his chains around again with a sly smile, taunting the other marines.

"Hey, I'm a marine."

There was something tugging at his pants leg. He almost didn't look down, at first, because the truth simply could not be. Cyrus' fingers dug deeper into the white fabric and his voice expressed even more malice than before.

"Music. Marine orders."

Alternate Interpretation

Maxwell Rogard
What He Has To Be
Rank: Lieutenant (15) SD Earned: 143 Beli: ::beli:: 34,820,000 Location: Where Justice Dwells
§ Strength: 67 § Speed: 36 § Stamina: 36 § Accuracy: 36 § Fortune: 43 §

For Her Pleasure
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
RainingBlades
Member Avatar
Excellent Host
[ *  *  *  * ]
Cyrus - 2 SD, 950,000 Beli, Incomplete
Natalie - 2 SD, 950,000 Beli, Incomplete
Cosmo - 3 SD, 1,450,000 Beli, Incomplete
Hugo - 2 SD, 950,000 Beli, Incomplete
Mary - 2 SD, 822,000 Beli, Incomplete
Stache - 2 SD, 950,000 Beli, Incomplete

RIP Paintbeard: March 14, 2013 - March 19, 2013
A perfectly personable person
Edited by RainingBlades, May 31 2013, 09:46 AM.
Literally Annie

The Gang

On Hiatus

Never Forget

thelonelynarrators
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous)
ZetaBoards - Free Forum Hosting
Fully Featured & Customizable Free Forums
Learn More · Sign-up for Free
« Previous Topic · Gesso Island · Next Topic »
Add Reply