Post by BEX on Jan 28, 2012 14:23:19 GMT -5
Our story takes place in what is now known as Treegap island. Appropriately named given the endless seas of green that overran the island with sprinkles of humanity only marginally breaking the monotony of nature. A lone settlement provided shelter for the island’s natives as well as any seafaring adventurer though the buildings were often enough interrupted by seemingly misplaced trees that vegetation was quickly accepted as tolerated regularity even by the most urban cultured visitor.
While littered with towering oaks and swaying willows the land itself was modeled after the sea surrounding it; every so often a hill would rise from the earth only to slowly make its descent not long after. Some could hardly be called mounds while others could have been brothers to mountains, but it was not on these, the ‘Mountain Brothers’ that the people of Treegap lived on. Instead they made their establishment upon the branches of the mighty trees themselves! By using the differing elevations to delineate social status for themselves and the outside world, Treegap created its city completely at harmony with nature itself. At the bottom, closest to the ground, gnarled roots made the land a hellish maze for the clumsy footed, was the lowest class: beggars, local thieves, thugs, and those who held a general disdain for high class living. It was sometimes hard to look the dirty, smiling faces that resided in these parts. Like all of the people of Treegap they had a generally likeable disposition which most claimed had been cultivated by the earliest pioneers watching the trees.
‘All things balance out for the better in the end, the winds of change need only be waited upon’. This maxim quoted in times of trouble by the rich and poor alike—usually the poorer. Hearing the words quoted so many times by various tongues lent itself to become firstly and most markedly annoying, but there was something magical about this quality catchphrase that crafted people as tough as bark. Perhaps this was the reason they were so affable to the pirate movement which Gol D. Roger had started some years ago. So engrained was the tree based tradition that even the latest fashions were derived from the surrounding plant life. The richest donning floral cutouts that seemed to make them dancing, laughing human flowers while the poorer wore dirt colored patches that made them look like the mud through which they tread on a daily basis. In any case the unspoken edict was clear; the higher up you went upon the tree social ladder, the more well off you were.
Those who lived on the island generally spent their entire lives climbing from top to bottom and when a child became of age they were sent down to the bottom of the rungs of the forest to begin their life as an adult. The thought being that it matured a certain strength of character in a man or woman to rise from the bottom of the trees to the intricately connected forest canopies. Middle class was comprised mostly of business owners, traders, or merchants—those gifted with the wiles for money business; they were the next step above the paupers while the rich and famous lived in elegantly grown mansions at the very top of the tree; city hall and all its leaders rested here. It was the highest echelon of Treegap that met with World Nobles and had navy officers patrolling the street day and night. In short they had the best of the best at all times. Captains of note, ambitious Lieutenants seeking to make a name for themselves, and every so often the defamed Commodore who sought to reclaim past glory after a damning folly. Of these places, pirates and the like were received as if they were well acquainted merchants. Fiends and scourges as well as heroic conquerors were celebrated nightly for their accomplishments. Even if those accomplishments involved spitting in the eye of the World Government. It wasn’t uncommon to find a higher class member of society endorsing a particularly charismatic pirate captain or another, but generally the leader’s of Treegap tried to remain neutral of the pirate population while the rest of heralded the daring buccaneers as future leaders of the free world.
At least most pirates became overnight celebrities upon arriving at Treegap.
“Hey, c’mon. Gimme some food, lady.” groaned a gaunt, stilt-slim frame barely covered with a dirtied red coat and wearing obnoxious platform sandals. “I’m dyin’ here! You want that on your conscience? Huh?! Do ya?!”
The woman in question, a plump middle aged aunt with the tired look of a minimum wage laborer eyed the infamous Jack Dancer coolly—nose pointed upward mind you. Jack gnashed his teeth in the face of being discredited for what seemed the thousandth time since drifting ashore this crappy ass garden. “One day I’ll become one of the rich and famous. I can’t associate with bottom feeders like you.” the responded haughtily before making a show of brushing the slack jawed ex-captain off. Never one to take such open disrespect in stride the bony carcass of a man reached out with snake like quickness, snatching the woman’s collar with surprising strength that drew her nearly from her feet as he pulled her in to whisper into her ear, “I ain’t askin’ again bi—” Several events jumbled together into one reel of karmic punishment.
A pang hunger so strong that Jack was physically shaken lost him the firm grip he’d had on the bitter woman of notable size. In the same instant—or one shortly following—the relinquished lady made quick advantage of the other’s misstep. Dropping all her belongings and wrenching Jack’s extended arm over her shoulder, she slung the poor man into a nearby shaft. Which collapsed upon impact. If reincarnation was true then Jack was certain he’d be reborn as a fly. Giving the rubble of someone’s destroyed home a disparaging look the stately beggar with ambitions sniffed once before gathering her things and taking off with satisfaction very apparent in her stride.
This was how the 93 million bounty head Jack Dancer had been spending the last three weeks in Treegap. Hunger so leeching him of his health that he no longer even looked like himself, his strength coming in waning bouts, and worse yet the people believed him to be an outcast simply trying to pass himself off as a pirate!. Of all the goddamned things in the world to do…WHY THE HELL WOULD ANYONE PRETEND TO BE A PIRATE?! Apparently the people of Treegap believed it possible for no one gave him a moment’s thought now or any day prior.
At least no one until the owner of the now ruined shack came gliding over to examine the deed. It was this event that would spawn a series of chain reactions that would reverberate throughout the world. Or….more likely Jack might see his stomach filled after an impossibly long stretch of being famished.
While littered with towering oaks and swaying willows the land itself was modeled after the sea surrounding it; every so often a hill would rise from the earth only to slowly make its descent not long after. Some could hardly be called mounds while others could have been brothers to mountains, but it was not on these, the ‘Mountain Brothers’ that the people of Treegap lived on. Instead they made their establishment upon the branches of the mighty trees themselves! By using the differing elevations to delineate social status for themselves and the outside world, Treegap created its city completely at harmony with nature itself. At the bottom, closest to the ground, gnarled roots made the land a hellish maze for the clumsy footed, was the lowest class: beggars, local thieves, thugs, and those who held a general disdain for high class living. It was sometimes hard to look the dirty, smiling faces that resided in these parts. Like all of the people of Treegap they had a generally likeable disposition which most claimed had been cultivated by the earliest pioneers watching the trees.
‘All things balance out for the better in the end, the winds of change need only be waited upon’. This maxim quoted in times of trouble by the rich and poor alike—usually the poorer. Hearing the words quoted so many times by various tongues lent itself to become firstly and most markedly annoying, but there was something magical about this quality catchphrase that crafted people as tough as bark. Perhaps this was the reason they were so affable to the pirate movement which Gol D. Roger had started some years ago. So engrained was the tree based tradition that even the latest fashions were derived from the surrounding plant life. The richest donning floral cutouts that seemed to make them dancing, laughing human flowers while the poorer wore dirt colored patches that made them look like the mud through which they tread on a daily basis. In any case the unspoken edict was clear; the higher up you went upon the tree social ladder, the more well off you were.
Those who lived on the island generally spent their entire lives climbing from top to bottom and when a child became of age they were sent down to the bottom of the rungs of the forest to begin their life as an adult. The thought being that it matured a certain strength of character in a man or woman to rise from the bottom of the trees to the intricately connected forest canopies. Middle class was comprised mostly of business owners, traders, or merchants—those gifted with the wiles for money business; they were the next step above the paupers while the rich and famous lived in elegantly grown mansions at the very top of the tree; city hall and all its leaders rested here. It was the highest echelon of Treegap that met with World Nobles and had navy officers patrolling the street day and night. In short they had the best of the best at all times. Captains of note, ambitious Lieutenants seeking to make a name for themselves, and every so often the defamed Commodore who sought to reclaim past glory after a damning folly. Of these places, pirates and the like were received as if they were well acquainted merchants. Fiends and scourges as well as heroic conquerors were celebrated nightly for their accomplishments. Even if those accomplishments involved spitting in the eye of the World Government. It wasn’t uncommon to find a higher class member of society endorsing a particularly charismatic pirate captain or another, but generally the leader’s of Treegap tried to remain neutral of the pirate population while the rest of heralded the daring buccaneers as future leaders of the free world.
At least most pirates became overnight celebrities upon arriving at Treegap.
“Hey, c’mon. Gimme some food, lady.” groaned a gaunt, stilt-slim frame barely covered with a dirtied red coat and wearing obnoxious platform sandals. “I’m dyin’ here! You want that on your conscience? Huh?! Do ya?!”
The woman in question, a plump middle aged aunt with the tired look of a minimum wage laborer eyed the infamous Jack Dancer coolly—nose pointed upward mind you. Jack gnashed his teeth in the face of being discredited for what seemed the thousandth time since drifting ashore this crappy ass garden. “One day I’ll become one of the rich and famous. I can’t associate with bottom feeders like you.” the responded haughtily before making a show of brushing the slack jawed ex-captain off. Never one to take such open disrespect in stride the bony carcass of a man reached out with snake like quickness, snatching the woman’s collar with surprising strength that drew her nearly from her feet as he pulled her in to whisper into her ear, “I ain’t askin’ again bi—” Several events jumbled together into one reel of karmic punishment.
A pang hunger so strong that Jack was physically shaken lost him the firm grip he’d had on the bitter woman of notable size. In the same instant—or one shortly following—the relinquished lady made quick advantage of the other’s misstep. Dropping all her belongings and wrenching Jack’s extended arm over her shoulder, she slung the poor man into a nearby shaft. Which collapsed upon impact. If reincarnation was true then Jack was certain he’d be reborn as a fly. Giving the rubble of someone’s destroyed home a disparaging look the stately beggar with ambitions sniffed once before gathering her things and taking off with satisfaction very apparent in her stride.
This was how the 93 million bounty head Jack Dancer had been spending the last three weeks in Treegap. Hunger so leeching him of his health that he no longer even looked like himself, his strength coming in waning bouts, and worse yet the people believed him to be an outcast simply trying to pass himself off as a pirate!. Of all the goddamned things in the world to do…WHY THE HELL WOULD ANYONE PRETEND TO BE A PIRATE?! Apparently the people of Treegap believed it possible for no one gave him a moment’s thought now or any day prior.
At least no one until the owner of the now ruined shack came gliding over to examine the deed. It was this event that would spawn a series of chain reactions that would reverberate throughout the world. Or….more likely Jack might see his stomach filled after an impossibly long stretch of being famished.