Post by Terminally Chill on Nov 6, 2014 2:15:28 GMT -5
The ocean is often nothing but an expanse of endless blue, surface barren except for the occasional traveling vessel making a nautical journey between islands. Rarely does the exterior ever compare with the vast carousel of life teeming beneath the blue blanket, but on this day, the middle of the West Blue was perhaps more lively than any island housed within its broad waters.
The Grand Floating Festival was the source of the unexpected activity. The gathering was a West Blue staple by now, bringing pirates and any other thrill-seeking souls together in a grand celebration for many years. The Flying Delgado Company was the name behind the festival, an immense company of professional performers all specialized in arts both strange and wonderful and led by the selected few of the Delgado family members themselves. The troupe offered their own world-class acts and the talents of smaller performing companies invited to participate, all to create the festival's amazing annual experience.
Besides floating in the middle of the sea, the Grand Floating Festival easily distanced itself from any typical circus-type event on even a first glance. Flamboyant and fiery, the Spanish-flavored fiesta was an exotic and raucous affair of fighting, acrobatics, and lively music and dancing. A gigantic ring-shaped ship was the center stage for the festival, with anchored ships spiraling around the middle to create an island-sized collection of ships. Many vessels belonged to patrons of the Grand Floating Festival, but there were a sizable amount of ships belonging to vendors from across the seas and visiting troupes of performers.
With the bounty of wondrous sights and attracts offered at the Grand Floating Festival, any person walking the festival's decks would find it difficult not to be overcome with enjoyment. Well, except for one guy. He definitely found it easy not to be overcome with enjoyment.“Where the hell IS HE?!”
The angry demand brashly slashed through the festival's joyous clamor. A noticeable hole formed in the passing foot traffic as they steered clear of disruption. Most people anxiously carried on with eyes diverted and voices lowered to a whisper, while others craned their necks to understand the nature of the violent interruption.
A single festival-goer in particular was hoisted above the wooden deck, a slim, dark-haired man without any features distinguish from the rest of the crowd. His legs flailing helplessly through the air and fingers desperately attempting to pry away the iron grip clenching his collar. On the other end of the offending arm was the man drawing the majority of amazed stares. Clad in a flowing red cape, the boisterous bully sported a spiky head of blazing blue hair and boomerang-shaped orange sunglasses, which looked to be more suited for a knife fight than blocking the sun's rays. Although the daylight was unable to reach the aggressor's eyes, it had no problem reflecting brightly from the young man's most eccentric possession: a golden belt with the word “KING” proudly displayed in the center. Many wondered: was he one of the festival's star attractions?
No. No he was not.
“I don't... know... what... you're talking about!” the victim gasped in anguish, eyes wide in confusion. The ill-tempered man with the blue hair immediately thrust a scrap of paper into the other man's sweat-ridden face. The paper was in poor condition, crumpled and wore out. Only a single sentence was still legible, the rest torn away carelessly.'… Hailing from South Blue, the World's Strongest Man! …'
“Him.” The caped thug spat the single syllable with a gruff growl, more animal than human.
The flailing man was stunned into silence for a moment, attempting to wrap his mind around how the simple request was fueling such an intense encounter. The man with the bladed sunglasses was completely serious and unflinching, waiting in suspended rage for a reply.
“I-I think he was somewhere around Stage 1?!” he replied in an exasperated jumble of words.
“Show me,” the jerk with the golden belt barked back. The flailing man hastily yanked a paper from his pocket, holding it to the hooligan's face in hopes of appeasing him. The leaf was a simple layout of the Grand Floating Festival. The circular ship was divided into three slices, each with a stage corresponding to a particular form of entertainment. While the many art forms spilled all across the festival, there was a general layout. Stage One housed the performers with a penchant for impressive strength, Stage Two put on dazzling acrobatic displays, and Stage Three was the final slice full of beautiful dancers and romantic musicians. The hanging victim desperately pointed to slice labeled 'Stage 1' to direct the blue-haired villain. A few incredibly stressful passed until the aggressor let out a satisfied grunt and tossed the festival patron onto the deck after snatching the map away from him. The braver of the observers lent a helping hand to the discarded man as he attempted to recover.
“Who are you?” The humiliated man attempted to straighten out his shirt's rumpled collar and regain some modicum of composure. “Some kind of bodybuilder enthusiast or something?”
“Eeeeeh? What the hell are you trying to say?!” The anger returned and the blue-haired maniac's shouting once again rose to excessive decibels. “Do you think someone as manly as me would enjoy looking at men?!” He now raised a threatening fist to the festival-goer.
“N-no! That's not it!” The slim man withered away, hands raised in hopes of defending the rest of his festival experience from being completely ruined by the boisterous thug's insane actions. With a dramatic flourish of his cape, the loud-mouthed maniac turned away from the remaining bystanders.
“My name is 'Magnum' Garands.” The aggressive youth finally revealed his identity, an immense pride welling through his voice. Flashing an arrogant grin, the man named Garands turned to leave the spectators with one final exclamation. “But you can just call me the PIRATE KING.”