The Floating Cloud Crusade (Helix et al.)

[etarip]

"The desire to be a pilgrim is deeply rooted in human nature. To stand where those that we reverence once stood, to see the very sites where they were born and toiled and died, gives us a feeling of mystical contact with them and is a practical expression our homage."

(A History of the Crusades, Vol. 1, the First Crusade, Steven Runciman, page 38) (real)


"Something had begun to stir in the Revolutionary organization. In an institution already full of passionate and idealistic men and women, a new flame had been lit from within. It began when rumours and reports from spies and observers within the Floating Cloud Kingdom described that the Royal family was about to reach an agreement in regard to acceding the World Government. Had the Floating Cloud Kingdom been like any other island, the reports may only have saddened and distressed the common Revolutionary. However, the Floating Cloud Kingdom held a special significance for many of those associated with the revolution. Fifty years prior, a renowned officer of organization, born and raised on the Floating Cloud island, had been martyred for his belief in the ideals of the revolution. From that point and onwards, the Grand Line island found in the Reflection Route, became a site of pilgrimage, visited by hundreds if not thousands of Revolutionaries a year. So when reports starting coming in of the island wishing to affiliate itself with the World Government and the Marines, many Revolutionaries feared that the pilgrimage would become impossible.

Due to the situation being so volatile and the resources of the Revolution growing thin, the leadership of the organization made no move. This sparked a reaction from Revolutionaries of all rank. Many started making their way to the Floating Cloud almost spontaneously. Though they were not organized at first, a common goal began to emerge as more and more ships anchored outside the island: they were going to claim the Floating Cloud island for the Revolution."

(The Floating Cloud Crusade: Causes and Effects, Ichorous Earthart, Revolutionary historian, page 57) (fictional)

________________________________________


As the sultry sun beamed down upon the windstruck seas outside the island that held the Floating Cloud Kingdom, Sinon could hardly contain his excitement. Though he cared little for whole "pilgrim-aspect" of the movement that had risen to claim the Floating Cloud island, or the fabled martyr who was considered a hero of the Revolution, the man with the vigorous goatee and the cloudy grey eyes saw an opportunity in the whole mess. If he could somehow slither into the leadership of the "crusade", as it was named by some, or if he made some kind of heroic act during the siege, his chances of advancement would increase substantially. Though the leadership of the Revolutionaries had neither condoned nor condemned the operation, the man from the Waste in South Blue had reached the conclusion that the crusade was now so popular that the leadership would have to honor its leaders and heroes if it was succesful. Unconsciously, Sinon began fiddling his fingers around the woodcarving he held in his hand. He had worked vigoriously on it during the journey; from a wooden block he had created an intricate carving that pictured the death of the hero from Floating Cloud. He had made into a sort of round emblem that he could wear on his jacket. Why had he done this, you ask? Sinon knew that his best opportunity at fame would come from the fact that he was recognizable amongst the hoi polloi; a symbol or a trademark would increase his chances of being "discovered".

From his viewpoint on the deck of a Marine vessel, Sinon let his surroundings wash over his senses. Before him, covering the mouth of the Snaking River and the southern docks (the only entrance to the island; the other sides were covered with jagged and pointy rocks that would be nearly impossible to climb), stood a floating wooden platform constructed by Marine engineers. It was by no means an engineering marvel, but it served its purpose well enough; several huts and steel protective barriers had been set up to protect it from arrows and cannonballs. There was also a primitive wooden hut that was reserved for the leaders of the expedition. Moving on to another one of his senses, Sinon could smell the sickeningly sweet smell of gunpowder, sweat and blood in the air. Cannons on both sides had been firing some rounds during the day, but to no avail. One unlucky chap had been mortally injured on their sides, whilst the casualties and injured on the other side was unknown. Sinon made a mental nod; this was a siege, of course people would die. He almost spat instinctively as he thought about the younglings who had cried for the mortally injured Revolutionary. It made no sense to him. Moving on, he noted that a provisionary wooden wall had been set up to cover most of the docks from intruders. It was a sturdy wall, able to resist cannonfire. Letting his eyes wander, Sinon looked at the...looming cloud hovering over the island. The Snaking River eventually turned into a cloudpath to the sky island that was the home of the Royal Family and the heart of the Kingdom. If their ambition indeed was to claim the island for the Revolution, the sky island would be the main target for their crusade. Sinon shivered with excitement; the sky island was covered with a stone wall that made the cloud near impregnable. The only way in would be through the cloudpath, but the heavily fortified gates seemed like a deathtrap.

Sinon, wearing a thick grey jacket that protected him from the sudden windcasts of the island, lost his focus as the anchor was thrown down. The excited and fearful men and women began lining up for the smaller boats that would take them to the floating platform. The man from the Waste followed their example and placed himself neatly into line. After a short and uneventful crossing from the ship to the platform, Sinon began analysing the situation. 'Hmm, do I try to persuade the leadership to embrace me as their advisor, or do I attempt some heroics. Nevertheless, I should find some company. Two minds will always be better than one.'

[Helix]

"AaaaalRIGHT!!" An enthusiastic shout could be heard from behind a door. "Let's knock some damn heads together!" Jasmine DeRoque exploded out from the ship's cabins, door slamming forcefully into the wall. Having taken a flying leap into the door for a more dramatic entrance (or exit, depending on your point of view), Jazz was still airborne after clearing the door, before landing solidly on her feet a meter or so from the doorway and sliding a few feet forward. The bright-haired vocalist was definitely anxious to get going with this. Fighting a bunch of government dogs for the freedom of an island... It didn't get much more dramatic than that! On top of that, this island in particular was notable for such a heart-wrenching story as the one she had been told, about the heroic Revolutionary who had been murdered on his own island for what standing up for what he believed in.

"Man, that's how I wanna go, defying the damn government 'til the end!" Jazz had passionately replied, a little caught up in the emotions of the story when she had heard it. The story-teller had then suggested for her to join the crusade which was taking place for the continued independence of the Floating Cloud Kingdom. So she had done just that. And now, after a series of events, Jazz found herself on the deck of a ship with her fellow Revolutionaries, all of them eager to defend their hero's homeland to the death. Well, the death part was a little less prominent in Jazz's mind. After all, when it got down to it, she had never before seen anyone die before. Sure, there had been people back on Moon Island that had died due to the rather harsh environment, but it had happened quite rarely, and never to anyone she knew.

Which is why, when she did find herself on the deck of that ship, the Floating Cloud Kingdom splayed out before her, Jazz didn't quite know how to react. Her face first froze in its previous open-mouthed smile, before changing to an expression of confusion, then to one of terrible comprehension. "What the hell... is this..." This wasn't at all what she had imagined, of the Revolutionary Army fighting fist-to-fist, blade-to-blade against the World Government's dogs defending the island. In her mind's eye, she had pictured the government bastards getting bloodied and beaten to near-death by the indomitable will of the cause she represented. But there were no epic battles occurring here, no, not here. Just death. Little of the romance she had previously associated with war and rebellion was visible here. Just something that smelled like rancid gunpowder, a lot of indiscernible yelling, and a few bangs and booms every now and then.

The shell-shocked rocker slowly walked forward, devoid of her previous enthusiasm, until she arrived at the edge of the ship's bow. Now, she could see what looked to be some kind of massive wooden raft floating in the water a ways away from the island's docks. Cannons (the assumed source of the booms) were stationed around it, and occasionally fired onto the mainland. In turn, there seemed to be a few cannons on the bombarded island as well, from the sound of things. Of course, the frickin' sky island floating above the land island caught her attention as well. The stone wall blocked her view from anything within at this angle, so she averted her attention back to the raft, which she soon heard, from a nearby conversation, that it was under the Revolutionary side's control, and was where this ship was dropping off its cargo and passengers.

Shaking herself out of the depression she had been sliding into (literally shaking her head vigorously), Jazz ran a hand through her tri-colored hair. Even if people were dying, it was for the greater good, right? This was all for the freedom of these people, wasn't it? That meant that killing a few people who were trying to kill them as well was alright. Ugh, she sighed to herself. This is why I hate thinking about this kind of philosophical shit. All it does is bring me down when I need to be up. The effervescent young lady finally managed to drag herself out of her funk, and looked around to see a line of her comrades walking down to a multitude of smaller boats. The first was already filling up, from the looks of it. But hell if she was gonna get in a monotonous line like that.

She sprinted down the walkway at the side of one of the lines, she kept going at full speed until she ran into a wall of people. Determined to get on that next boat before it left, Jazz squirmed and pushed her way through the crowd, which, according to the multiple cries of dismay and annoyance, they did not like. She got smacked in the face a few times by some of the more aggressive people she bumped into, but she just swore at them and continued on, until she made it to the end. A boat was just leaving, but, impatient as she was, Jazz bolted in its direction, gathering speed until leaping off the edge of the dock and landing a couple meters out, right on the edge of the boat. She fell into the small crowd of people sitting on the boat. "What the hell?!" "What is wrong with you?!" "Couldn't you wait, like, five minutes?!" "Goddamn brat..." Taking a seat on the stern of the little boat, she apologized with a grin. "Sorry, so sorry, I just didn't wanna wait, ya know? Plus this way's a lot more interesting than just boarding with everyone else." The grumbling died down after a few minutes, and she spent the rest of the trip staring at the massive raft thing the Revolutionaries had apparently built. 

Upon arriving at the big, makeshift raft, Jazz stood in place and looked around. There was a big hut-like thing, with a few people entering in and out. Since that place seemed to be pretty important, she decided to head to it, in hopes of getting an idea of what was actually happening right now. A few others apparently had the same idea, though, much to Jazz's chagrin. "Goddamn copycat bastards..." she grumbled in a rather loud voice, loud enough to earn a few odd looks from the "copycats." She stopped abruptly in place. She refused to follow the crowd, both literally and figuratively, in this case, so she decided to look around for someone else to inform her of what was going on. Looking up and around, no doubt looking a little lost, she blurted out loud, "C'mon, there's gotta be at least someone here who knows what's going on!"

[etarip]

A collective gasp, followed by a choir of disappointed sighs, followed as a tall, stooped man exited the hut. He was flanked by two bodyguards whose eyes seemed determined in their beholders' goal of protecting their master. Their clean-shaved faces and neatly ironed protective leather cuirasses enforced the image of professionality. This level of professionalism from simple bodyguards could only mean one thing: the tall man was an important officer of the Revolution. Sinon studied the man. The elderly man wore a sickly green jacket that covered a lazy sweatshirt. The brown, woolen trousers accompanying the attire seemed misplaced. His scarecrowish body hardly seemed fit for a warrior. He had likely advanced through the ranks with wit and strategy. Furthermore, his pursed mouth and disappointed eyes indicated that negotiations had not gone well between the leaders of the crusade. Sinon inadvertently smiled in a manner that was reserved people associated with the words "evil" and "cunning". An opportunity had presented itself. Before he could act, an overly enthusiastic voice bellowed behind him:


"C'mon, there's gotta be at least someone here who knows what's going on!"

Annoyed veins began popping up throughout Sinon's forehead and temples. The enthusiasm and mirth radiating through the voice seemed so...wrong. Such uncontained excitement was neither proper nor strategic. One should hide one's emotions. One slip and people could interpret everything about your motivations and wishes. Sinon was certain of it. Peeved, but slightly fascinated, the man from the Waste turned to face a colorful creature. The palette of colors that met him was so astonishing that he turned his eyes away due to fear of being blinded. The colors that covered her hair and clothes seemed completely random. 'So this is how chaos looks like...' Sinon mused. In a final grand surprise, he also observed the pitch black wings that could have been mistaken for large bat-wings. A bat-zoan? No...a zoan-user in her hybrid form would have more animal-like features. This was something else entirely. Whatever objections Sinon had to her appearances, he realized something important: Co-operating with such a remarkable specimen would increase – though he feared that her looks and personality could overshadow him – his chances of being "discovered" during the crusade of the Floating Cloud Island. The smile that reeked of evil returned to his face, though the revolutionary wiped it away as he stretched a hand to greet the enthusiastic creature:

"Sinon, Sinon Carr. Delighted to make your acquaintance. Follow me and we'll soon know more of the situation, and hopefully we'll receive a mission. Follow me! There's no time to ask any questions." Though Sinon sometimes opted for using his unofficial title – "Of the Dry Valley" – he sensed that pompousness would serve no good with the winged person. In a fast-paced march, Sinon set out in the direction of the tall man. He slithered through crowds of medical staff, common soldiers and historians, finally arriving near the tall man and his bodyguards. "Sir! Excuse me!" Shoulder to shoulder, the bodyguards placed themselves as a shield in front of the man. "Sorry for this interruption. I just wanted to say that I and my companion here are big fans of your work in the organization. You are truly a genius, oh yes sir, you truly are." The wall created by the muscly men opened soon enough, as if a password had been spoken to it. Few wise and talented men could resist praise and fame, and the tall man had been no exception. "How unusual..." he muttered, but seemed to accept Sinon's lies without reservation. "Why don't you two join me for a cup of tea. Young miss, I would certainly like to hear about those wings..." his words trailed off once again.

The tall man and his bodyguards led them to the south-western corner of the raft farthest away from the city walls. Apparently, the man was important enough to own a grand pavilion colored in stripes of red and white. Entering, Sinon noted the pleasant fragrance that filled the room. It was a combination of fresh mint and some kind of herbal mixture. As soon as the bodyguards had made sure that no assassins had infiltrated the tent during their absence, they placed themselves as statues outside the pavilion entrance. The tall man, muttering to himself every once in a while, offered them comfortable chairs, draped scarlet red, and poured tea that tasted like nothing Sinon had tasted before. The man sighed in relief as he sat down.

"So...my dear friends...I presume you know of my brilliant leadership during the siege of...Let's see now...Where was it again? Ah, no matter. I sent an elite group of 5 infiltrators to open the gates of the city. Such a simple strategy works very well you see...because people expect something more advanced." The pauses made it exceedingly annoying to listen to the man's ramblings, but Sinon was pleased of the route their conversation had taken. "Yes! Such wit!" he replied with as much false admiration as he could muster. "Would something like that be possible here? The wooden walls of the Breezy Village make it hard to breach by traditional means." He continued. The old man fell into his own thoughts for a while, only to return to them with a few mutters: "Yes....hmmm....hummm....hurrr," an awkward silence consumed the room until the man woke from his trance. "Yes! You two shall be my champions...according to my maps, there should be a sewage pipe leading to the western edge of the island. Now of course, you would have to climb the ragged rocks....and hmmm...you might die if you're careless. And there's no way to tell whether or not the pipe still exists, since it is hidden in the landscape. And when inside, you would have to avoid the four battalions of Marines AND the two battalions of WG-loyal city guards. Hmmm...now that I think of it, that might be the reason why the other refused to send any of their men to try this plan...hmmm. Please leave me, I must think more on the matter."

Once the duo was outside, Sinon turned to his companion, attempting to conceal a greedy grin:

"You're not afraid of heights, I hope?"

[Helix]

Once she was done griping, Jazz glanced at her side to see a hand extended towards her in greeting. Looking up at the owner's face, the only thing that stood out to her at all was the clever little goatee under the man's chin. Otherwise, the man looked totally bland, and boring as hell. Looks aren't everything, though, the singer mused to herself. In fact, they're barely anything. Slapping the man a low five, he began to speak. "Sinon, Sinon Carr. Delighted to make your acquaintance." Then he said some other stuff, but the moment she heard him to tell her to follow him, she tuned him out out of annoyance. Just from his tone, experience told her that she had run into yet another manipulative bastard. Or, at least, someone who enjoyed putting up positive airs and pretending that every little thing was gonna be alright. Which was just as bad. Regardless... here was an opportunity too good to pass up.

"Well, I'm sure I don't need to introduce myself. BUT! I suppose I will, in case you happen to be out of the loop." Jazz stated nonchalantly, turning her back on him briefly. "The infamous rock star of the West Blue, the Fallen Angel, the one! No, the only! JAZZ! DE! ROQUE!" She whipped around, making the rocker symbol with her hands, only to find him turning his back on her and worming his way into the crowd. "OI, you bastard, get back here!" She had just done that amazingly flashy introduction, and he hadn't even seemed to appreciate it! The infuriated rock star stormed off after him, lack of guidance momentarily forgotten as she pushed men and women aside and drove her own path through the crowd. A few people seemed to recognize her, she could hear it in their whispers and mumblings. And their grunts of annoyance, as she repeatedly elbowed her way through the mob of Revolutionaries. Someone smacked her in the back of the head, but her one-track mind shook it off quickly.

Finally making her way to her new "friend," Jazz was just in time to hear him say something like, "...I and my companion here are big fans of your work in the organization. You are truly a genius..." Then more flattering, in that sickly sweet tone of voice that pissed her off so much. Reminded her a lot of her old manager, Sven. And she still hated that bastard, even after all this time. Damn coward. The old guy he seemed to be talking too seemed like he was pretty indecisive, his already soft voice repeatedly trailing off into silence. Although... It also seemed as if he could be hiding something... maybe? Who could say, he just seemed like an ordinary old man. An old man with an oddly decent fashion sense, sure, but still pretty normal. Something in her gut, however, was telling her that this guy was not as slow as he seemed.

And what about her wings? True, they were fantastic, but what could she say about them that weren't already obvious? "They're, um... wings? I mean, they don't actually work though, which kinda sucks." She wasn't sure if the old man had heard her, what with all the yelling going on, but when he asked them to come with him, the fallen Skypiean decided to humor the hunched old man. She usually hated being told what to do, but he had phrased it rather nicely, and she needed some info on what was going on anyways. "Alright! Lead the way, old man!" Jazz replied ardently. She followed the old Revolutionary and his swarm of bodyguards back to some kind of big tent thing. Jazz noticed again the presence of Sinon. Oh yeah, that guy's here too... Eh, whatever. So long as he doesn't try to stab me in the back or anything, I don't really care. She continued walking with them, hands in the pockets of the hoodie she was wearing, a bored expression on her face. 

Upon entering the pavilion, a strong, sharp smell of mint and herbs filled the air. She coughed a bit at the sudden new scent. Shown to a group of chairs, Jazz chose the one that seemed like the cushiest one, and plopped down in it. These chairs are weirdly comfy... how important is this guy to have access to luxurious stuff like this? she wondered internally. At any rate, the man continued on his slow stumble through his sentences, saying something about him being great and strategic and stuff... Then he mentioned them being his- "Champion?" she sat up with a grin. "I'm all ears, old man." Jazz listened as the tall, elderly man wove a tale of intriguing adventure.

As he continued, the bat-winged teen's spirits began to lift with energy, until she could barely contain the excitement. She was literally on the edge of her seat. Then he ruined it by telling them not to go and do that. Jazz subsequently fell back into her seat in exasperation. She stayed unusually silent until they were escorted out, at which point Sinon turned to her and said, "You're not afraid of heights, I hope?" She looked back at him, first in surprise, then with a devilish grin, and turned her back on him, hands in pockets once more. "Who do ya think you're talking to, huh? If you think about it..." she once again spun back around for dramatic effect. "A fallen angel could never be afraid of heights, right?"

"Honestly though, I'm surprised you're so eager to disobey that man. Weren't you trying to get on his good side?" The flamboyant girl looked at him hard, seriously, until a grin once again returned to her face. Turning and taking a few steps away, she continued, "Not that I mind. Actually, you just proved you weren't as much of a foot-licking, honorless bastard as I thought you were. So!" She turned to face him once again. "Consider me in! But, I dunno if we should do this, just the two of us. That'd be stupid, sneaking into such a massively-armed place with just two people. Soooo..." Jazz took in a deep breath, then shouted at the top of her lungs, with such intense volume it would be painful for anyone standing next to her. "OOOIII!!! WHO WANTS TO RAID THE CITY WITH US, EH?"

[Quincy]

In a lifetime of wandering, Izou had been many places, from simple grassy plains that had been witness to some of history’s bloodiest battles, to places of great discovery or nigh impossible trials. All of these places, the wanderer had simply happened upon with no real purpose or knowledge of the relevance of such a location. However, there were some places even a wanderer must will themselves towards with heart and purpose, as is the case with something of great importance to the Izou has pledged his support to: The Revolution!

While he was not one for simply doing what the other man was, the swordsman had heard rumors of Marine activities on an island beloved by many, and known by every Revolutionary. While he wouldn’t put it past the Marines to do something as underhanded as to strip away something of importance to many fine souls, he hadn’t felt there to be a need for him to come to the island. He would simply board whatever vessel there was to board and be on his way. Fate, however, had other plans with him, as he boarded a vessel full of self-proclaimed Crusaders, the meaning of such pride being lost on Izou. He opted to instead sit in a corner of the ship, pull the wide hat he had acquired recently down, and take a snooze.

Much to his misfortune, his nap had been rudely awakened by the sound of cannon fire. Clutching his precious sword, Kazesetsu, he looked up, ready to battle and push away any invasive Pirates or Marines, yet there were none present. Perplexed, Izou looked about and observed with wide eyes what appeared to be a massive fortress, strangely complete with large walls and… huts? Okay, so it wasn’t a massive fortress, but it was something to be crosses, and like any good wanderer, cross it the ‘Wind Walker’ would. Shuffling into a smaller boat, the wanderer stood and observed the masses of people outside the wall, and the presumable throngs of people defending said village. “So the rumors… are true.” Izou muttered casually like he had always done, hardly caring what others around him thought. His thoughts, however, were concerned. When you are a wanderer, you must believe that there is truly an unseen force guiding you along, and that your existence and travels have a purpose, for that is what every wanderer seeked; a purpose. Here he was, in the Floating Cloud Kingdom, after he had decided he would not partake in a pilgrimage. Was it fate intervening yet again in his life? No matter, he was here to stay and honor the martyrdom that had taken place here. For in his musings, he had recalled when fate had intervened another day; the day he pledged himself to the Revolutionary cause.

Izou stepped off the raft with new vigor and purpose, of which he would put towards a victory here for his brothers in arms. However, the efforts towards a siege had either ended in all out casualties for the Revolutionaries, or a standstill of rifle and cannon fire. They would never breach the walls this way, and Izou knew this. They needed to... ”OOOIII!!! WHO WANTS TO RAID THE CITY WITH US, EH?” …Well that would work too. Izou peered over towards the source of the shout, and was mildly surprised to find such noise coming from a small, and rather eccentric looking, girl. “Small packages can have big surprises…” Izou supposed as he made his way over towards the odd girl and the man next to her that was presumably her companion. The clacking of his wooden sandals gave away his approach immediately but that was fine. Thinking back to his musings about fate, he wondered if this was another road that he had been silently lead towards… And like any true wanderer, he would walk the path before him. “Excuse me, I couldn’t help but hear you… well, are you still in need of assistance? If so, the name is Izou.”

[Deleted]

Boisterous cannon fire passed through the thick stone walls and found themselves in the ears of the residents. A few of the natives shook with terror and fright in their hearts which was fair for them considering their home was, in a sense, being invaded. Some prayed to whatever force could save them while others only wished for the fighting to end. One, on the other hand, saw (or heard) the cannons as a sign that a wave of peace was approaching. Soon, the other Revolutionaries would arrive and she would no longer need to defend these people alone.

Colette Bouchard rested upon a makeshift bed that the house's owners had constructed for her recovery from a battle a few moments ago. Well, what exactly was she doing there?

Background

Prior to the Marine forces assembling outside the island, the Heiress had traveled with haste after receiving word of a potential relationship between the World Government and the Floating Cloud Kingdom. She managed to arrive ahead of schedule and gained entry a day before the Government's forces did and, in the meantime, has been trying to hold off as many marines as she could until one lucky bastard somehow managed to get a shot at her. Now she was hiding out in a grateful villager's home while receiving medical attnetion.

During her brief duration in the Breezy Village, the kingdom's lower island, Colette found it upon herself to defend the island from any that dared to enter with the intent to assimilate the global establishment of corruption with this independent kingdom. Unfortunately for Bouchard and a few other revolutionaries scattered around the island, the guards were given the command not to attack any Government troops which meant that the rebels would be the only forces willing to fight off the Marines. The only good thing that came out of this was the fact that the Marines would only send a few troops into the island seeing as how they freed up their path to the Royal City and could then focus on the front with the Revolutionaries outside.
It was rather odd for her though. Normally the fencing revolutionary would be in opposition to any form of monarchy but the people of this one were in a condition significantly better than those of her kingdom-a sign that the royalty of this land were kind. That was all Colette needed to fight for the Floating Cloud Kingdom. That and the fact it was a place of pilgrimage for the Revolutionary Army.

When the time came for a confrontation, Colette could hardly be called prepared. The young lass was occupied shopping for some armor to prevent herself from being blown away by the winds. The first wave of Recruits approached with the order to hunt down and arrest any Revolutionaries in the vicinity. And the first thing the Heiress could hear were a barrage of gunshots and the clashing of swords. In end, she had to fight off a entire group of Marines with the assistance of only a few rookie pirates and the anti-World Government villagers. Luckily they succeeded in their defense. Unfortunately, quite a number were either wounded or killed - Colette being one of them.

Present Time

At the moment, she lay across the most tumultuously crafted bed - its appearance tantamount to that of the wild waves of the ocean - and felt the surface of a wool blanket shielding her from the bitter cold breeze sneaking in from under the door and into the crowded space. A pair of azure orbs slowly but carefully examined the immediate surroundings before inspecting its owner's chest. Remembering what she heard before being knocked out by an anesthetic, Bouchard felt around the back of her ribs until she felt the perforating wound. Apparently, it appeared much less threatening after it was cleaned up and treated. Nonetheless, she counted herself lucky that she survived a wound such as that especially when considering that she was treated by only a local nurse and her neighbors. 

Colette was fully aware of her unfavorable position, both figuratively and literally, and sensed that it currently wasn't the ideal time to resume her relentless spree of murder and apprehension. The optimal choice now would be for her to stay in the clinic and remain patient (no pun intended) otherwise one false move outside could lead to her very last.

Curious, she reexamined her provisional medical area, noticing that her caretakers were off in the corner discussing their business in a clandestine fashion as if to imply that the subject of their discussion was one not intended for the ears of foreigners - even those who fought to save their lives. This shady act somewhat offended her, especially because of her devotion to protect these people; Colette believed that she had the right to at least know what they were discussing about. Without discretion, she uttered out quite blatantly, "What exactly is so important that the lot of you would hide it from me?" 

They all jumped in surprise at the sound of their vital silence being replaced with fierce interest; the young girl's curiosity was admirable but intrusive upon their privacy. "We were talking about..." The speaker glimpsed back at his acquaintances as if for some confirmation if he could continue speaking. "...Talking about your wound. It certainly hasn't healed yet, that's for sure. And to be honest with you, we all think..." Another look back. "That you should lay low for a while until the rest of the Revolutionaries come. We just can't stand the idea of sending you out to die, you know?"


Colette rarely smiled, let alone laughed. But in this context, she had no other way to express how entertaining she found this situation to be other than letting out a moderate chuckle from her atrocity of a bed. "I'm sorry about that outburst. It's just that..."
The awkward was strong in that room. I've been thinking of my next move and here you are suggesting to me what I already wanted to do. Heh. Well, I guess we all need a laugh after a bullet in the ribs, eh?" Her caretakers stared at the swordswoman with disbelief. To believe that someone so blatantly and assertively inquisitive could turn out to be so easily forgiving as well as casual in talking of a perforating bullet wound was absolutely preposterous. 

What the hell are these Revolutionaries?

[Scorpion (Midknightblu)]

Jaycobb took another swig of the hard Whiskey that he ordered from the bartender. "So... What's going on again?" He asked, his handler said that he had a mission for him that he might be interested in. However before the long discussion after a long trip, the gunslinger wanted a short drink. "Well, someone died because he was a Revolutionary."



Glancing at the old bartender he had an awkward smile on his lips. "So?" He asked chuckling a bit, "We die all the time because of what we are... It's sorta against the law, and very frowned upon to be a revolutionary." He stated, taking another drink.



The bartender smiled and started to wipe down the counter tops. "Aye... That may be true, however how many Revo's have been killed in their own homes by marines that have never even been on the island before?" He asked the dusty old gunslinger.



"Well... Not many... Hmm..." He replied raising an eyebrow, so the marines went out of their way to kill someone? That didn't seem like them... "What was so important about him?"



"Nuthin really." The bartender poured Jaycobb another glass. "However that island... For some reason the Marines, and the WG are attempting to extend their claws into it."



That was all that the gunslinger needed to hear. He didn't really care about what the World Government wanted with the island. It only mattered that they wanted it for SOMETHING... It wasn't like they were trying to save the residence of said island or anything. So whatever they wanted, Jaycobb was going to make sure that they didn't get it. "Where is the island?" He asked, gulping down the last bit of burning whiskey. "It's a place called the Floating Cloud Island. It's on the Grand Line." The barkeep said, then tossing him some coin, "go down to the docks, there's someone who will take you there. They will recognize you, so don't freak out to much." Nodding he put a coin in the glass he was drinking and flipped it over on the bar. "Thanks." And with that he left....













..... And now he was here on a boat.



The journey so far was uneventful, only the wind and the other Revolutionaries were there with him. Most left him alone, which he didn't mind, all he really needed was his alcohol and he was content. The crowed of people seemed to be over-excited to get onto the island that they were slowly making their way too. But Jaycobb's eyes were watching the clouds above. "Well then... That's interesting."



He tore his eyes off of it for a moment to look at the commotion that was being caused near the ship's cabin. There was girl that looked like she was trying to refract every single type of light on here. "Guess the gal's got bite." Jaycobb stood slowly and then made his way to her, another man was with her already. The first impression was that he looked like an advisor of some sort... The gunslinger felt like there should be a parrot on his shoulder named Ego? no... That would be wrong... Shaking this thought he looked at the bottle he still had in hand. "Don't need this... Here." He tossed it to a group of random people before continuing, he would need a clear head for this.

He arrived to the girl after a rather lost looking swordsman talked to her first. “Excuse me, I couldn’t help but hear you… well, are you still in need of assistance? If so, the name is Izou.”

“Yes, Jazz. If you would like some help I would be very willing to do so.” Jaycobb picked up his hat slightly before putting it back. “I thought that when you said you were joining the Revolutionaries you were all bark, but I’m sort of glad that the bite is just as hard.” Smiling at his wit he looked at the island. “I would love to talk about your last dial you released, I’m very interested in just why you might have joined the Revo’s, but the fact of the matter is we don’t really have time do we?” He asked gesturing to the approaching island. “Look, I would love to help you raid the island. I think that there is more to this then we know… So does anyone have any ideas that let’s us in without raising any alarms? Because I really don’t want to waste all my ammo.”
 

[PlatonSkull]

It was quiet underwater. Once you swam just deep enough under the busy waves and the ships breaching through the surface, there was a true calm that Tyson had never experienced. It was a quietness so unlike the sad, exhausted, worried silence that went through his prison cell at night. There were two things Tyson had wished to do when he got rescued.
Firstly, cook a fine meal for himself to eat.
Secondly, swim. Just swim as deep down and as far away as he could. He had returned to the ship that rescued him, but as a new person. He could finally breathe.

Above the surface of the water, however, there was chaos. Cannons were firing, ships were sinking, becoming damaged, being repaired, shot again...
As a fishman aboard a ship full of human revolutionaries, he had stood out quite a bit, not just in being physically superior and thus a great ally, but also for his ability to swim and breathe underwater.
So now he swam like a bullet through the water, because there had been shouts of man overboard. He had dived down, looked upwards, and spotted him. His feet kicked, his arms wove, and soon he was right there. He grabbed the man, who clearly had trouble maintaining himself, and got him up to the surface. The noise hit him like the roaring thunder. Tyson knew that he had signed up for hardship in the name of a worthy cause, but he thought he had signed up for battle. For using his combat skills against people that deserved it.
"Th-Thanks," coughed the comrade he had rescued.
He gave an acknowledging grunt and swam on towards the ship. He got a hold of a rope and got himself and the man back on board with little trouble.
As he stood up straight, his head turned and his eyes darted in search for the tools he had left on the ship.
"Mister Njord!" a young revolutionary he had met in the kitchen waved him over. He had taken care of them, "that was fast! You fishmen are really something!"
"Thanks for holding on to these," Tyson replied as he held his two oversized cleavers, his signature weapons that would have weighed him down a bit in the water, "I wonder when I'll get to use them,"
Again he looked around the deck. There were a lot of odd looking people, tall and short, thick and thin, running around or standing calmly, all united in the battle that was unfolding before them. Tyson had never known this feeling. He had never understood how people could gain any happiness from fighting, and he could never have dreamed of having so many people at his side.
A slight smile came across his round face.

Then, the call to adventure was heard from across the ship.
"OOOIII!!! WHO WANTS TO RAID THE CITY WITH US, EH?"
Many heads turned, many people cheered, but few people were apparently interested.
"Hey, this could be your chance to use them," the young cook said, "I think those World Government bastards would hesitate a bit if they see a fishman with gigantic blades on the battlefield!"
"Hm, I guess you're right", he strolled over to the small group that was gathering around the loud girl. He kept his reply short and simple:
"My name is Tyson Njord. If you need a good swimmer, or if you need something broken, I'm at your service."

[etarip]

Uncomfortably warm waves of distress washed over the revolutionary with the funky moustache as his newfound companion attracted increasing levels of attention to herself. Her spontaneous call for arms had been like a flame to the ambitious and eager moths that covered the platform; already, three colorful characters had arrived the scene. The one who would definitely stand out in a crowd was a burly fishman with round eyes and dashing green pants. His physical qualities seemed menacing, but there seemed to be little violence to trace in his eyes. Sinon sincerely hoped that he was not one of those people who refused to take a life unless in self defence. Standing near him was an older man, wearing a stylish attire that impressed Sinon. The brown leather coat and the holstered flintlocks and revolvers...a look that would never go out of style. The set-up would've been nearly perfect, had it not been for the dust or dirt that covered it. Finally, there was the serene swordman, his wooden sandals as peaceful as his mind, Sinon assumed. All of them seemed strong.

The sudden increase in their numbers had Sinon worried enough to make him massage his temples in order to prevent a coming headache. If too many decided to partake in the raid, the man from the dry valley would surely become just another faceless revolutionary amongst greater men and women. This would bring him no fame, nor would it increase his chances of receiving a well-earned promotion. Already, the colorful and winged person had made his stress-levels increase as she implicitly called him somewhat of a "foot-licking, honorless bastard". This worried him. Sinon knew that some of his actions would come across as exactly that, even if they were not, in his mind. He only wished to advance in the world. Honor, as undefined as the concept was, meant nothing to him. And he would lick feet if it got him a promotion. In his eyes, he was the ultimate human. Nevertheless, he decided that he would have to act carefully around the winged revolutionary; her disapproval could make life very hard for him during the crusade.

Amidst anguishing yells of pain, barrages of gunfire and the splashing associated with things hitting the water, Sinon greeted the newcomers with a forced smile. He was certain that the colorful person – whom he now knew to be named "Jazz" – would encourage them with a heartwarming speech sooner or later, but before that, Sinon would get some of the practical stuff out of the way.
"I'll be back in a second, please wait for me." He politely asked, trying to sound as friendly and helpful as possible...in one of his previous undercover missions, he had been such a person. Sometimes it shined through. He hoped that now was one of those times. Jogging in a pace that woul not tire him for the later challenge, the man from the Waste made his way to the guarded shack beside the hutlike building. Two guards, both yawning and hardly paying attention – why should they, who was going to steal from the revolutionaries when there was nothing but revolutionaries around? - stood in guard of the equipment inside.
"Attention!" Sinon bawled to the two men. At first, they were baffled, but then they stood in attention, hailing someone they thought was their superior. Of course, he had no authority over them. But in a extemporaneous movement like the crusade, it was difficult if not impossible to acertain the rank of everyone. So Sinon lifted his chin up in a leader-like fashion and told the guards that they were no longer needed. Sighing in relief they left in a hurry, dust trailing behind them. He entered the shack.

After a few minutes, the revolutionary exited the shack with a large box containing rock-climbing equipment of all kind; there were plenty of ropes, several quickdraws, helmets and other useful items. He was not sure about the others – people possessed various abilities and skills that could take them into the city without climbing the rocks – but he himself would have to go in the old way.

As soon as he returned to the crowd, Sinon heaved the box in front of them, items clanking loudly. "Here's some equipment for anyone who needs it. I assume that Jazz has already told you this, but we'll be going through a rumored sewage pipe on the western cliffs. That's our way into the lower city. I saw a few small boats nearby; we can take those closer to our target." After an uneventful walk, Sinon reached the aging rowing boats. There were two boats, and five of them. The fishman, Tyson Njord, would prefer to swim, he assumed. Turning to the swordman, Sinon opened his palm to gesture that they could share a rowing boat. In his experience, situations like these warranted small talk, so he abided by this social rule:
"Mr. Izou, is it? It looks like you've seen a few battles. So you must have some good tales to tell?" Waiting for a reply, he began rowing towards the pointy cliffs. Their operation had begun.

[Helix]

Three people had answered her call for a raid. Three. God, was everyone here just a spineless wimp or what? Well, at any rate, the first one to have approached was a formally-dressed, ponytail-sporting guy who clacked their way on a pair of geta. The scar on his face certainly set him apart from the masses, though it wasn't exactly uncommon to see a Revolutionary with battle scars. Nonetheless, the guy was carrying a sword nearly as long as she was tall, which was pretty damn cool. "Assistance?" Jazz had mused aloud. "Sure, guess you could say that." The second one to show had been a man that looked at least a decade older than anyone else in the vicinity. Dressed like a stereotypical cowboy, he had a pretty cool belt, with pockets and such on it, and gun holsters, meaning he... used guns, of course. Surprisingly, the man knew of her more than the others here had seemed to. Not that she was surprised (she was a famous rock star, of course), but it did catch her a bit off-guard. 

"Eeeehhh?! W-well," she recovered from her outburst of surprise rather quickly. "It's to be expected that you'd know of me! I am the legendary Jazz DeRoque, after all. But, why only the ojiisan..." the rocker muttered the last sentence grumpily to herself. ...Her latest dial? Well, if memory served, that had been the last song she had done with her band, Daydream Syndrome. It was a bit sadder than most of her other songs, but it was to be expected, given the situation. She was still pissed at her band and that damn Sven-yarou for not having the courage to stand by her, but... it wasn't as if they'd completely turned their backs on her, and besides, no matter how many times they irritated her, Jazz would always consider them her treasured friends.

But, back to the situation at hand. She was about to answer the gunslinging man's inquiry on their plans when a hardy voice made known his willingness to help as well. Turning around, muttering, "What now?" Jazz paused when she saw who was standing before her. "A... fishman?! THAT'S SO COOL!" Forgetting the others briefly, she stared at him with stars in her eyes. "Wow, I've never seen someone like you before, you're so... so... Unique! It's frickin' awesome! Such a refreshing view from all these boring, featureless guys! Oh," she said, looking back at the others with an innocent grin. "No offense. You dudes are awesome, I'm sure, no matter how boring you look." Sinon, having appeared deep in thought as their three new comrades were showing up, announced that he'd be right back, and to wait for him. Again, with the giving of orders. Just who the hell did this guy think he was?

"Jeez, can you believe that guy? What an arrogant bastard, huh?" Jazz lamented affably, turning so she could see the rest of the group. "Just walks away like he isn't even a part of things. What bullshit." Despite her choice of words, it almost sounded as if the devil-may-care rock star was praising the deceitful, goatee-bearing man. "Shuuu, what were we talkin' about then... Ah, right! The plan! Well, it's not like we came up with it ourselves, one of the generals or something came up with it. It is pretty dangerous, though. And reckless, and maybe even a little bit stupid. But, frankly, anything's better than just sitting here waiting for our cannons to maybe break through their defenses, or for us to maybe get some kind of lucky break and invade. That kinda shit's annoying and boring as hell. 'Sides, you all look pretty damn capable, so there shouldn't even be a problem!" It was at that time that Sinon returned with a box full of rope and metal stuff. "Welcome back." Jazz stated with a hint of sarcasm. The mendacious man then proceeded to reveal the full details of the plan.

With that, Sinon began walking toward the edge of the raft, and a couple of boats. Hesitating for a moment, Jazz donned a helmet and grabbed a rope, and, not knowing what the other stuff was or what it could possibly be used for, ran off in the direction of the boats. With her running start, the energetic teenager leaped straight into one, causing it to pull out and tug against the rope tying it to the raft. Noting Sinon's claiming of Izou for boat buddy, Jazz turned and yelled out, "Oi, ojiisan! Hurry up and get over here! We can talk about stuff on the way, how about?" Realizing that, while the cowboy-style dresser had known her name (naturally), she had yet to hear his. "And maybe you can introduce yourself properly, eh?" she asked nonchalantly.

[Quincy]

Izou’s heart swelled with an odd emotion, one he hadn’t felt for a long while. It was fiery, righteous, and made him pull his chest out slightly, though only slightly. While Izou was not one to let his pride get ahead of him, it was hard not to smile at how quickly other revolutionaries had risen to the boisterous young lass’ challenge. He took in the newest arrivals from the peripherals of his vision.

The surprise of seeing a Fishman, no less on a sky island, was not lost on Izou, whom unintentionally scanned the new arrival over. While he was hardly one of those World Government bastards that would discriminate against a species he found to be quite similar to humans in their own rights, he wasn’t one to lose old habits so soon. A life of wandering had lead the swordsman to more than his fair share of dangerous encounters, and for the offender’s sake, he learned how to spot those characters and not let a situation start to begin with. Even then, Izou wanted to kick himself for his natural caution. He was surrounded by fellow comrades, revolutionaries, all bonded under a common goal that was stronger than steel; certainly the last place he would need to keep his guard up. Despite the brief time studying the Gyojin, whom had introduced himself as Tyson Njord, Izou had seen enough of him to work out a few assumptions. The two massive butcher’s knives on his back meant he was probably a swordsman, perhaps a cook, or possibly both. Though there were no possibilities to his physical capabilities, Tyson was strong. Despite all the strength he possessed, however, Izou couldn’t help but feel the man was at ease, not some monster who seeks only mindless slaughter or a berserker blinded by rage.

The other revolutionary that had been next to the swordsman before Tyson’s introduction was still an enigma to Izou. It was obvious the man had wisdom, and had seen many battles in his life if his aged look and worn possessions were any giveaway. A frown made its way upon his featured as he realized what weapons the man had decided to master: Pistols. While Izou was slightly biased on the matter, he found that a truly mastered weapon was the best weapon to use, and to master the way of the sword… there was no equal. Sure, some men were better aims than others but any fool with a gun could get lucky, while swordsmen would only be able to match their skills with equally skilled men. A gun was just so simple, so point-and-shoot, and so impossible to master as any man could point and shoot. The swordsman would never tell his newfound comrade such things of course, yet would be overjoyed to help him in training with a sword, should he ever try to pursue the noble way of the sword.

Izou was torn from his musing by a voice calling out to him, even calling him “Mr. Izou”!? That was certainly a new one. The swordsman was used to less formal and far less polite greetings, but such is a wanderer’s life. Bringing his eyes to focus, Izou did indeed see the man who had called out to him, including an aged boat who was in need of repairs, but would float, probably. He noticed the man holding out his hand, offering the swordsman a seat in the boat. Izou, of course, readily boarded the rickety vessel and assisted the man in setting course to their destination, yet the man’s statement still rung in his mind.

“…It looks like you've seen a few battles. So you must have some good tales to tell?”

A few battles? Too few were actual physical battles. The wounds healed quicker when they were real fights. He certainly had tales to tell the man, yet none were particularly good. Truly, the wanderer was at a loss for words. Too much to say in too little time. About his youthful days on Dance Island, about his rivalry with Yoshinori, about how the Marines killed his jolly friend Goro, about how the Marine’s almost killed him, yet he was saved by the Revolutionaries, or perhaps he should talk about the only girl he ever loved, and still did after his heart was crushed? Izou wasn’t in the mood to speech of his past, or remember the happiest he had ever been, knowing full well he would never be so happy again. The swordsman instead decided to dodge the questions, and get the man before him to talk. Hell did he even know his ally’s name? “Ha ha yes… too many tales to choose from, and as for battles… well, this isn’t my first time assisting the Revolution. However, you yourself seem to have experienced much… Mr...?” Izou asked in a questioning tone, hoping his companion would have more to say than he did, or this was going to be a long boat ride.

[Scorpion (Midknightblu)]

Standing to the side the gunslinger watched silently with a smile on his face as the others did what they were doing. The sly man, Jaycobb may have caught his name as Sinon, went off and started bossing others around. The gunslinger kept his mouth shut and didn’t say what he had on his mind. However Jazz didn’t seem to have such a problem, chuckling a bit he nodded. ”indeed” He spoke up finally.

Jaycobb looked around and glanced at the others, he was already forming his own opinions on those in the group, the swordsman, Izou, seemed pretty simple to the gunslinger, however that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. And Izou seemed simple in the ‘down to earth’ sort of way, not in the intelligence department. If Jaycobb had to put money on it, he would be that the man had seen his fair share of the world. And probably not all of it good.

The fishman was a slight shock to see, however it didn’t surprise him as much as the loud singer. When you have lived as long as Jaycobb had you see a lot of things that are shocking, and especially the past ten years that he lived. Besides, they were on a route in the grand line filled with sky and fishmen islands, they were bound to run into a fishman. And one in the revolutionaries wasn’t unheard of… Hell, he was in the Revolutionary Army himself, and he used to be a marine.

When Sinon came back the gunslinger waited for the others to pick from the box, and whey they had their fill he started to flit through it. Besides the blankets, water, and other necessities that were contained in the box, the gunslinger found some more ammunition for himself, gunpowder, wetpowder, and even black powder…. Taking some of each into his pouches, he glanced at the random jar of blackpowder and shrugged piling it into a pouch. ”You never know when you may need it… Like Booze… I wish I didn’t give it away… It was so good.” He spoke to himself while shuffling through the box trying to find more items that he may need.

“Oi, ojiisan! Hurry up and get over here! We can talk about stuff on the way, how about?” That shouting from the boat broke him from his rummaging, glancing up he saw the others were either making their ways to the boat, or were already in them, such as was Jazz. ”Sorry! On my way, don’t mind me, just restocking. He replied to her before standing hurriedly. And as he made his way to her he tripped over the box that contained the supplies that they were rummaging through.

Sprawled out on the ground he slowly stood and dusted himself off. Damn… That never happens to me… Must be getting old. He looked around, and the revo’s that were still in the camp stared at the man who just so unelegantly tripped over a stationary box. Some of them with chuckles on their lips, others with disdain, and still others with apathy, because this man was probably going to be among the dead that were already there. And yes, it did seem so, with all the explosions, the fighting and the dying that was going on currently, this clueless old man would most likely end up with them.

Bending over and shoving everything into the box the gunslinger found one last item that caught his eye, a large wrench.. ”Well… You are out of place… I will make sure you find a carpenter to be home with…” He told the inanimate object. And after grabbing that and heading quickly he hopped into the small boat with Jazz. ”Sorry about that, was all tangled up.” He told the girl. ”I haven’t?” He asked, frowning for a second, then smiling he took off his hat and pressed it to his chest. ”Well, my name is Jaycobb Jade, some know me by Scorpion, and others call me J.J.” He started very formally to the rockstar. ”I am a gunslinger by trade, and a Revolutionary by chance.” He completed, putting his hat back on his brown hair, his eyes soft, and the smile stayed for a second before he looked at the water. And at the battle that seemed to be going on around them.

His eyes got even softer and his smile slakened as he saw a couple of bodies go by, men and women alike… All fighting for something, but each different… The Revo’s fighting on a strange principle this time, ‘they hurt one of ours, now we must get revenge.’ And the marines fighting for something more vague. However, they both weren’t very much worth it, nor was it normal for either faction to care about things like this. It just feels like our strings are being pulled… The grizzled man thought to himself. And as another body, a marine female, who died with a sword clenched in both her hand and her heart, the man spoke a soft prayer ”Let your next life not be so clouded with death, and the battles you must face far and few between...” He didn’t just speak for the revolutionaries, but also for the marines that floated by. They were the ones he really pitied, fighting for a dying cause, still being deluded by those above them… Who were probably being deluded by those above them… It was all a giant delusion that they fought for, and they didn’t even know it.

”I apologize for already knowing you Miss Jazz. But an old man such as myself have been around the creek when it comes to music, and although I don’t love all of your songs, and I’m inclined to listen to sea shanties, I still do appreciate your art, and a few of your songs. Like the eighth one on your fourth dial. That one was fun and uplifting. I feel as though the message you were putting out wasn’t lying to your listeners, but just giving subtle hints through the hard chorus… That’s where you started to rebel wasn’t it?” He asked, his tone was soft and he watched her. A cannonball struck precariously close to the boats as they silently glided towards the island that was under siege. The gunslinger didn’t jump however, what was there to be afraid of? He wasn’t going to die here of all places, especially not by a poorly shot cannonball. No, he was meant for something else. ”If that is the case and I’m right… I want to ask you… What do you fight for? Why? We all need reasons… I don’t like hiding things so I will tell you, I used to be a marine, but I left them when I realized that the things I was trying to protect were no better off with them in charge rather than under the pirates rampage… That’s when I came here… And if you can not hate me for my past, I’m sure you can open up and tell me a little about yours… What drives you? Like I said we all need a reason… Or else there is nothing more than a bullet waiting for you.” The man said, gesturing to someone who was actually riddled with holes as he drifted by, the blood had long since flowed out of him.

All the while they glided ever closer to the city that would put them to their first challenge. The place that would also form the bonds of their friendhip, and maybe even effect the future of this little corner of the grandline.

Great legends start from somewhere… No?

[Deleted]

Yet again, thunder tore through the air as a relentless struggle outside continued to be just that: a struggle. From the sound of things, Colette could do nothing in her sorry excuse of a bed but hope. Her optimism played well in these situations, though. In these strange times, all anyone could truly do was to believe in something postive and to keep a brave heart. However, it was also advisable to remain stoic in times of crisis or danger as any other reaction would unsettle others and end up causing a panic. She glanced back at her caretakers to remind herself of what exactly she was fighting for. Today's the day. We - I will free these people, The dualist revolutionary felt the pulse of her wound and stole a quick look at it. No matter the cost. 

An alarming explosion outside, perhaps a few meters away, made sure to break the silence and awkward tension that had been looming over the room for the past few hours. "Whoo, that was something! I tell you I'm not leaving this house until every one of those white coats leave our village." The others mumbled in accord, seeing as how no other response could go along with the context of the situation. Colette, on the other hand, began to grow curious. Outside the veiled window, faded silhouettes danced around the sunlight fighting off what seemed to be armed Marines with their rifles and pistols. Sickening was the first word that came across her mind. It was certainly prideful and a tad bit arrogant to believe it but the female fencer always viewed those instruments of war as a shameful tool to use. There was no finesse, no skill, no technique in the handling of a firearm. One could argue that the only reason these men used such despicable weapons was to compensate for their lack of dexterity in a blade. Perhaps, they were even cowards. Close combat certainly can frighten recruits but the man who shot her down was no rookie; but by the look of his face, he was no diligent soldier either. That lucky bastard was nothing but a terrified fool who simply found an opportunity to subdue his target for a mere two seconds before she unleashed a barrage of cold hard revenge into his thick white shirt.

BOOM!

Another explosion broke the silence yet again and also derailed Colette's train of thought. What was she thinking about before that internal rant about her preference of weaponry? A glimpse back at the window returned her mind to reality. There's something off about this whole thing... Bouchard felt that the whole situation reeked of something foul and suspicious. Not too long ago she even settled on the plan to singlehandedly ensure the survival of all the locals until reinforcements arrived to assist in their protection. She had chosen to follow this decision as the King and Queen obviously cared for their own people which meant this was a kingdom worth fighting for. Now the begging question was, why? Why on earth would a monarchy with such healthy relationships with the Revolutionaries and its people choose to align with a corrupt establishment as the World Government? Either the heads of the kingdom went delusional or someone was messing with the system. That begs a second question, who?

As she adjusted the brunette bangs hanging in front of her face, Colette turned her head back to the caretakers. "Can any of you enlighten me as to how this all happened? From what I can determine, your king and queen would never allow such treachery to encroach upon their soil....so who's responsible?" She remarked all this with a straight, serious face unknowingly riddled with curiosity and worry.

The same man from before rose again and silently made his way over to the window. Before she could repeat the question, the others shushed her without so much as a whisper that if it weren't for her sensitive hearing, she would have gone off and ran her 'Bouchard' mouth off again. (Fun Fact: Bouchard is a nickname for "big mouth" in French!) Once he reached the thin glass panels, he retrieved some more paper from the windowsill to mask the already clear, faint screen. Once again, the swordswoman attempted to communicate but was interrupted by the others. And so, she sat back and at least tried to relax in her makeshift bed while her anxious companion began to explain the reason. The reason that this 'Crusade' was occurring at all.

[etarip]

The east wind began its soft sighing as the ragtag coterie of would-be heroes floated adjacent to the coastline of the island known as Floating Cloud. Local weather experts had a tendency to associate the wind from the east with stormclouds and rain, and though these predictions did not always materialize, there was still a good chance of rain. A nocturnal rainfall would certainly help their stealthed entrance into the city. Inbetween steady strokes, the slightly tanned man from the Waste watched as parts of the lower city came into view, looming on top of the sharp cliffs that created a barrier between citizen and outsider. If indeed the sewage pipe was still in use, and no protective mechanism had been put in place, the 'getting-in' part of their mission would be relatively painless. However, once inside, they only had limited knowledge of how the Marines and City Guard were organized. Relying on the strength of the group was not something that Sinon was comfortable with. And then there was the issue of that...

For some years now, Sinon had been attempting to procure an item. It was an item of great value for any collector, but possessed a special significance for him. Rumours, both true and false, occasionally reached the revolutionary of its location. This time, one of his more reliable sources had told him that the item had come into the possession of a collector who lived in the lower city of the Floating Cloud kingdom. However, the word had reached him three months ago. Whether or not the item still remained on the island was uncertain.

Now that he was about to enter the lower city, he felt strangely uncomfortable with the prospect of seeing it again after all those years. Much had changed, since then. He had learned much. Experienced much. He often wondered if experience would have made a difference. Most likely not.

A weary look came over Sinon at that moment, but he swiftly shook it off by focusing on question asked by the swordsman. Izou had shrugged him off and given an answer that told him nothing of use. 'Clever, or maybe just lucky' the revolutionary thought; every piece of information he could gather about his newfound companions could later become useful. With sufficient information available, he could extort, blackmail and freeze out individuals who stood between him and his promotions. Now that Izou had given a less than enlightening answer, Sinon had to consider his reply with care. He doubted that the serene swordsman was playing the same game as he was. For that, the man seemed entirely too honest and honorable. This meant that the best course of action would be to give a truthful answer, but one that nevertheless concealed his true goals and history. Sinon smiled cunningly. He had just the thing:

"Well, the truth is..." A perfect starting line for a conversation with an honorable man, "I specialize in undercover work, which means that I seldom participate in battles or skirmishes. But there was this one time..." The man from the Waste looked mysteriously into the air, trying to appear very insightful and sorrowful. "I was assigned to the Zarzaran Senate as an aide – extremely tedious work, writing speeches for local politicians who didn't know up from down – where I worked to bring one of the Senators over to the Revolution. For months I put pressure on him, using all manner of carrot and stick. He wouldn't budge. The stubborn elderly man spoke of "neutrality" and "independence". But eventually, he became sympathetic of our goal." Sinon decided that it was prudent to leave out the part where he kidnapped the Senator's son and forced him into an uneasy alliance. "I was so focused upon the Senator that my eyes failed to see that there was a civil war about to break on the island. Suddenly, two factions, each with their portion of the Army, broke out into war. As an aide at the Senate, I was forced to choose sides and to fight alongside the professional soldiers. It was an intense two weeks, I'll tell you that...So much death. So many fallen innocents, children and women. I saw a fellow soldier threaten a man by pointing a rifle at his daughter's head." The soldier in question had been Sinon himself, of course, but he failed to mention it to Izou. He sighed as if in distress over the memories, and continued: "Do you know how the conflict ended? The factions chose to share power. Can you believe it? So many lives wasted for a compromise that left the parties with only a little more than what they had originally." The man from the Waste had been one of diplomats that brokered the deal, because he wanted the Revolutionary-friendly Senator safe, but again he omitted this fact from his account.

As the story came to an abrupt end, Sinon slowed their pace by slipping the oars into the water. He stood up, and pointed at the pointy cliffside. "The sewage pipe should be somewhere up there," he pointed. The sighing of the east wind had intensified, and darker clouds were gathering on the horizon. The man with the remarkable moustache proceeded to binding a sturdy rope around his waist, and created a lasso out of the other end. After a few tried, his throw connected with one of the pointy little stone formations above them. With determination, he swung himself towards the cliffs, his feet landing with a thump. Finally, he looked up at the city above. It suddenly seemed very far away.


Meanwhile in the upper city -


On the steps that led up to the enormous statue of Alexander Highwind, a teenager enjoyed a cold drink. His white boots – apparently from the spring collection of a famed designer from West Blue – and his black attire and tribal necklace, did not exactly shine of royalty. But he did not mind. For he was heir to the throne of the Floating Cloud Kingdom, and nothing else mattered. He had been born to assume to the role of leader. And now, with some outside help, he was going to take his father's throne sooner than expected. "Gah, what's the point of staying behind the statue? No one else is here. And if someone walks in, I'll have them killed," Prince Edward yelled at his guest, who hid behind the statue. A brief, yet complete silence was followed by a confident voice: "Better safe than sorry. You are still young, but I imagine that you'll soon discover that lesson yourself." The arrogance inherent in the speaker's voice annoyed the young Prince. "Fine, it's up to you," he snorted. "So tell me. You say that you want four things from me in exchange for this provision of troops. One. I am to make military service compulsory for everyone between the age of 17 and 30. Two. My troops will stand ready to fight for you, whenever you call, but only once. Three. The Floating Cloud becomes a part of the WG-alliance. Four. I'll never reveal your involvement in this coup. Correct?" Calmly, the voice behind the shadow of the statue replied with a simple "yes". Edward grinned with youthful vigor. He had made a bargain.

[Helix]

Upon hearing the gunslinger's answer, Jazz promptly sat on the side of the boat closest to the makeshift dock and waited. Out of boredom, her foot began tapping a certain rhythm out on the rowboat's floor. Upon hearing her foot's lively beat, the music-lover couldn't help but hum along to the song that she was already all too familiar with. "Hm hm HM hm hm HM hm HMMM huh hm hm..." That one little tune was the beginning of a musical piece, one that had been echoing around in her head for some time. She hadn't written her own music until a little bit later in her 'career' as a rock star, but nowadays it was something the musician loved doing. This tune however, was significantly different from any of her previous songs. For one, she couldn't seem to find any words to fit it. Secondly, those eleven notes held a certain 'weight' that her other songs didn't; it was as if merely the short melody alone had enough strength to defy a frickin' cannon shot. That was her impression of it, anyway. Thirdly, in Jazz's head, it held a sort of... brassy sound, nothing like the guitars, drums, or anything else she'd ever played.

Watching as the ojiisan maneuvered himself into the wooden boat, Jazz inched to the side of her seat to make room for him to get through. ”Sorry about that, was all tangled up.” "Sure, sure, No Problem!" Jazz responded with a wave of her hand as she untied the boat form the docks. Then, planting a foot on the side of the massive raft, she pushed off, propelling the boat towards the cliffs of Floating Cloud Island. The man revealed his given name to be Jaycobb Jade, also revealing a plethora of nicknames he was called. "Well, those won't do..." Jazz muttered to herself, in an attempt to find a nickname that no one had called him before. "Alright!" Jazz declared in a burst of inspiration. "I'll call you Jericho for short, then!" At any rate, the decadent rocker could already tell that this man was quite kind, his tone carrying a gentle and wise touch she had rarely seen before. After all, the man even seemed to be praying for someone

SPOILER: Click to show

(oh god it's a body oh god oh holy shit she's dead)

he didn't even know.

Hands shaking slightly, assumedly from the chill coming off the water's surface, Jazz grabbed an oar from the bottom of the boat and began rowing. She then kicked the other paddle over to her boat buddy in hopes that he'd help out a bit. ”I apologize for already knowing you Miss Jazz. But an old man such as myself have been around the creek when it comes to music, and although I don’t love all of your songs, and I’m inclined to listen to sea shanties, I still do appreciate your art, and a few of your songs. Like the eighth one on your fourth dial. That one was fun and uplifting. I feel as though the message you were putting out wasn’t lying to your listeners, but just giving subtle hints through the hard chorus… That’s where you started to rebel wasn’t it?” Jazz stared at him for a moment, blank-faced, then she snorted and began laughing raucously. "HUH? Seriously? That's hilarious, that's just frickin' hilarious!" Finally calming down enough to get a breath in, she looked up at Jaycobb in a more professional manner, though still with a sideways grin on her face.

"I mean, it's not your fault, I can see why you'd think that, but for your information... I've always been rebelling." Leaning back on her plank-seat a little, the rock star looked up at the bright gray sky. "Let's see here... my fourth dial was around the end of my 'Idol Phase'; it was when I finally lost my cool on my manager and refused to do any more prissy, prancy, hey-guys-look-at-my-hot-little-bod songs. Mostly it was the frickin' dancing shit he made me do that pushed me over the edge. That song, 'meltdown', was one of the first songs I wrote myself. Since all that soullessly-cheery music was all I was singing for awhile, it came out kinda idol-y, but it's sorta haunting too, ya know? Especially the lyrics. Began attracting a different crowd from the pervy guys and pre-teen girls I had before."

"But wow, you sure got my respect for being able to tell that song apart from the others, Jericho. Most people just say something like, 'Ah, I really like that song for some reason!', so kudos to you!" Finally done with her spiel, Jazz listened as the gunslinger unleashed an even deeper question, one that was maybe a little deeper than she liked to think. Sitting up, the grin finally left the flashy girl's face, and her tri-colored hair shrouded her eyes in umbra. She sat like that for a few minutes, continuing to row as her mind whirled to answer the question. "The reason why I fight, huh... Well, that is-" Foom! The boat smacked into the sandy gravel at the cliff's base. "WHOA, would you look at that! We're already here! Well, let's get going! Heh, heh..." Acting as if the scene before her had made her forget Jaycobb's inquiry (though the unusual shakiness in her voice proved that to be false), the young diva stepped out onto the gritty shore.

Jazz turned and watched as Sinon proceeded to lasso his rope around a rock ledge and begin his climb. "Alright... I AIN'T GONNA LOSE!" Strapping on her shiny new helmet, she hastily tied a knot to form a big loop (much like Sinon had, but unfortunately it couldn't be helped in this situation), walked up to the cliff, and chucked the loop straight up with a spin, frisbee-style. The gaudy girl groaned in irritation, though, as it fell straight back down without catching any rocks jutting out of the crag. Not one to give up, she stepped back a bit and aimed for one a bit lower. This time managing to grasp the stone jutting from the cliff, Jazz backed up to as far as the rope would let her, then took a running sprint diagonally towards the wall of rock. Keeping hold of the cord, she put all of her strength and endurance into moving her legs as rapidly as she could, and began tearing a way up the side of the rock face, the rope becoming the radius of a circular path. The idea of using the rope this way had seemed brilliant at the time, but there was one thing Jazz hadn't quite thought through:

What happened when she was moving straight up, and her momentum was lost?

For this was exactly what happened; once she was at the same level as the lasso, she was assaulted head-on by the forces of gravity, and Jazz felt herself slowing and losing her grip on the rock face's edge. In a panic, she braced her feet against the cliff and propelled herself up and away. This propulsion in turn caused her inexpertly-tied lasso-knot to come undone, releasing her movement from its centripetal bonds and propelling her close enough to a ledge to grab on with right hand. She hung there for a few seconds as she caught her breath, then grabbed the ledge with her other hand and promptly pulled herself up. Looking down, the reckless recidivist estimated herself to be twenty feet or so from the ground. "HEY!" she shouted down facetiously to her comrades. "TRY TO KEEP UP!"

{Hey guys, sorry I'm late, here's an extra-long post to make up for it (maybe). And btw... I don't care if nuclear reactors might not exist in OP, I like the song too much > Kaku yuugou-ro nisa...}