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Last Rites; Freedom Pirates First SL In GL
Topic Started: Feb 19 2017, 09:54 PM (1,408 Views)
Togamau
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Tactics Ogre
[ *  *  *  * ]
Salas turned to listen to Mosandro's closing remarks, "Very well, may your God keep you safe on your way. We thank you for your warning, it will serve Us well." The Shaman gave a respectful bow to the priest before returning to the body of his crew where he saw the men removing the bodies of the fallen priests, apparently he had misjudged the last man's condition as he seemed quite dead and not to have been given any further injuries.

"The Father did not say much, but he did urge caution in going to the settlement nearby. Apparently it is where the death cult we faced makes its nest. We do not know how deeply their roots hold the place, but We will likely have to tread carefully or be ready to defend ourselves."

The fact that they needed supplies meant they had few options on how to proceed, they would have to go into town and hope they could find a suitable place of business without facing too many more of the fanatics. If there wasn’t a neutral party to work with, they would likely have to acquire supplies by force from the murderous sect. Regardless, there was something of a shadow over Salas as he considered what lay ahead. What Morose said about the crew was certainly true as well, the men with them were growing restless without a clear figure of authority over them. “Salas would place Morose at the head, himself, if the choice of who to lead came to him. He simply does not have the will to command Us and they together. The Chef has more than earned Salas’ loyalty, but the uncertainty lies in the will of the many.”

As it often had, the uncertainty of the future made itself a considerable burden upon Salasais. The men of the Freedom Pirates recognized his power, but few knew exactly how much of a danger he could be to them and even fewer seemed to realize precisely how much they owe their lives to the efforts of their chef. There would come a time, likely just on the horizon, that they would all be tested and see just what the worth of the two champions of the crew was. For now, however, there was the matter of reaching the settlement and facing whatever would come of their visit.
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Morose

Morose

Arid Land

Sounds of the Wilderness

Town and River


Morose sighed, his eyes closed so as to not look at the world for a moment. He turned to look at the speck of a town off in the distance.

"Those men you killed were after the priest and I don't think anyone saw us, so you would think we would be fine, but our luck always turns on its head in places like this.I didn't expect us to get caught up in another issue..."

Morose said before pausing, his eyes seemed far off in deep contemplation. He finally spoke again, but he looked grim and did not sounded anymore pleased either.

"I know that if we enter the town with all of us together, we will draw attention. I know that if we draw attention, priests like 'those' will likely take notice. I know if they take notice, will get trigger happy if the priests begin to make our lives difficult. I know that leaving the men behind would mean would couldn't efficiently gather all the supplies we need in a timely manner and get it all back to the ship safely. I also know we're ******, but that goes without saying....

I saw what you did to those men Salasais. It's one thing to note the attitude of the crew, but you must consider the example you are setting. We cannot even hope to ask the men to show restraint, when the most respected man aboard the ship goes for the kill every time push comes to shove.

That said, it only makes sense that you 'take' and 'hold' the captain position. The crew already respect your power and listen to you. I'm just a child to most of them and I'm pushed around anywhere that I'm not cooking or handling the food. It will not be enough to simply say your are captain now either. You will need to give orders to direct the men and make it clear to them what you expect and what happens if they fall short of your expectations. You will need to give orders to me as well. Only then do we have a chance to keep the crew where we would like them and serving the Freedom Ship faithfully.

I spent some time after my mother died in my father's place as head cook in our family restaurant. I was still numb from her passing and so I led little and drowned myself in the nearly mindless work of it. The other cooks of our kitchen changed as a consequence. Without a leader to direct the men and the work load, chaos soon followed. I was forced to deal with reality suddenly rather than working into it gently because I couldn't be bothered. There are still things we both have to do and we can't afford a mutiny or for the crew to quickly give our name a poor reputation worse than it already is. You have your doubts, but I see no other way and I'm willing to help."


The group of men continued to follow the dusty land along the coast until the reached a river that flowed into the sea. From there, they followed it toward down. The hills and mountains in the distance looked like cacti but the town they approached looked normal enough aside from a very oddly shaped cathedral. The walk left plenty of time for Morose and Salas to discuss and formulate a plan.
Morose • Chef • Freedom PiratesBounty: 13,000,000 • SD Earned: 281 • Beli: 58,010,000 • Location: GrandLine, Little Garden Island

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Togamau
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Tactics Ogre
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Salas was less than pleased with Morose's response. The worst part of it was that he couldn't deny the wisdom in his friend's words. It didn't matter that the Chef was the only man in the crew with a level head when the men couldn't see past his age and stature. Just like in their battle with the navy, everyone involved simply assumed that Salasais was the leader of his group on account of his more obvious presence. The burden of responsibility was almost even greater than his existing burdens of guilt and self-fear and, like the others, was one he had no choice but to bear.

"All you say is true, friend, Salas is bound to take responsibility for Our actions and those around Us. He has tried to restrain Us and failed, whenever We are held back he suffers. His resistance will kill him soon, and he dreads what would remain in his place." He was speaking in almost a whisper, so none but Morose could hear him. He was visibly shivering, though some would simply assume it was because of the coolness of the morning breeze. He clutched the knife at his side with one hand and traced the line of where he had cut himself just minutes previously. He took a couple of deep breaths and his body steadied a bit. "My spirit has grown weak since the battle and I am hesitant to make promises that Salas cannot deliver, but for your sake He will try to endure. When we come to the town, we will need to scout ahead to assess the danger. All we know is the priests We faced are strong here and their stronghold is the town's cathedral. If our purposes can be accomplished without meeting them, all would be well. If We are attacked, at least We are assured that our enemies here are a known blight upon the land..."

At no point in this part of the conversation did Salas make eye contact with the young chef. He knew that Morose was strongly opposed to killing people for any reason, even if their enemies were under no such restriction, he couldn't understand that by now it was a major exertion of restraint to limit killing to self-defense. It was one thing to struggle with grief in the kitchen, another entirely to grapple against screaming bloodlust on a battlefield. Almost every time he had attempted to avoid bloodshed, Salasais had been terribly injured or bound in disgrace and that was something the natural forces of his body refused to forget and willpower can only do so much to fight against the pressure of The Body.

As they approached the town, a chill ran up Salas' spine as he immediately placed himself on high alert.
Edited by Togamau, Mar 3 2017, 03:44 PM.
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Morose

Morose

Arid Land

Sounds of the Wilderness

Town and River

Dark Priests


Morose nodded his head solemnly as he heard Salas's words. The cart that bumped occasionally over a rock or crack did little to disrupt Morose's further consideration. Riding on the cart and facing Salas, Morose seemed comfortably perched and attentive to their conversation as they traveled.

"I agree. In addition to learning about these assassins, we can learn where the marketplace is rather than asking around and making our presence all the more obvious. I'll be going on ahead. Giving the order so the others can witness you taking charge and feel a part of the plan may be wise also."

The last Morose spoke softly to Salas as his eyes narrowed and shifted to a couple of nearby crew. Morose straightened his back from leaning in and made more casual conversation to fill the time talking mostly about what he might cook up for supper that evening. Just outside the edge of town and the farthest row of buildings, Morose got down off the cart, shaking some of the travel dust from his dark cloak, and ran into town.

Opting for a side street rather than the main drag, Morose crept along carefully. The rising morning sun caused shadows to shrink but there wasn't enough dim light to hide as it was. The chef instead chose to keep covered up in the brisk morning and avoid passing in front of open windows, doors, or streets with people in them. His hood covered the top of his head and shrouded his face. Of the men and women he saw brief glimpses of before hiding, most wore dark clothes similar to his but in much more modest styles and cuts. They looked very similar to the assassin priests encountered in the dusty plains and hills. Fortunately, Morose noted the styles of the clothes were not very practical for fighting in as they were overly baggie and not cut in a fashion to allow quick or wide range of movement unlike the assassins' garments which were very tactical in design. It was when a pair of priests dressed like the assassins appeared that Morose was required to take more drastic action.

"How annoying..."

One came from ahead of him into the alley while the other was present at the rear when he turned to make an escape. Either priest would be able to see him in moments. Morose ducked into a narrower alley adjoining the other to buy himself time, however, the space was barely large enough for even him to fit into and would not provide any cover if either man looked his way as they passed. Morose hastily looked around for another form of escape.

Meanwhile

The sun was high in the morning sky, but it remained relatively chilly in the air. The town was awake and active and several individuals were visible in the main streets of the town. However, compared to other islands visited by the Freedom Crew, this island's populace was comparatively reduced in number and excitement. The most active and vigilant looking residents were men and women dressed in the same garb as the assassin's Morose and Salas encountered earlier that day.
Morose • Chef • Freedom PiratesBounty: 13,000,000 • SD Earned: 281 • Beli: 58,010,000 • Location: GrandLine, Little Garden Island

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Togamau
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Morose always seemed to know what to do, it was hard to tell if it was an adaptation to what the boy was forced to deal with on a regular basis or if it was a talent that simply helped him through those times. With the town coming into view, Salasais straightened up a bit and spoke to the party "This town is patrolled by our enemies and if We all move in together without a clear path to follow, we will be set upon by an untold number of violent zealots. Morose, you will scout ahead and determine a safe path to proceed, yes? Move with swiftness and precision." In spite of his compromised state, the Shaman did his best to emulate the calm analysis of his normal words of wisdom.

After giving Morose the instructions they had agreed upon, Salas turned his attention to the crew members still with him, "Salas understands that He is not the captain of Our band, but Our task is to prevent unnecessary death among us and this city may yet be a trial in that regard. As such, it would be unwise to use your guns for anything less than a dire crisis for it will undoubtedly alert more of the zealots of our location. Are We understood? We think it best to remain out of sight for the moment, we will proceed when We have Morose' report or Salas believes the chef to be lost."

Salas wasn’t fully confident in his ability to command the crew, but given their experience with him he hoped that they would take his words seriously within the context of their doctor trying to keep them alive. Until Morose could return from his scouting mission, the Shaman wanted to avoid contact with the residents of the city as much as possible. He needed to know if the citizens were oppressed or colluding with the death cult before he could justify the killing spree that would likely ensue if he were attacked on the streets.

Thus he and the men at the cart took shelter beside a large, round cactus on the outskirts of town from which they could watch to see if there was a disturbance within.
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Morose

Morose

Arid Land

Sounds of the Wilderness

Town and River

Dark Priests


"****, no time..."

Morose immediately went down to his knees, his cloak flaring out around him. He then spun to face away from the alley he came from. He hunched over with hands up clasped as if in prayer. In the dim space between buildings, there was not yet enough light to sparkle Morose's cloak, so he looked very much like the individuals he had spotted earlier that day seemingly praying in other alleys. Hidden among folded fingers, dark handles attached to the blades of two of his kitchen knives were pointed downward at steep angles so as to hide their presence by his wrists.

The moments passed in quiet. Soon footsteps echoed in the relatively quiet backstreet breaking the silence. Morose could not risk turning to look, but his eyes were wide, staring at nothing, but he was obviously listening intently while trying to keep himself from a panic. His fingers clutched his weapons tighter. The footsteps became louder with each step, they might as well had been right on top of Morose when they stopped at their loudest. A cold sweat trickled down the side of the boy's face even though it was cool air and he didn't even sweat in the heat of his kitchen. Morose stopped breathing putting all of his effort into hearing what was happening directly behind him. There was a shifting of feet. A brief scuff. Evening breathing. Something happening down both streets connected by the alley. A bird flapping its wings overhead suddenly to land...

Finally, the tension in Morose's body left him as the two men began stepping away. Morose pulled himself together so as not to slump over from relief and potentially drawing their attention again. Once the steps were no longer audible in walking away, Morose resumed his mission.

Standing atop a rooftop overlooking half the town, Morose sparkled in the sunlight. He had an easy view of the streets. He saw several stalls where men and women stood selling goods without crying their wares as many would in similar settings on other islands. The market, assuming it was a market, was in a separate street from that of the massive cathedral looking building. It resembled a cactus much like the hills that took up the background of the scene. Morose only stayed on his perch long enough to survey the area. He quickly hopped down from the roof to lower buildings and some conveniently placed onnings.

Meanwhile,

Salas had the full cooperation of the men. They appeared to think highly of his advice and tucked their weapons away as a reminder to themselves. None of them wanted to bring down a hive of those dark priests on them after all. They spotted several darkly garbed individuals on the outskirts of the town as the morning went on. Most simply knelt and clasped their hands before them as if to pray. It was unusual. Not only were there too many people doing it, they did it for too long, and even the children did it. What they prayed to or for was not apparent from their vantage point. Eventually they saw the familiar sparkle of Morose in his dark cloak coming from the town. Once he was close enough to them, he imparted his information.

" I think I found the market and it seems to not be as heavily watched as some other places in the town. It could be possible. I also learned that the populace aside from the men and women in the well fitted robes are fairly docile. So long as we avoid the other type, we should be alright. I witness them crucify someone near a cathedral looking structure. There were several others. If I had to guess, the priests doing most of the praying do not want the other types there......but it doesn't really matter. I don't know how anyone could get in there without getting noticed by those men....especially while pulling a ******* cart."
Morose • Chef • Freedom PiratesBounty: 13,000,000 • SD Earned: 281 • Beli: 58,010,000 • Location: GrandLine, Little Garden Island

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Togamau
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The minutes rolled by agonizingly slowly, but at least the men in the crew were compliant when faced with the possibility of having to fight off a horde of trained killers. What Salas could see from their place of refuge couldn't form any useful information, all that could be gathered was that the people in this town were living in some form of exaggerated piety. Whether out of devotion to a god or fear of the priests was hard to determine, but it was unnerving to see a town so reserved.

It wasn't long before Morose returned with his report, he had apparently found a marketplace or at least something like one. It couldn't be determined if they would deal with outsiders, but the issue of getting their men and supply cart to the market without drawing the attention. The first thought to enter the Shaman's mind was to create a diversion, draw as many of the assassin priests away from that area as possible. It was neither an idea he thought Morose would approve of nor one that would be wise given his condition, so he knew where that thought was likely coming from. He thought harder.

"We have seen people kneel down for long periods of time as we waited. Is there perhaps some form of behavior that will spare us their wrath? As Salas fought them at the coast one said something about 'not knowing the mourning' as something worthy of death." It wasn't a perfect plan, but it had a better chance of preserving his sanity than immediately attacking the city's patrols. "Perhaps if we assumed a position of prayer when the priests are close they will pass us by, show signs of mourning. If that does not stay their hand Salas will have no choice but to make a more compelling distraction, if that is what it takes to allow you safe passage."

If this was going to work, he had to be sure that he had the confidence of everyone involved. He had hope that his insight was what would get them through, but a part of him seemed certain that the only result of entering that town would be bloody. "Any who cannot entrust their safety to Us may return to the ship now. You will not be safe here without faith in Our guidance." While he allowed the crew a moment to consider the offer, Salasais turned to confer with Morose, "Salas can only hope for his own sake that his insight is correct here. If he is wrong then We will be forced to take action to protect the crew and the result would be uncertain at best. We need to acquire supplies one way or another, We pray that this market will allow dealings with outsiders or else more questionable methods would be required for our survival. If Salasais fails in his duty, please do what must be done."

The feeling of dread was inescapable, but the Shaman returned to the crew to see who remained before making the precarious trek into town with the only plan being to pray when priests appeared or to fight it out if all else failed.
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Morose

Morose

Arid Land

Sounds of the Wilderness

Town and River

Dark Priests


Morose visibly considering Salas's proposal with sleepy, half opened eyes. One hand held his chin while his other arm supported the first, showing off his slender frame. The youth did not seem to mind or notice the impatience of the other crew members, some of whom were shooting annoyed glances at him. Morose casually glances back at the town a few of the individuals kneeling in heartfelt mourning.

"I suppose that could work. From what I saw in town, those praying are largely left alone, but I assumed that was just because they left their own alone. I don't mind going with the plan. Can't go back to the ship empty handed and I don't really have any better ideas. However, there are plenty of robed priests casually and rather helplessly praying around the town. It would likely not be overly difficult to acquire some robes for ourselves if we wished to blend in more to aid our charade. However, while I was in town, I did notice that the dark priests do not have qualms about killing their own. There's also the thought that the more priests we interact with, whether assassin or no, the greater our chance of being discovered by those murderers, which considering our luck will probably happen more likely than not..."

Morose spat the last, visibly agitated for some reason. He then blinked in surprise. Perhaps he didn't quite understand himself, but he went on.

"I did not see any marines while I looked around and the dark priests appear to have control of the town. I almost wonder if it would not be easier for us to simply bait the assassins out here and kill them all....of course they would slaughter our small number with numbers alone, their monstrous strength and speed aside. I saw one of them single-handedly nail a grown man to a post as he thrashed about. We'll probably all die..."


Morose stopped suddenly, his teeth clenched tight as he glared at the ground. His arms were hidden beneath his cloak again but his body tensed tight enough to be visible through his cloak that gently rustled around him.


The men around Morose who looked so confident and assured in the abilities of the Shaman to back down now, began to question. They turned to Salas for answers. A few still mustered their support of anything the Shaman said, although a bit more shaky now.

"Maybe the cook is right. Perhaps some disguises would help?"

One of the crew reasoned out loud to the agreement of a few others.

"Na. We start messing with a few of these self-righteous *****, we'll stir the hive. Best to try following their customs and not stepping on toes."

Another countered.

"I don't know guys. Maybe we could hold out until we got to the next island.."

yet another said half pleading with the others.
Morose • Chef • Freedom PiratesBounty: 13,000,000 • SD Earned: 281 • Beli: 58,010,000 • Location: GrandLine, Little Garden Island

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Togamau
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The plan was, admittedly, not foolproof. Morose's voice of pessimism did a good job of saying what could and probably would go wrong which, while helpful in private, was quite demoralizing for the crewmen. A fact the young man seemed to become aware of as he suddenly stopped speaking, a seed of doubt had been planted and it would be up to Salas to renew their faith. "While disguises could be somewhat helpful, we would need too many to mask us all and taking that many would not go unnoticed. We cannot leave this island without supplies as we have no way to know what awaits us on the next island. There is no way to proceed unless We acquire what we need here." He gave a heavy sigh as if he was giving up. Morose was right, there was too much at stake to put faith in a nonviolent approach, trying to sneak in would never work and he couldn't protect everyone if push came to shove.

"Morose is correct. The death priests are unavoidable. You cannot hope to fight them all, but We will. Salas will approach their cathedral, they will attack Us, Your path will be clear. We will be stronger, knowing you are out of harm's way... just do not seek Us. If Salas yet lives, he will return to you when it is finished."

The Shaman was visibly shaking, he put a hand on Morose's shoulder and spoke quietly, "Salas cannot fight what he is much longer, their calls for release are driving him mad. If We are attacked, We will lose all control and Morose and the men would be in as much danger as Our foes. It is better this way, go and get the supplies you need." He shuddered and his eyes looked pained "You are Salas' closest friend, but Morose may not want to see what Salasais will become today. If I cannot return, farewell." With his mind set, Salas took his ritual knife and set it at the chef's feet and marched straight into the city.
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Morose

Morose

Arid Land

Sounds of the Wilderness

Town and River

Dark Priests


Morose looked up with some mixture of anger, confusion, and excitement. He worked his mouth as if to speak, but nothing came out. What was there to say. The shaman was already walking away, and the knife was tossed down. Morose quickly knelt to pick up the bone and tucked it away beneath his cloak. His fingers worked gingerly with the implement that was macabre in nature. Morose watched Salas's back with hard eyes, his jaw set. He finally stopped staring to look away with a certain resignation. He had the look of a boy told to do something despicable but promised something he wanted most would be rewarded after. It was the look of acceptance that came with immediate regret and doubt.

Morose leaped to the top of the cart in a dazzling display of sparkle and style. Having already gained the attention of the crew members that remained with the cart he spoke loud enough for all to here. In that moment, it was like he was in his galley and his word was law. At least, that was the intention.

"You all heard the doctor. He will make a distraction for us while we make the necessary purchases. He will be outnumbered and will be unable to hold their attention long if we do not hurry. No stealing or killing. If we start raising a fuss like the Shaman, his efforts will not be as effective. Unless they give us trouble, we do nothing we shouldn't. Understand?"

The crew's attention to Morose's words waned shortly after he began. Morose looked around not seeing many who acknowledged him. They looked to Salas who had walked away. Even without Salas's words, many seemed committed now to the task. Morose was still largely ignored. Morose didn't even have to give a command. The pirates started pushing and pulling the cart into town. Morose was able to stay standing on top of the cart, but those moving it paid him little mind when he floundered for balance at first. They soon drew close to town. How far they would get unmolested with depend on Salas's efforts. Morose watched sharply and waited for any sign that Salas had begun to move. He muttered to himself grimly

"Am I going to watch more die so I could avoid doing what I do not want?...."

In town, Salas was quickly greeted with the site of several simple buildings lining fairly clean, if dusty, streets. Dozens of individuals lined the streets praying. Some wailed loudly in mourning. Others wept quietly. Most were dressed in the simple garb of the common priest. There were two dark priests on this street. They patrolled the street seeming to inspect each mourner from behind sunglasses that effectively hid their vision and gave them a more intimidating look. They had yet to notice Salas, but they would soon...maybe.
Morose • Chef • Freedom PiratesBounty: 13,000,000 • SD Earned: 281 • Beli: 58,010,000 • Location: GrandLine, Little Garden Island

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Togamau
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The Shaman walked purposefully through the streets, he could see the dark priests observing the praying of their flock. It seemed as though his original plan may have had some merit, a bittersweet revelation but irrelevant by this point. If he was going to draw the ire of enough of the death cultists, he had to make his presence known in a big way and fast.

He increased his pace toward the center of town and closed his eyes. Salasais took a deep breath and called out loudly "All who hear my voice, flee! For a spirit of death descends upon this place this day! Any remaining in Our path will perish! Death comes to the cathedral of the mourning priests! Cease your mourning or join with the Lost Beyond!" The words seemed to come naturally, much like they had during the incident in Bausyer when the rift between his personal thoughts and the influences of his parasitic spirit first formed. He hoped that any innocents in his path toward the cathedral took his warning seriously and would remove themselves from his way as he would soon lose the capacity to discriminate between killing the innocent and the guilty.

Salas shuddered as he quickened his pace, specifically moving toward a patrol of dark priests. He knew what his body was telling him and he could feel the sensations that normally came from his drinking from the Pale Gourd, but much stronger. He made a few bounding leaps and then jumped past one of the priests and spun around to quickly elbow his victim into the cloud the shaman left behind him!

The priest barely took a breath before collapsing to the ground and retching as be instantly became deathly ill. Salas considered putting him out of his misery now, but left him to die more slowly to further drive his message to the people home. They need to stay out of his way, maybe even panic a little and call attention to the scene, but at least stay away from him if they valued their lives.

Tech Used + OOC Note
Edited by Togamau, Mar 17 2017, 04:41 PM.
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Morose

Morose

Arid Land

Sounds of the Wilderness

Town and River

Dark Priests

Crucifixion


Morose patiently waited several minutes. The sun rose in the sky and the men around him waited impatiently. Morose's eyes shifted about taking note of the nervous sweat beading on the faces of the nervous men in the cool breeze. The youth remained composed. Sitting atop the cart with legs crossed beneath his dark cloak, he stood out like a sore thumb among the men and would have looked more like an ill-omen to those that saw him from a far than a child. Although the crew made nervous conversation, Morose did not join in and suddenly shushed them while he turned an ear to the town. Only the most perceptive of those around the cart could make out the faint cries of fighting and suffering.

"Our signal has been made. Let's get moving. Hard to say how much time we have,"

The men that also heard the cries were the first to react as they moved to pull/push the cart. Morose dismounted and walked along side it with the other men. He was a head shorter than most and half as wide, but they did not trample him today. The chef seemed to be in an exceedingly dark mood since the shaman left. His eyes looked haunted, and shrouded in his hood, he could have passed for a specter to the surprised.

Morose did not gasp in surprise when he noted the bodies. The first streets the he encountered with the men were relatively clear, but as they worked their way to the market Morose recalled seeing, the body count gradually grew. While there were priests dressed in the assassination garments from before, several more wore the more simple garments. Some of the forms on the ground were no bigger than Morose. Some were smaller.

"...children...."

Morose whispered, his breath suddenly lost to him as if he was socked in the stomach. The concentration of bodies made an easy trail for Morose to follow with his eyes that led to the area around the cathedral he saw from afar earlier that day. The plan was a success. The crew with the cart did not encounter a single living person on their way to the stalls except for the few not long for living as they gasped and spasmed their last. Morose had no remedy. The crew that readily gunned down the assassins from before, were not afraid anymore, but many looked around visibly troubled by the nightmarish sight. Had they not known better, they would have thought a plague ran through the town snuffing the life from anyone it came into contact with. Morose continued verbally directing the men to the marketplace. He occasionally had to push on them to keep them moving or they would stop to gawk. The less affected started to loot after a while. Morose couldn't deter the men who ignored his warnings, but they soon learned their lessen when the spores left behind from Salas got on them and started draining their stamina. Only one man collapsed. He would survive, but Morose left him there as an example to the rest. His words were cold and his eyes seemed as if they were far away being repeatedly shown the horrors around them.


Meanwhile

Salas easily overcame all the priests in his path. Some simply prayed when their end came as Salas passed just a bit too close to them. Others willing rushed headlong into the spore cloud with needle weapons drawn and glasses hiding manic smiles. Some died with thanks upon their lips.

Not all were so committed to plunging into certain doom. The assassin priests easily goaded several of the prayers in their simple robes to rush the Shaman in waves of wailing desperation.

"Rejoice and mourn all the more, brothers and sisters. The underworld has heard your cries and has sent us an instrument of ultimate sleep. Run to him that your cries may be heard all the more and that the mourning will grow! Shower him in your tears to drown out the light and leave your corpses as a path to him so he may come to all!"

Many resisted the Assassins at first, but were quickly ran threw by the long sharp weapons that kept them in line. Soon, even those without any weapons in hand charged salas in droves on the off chance they might take him out and save themselves. None got far...men, women, children...soon, most of the dark priests were busy ensuring the townspeople rushed Salas rather than combating him themselves. They gradually led him to the cathedral grounds. It was there that the shaman was confronted by dozens of crucified townsfolk in various states of death and dying.

It was noon.
Morose • Chef • Freedom PiratesBounty: 13,000,000 • SD Earned: 281 • Beli: 58,010,000 • Location: GrandLine, Little Garden Island

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Togamau
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Sadly, Salasais last injunction to the townsfolk to preserve their lives was proven ineffective by the influence of the assassin-priests who either drove the more benign townspeople toward death or killed those who tried to escape. Despite his hopes otherwise, it seemed Fate was intent on bringing as much innocent blood onto the Shaman's hands as was possible. The forces in motion within and around him could not be stopped at this point and so assassins, men, women, even children died in the streets wherever Salas went. It was some small solace that the potency of his toxins meant that the weak did not suffer long before slipping into oblivion and that the battle-ready which forced the poor souls to die would be allowed to face much greater agony as the spores killed them slowly.

Some of the assassin-priests had the good sense to avoid attacking the apparent avatar of death directly, but those men especially incurred the Shaman's wrath and he actively sought them out even within his indiscriminate killing spree. As he neared them, he stretched forth his hand and the moss from his back tangled together to form a pair of sinister-looking claws which reached out farther to drag the priests into the killing haze.

By the time he had reached the cathedral grounds, Salas' conscious mind had all but retreated into the depths of his psyche, unable to bear the massacre he had unleashed in this place. He saw the suffering victims and could only think of the mercy that ending their suffering would be. Unable to cease the production of the deadly spores around him, Salasais only had one means to spare them from their slow, painful deaths. The gnarly green arms coming from behind his shoulders gently caressed one of the sufferers, exposing them to the spores and, in their weakened state, killing many of them near-instantly.

With the grim task of their "rescue" accomplished, Salas' body reared back and let loose a terrible scream as if pained. From atop and inside the cathedral, several priests appeared that looked somewhat different from those he had slain so easily in the streets on his way there. The raging spirit inside him cried out for the death of these men and the body was willing to make it so.
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Morose

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There were several cries and wails filling the streets now, and Morose was forced to face them all. What had once been relatively quiet weeping and sorrow for some unknown cause now turned into the pained and the fearful cries of those in torment. Morose passed a few parents weeping for a child in their arms. Another man banged angrily on the wall next to a woman who had been impaled through the chest so as to stay fixed to the wall like a decoration. Morose saw bleary eyes wet with tears that freely streamed down his face. With each pitiful victim he passed, his haunted look only grew more solemn and less connected to the world around him. He walked with his head down as if refusing to acknowledge anything.

"Its my fault. All these people died because of me. I might as well have killed these people myself. I cannot bring them all back can I? Even if I really wanted to, I will have no way back..."

Morose murmured to himself furiously, repeating several parts several times as the group of the freedom crew marched on. Eventually he bumped into the back of the man walking directly in front of him. The cart had stopped and the rest of the men with it. Before Morose was the market he saw before. It was not overly big in space or number of stalls, but it was likely not the only market in the town. However, more peculiar than its size was the lack of men and women tending to it. In fact, the space was mostly empty of the passive priests that Morose spied manning the stalls earlier that morning. Morose came back to reality enough to nervously look around quickly. He saw the shifting of shadows in windows and doorways. The market was not deserted, but the people were in hiding.

Morose waited for some moments before giving the command.

"If they don't wish to stop us or trade with us, take what we need and remember the items I listed out. You know what you like, so add it if you see it. We may have to stay at sea for some time after this."

Morose's voice cracked and was weak at first, but he cleared his throat and his voice strengthened as he spoke. He was more in his element and could regain that strength he found in the security of something he knew well, which was running his Galley and meeting its needs.

Meanwhile,

in a sea of crucified cadavers and with the bodies of priests, passive and assassins, littering the ground around him, Salas stood before the cathedral and was view by four priests dressed in the garb of the assassins. However, these priests were more composed and less manic than those before. Their shoulders were else highlighted in a red fabric. After inspecting Salas from behind their sunglasses, they turned to each other and spoke openly.

"What do you think of our christ, Bishop?"

"He's really something my, Queen. Straight from the bowels of the underworld as we waited and wept so long for"

"We mustn't be rude. Please allow me to deliver the parting gift to our christ, my Queen. Making him wait would be thankless."

"Do not be hasty, Knight. While you may be swiftest, you also are the least experienced. Do not think to take the honor upon yourself or presume to be above your station. No, it is I, Rook, who shall deliver the parting gift."

The one named Queen, nodded her head in consent and the priest named Rook stepped forward. He was a thick man easily twice Salas's size in nearly every aspect.

"Oh, thanks to thee, oh deliverer of the mourning. Please accept our parting gift and continued cries until next time."

Rook said with hands clasped in prayer and brief bow. He then trucked toward Salas as if to slam him into tomorrow with a speed unbecoming of one so large.

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Morose • Chef • Freedom PiratesBounty: 13,000,000 • SD Earned: 281 • Beli: 58,010,000 • Location: GrandLine, Little Garden Island

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Togamau
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The four who had appeared looked different, felt different. Salas, far gone as he was, didn't immediately attack them. He was far from passive, though, as his body prepared itself for a more challenging kill while the priests discussed briefly among themselves. The Shaman's muscles visibly became more defined and his breathing more heavy and the gnarled, mossy additional limbs began to gradually change in color, taking on a reddish hue. For a time his spores didn't carry the toxicity they did previously as more of his focus was directed towards battling the stronger opponents.

When he was ready, the largest among them addressed him, voicing thanks for the slaughter and having the gall to dismiss him! "You are not exempt! We are not yet satisfied! Come forth and drink deep to your own demise!" His voice was a ragged howl as Rook charged in an attempt to destroy him.

As the larger priest came closer and moved into his attack, Salasais jumped up and over Rook's head while his moss arms quickly grabbed the brute's shoulders and swung the shaman down behind him where he delivered a powerful kick with both feet at the man's spine, kicking off and away from him before landing powerfully on his feet and glaring coldly at those around him.

While part of the shaman's mind wanted to kill these priests because of the part they'd played in creating this situation, for their brutality and oppressions, the strongest motivation Salasais Racto had for their destruction was simply that they dared to stand before him, thinking themselves able to command the tide of death that he heralded. They had to be made humble.
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Edited by Togamau, Mar 22 2017, 09:59 AM.
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