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The drawing of three
Topic Started: Mar 8 2017, 05:47 AM (527 Views)
Rig
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[ *  *  *  * ]
Gesso island lay bare. All the inhabitants having fled inside as the foretold rain shower began. Coating the island in a fresh coat of white paint. When it finally abated the island was pristine. No more smudges in the streets from children playing. Nor washing away from a particularly large wave the night before, that had washed up onto shore. Blasting away the primer on the beach with its primordial fury. Everything was as it should be pristine and untouched by humanities grubby little hands. Perfect. In trickles people began to exit their homes as the rain tapered off. They were no longer shocked by the rain, generations having lived beneath that ridiculous rainbow cloud having forced them to adapt to its schedule. And it was at this time as the paint still wet on the ground that a ship bumped against the docks. A visitor had come to the island. One who would stir up such a fuss that nobody could be prepared for the storm to come.

Max stumbled onto the docks from the ship he'd hitched a ride on. He was displaying the excessive care in his gait that only the drunk could showcase. It wasn't only that, but also the fact that he'd been on a boat for who knows how long, ambling his way to and fro as he sailed towards wherever it was that those merchants were taking him. It was lucky for him that the grandline housed such a thriving mercantile otherwise he would likely never get anywhere. Nodding to himself as he staggered down the wooden planks of the dock he made up his mind to purchase himself a boat. It didn't have to be an amazing boat, with cannons and sails and such, hell it didn't even need to be a nice boat. As long as it floated reasonably well he'd be fine. He was in no rush to make it to a destination. So meandering along in the seas was perfectly fine by him.

The martial artist winced and put a hand over his eyes, trying in vain to protect them from the searing glare reflected off of... Now that he thought about it with the warm weather it couldn't have been snow. His drunk mind tumbled its way through understanding what it was seeing. Trying to process the fact that everything he could see, from the docks beneath his feet to the town in the distance was pure unbroken white. "Oh dear." He muttered to himself, "Hope I don't stumble into a Grand Wizard here.' That said he headed off down the altogether too clean docks towards the lone building at the end. Where he could only assume sat the man responsible for collecting the fees necessary for a person to enter the island. After that he'd. Well in truth he hadn't a clue what he would do. Maybe something would make itself apparent along the way.
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nuxxon
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[ *  * ]
In a gloomy bar somewhere in the pearlescent whiteness of the island a man sat, and tried to go drunk while realizing that he was stuck on the foreign island to him, Gesso.

As he pondered his choices while sitting in the bar he started to think about something that he could do to get out of here, he was carried here by some ship that he doesn't remember so he needed to get one himself to be able to get out of this hell hole, a place without color on the outside, a place where everything was eye-searingly white or sparkly in color if we look at the insides. Not his type of place, because here he's even broker than usual, plus people want to snag his attire away from him one too many times per day.

Right as he was about to stand up and leave he started wondering where Jeff had gone to, as his glare escaped the bar and looked outside he caught him with his vision, seeing him just in time as he got hit in the face and flew through the inn saloon doors once again, he had pissed someone off one too many times already and this wasn't something that Harry liked, he drew his gun and simply aimed at the man that had punched his friend a bit too hard.

Giving him a clear indication of intimidation Harry spoke suddenly, "Back off unless you want a bullet inside of you, he may be stupid but he's also my friend, so unless you guys want trouble I suggest you back down" he said as he loaded the gun and took of the safety.

They backed down, but in the process Jeff spoke suddenly to Harry from the floor that he laid on, the green floorboards of the creaky inn, saying in a rusty and defeated voice "Thanks for the help Harry! How come you didn't come with me out huh?" as if he had asked him first, which of course he hadn't.

As Harry put the safety on harmful words left his mouth, ensuring Jeff that he was in a hell of a lot of trouble if he kept doing this, "You never asked, you stupid idiot, now come on, we better get going." he said as he fished him up from the floorboards, where as they left the tavern shortly after, with the pure whiteness searing his eyes, maybe they would find something cool to do today, just maybe.
Edited by nuxxon, Mar 9 2017, 11:03 AM.
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Zegram jumped off the deck of his small vessel, and onto the docks. He had a small smirk across his lips. Zegram looked across the stark white island with his brown eyes curios as to why everything was so unnaturally white. The only thing he would guess is that a color man had stolen all the color from the island and escaped into a painted world of his own creation.

Nah that couldn't be it. Maybe it had something to do with the oddly colored cloud over the island. That would make a little more sense. He started making his way farther inland after exchanging a bit of his beli in for, paint? He looked at the assortment of mostly earth colored vials in his hand, and with a couple more vibrant colors mixed in. He figured that the inhabitants were a bit color starved, but he didn't thing it was bad enough to make it the currency.

Zegram put the paint in his thick leather belt, which also held some small gadgets and assortment of tools and smaller materials for him to tinker with when he gets bored. It was probably that habit that got him stuck all the way out this far without a good ship, or any good weapons to defend himself. Sure his two single shot pistols were reliable enough, but he had many other gun holsters empty in his black overcoat.

With a tip of his hat to keep out the glare from the sun off the buildings, Zegram made his way deeper into town. The people seemed friendly enough though the staring was a bit odd. A bit of his bright blue shirt could be seen from under his coat, and he wore a pair of tan pants with a black pair of sandals to top the outfit off. He shrugged them off and pulled out a small metal cube and a screwdriver messing with it as he walked.

Before he knew it, he had bumped into someone coming the opposite direction. He looked put from his tinkering to see a couple of boys coming from the other way. He couldn't tell if they had ran into him, or visa versa. They were basically in the middle of the street. He looked down to see his cube unharmed. Good thing too otherwise he would be royally pissed off.

"Well that could have been bad." He said with a chuckle and a grin to break the ice.
Zegram • Gunner • Marksman • [url=insert pirate crew link here]Pirate Crew[/url] • Bounty: 0 • SD Earned: 40 • Beli: 8,500,000 • Location: South Blue
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Max stared blankly at the man behind the sparsely covered counter. The man stared at him over steeepled fingers, bespeckled eyes peering into his soul. The man looked at him as if he couldn't understand what he was saying and Max was certain that his own face was also displaying those emotions.

'And why would I want to do that,'
Max asked.

'For the dozenth time, sir. We on Gesso utilize colour as the currency of choice. This is because that ever since the great cloud came to our island and bathed it in white, we've no colour of our own.'

Max scrubbed his face with his hands then raan them through his hair as he sighed in exasperation.

"So, you want me to give you actual money for little vials of colour. Actual real money.' He couldn't believe this crackpot, who'd ever fall for this scam. Money for what amounted to ineffectual dye. '

"Sir,' the man began.

Max cut him off with an upraised hand. 'Yeah, yeah yeah, I get it. Local currency. Fine whatever.' He thrust his hand forwards into the air, punctuating his next point by pointing at the board on the wall. "But what the hell is with that exchange rate. Are you insane.'

The man answered by parting his hands and lifting his elbows off the table. A, what are you going to do about it. The little smirk on his smug face didn't help matters.

'You know what. Whatever. Take it.' He tossed a bag of money on the counter and waited while the man exchanged it for this islands currency. It didn't really matter he admitted to himself, he was just going to get it back when he left after all.

He left the exchange parlour feeling like he had just been reamed out. Real money for coulourful liquid. Real world money, with which he could have bought women or liqour or other more narcotic pursuits. It just didn't make sense. He stared at the bright coloured vials in his hand. Shaking his head in sheer disbelief. Tucking them into his jacket pocket he headed into town. He needed a drink.

He tried to keep his eyes down as he ambled through the streets. The glare off virtually everything was damn near blinding. He needed to pick up some shades before his eyes burned out of his skull. It didn't help that he was still nursing a killer hangover. As he walked he fumed about the egregious exchange rate. He couldn't shake the feeling that he had gotten the once over. He wasn't paying attention to where he was going. His shoulder struck the unyielding surface of another person. His gaze whipped around and glared at the unfortunate soul who hadn't been watching where they were going. 'Watch it, punk,' the words were spat at the baby faced, afro sporting shmuck. He had no patience for being kind to this jackoff. All he wanted was to protect his eyes from this blasted sunlight and to have a drink to wash away the dust of his journey.
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Harry broke out in tiny laughter as he watched the man, and with a grin on his face, albeit a little hidden to not make the man even more pissed at him and his companion, as he spoke with a forgiving and helpful type of voice the man looked like he was calming himself, "Sorry, didn't mean to walk into neither of you two, Jeff apologize you too!". He looked at Jeff and anticipated something to get out of his mouth, when this didn't happen a quick jab in his stomach changed that and instantly made him spout out, "Uuuugh- Yeah yeah sorry, for everything really" he said as Harold's elbow borrowed itself deeper onto the poor mans stomach.

"So, who are you guys? If someone of you are gonna accuse me of something I better know a name, as for us, I'm Harold and this guy is Jeffrey." he said as the sun got stronger, the blaze gently touching his skin. As he looked at one of the people he supposedly walked into he noticed a cube, and the person in question seemed to take care of it to a special degree, making him fear for himself if they had broke it as they didn't have money left after all the partying and drinking.

And what about the other man? He smelled of alcohol and seemed to be hungover, Harold noticed as he is at the moment as well, being someone that parties with extreme measures in mind, but not necessarily a drunk per se. Being quick to offer him something to help him with headaches and the searing brightness he remembered that he had a pair of sunglasses laying in his backpack, he quickly discarded it and pulled them out to offer them to the man. "Yo, so I just remembered I had these, want them? Seem like you got one hell of a hangover."
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Zegram returned the cube to the protective pouch on his utility belt and returned his attention to the two men, the one that apologized for the bumping of not only himself, but another man that had staggered onto the scene. He put a friendly face on seeing the worried expression of one of them. Zegram smiled reassuringly trying to play down the situation.

"Hey no harm done, so don't worry about it." He said addressing his unspoken worries. He couldn't read minds, but he could read facial expressions decently well. Now it was time to address the other man. Something about him rubbed Zegram the wrong way. It might have been the way he spoke to the guy he ran into, it just irritated him.

"Hey the only punk I see around here is the drunk in front of us." His tone sounded like one of more indifference than someone trying to pick a fight. Zegram didn't come here looking for a fight, but he will finish one.
Zegram • Gunner • Marksman • [url=insert pirate crew link here]Pirate Crew[/url] • Bounty: 0 • SD Earned: 40 • Beli: 8,500,000 • Location: South Blue
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Max cocked his head to the side, his eyes tightening from the pain. The throbbing in his head was becoming a dull ache that he could feel in the back of his teeth. It turned his face into a snarl.

The martial artist blinked in surprise as one of the young men offered him a pair of sunglasses. He took them with a nod and grunt of gratitude, he wasn't one to say no to free things. As the shades darkened his vision and protected him from the glaring light, he breathed a sigh of relief. His head ache settling down to a much more manageable level now. He could actually think straight.

It had started out as a terrible day, the hangover coupled with the light, but now it was turning around. Max smirked at the guy who mouthed off to him. It was going to be a great day. It was going to be a murder day. "Aren't you just adorable,' he mocked. His tone disparaging enough that anyone could tell he saw no threat from the man in front of him. He pulled his hands out of his pockets and turned to fully face the mouthy one. He let the rage that roiled just beneath the surface enter his voice, coating the next words in murderous intent. 'Are you sure this is where you want to die?'
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As Harry stood up he realized he wouldn't be able to do anything about the situation, one was angry and the other one was annoyed, this was going to go south however they managed to try and "fix" the situation, well whatever happens now, Anyone could see that Harry's intention wasn't to start a fight, but he sure wasn't going to try to stop something that was decided, something was going to happen for sure.

As he stood up and walked to the closest wall to spectate he quickly got spoken to by his underling of sorts, Jeff. "Hey captain whats the meaning of this?" he said expecting the captain to answer him with a truthful and long sentence with difficult words to comprehend, but instead he just sat down with his back resting on the wall, looking towards the two (hopefully soon to be) combatants, he expected a fight, and he sure wasn't going to let that get out of hand, he doesn't want attention around here until he has gotten a boat to get around in thats for sure.

Words was spewed left right and center, words got harsher and harsher, but right before anything else happened the henchman spoke, trying to calm down the situation. "Hey guys, STOP, all of us are probably here to find something, or to go somewhere, or maybe just have this being one of your first islands on this god forsaken sea, so now, lets either unite for a true goal or not at all and go separate paths, but please don't destroy too much if you can't control it, alright?" Jeff said with a clear boss tone, he truly had some testicles.
As he watched them argue back and forth he heard something that seemed to be footsteps, as if a mob was running towards them, he wondered deep in his mind what it could have been on such a nice day in such a regular town as this, or at least regular as according to the Grand Line...

Edited by nuxxon, Mar 21 2017, 09:04 AM.
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Max glared at the boy in front of him. Willing him to attack. Daring him.He could go for a fight right about now. Excess energy and a bone to pick after sailing across the water was his to spend as he saw fit. His hands clenched into fists as he waited to see the smallest movement. A shift in the eyes, or perhaps ,muscles moving beneath the fabric of his shirt. Time stretched out that way until the other man spoke again. The words he said while a bit pretentious did make sense, it was too bad that he tried to use a commanding tone on the drunkard. Max's held tilted to the side as he considered this new annoyance. "Piss off, mate, or you're going to get it next.'

Sneering at the first person he knew that the quiet one wasn't going to attack. He'd had big talk but that was all it was. Bluster. Tough talk with nothing to back it up with. 'Stay out of my way coward,' he said, his voice heavy with disdain. He turned on his heel to walk away, there was nothing of interest here for him. Maybe he could find a bar someplace. Even a weird place like this one had to have a pub. Though the drink would probably be some crazy colourless concoction.

He had only gone a couple steps when he drew up short. Further down the road a man was sprinting towards them. The martial artists cocked his head to the side in confusion. Wonder what's got him in such a rush, he wondered as he watched with mild interest as the man neared him. He saw the incoming persons head look up at him as he neared. He was clutching something to his chest as he ran. A bundle about the size of a cantaloupe. Further behind this lone sprinter a large cloud of dust was rising between the building of the city. As if some type of horde was chasing after him.

The newcomer made eye contact with the pirate. He came to a screeching halt infront of him and lobbed the package to him. 'Hold onto this for me. I'll retrieve it later.' With that the man was off again, running down the street as if all the demons of hell were after him. Instinct had Max catch the bundle. The solid weight of it surprised him. Whatever it was was wrapped in water proof leather. He could feel the treatment with how slick the item was. It was roundish. Slightly ovaled at the top making it almost egg shaped. He could only wonder what it was as the dust cloud further into the city came to the intersection that bisected this avenue. a large group of men came around the corner. Armour glinting in the searing sunlight as the guardsmen charged along after the lone man. Towards the trio.
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The men and women that came towards them was in shining, silvery armour lined with brown leather wraps to keep it intact. There was easily 50 people in the mob, probably more, but he couldn't fathom it at first. Did the drunk get something in his hands? Did someone throw them something? Harold couldn't see a thing, the glittering armour under the sunlight had blinded him in the essentials moments of this story.

As he watched towards the drunk after getting his eyesight back he saw that he had a parcel of some sorts, and the mob was just getting closer and closer, if they had to fight, then they had to fight. Harry readied his rifle and quickly told his comrade "Jeff, ready yourself for battle just in case, but keep it subtle alright? We might need to battle this out, and in that case we better find a ride out of here soon." Harold said with determination in his voice, Jeff quickly realised what was going to happen and readied his body in a fighting stance, as they looked over the horizon the mob got closer and closer. "I got no idea whats up, but I'll help you get them down!".

The cloud was coming closer and closer, the marching men, people screaming "STOP HIM", everything seemed to be out of place, or just in place for them. This was something that had happened loads to Harry on his home island to him, having to run from the authorities because of this and that, but he never knew that they were going for the kill as he now could see through the smoke of their marching steps on the blistered dirt and cobblestone ground. Spears, swords, guns, anything they could grasp to end whatever that man is.
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Max felt the weight of the object in his hands. He had no idea what it was, but after poking it a bit he noticed that the part he thought was the tip of the egg was just more padding. The martial artist had no idea just what the hell he was holding. The clatter of the mob rose into a resounding thunder as they surged down the street, straight towards the group. It looked like they had no intention of slowing in their chase of the man who had fled. That is until one of them, probably the commander of sorts Max assumed from the intricate marking on his helm, caught sight of the bundle in the pirates hands. The mob came to a screeching halt, somehow kicking up even more dust than when they had been running full tilt. The unit stood with their weapons held at ease. It seemed a confrontation wasn't necessary.

The commander strode forwards, his armour even more brilliantly shiny than the others. If it weren't for the shades the kid had given him the drunk was pretty sure his eyes would have burned out of his sockets. The man strode forwards. His stride suggesting that he was intimately familiar with great sword that he used as a walking stick. His movements were fluid, there was no wasted effort as he stepped towards the group.

'You there,' he called to Max, his hand rising up to point at him. 'The thing you're holding is our property. We of the Order have long searched for that holy artefact and demand you return it to us. Failure to do so will result in us having to take it. And that would be an encounter I'd ill advise, as you wouldn't walk away from it.'

A smirk spread on Max's face at the mans speech. Anyone behind him could see his back muscles bunching from his restraining himself from launching himself at this person. He breathed, trying to control the fear that ran rampant throughout him. That had controlled him for most of his life. Still the mans words struck the cord of terror weaved through him, though there was something else within as well. Something that bristled at his threats. It was an unfamiliar feeling for the pirate. Was this pride? Still, he gripped the object tighter. If they had rallied this many people for this thing then it must be worth quite the sum. And if that were the case then Max would be damned if he was going to give up on an easy payday.

Max re-affixed his grip. He could see the suspicion growing in the commanders eyes. He had known it would be so easy. The mans hand slowly moved to grip the handle of his weapon. The smirk on the pirates face widened ever further. 'No', he said. Before he had finished the word the commander attacked, bringing his sword point up in a vertical slash. Max hopped backwards. And the glint in the mans eyes told that had been exactly what he wanted as he shifted his grip and thrust the blade forwards. Still in the air Max twisted in a desperate dodge. The tip sheared through his shirt. The hot metal skimming across his stomach. Max rotated away. Landing on one foot and twisting, tearing his shirt of the razor edge of the sword. He crouched beneath the horizontal swing the man attempted. Spinning to face away from his opponent. His legs bunched as adrenaline flooded blood pumped into them. And then he was off. Erupting from his sprinters start and tearing down the street away from the confrontation.
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As Harry realized he was right about his thoughts he looked over to his companion in arms as well as his companion of friendship, as he took the rifle of off his back and into his arms and quickly loaded it he looked towards the commander having a grudge with the newly gotten drunk acquaintance of his.

He readied his scope, and before pulling the trigger he pulled a quick smirk on his face, and with a sinister bang the bullet flew, as concentrated as pickles in the mall it flew, straight into his armor, giving it cracks that split around the mans upper chest. It seemed that the armor they were using was really cheaply made, as this island seemed pretty sparse in its military force at times. It took a second before Jeff yelled out as the armor cracked in front of their eyes. "Woah, Hell's Bite already huh`? Yeah these people seem strong, let me put on my best performance for you people, lets beat this guy Mr. Haze!" he said with a sparkling attitude towards the drunk, readying his fists and then throwing two kicks towards the commander, but right as he tried it the man dodged and grabbed his left leg then threw him straight in the wall behind Harry. This was going to be tough.

As he realized this four men charged towards him, he quickly dashed backwards before seeing his loyal companion charging towards the front, taking blunt hits by staffs of the royal army straight at him, getting punched again and again as if it was 300 men (:>) while Harry readied his next shot, this time he was going to hit them, hopefully all of them with only 2 bullets needed, ricochet needed to get all of them within the shots, but right before he realized what was happening a presence

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Edited by nuxxon, Apr 4 2017, 01:40 PM.
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The martial artist ducked into an alleyway, charging down it and swinging around another corner. He slowed his breath, breathing in and out of his mouth so that he could heart if there was any pursuit. He didn't hear any. Not surprising he told himself, he knew that he was damn fast, even when nursing a hangover. Still. All this trouble over one thing. The hell could be so important to send fifty men after. The wrapping fell away as he pulled the object out of its covering. He held it up by its base, twisting it this way and that. Sunlight sparkled off its bejeweled side. A cup? Why would they go through all this trouble for just a cup? The drunk got that it was quite the fancy cup, but still just a cup nonetheless. Maybe it was some kinda religious artefact. He shrugged his shoulders, it didn't matter in any case. It was his now and he was going to hawk it for a enough beli to get himself blitzed.

'How's that for lucky' he laughed. He wrapped the cup back up, making sure to tighten the covering well. Wouldn't do to have the damn thing fall out on him now would it. That done he tied the bundle to his belt. Making sure to double knot it. He startled as a gunshot rang out. His muscles tensed as he prepared to flee for his life. Eyes scanning for the threat. Seeing nothing he relaxed slightly. On the edge of hearing he heard shouts and crashes. The dull thumps of blunt weapons striking flesh. He thought back to the guys he'd ditched. They must be getting their butts handed to them right now. A small smirk touched his lips. It slipped off quickly. His hands balled into fist and he smashed it against the wall. 'Dammit' he shouted.

He'd thought he'd gotten rid of that nagging conscience, yet now here it was again. Prodding him, driving him to take responsibility. 'Fine. Fine,' he grumbled, 'I'll go beat the guys up, but after that if they die it's their own damn fault.'

He set off down the alley, doubling back the way he had come. He came to an intersection that led onto the street they had been on. From the safe confines of the hall he saw the sides of the attackers. Easy enough, he thought as he strolled the rest of the way until he stood just inside the mouth of the lane. Then he was gone.

Max erupted from his hiding place. Hitting top speed in two short steps. He crashed into the flank of the group like a tidal wave. Men were thrown to the ground. Others staggered backwards as their fellows suddenly pushed against them with such force. Those who fell were trampled underfoot by their brothers. Max lashed out, his fist colliding with a mans throat, crushing the cartilage there. The next on the other side received a stomping blow to his knee which shattered the joint and sent him tumbling to the ground. The pirates hands wrapped around another's head and brought it down with a sickening crunch onto his knee. Max had a massive grin on his face, he did so enjoy fighting people weaker than himself.
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Ouch, what had happened? It seemed like men were falling over and over, Harry started to regain his vision as he watched over the battlefield, the drunk battled several, knocking them out one after one, helping Harry and his comrade to get up from their defeat, he wasn't dead, but injured ... yeah lets say injured to say the least. He had a gaping wound that was hidden by his hoodie. "Damn, Harry get up! We need to go, we can find this weirdo later but for now we need to get you treated!"

"YOU, MAN, THANKS FOR HELPING ME OUT, I may have been wounded, I may not have been able to hold my ground, but let me know of your name! I will strive to beat you some day!" Harry screamed to the other side of the battlefield, awaiting the answer of the hazy man. He had been asleep for too long, he had lost his senses and gotten weaker, he shouldn't have dragged out in the street carelessly like that so many years ago... He needed to fix all of this and become stronger, train for awhile on this island before he has qualified himself of getting of it. He needed to master the island of Gesso!

As he passed out with the smell of various berries in the background he realised his flaws, he needed to fix all of this, get them a ship and train, but until then he wasn't going to be worthy of this place, what would his brothers think of him? White, Black, White, Black.. The colors that were first introduced to him as he woke up in a small room at a hospital presumably, stitched up and stabilized he began to wonder of what the man had told him, maybe Jeff knew?
Edited by nuxxon, Apr 10 2017, 06:31 AM.
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The martial artist slid around the blade of a pole arm. The slow strike cutting through the air harmlessly. Honestly why were these guys still fighting him. It was obvious they had absolutely no chance of defeating him. He kicked one in the solar plexus when he got too close, pushing him back into his fellows. A moment of stillness fell on the group as they created a ring around the pirate. Max sneered, attacking from all sides huh. But they didn't charge forwards. Instead a portion of the ring opened up and the commander stepped through. His shattered breastplate had been removed, revealing a scarred torso bare to the sun.

Max focused most of his attention on this man. It seemed he was intent on the two of them having a duel of sorts. Still the young man paid heed to the men surrounding him, it wouldn't take much for one of them to reach out and slice his achille's tendon while he was fighting. The commander strode forwards, coming to a stop a few meters away from Max. He held his sword in a comfortable grip. He'd already known that the man was competent with the blade. Perhaps even good. Max wasn't planning on being the one to find out first hand.

The two of them circled one another within the ring. Max's eyes flicked to the kids he had come into this fight to help. He looked at the one with the rifle from over the shoulder of the commander. He tried to convey his plan with the young man with only his gaze, but who could say if he understood that Max wanted him to shoot the man in the back of the head. It would save him a lot of trouble.

The commander slid his foot forwards shifting stances, sword above his head, point aimed at Max's chest. The pirate copied the movement in the opposite direction. Baiting the commander, keeping his attention on him as he tried to avoid clashing for as long as possible. Which would be a very short time considering that he was ringed in on all sides.
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