A Second Chance at a Dream (Act 2)

[Aubs]

The sun had risen a bit higher in the sky by now, shining down intimately on the scene at hand. A single man stood before a small army of marines, two more stood atop a vantage point surrounded by more. Despite all of this action, a few more tormented souls were rushing around to leave this battle behind, while unbeknownst to all of the above; a crooked devil lurked amongst the shadows with only the vilest of intent. Curious how so many individual lights could coalesce for even a moment and create a storm of energy, and standing in the middle of it all was a single ship and a few dreams. The boat shook slightly as a strong wave rippled across the water from the cannon blast, the debris of the ship flying up into the air and smoke clouding out the sky for only a second. The two white haired warriors who were quickly making their escape on the prized vessel barely stopped as the plot around them unfolded

Ponte stood at the wheel, looking for the best way to turn this thing, not being a navigator or helmsmen. His bandaged head and chest were matched with his white suit and khaki jacket that rested over his shoulders. Cross on the other hand was done untying the holds that bound the ship to the dock and was swiftly looking for the oars when the others began to speak. This blonde man with a bad attitude seemed to be entitled to their ship just because he was special, and the stupid cutthroat who had launched a canon, which to Marius’s knowledge hadn’t even been loaded yet; you never loaded before takeoff it was bad for the powder and shot, had decided to idly chat. Without looking up at these two buffoons Marius spoke calmly, checking what little he knew of rigging. “I’m glad you like her, put I’m afraid she has already been claimed, and no matter how much you complain you won’t be having her. Though, you can feel free to join us.”

Ponte smiled at that spinning the wheel as if it would do anything. He spoke too in his quieter less used tongue. “Fine with me, if he can keep his ignorant ass shut. We still have to pick him up so don’t make yourself at home.” Ponte waved absentmindedly towards Aubrey on the dock and was about to try and leave when the marine officers began to rise to their feet. The group of new pirates had been avoiding the nobles until now, but as one of the injured marines crept over to stand in front of them their importance became clear. Slowly the others rose to their feet, readying themselves. They were officers, no simple minded fools that washed against you like waves. These were the ones that had defeated real pirates before. They wouldn’t be defeated that easily

As one unit the pirates towards them, eyes focusing on the group. Ponte spoke up once again, drawing his two pistols slowly. “Let’s continue this in a moment, I’d like to clear the deck.” Marius silently agreed, drawing one of his own swords and flashing forward, ready to kill. Maybe working together wouldn’t be so bad, if only for a moment.

---

Aubrey’s battle on the other hand had gone on for far too long. He now stood swaying slightly on his feet, blood coming from his face and arms. He a slew of defeated marines laid around him, but it was clear that without help he would not be winning this battle. Coughing violently he spit blood up on the ground, his muscles twitching and aching because of fatigue and his new weaknesses. The two Commanders that had been watching from above appeared behind him, a good ten feet to his rear, with one at his 7 and one at his 4 o clock. Only then did the call for “cease fire” come forward. A tall man of 7 feet stood with his right arm in the air as the guns died down around him. He had slick-backed white hair, his made from age and not from youth like the other two in the battle, not to mention a lightly tanned body with cris-crossing lighter scars over his arms, with one or two on his face. He wore a gold-colored suit with small white pin-stripes and a blue tie that didn’t really match the rest. Over his shoulder was the long white cloak of the Officer Marines, and on his right hip was a black-sheathed saber with a fancy golden hilt. He smiled contently with his sharp features and magical appearance, rugged but gilded in all he did. Walking forward he strutted slowly towards Aubrey, his hands in his pockets once more, completely ignorant to the threat challenged by this wannabe. His voice was calm but clearly happy, though it had some grit of experience it had more contempt and confidence than anything else.

“You must be that Aubrey that has caused me so much grief the last two days. Interesting to think that such a weak little man could be so… involved. I’m not sure what you expected to accomplish however, I couldn’t have imagined you so stupid as to declare war against all of Rougetown.” He stopped a few feet away and look over his shoulder at his remaining troops, supposedly not even noticing the ship he was supposed to be guarding. He spoke once more, this time a bit quieter so that only the Commanders and Aubrey could hear. “Don’t worry, we will kill your friends after I’ve dealt with you. I’m going to enjoy watching them interrogate you, or maybe we will just drown you eh?” Captain Horace took another step forward before coming to a complete and utter stop, foot frozen in mid-air as the unmistakable blast from a heavy pistol sent a lead-ball and inch away from his face. His face looked up in that instant, towards the warehouse he had set up a forward post on to watch the ship early that morning. The two commanders turned completely around looked up as well, just in time to see something they never expected.

Justin Weeks stood with one foot on the railing of the building, his long-barreled pistol aimed right down at his captain’s face. Beside him, Sean Simpson held two Marine LTs, one in each hand before tossing them lightly over the rail and sent them flailing towards the dock. The pair stood solemnly, as if they were only now coming to terms with what they had decided to do. But before anyone could say another word a second gun-shot ripped the silence apart. Captain Horace doubled over as the round shredded itself through his stomach, the smoke billowing not that far away, from the second pistol that Aubrey had confiscated the day before. Without a word he dropped the weapon at his feet and took off as fast as his feet could carry him. He knew where to run to, they had decided earlier where he would rejoin the crew and from where they would make their escape. It was going to be a mad dash for his life, he knew it. But it would give the others time to get the ship in motion. Leaping over the destroyed portion of the dock from the cannons blast Aubrey bolted, his body tingling with the surge of energy. Blood was flinging off his with every juke. Captain Horace was rising to his feet, his voice garbled with his own blood.

“Kill them all.”

---

---

[Cirrus]

[style=cellspacing,0,true][style=background-color:#181d0e; border-top:5px #000000 solid; border-bottom:5px #000000 solid; width:455px; bTable]
[style=font-family:georgia; font-size:40px; text-align:justify; color:#FFFFFF; margin-top:-5px; margin-left:5px;]strap on my face

LISTEN TO THE WORDS THAT PUT ME IN MY PLACE

Bloodshed.

In the Roguetown plaza there was nothing but wanton bloodshed. It was serious now. He had to keep with the theme of the day as it wandered on; had to become serious too if he wasn’t to appear conspicuous. In the gambling game of life and death, flesh and steel, someone somewhere had called all in. And what could Gorosen do? Call – play his hand, destroy everything in a flurry of enrapturing fire and see if Aubrey made it out alive – or fold; recede for now, allow events to play their course, allow the puppets to run wild, and see what would happen. The black sphere in his hand seemed to beat like a dark heart, convulsing in his grip, repulsed at the horrors each and every of the trench-like callouses on his evil hands emanated, bubbled through the otiose fabric that gloved his hands. The vividness of the memories the assassin’s hands held gave the cold plastic and metal in his clasp a sordid half-life, allowing it to beat in such a twisted way, allowing it to pump pitch black hate into the world around the assassin. For the seconds in which Gorosen looked at the detonator it appeared to be effective in its dark purpose; more and more of the sanguineous sacrifice to the Reaper splattered onto the cobbles with as much abandon as raindrops. Brilliant life into dead stone; tainted ashes to tainted ashes – there was no end to this cycle. There were no dams in the river.

‘Time to get moving…’ thought the leader of the Four Ghosts as a mutiny splayed out before his glossy eyes and entertained his shadowed soul. The heart beat faster, to the rhythm of doom chimes, to the pace of the cannons firing. Its noise filled his seldom seen ears, making him overflow with a reserved glee; Gorosen was no saint – he was a cold, cold murderer and there was no hiding it. There was no shame either: if his job as an assassin would have allowed it, he would have exposed himself there and then, razed the plaza and reduced every living soul to stumps of mangled flesh and stone. He revelled in killing, he truly did. But also drilled into him was the appreciation for the art of murder; death had to come in a certain way, in a certain fashion – otherwise it was meaningless. Otherwise it was ugly.

He moved from the shade into the edifice that provided aforementioned shade, effortlessly gaining purchase through some window or door that wasn’t quite sealed – despite what the owner had thought. It was a living establishment. That was good. There were an awful lot of things to work with here. Various things beeped in the corners and shadows, reminding Gorosen that sooner or later whoever lived here would never see any of this again. He smiled. He kept moving. It was so easy to die, he mused, as his nameless fingers poured through the kitchen utensils, looking for anything to use as a trigger to set off the chaos, set off the smokescreen. Knives and bludgeoning tools surrounded him, disguised as implements of cooking. The ‘oven’ was really a torture chamber; no amount of screamed protest could deny that it was possible to fit a human body in there. That ‘sink’ was a disposal unit, used to wash away evidence of existence. And, supposed the assassin, it was also a waterboarding device, although drowning people was never a favourite of his. The water made the act of killing distant, impersonal even; it took all the fun out of it. There was nothing quite as special as being so close to a human body during the transition from life to forced death. And Gorosen yearned to experience it again. With every waking moment…

A window was opened. A hand peered out. A knife shrieked through the air and found purchase on the back of a neck. A marine went down, killed by nothing in amongst the chaos.

Gorosen appeared in the shade again. In front of him was a marine, one who obviously deemed himself intelligent for the only reason any marine would, after immediately being told to kill all the enemies, hide in the shadows was to wait for one of the enemies to run by in a desperate attempt to escape the universal clutches of those in the white and blue. Another body. No hesitation, no sound; just another body fell to the floor, drained of life by, apparently, the dead cobbles on which their corpse lay.

Into the chaos he strolled; invisible as always; a ghost taking the souls of the brave to a place so silent it was deader than the people he touched. Marine after marine fell, although indiscriminately to Gorosen; he had no interest in the mutiny. If someone was going to aid Aubrey in escaping, they would surely be him, but if someone was going to make it easier to aid the eleven million bounty head then by no means was he going to stop them. Just so long as they didn’t get in the way. Just so long as they didn’t glance at the strings the assassin held…

And then the need was satisfied, and Gorosen faded into the background. He’d done enough to turn the odds in the favour of the mutiny, but only slightly so that it would appear as if they’d won through the passion in their hearts and the bravery on their faces or some ambiguous shit like that. Gorosen wore a respirator for a reason. Through the glass eyes he could see the world as it truly was; through the air filter he could breathe true life. He covered his face so that he didn’t ruin the surrounding beauty of the juxtaposition of life and death; he covered his face so that he didn’t distract from the pulchritudinous happenings of the world with such extraneous expressions of emotions that those around these parts were so prone to displaying. The assassin’s only tie to life was the tainted heart that beat with such dark fervour in his hand; the only evidence he was even alive pulsed to a twisted rhythm, squirming and jerking, flinging hate and blood everywhere. Squirming and jerking, burning all with black fire.

Squirming and jerking.

Trying to flee.

WORDCOUNT: 1054 | AUBREY MEADOR | PENDULUM -- COMPRACHICOS

[drago]

I got exams soon so this will be short

Zai held his shoulder the weakness hadn't spread and was getting weaker that was good he didn't need to sit down anymore. He heard the voice as someone whoever the were they weren't happy he was on the ship.
"You. Behind the cannon. Do you want me to rend you into pieces? That stunt with the cannon cost me an injury. So by default, it'll cost you you're life. Stay there, I'll deal with you in a moment.". Zai smiled he had just threatened him a grave mistake Zai had no intention of getting off this ship.

This world is full of fools who think that they are better than everyone else not only has he implied that it would be
able to easily me he tossed my presence aside as if I was important that will be a mistake that will leave some scars the table is spinning and and cards are being dealt I am the joker although I seem unimportant I can turn the game on its head
. Zai stood rubbing his chains they felt good between his fingers it calmed him he seen the man in-front of him who insulted him and a few others by the look of it he drew his bow and pointed it at the man. " Im afraid dealing with me cannot be delayed I cannot just let a death threat pass without replying accordingly". . Zai muscles still ached he hoped that whatever concoction had hit him would wear off soon by the sound of what was going on in the plaza he probably would need all his strength.

[Doc]

Ren frowned slightly, annoyed at being spoken to in such a manner. "Ignorant? Be careful what you say,'friend'," he said, putting heavy emphasis on the last word, "Or you may find yourself in even more trouble then you may have thought possible..." Opening his mouth to speak again, he felt something that made no sense. Opening an eye, he watched with disbelief as the marines that he downed slowly rose to their feet. After a closer examination, he surmised that they'd avoided the vital shots from his attack by a hair's breadth. "....Didn't I kill you? I'm fairly certain that I did..." he muttered, slowly drawing both blades. "I suppose I'll cooperate for now, but don't think this discussion is over," he said, lowering himself into a crouch.

His attention was again drawn as he heard the faintest sound of a bow being drawn, the taut wire stretching behind him. He stopped moving as he heard an unfamiliar voice say "Im afraid dealing with me cannot be delayed I cannot just let a death threat pass without replying accordingly." Ren was silent for a moment, as he seemed to contemplate the meaning of his words. He broke from his crouch, slowly turning around to face Zai, his left eye open as he looked him up and down. "Let's see now. I'm no expert with the bow, but I'd say that it takes a handful of seconds to fire off a bow, and then reload to fire again. For the sake of argument, let's say it takes you 3 seconds to fire an arrow and then have another notched. Perhaps even longer, considering you seem a bit...fatigued. Now, I can guarantee you I can cover that distance between us in a few seconds, so you'll have one shot, two tops. Think real hard about this now. I had planned to save you for later, but you're forcing me to deal with you now. It's drastically shortening your life span. Put the bow down so I can deal with the marines, and you may even be so lucky as to survive until we make it out of port."

He had both blades drawn and held by his side, his left eye drooped in a lazy, bored stare at Zai. He could feel the vibrations in the deck that told him the marines had drawn closer and begun to clash with the other two, who he could only assume were pirates. Glancing down at the wound on his chest, he returned his gaze to Zai. "You're call friend. Die now, or later. Make sure you think real hard about this before you do it, I'd hate for you to have any regrets. As it is, I'd normally make your death as painless as possible, but considering it was your fault I got this injury, you'll forgive me if I decided to torment you a bit before I put you out of my misery..."

(OOC: rofl, this is the first time I've played a douche so well, imo xD)

[Aubs]

Chaos was a good word for it he wagered. It the midst of trying to steal a loaded ship from some noble merchant Aubrey had stumbled upon a few more pirates willing to kill for his prize, who were now trying to kill his own crew; a small army of marines who wanted very dearly to kill him slowly, including their famous leader who he had just shot in the stomach; and even a few unknown pieces moving around him that both aided and hindered him. It was going to be a long and bloody day before it was over, that was the only thing he was sure of at this point, that and the slipping picture between his progressively tunneling eyes. Stone walls and cobble walkways, frightened children and angry passer-bys. All the while his body seared with pain, its new tightness making his muscles quiver with the energy they had to use to pull his now dense fibers. One day it would make him stronger than people could imagine, but all it did at this juncture was make him hurt, that and the loss of blood of course.
His right hand clenched a handhold in a wall, his grip so strong that the momentum of his body worked around his new fulcrum, sending his legs flailing and turning his body clockwise around his arm until he was horizontal to the ground. Once his lightly-clad feet touched stone again, the new Devil Fruit user took off as fast as his pained body could handle. If it wasn’t his stiffness and inability to use his new abilities that killed him, it could very well be the extreme damage he had taken from the Marines. He had learned the last two days from all his getting his ass whooped, that his body didn’t hurt until the insides were rattled enough to cause internal bleeding. It made it really easy to take attacks in stride, and certainly scared the hell out of weaker enemies, not to mention it made his whole body like one big weapon. But, if he wasn’t careful he would end up a bloody corpse before long, and he knew it. His Devil Fruit might have made him stronger, but he was out of his league and he knew it. Soon, the others Aubrey was fighting against would know it too, though he had been good at keeping his lack of experience hidden so far.

Not too much farther, he might be able to make it, assuming the boat got out of port. Looking over his shoulder, Aubrey saw only a flicker of a shadow pass over the tiny walls of his hidden alley, the bright sun now sending shadows cascading along the objects they mirrored. He gulped hard, saying a prayer to himself that he hoped the ocean would hear. “Don’t let it end here, not before I know.”

---

That dock was in turmoil from their vantage point, and both of them were only going to add to it. At this point, all they knew about each other is what they had left behind, and the all-powerful glow that emanated from that place they held deep in each other’s hearts. All they needed was Aubrey and they would be back, just as they had been before the burning of Grey Terminal all those years ago. Whatever they had planned for themselves, whether it was building ships or protected the world from the forces of evil, they had given it up that very instant fate brought them all back together. It was time now, time to see where their true path would lead them. Justin held his pistol steady, unable and unwilling to shoot his Captain. He didn’t have to wait too long though, as one of the Commanders appeared before him, having jumped off the very air to reach them, muscles straining as he kept himself afloat. Justin was prepared however, letting his body go numb and limp at the same time. The sideways kick that came for his head sailed over him, the very force of the kick turning his paper body and contorting it until the attack flew right by him. The wind created from such an attack sent the weightless “Marine” sailing through the air, until his body reformed and he came to a halt near the other edge of the warehouse roof. A loud bang erupted when he fired at the Commander in response.

It wasn’t too hard to dodge for a man of his skill, but the next attack was a bit different. The lumbering figure that was Sean swung his heavy fist at the commander, trying to bash the man to pieces. He connected with the blow, but the effect was not what he desired. He had hoped to knock the Marine off the warehouse roof, but the officer managed to grab hold of the big man, and through a strange method of transferring energy between the two he tossed the towering shipwright nearly off the roof, rolling to the far side while the Marine stood tall.

“You two are in for it now.”

---

Ponte and Marius were something to behold, even in their injured state. While behind them on the dock a few Marines scurried this way and that, while one of the Commanders helped up their Captain, blood spurting at odd intervals from his gullet. They didn’t seem to bother with the two other pirates, intent on fighting eachother for some stupid reason. Ponte didn’t take long once he rocketed himself forward towards one of the marines, leaping into the air and twisting to deliver a titanic blow to the man’s neck, which must have snapped by the sickening noise it made when he sailed off the boat and into the water. Marius took the easy route, slicing two men, first from left to right, and then switching his wrist from right to left, one after the other. The simply-clad man flicked the blood from his blade and began sheathing it as another charged him. Luckily, he had drawn himself on line with his partner, making their next move all the more powerful. Running forward he tucked his legs in and began drawing once more, his white-handled blade inching its deadly razor-edge out of his casing. He passed within a foot of Ponte, who swung his right leg high, and aimed carefully for the soles of his sworn-brothers feet. With timing they didn’t know they had, the White Duo connected for that shining moment, and hurled Marius at the enemy, his blade cutting through him with no effort. In short order Ponte fired a staccato of rounds in one of the other marines. And then just as quickly they were done, now at opposite sides of the ship each one looking over their shoulder at the two other pirates aboard their ship.

---

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[Cirrus]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=style,background-color:#181d0e; border-top:5px #000000 solid; border-bottom:5px #000000 solid; width:455px; bTable] strap on my face LISTEN TO THE WORDS THAT PUT ME IN MY PLACE Gorosen lay prone in the tangled web, observing the many little flies as they volitated about, shaking the web ever so slightly; tormenting those already trapped, coming ever so closer to enticing those lucky enough not to be. The marionette strings, the spider’s web, the subterfuge… he was cloaked in all of them as he peered through dead glass windows – portals to his empty world. And his swirling coat of deceit was feeling more comfortable than ever; the assassin was more relaxed than ever. That was the fault of the Blues. No matter how it appeared to those born and bred and fed on the lies of any that had glimpsed but a fraction of the New World, on the stories of hell and horror – well, Gorosen used to say, when he was more naïve, how wonderful a place hell sounded. Better roaring fire than silent waste, surely? At least fire was movement, warmth, life. He could only wish he could relight the dead flames in his stomach. It’d give him some sort of strength; true strength; not the listless and supple-as-sin dance with death in which he revelled. Alas, all that lay within Gorosen was hate and the desire for revenge; two things that manifested themselves in cold black stone; etched onto the obelisks of his being were the names of those that’d fall for that same desire. Aubrey’s name was on it. As was his. He was counting. He was always counting. Counting down the days until all died. Counting down the days until the world reflected his distant homeland, until people like him spread like a virus and became commonplace; infected the global population with their sad sorry dogma and cut down all that refused, some sort of coup d’état on the mind, on society. On the living. The last, the oldest, the greatest revenge. If those like Gorosen were to be dead, to be fragments of someone so lucky as to be alive, to be ghosts, then they would drag the whole world into purgatory. Into eternal silence… Gorosen was no hero. He was no villain. He simply was. There was no why. There only was. Things happened; it had to be dealt with. Humans were masters at putting a good spin on things, but nothing else. They were unintelligent about the world. They called it curious. They had the need for reassurance and approval from others. They called it the ‘human condition’. They needed things to be explained in full, lest it be labelled mythical; flights of fancy. They called it science. The assassin was a man of meaning: if he plunged a knife into your neck, it meant you were dead. Those who tried to find hidden meaning in the world were fools; he knew it as much as anyone he cared to know. Although, of course, anyone he cared to know was dead. Hunted down relentlessly by those same fools; people who were no more to be trusted with power than a child with a pistol with the safety off. He would have sighed, but there was work to be done and such otiose things such as expressing himself would have to wait for better times. There was too much bitterness weighing him down. He couldn’t taste the sweetness of a boring day until this finished. With his mask on, he couldn’t taste anything. The world was black and white to the man behind the respirator. The world was dull; as still as a graveyard. Just the way he liked it. …Aubrey was beginning to struggle. A frown pulled at the lips of the man in the gas mask, pulling emotion through those ocular glass windows and to the visage of the timeless assassin. The ‘Devil’s Shadow’ was not happy. Many of his plans revolved around the wanted head – many of his favourable plans, at any rate. He’d have much rather seen where going with Aubrey as the protagonist of the puppet show would take him than, say, some Hard-Hatted peoples who had left Roguetown a few weeks previous. They were much too boisterous; too much effort to control in the fashion he’d become accustomed to. He’d have to change, and when he changed, the whole world did… And that’d be no good. The world shifted would expose those after him. And if they were out in the open, then, by association, so was he. Something had to be done. And in this case, it had been nothing. Gorosen had left them alone. He had simply observed the destruction, the treachery. He’d even laughed – or at least, come close to expressing blitheness; of course by now such mundane life was beyond him. He needed to go to the edge, through sheer stillness, through sheer boredom. It was the ultimate hedonism, was it not? Teeter on the brink in complete and total silence. Fall off the edge with nary a word. Become bigger than oneself with not a sound… It was liberating. He was liberation. And now was the time to liberate Aubrey from his pains. He’d step in; perhaps even introduce himself – in some crooked fashion or another – before vanishing again; this time into thin air as the crowd had long resorted to disapproving from the safety of their houses. Gorosen’s black heart jolted at that thought. Convulsed with laughter. There was no such thing as safety. Not with an assassin in the midst. Twenty thousand leagues under the sea was nothing. One atmosphere in the open air was a whole new world. An alien world; one in which Gorosen was running. Cobblestones cringed under the weight of his footsteps as he hazed into existence, cracking and crying as his reaper-black boots made contact. The air darkened, tainted by his presence, tainted by his truth; leaving a palpable trail of dread as the assassin ran. The marines in hot pursuit of the 11,000,000 wanted head didn’t even register the sadness in their hearts before it stopped beating. And yet despite the incomprehensible loss of blood not one spot touched the shadowed soul; each drop was carefully manoeuvred around as if Gorosen was tiptoeing around broken glass, only with much more minute movements; little adjustments to his ethereal form here and there: he was, after all, but an idea, but a nightmare. And nightmares change all the time. He soon caught up to the ailing Aubrey, soon answered his desperate prayer. Answered it with indifferent fact. There was no god. Only a silent bitter devil. He saw the upstart crouched over; the wanted man apparently hadn’t seen him. Gorosen had simply appeared in the alley. And so he had simply faded as needed. Aubrey only saw shadows… but now that had to change. He had to become real. He had to live. Alas, he could do nothing for him, not yet anyway. Only leave one vial in the corner of the eye, in the view of the sun; only vanish again, or rather, remain vanished – Gorosen was never anything tangible. There was no why. There was only Gorosen moving from the shade to the open, flickering through the space between him and his next target as if it hadn’t existed in the first place, although that was slightly redundant: it was, after all, up to debate if the assassin in the gas mask existed in the first place… At any rate there’d be one more shadow on that ship around which the puppets in this show thought their drama revolved. One more unknown. One more nightmare… WORDCOUNT: 1252 | AUBREY MEADOR | CHASE and status -- saxon

[drago]

Zai had his bow drew when the man began to talk once again in his confident tone "Ignorant? Be careful what you say,friend or you may find yourself in even more trouble then you may have thought possible...". These were only words they meant nothing to Zai and he was glad of them they gave him a chance to do two things one let the poison run its course and two come up with a plan. He needed to figure out where he was poisoned so that he could try and remedy it somehow. The atention of the man was directed at Zai once again

"Let's see now. I'm no expert with the bow, but I'd say that it takes a handful of seconds to fire off a bow, and then reload to fire again. For the sake of argument, let's say it takes you 3 seconds to fire an arrow and then have another notched. Perhaps even longer, considering you seem a bit...fatigued. Now, I can guarantee you I can cover that distance between us in a few seconds, so you'll have one shot, two tops. Think real hard about this now. I had planned to save you for later, but you're forcing me to deal with you now. It's drastically shortening your life span. Put the bow down so I can deal with the marines, and you may even be so lucky as to survive until we make it out of port.". Zai smiled he wants to surrender so he can kill me later this is just swell Zai felt a throbbing in his arm it was the cut and the sudden clarity came about him that this poison was from a blade and not from something else.

The man made his final plea to Zai to surrender "You're call friend. Die now, or later. Make sure you think real hard about this before you do it, I'd hate for you to have any regrets. As it is, I'd normally make your death as painless as possible, but considering it was your fault I got this injury, you'll forgive me if I decided to torment you a bit before I put you out of my misery...". Zai laughed he had no care for what he had to say he stared at the wound on the chest which he had apparently caused. Zai had a plan but it was not going to be easy on him. He took the arrow from the bow and held it in his hands "" The only reason you bear that wound is a lack of skill a true swordsman would not be distracted by the noise from cannon you were careless and unaware". Zai dug the arrow into his wound and cut it open allowed the infected blood to flow onto his arrow it gave him some relief. Zai once again drew his bow the arrow now dripping with his own blood. " You speak of my death as if it is a certainty as if that you are great it is evident from the events ive seen .." Zai paused and looked him in the eye with a wicked smile. "Your not worthy to kill me now let me show you something interesting in regards to bowmanship this is an arrow drill". Zai fired the arrow and it span his blood droplets skited at the man by the spin reducing visibility . Zai grabbed his blades ready to draw in anticipation fight or flight no there was only one option.

[Doc]

Ren could literally feel his eyes glazing over as Zai spoke, and he had to shake himself slightly to keep from falling asleep. Blinking his eyes a few times, he left one half open as he turned it towards him."Well aren't you the twit who thinks he knows everything? I use a style that allows me to see and fight through the use of sound and vibrations. Firing a cannon in such proximity messed up my sense for an instant. Of course, a coward who uses a bow wouldn't understand anything about having to fight an enemy head on." Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, he sighed in boredom. "And I speak of death as a certainty because it is. Should I get in range, there's no way you can stop me. You haven't the training or the skill." Even as he spoke, he heard the twang of a bow.

That was his cue to move. He shifted sideways, and the arrow flew right past his kidney, the force of the trajectory nicking the fold of his shirt. "Y'know, this is my favorite shirt..." he said softly. Popping open an eye, he examined Zai again. "An interesting weapon. Though I doubt it will save your life..." he said with a smile, stepping forward. The noise from the outside of the ship caused him to turn, and he couldn't help but frown. "We should probably get this ship moving... That doesn't sound good..." he muttered. Turning on the spot, he headed towards the helm. "Don't worry, I haven't forgotten about you," he called to Zai. "But surprisingly, getting this ship out of here is more important then your life. I'll finish you in a moment."

As he reached the helm, he closed his eyes and tried to see the conditions around him. There was a slight breeze to the north, which no doubt would pick up strength the further from town they got. It would be beneficial if they decided to go that way. Jamming both blades into the floor of the boat, he felt the vibrations from them, allowing him to judge the roughness of the waves by how they swayed. None of it boded especially well for them. Stepping back on deck, he called to the others,"I don't think we'll be able to leave unless we remove the debris on the plank. Part of it is still on the ship, and I'm not too sure how sturdy it is. It might pull off the dock and stay stuck on the front of the ship. We need to remedy that," he said in a matter of fact tone. Before they could even reply, he turned back into the helm and searched around for a map. Pulling one from a shelf near the back of the room, he set it down on a small table near it's center, pouring over it in an attempt to decide their next course.

[Aubs]

Justin and Sean were in a battle to say the least. Sean was meant to supply his shear strength to the skill and precision of Justin’s shot, the speed of his attacks. Yet, this Commander took each attack in stride, high above the level of punishment that the pair could dish out. He stood waiting, looking almost happy at the two wannabe’s. With chaos reigning below them, as surviving officers tried to rally their men and take chase after Aubrey, and the wounded leadership licked their wounds, all that really remained of this fight was above it all, staring at eachother. Justin lined up his shot, aimed right at the enemies chest. He disliked the idea of killing a marine just yet, but maybe he could injure him enough to allow Sean an opportunity to restrain him. He fired, the Marine vanished.

Before he could react, he took a boot to the face. Soru it was called by those who had taken the time to learn its secrets. Moving so fast someone couldn’t follow you. It was something that perhaps Justin could learn, but for now he was only a victim. He would have fallen off his little nest had his hand not caught the edge, gripping with strength previously unseen. From in front of him, and behind his foe came Sean, swinging another mad fist. The Commander didn’t wait to dodge, but merely turned over his shoulder, dropping a few inches until he passed right under the blow, and delivered one finger to Sean’s chest. It ripped through his flesh, piercing him so subtly that perhaps no one would know. Retracting his finger, the Commander smirked as a thin trail of blood dripped through the air, connected tenuously to his weapon of a pointer. Sean dropped to his knees, followed by a thunderous banging…

---

Marius and Ponte looked at eachother for only a moment, and then just as quickly set to work. Ponte simply shrugged in agreement, Marius nodding to both. As the gunner went to unlock the final latches keeping them to port, Marius called out coordinates to this strange bedfellow. He told them of the drop off in the island, to the north of their current dock where they had to pick up Aubrey. The Nobles were still shaking in their fear, but rather forgotten in the commotion. The ship itself had been abandoned it seemed, save for the four pirates and the three nobles. And for the moment at least, they seemed to be on the same page. Marius could help but think how strange this man was, now working the helm. He had some violent tendencies, and a pretty high regard for himself, but he was a swordsman, and that counted for something to the young master of blades.

Ponte finally got the plank off, which made the ship rock slightly, now completely uncasked from his home. The vessel was seaworthy they knew, and loaded to the brim with supplies and gold. For all accounts the young pirates should have been elated, and yet they could not be. Aubrey was still on the run, and there was nothing saying that the Marines hadn’t began to block their escape route. It would be a tricky escape, with the only direction to go towards the Grand Line, but it was all they had left. They also had to decide what to do with these two pirates, not to mention the Nobles.

It was almost too much at once, perhaps he should try and be more like Ponte, that man never seemed bothered by anything.

---

Aubrey caught a bright light to his eyes, and he stumbled, rolling over himself on the ground. He tumbled over his feet, trying to turn and see what had caught him so quickly, tripped over his iron feet, which he dragged around like some stupid albatross. Grunting to himself, the man slowly began to lift himself back to his feet. The sunlight twinkled off some small devise in the alleyway, which he could have sworn had not been there only seconds before. The shadows themselves seemed to ripple around him, as if the day was speaking to him. Our wannabe could not help but think of how cornered he really was, ocean to his front and death at his back. But before he could contemplate what to do, or what fate had even brought to him in that alleyway, the Marines came.

A few bullets bounced off of him, ricocheting off the walls around, breaking a window pane to his right. Looking over his right shoulder he could see the proverbial light at the end of his tunnel, the sudden cliff face where his friends would hopefully be waiting. But over his left he saw them coming, more and more marines, the first of the outriders, forming up shoulder to shoulder trying to pack the alley as best they could. He could flee, saving himself in theory but perhaps leaving too many to hunt him, or he could fight, his strength already depleted and his body quivering from exhaustion, pain, and inexperience. But, it might by his friends the time they needed. Something tugged at his insides, something was different than he planned. Never knowing what exactly it was, the man whose childhood friend had called him “Zen” decided it was time to earn that name. Taking a deep breath he focused on what he must do. Time was the most valuable resource in the world, and his people needed it now. Death before dishonor he would give it to them, his mind clear and his heart open.

He rose to his feet and turned to face the Marines, blood dripping on the cobblestones at his feet.

---

---

[Cirrus]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=style,background-color:#181d0e; border-top:5px #000000 solid; border-bottom:5px #000000 solid; width:455px; bTable] strap on my face LISTEN TO THE WORDS THAT PUT ME IN MY PLACE Oh... this was more of a delicate house, wasn't it? Sure, it may have actually been a ship, made of robust wood and armed to the teeth with cannons and the like, but it was still delicate in Gorosen's eyes. Those eyes, hiding behind huge glass lenses; a filter of the world that allowed the assassin to see everything in such a way that the beauty of life was replaced with shades of grey, the uniqueness of living was replaced by uniform facts and figures, everything was nothing but a beating heart: an annoyance. But this was a more delicate house; more convoluted were the beams supporting it, more ingrained into the mind were the morals of those within it. It would take more than a little subterfuge to destroy it with class. It would take some effort on Gorosen's part; he would have to elicit the techniques of his old country, something actually special as opposed to the child's play he'd been employing around here. This delicate house was about to meet a hurricane. And it'd never stir again... One man: the dam in the river of anticipation that had done little to scupper Gorosen's plans, but plenty to put him on edge. He'd have to be dealt with first. Like a woodcutter to a tree he'd cut him down, and it wouldn't make a sound; there'd be no one around to see. The assassin needed to get him alone. Separate him from the ship, or separate him from the sight of those damned others crowding the top deck like a forest. The woodcutter twirled the axes in his hands, anxious to get his plan enacted. He could see from his place on the rooftops that things were happening on the boat. Some sort of altercation with the man he'd poisoned and the man he'd set out to kill. But his attention was once again diverted; something terribly wrong was going on with Aubrey. Some marine, more skilled than Gorosen had thought was commonplace for a place such as Roguetown, for a place such as East Blue, was wrecking his inductions. A cold rush flooded the assassin for but a second -- could he be one of those after him? Could he be one of those devil-seekers? Thoughts flashed through his mind at an incredible rate: none of them pleasant. Those skills, he'd seen them before -- he'd used them before. Someone Gorosen hadn't seen up until now, but had, inevitably, planned for, collapsed as a finger cleaved a hole in his flesh as cleanly as a bullet. 'The Devil's Claw...Shigan!' And so Gorosen retaliated with one of his own. He hadn't even whispered. Just the thought of striking them down with invisible pestilence was enough to set the ball rolling off the cliff and into the dank pits of wherever Gorosen came from. Barely perceptible to the human eye, only felt as a passing wind, the hurricane rampaged through the ether and towards the scene. The Leader of the Four Ghosts had aimed for the shoulder: an incapacitating shot. He was gone before the marines could look up and see where he'd fired from. But perhaps thinking that way was a little inaccurate. To be gone, Gorosen had to have been there in the first place -- he never was. He never was anywhere. And so, he never was in the marine plaza, launching his finger like some weapon around the place. He never was left to stand over the glossed eyes of the fallen. He never was departing to the boat. He never was holding a knife maliciously in his hand. He never dropped that smoke bomb. He never grasped at the man's neck; never grasped at his life string. And when he didn't clutch it in his wretched fist... ...He never sliced it, smiling the devil's smile. WORDCOUNT: 0641 | AUBREY MEADOR | CHASE and status -- saxon

[drago]

Zai sat and wathced as the two pirates managed to free the ship he was still recovering from poison and decided fighting in his condition was not the right option. The sense of crew made him smile this is the stories his father told him of pirates and the journeys he had the freinds he made Zai had only been thinking of revenge in the last while and maybe it was time he concentrated on becoming a pirate, That said revenge in this instance was just a instance away he stared at the nobles the people he hated for all his life. He walked over and talked to them " Do you have slaves" he got no reply to the question "If you do free them count this as and even of the sancity of life ill spare yours if you spare theirs. He picked up two of them this is the safest way to do this I hope you can swim" he tossed them into the murky water. He grabbed the last one and stared them in the eyes " Heeds these words or I wil be you hunter". With that he tossed them like the rest.

Now he thought his crew is here where is the man that impressed me earlier Aubery he walked over past the others to see a aubery run in alley followed by marines. " Im weaker than him but I can still help it is too early for one with such potential to lose at the game of chance he has a bad hand". Zai jumped down "but dont worry my man the jokers wild"

[Doc]

After closely examining the map at his disposal, Ren returned to the helm, slowly turning the boat around. Leaving the helm, he stepped back on deck to talk to the other pirates on board. "Alright, here's the deal. We don't really have much time. In less then ten minutes we'll have a strong headwind that will send us northeast of here. I've already turned the ship in that direction so we can get away as quickly as possible. That being said, we'll have to hold out here til the headwind shows up, which means whoever we're waiting on, needs to get his ass in gear," he said, popping an eye open to emphasis his words. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Zai stepping on the rail of the ship,. "What the hell do you-" before he could finish, Zai jumped to the docks below.

Shifting the gaze of his open eye to the other two, Ren shrugged. "Can we leave him? It'll save me the trouble of having to kill him later. I can already tell he'll aggravate the hell out of me if I don't gut him," he muttered.

(OOC: epic writers block. pardon my fail)

[Aubs]

It was a shame really, that a Marine such as this Commander would have to be so dishonored by a lowly turncoat of a Petty Officer and a Shipwright. Back bending at an odd angle the proud man nearly turned over himself as the projectile ripped through his shoulder, nowhere near the vitals that a true pirate would have aimed at, but the round did enough for Justin, and that in itself had been the point. His smoking gun slide thoughtlessly back into its place behind his jacket, while at the same time his mind raced around with what must happen next. They were outmatched and outgunned, against an officer in the Marines and probably a minute away from backup. Behind and below them was a fray of Marines which included the Captain of Rougetown. And before them was the enemy they could barely stand up against. Aubrey had ran off to draw attention away, and the only thing left to follow him with was the ship…the ship! Justin turned around just in time to see that prized ship, jammed full of goods for trade and piloted by a small contingent of pirates, who he could only assumed worked for Aubrey. Even as he turned he heard the crash that rippled the warehouse roof.

His bloodlust was undeniable, so soon after being stabbed in the chest by some Commander. All 8 feet of Sean rose up, his right hand shaped like a hammer above his head. His shaggy black hair was still pulled back neatly as could be, though it did have a few stray pieces now, but his eyes spoke only of the sheer power that bubbled beneath his usually calm surface. Then finally, with a mighty yell he swung downward, right on top of the poor Marines head. That already twisted back seemed to compress as his neck snapped back and fold over itself, blood popping out here and there in small spurts. The very thin roof below them, that had really only held out of sheer desperation finally waved and cracked, and with that already noticed crashing noise the poor do-gooder went rocketing towards the floor inside, the crunch muffled slightly by the distance. It may not have been the hit that did him it, but at least the fall had something to do with it.

The rest of the roof was giving way also, causing the unlikely pair to do the only thing left to them, jump and run like hell. Without stopping Justin led that charge, flinging himself off the ledge right by him and aiming for the ground below. Sean had a harder time with his size and location, and his foot clipped the side of the wall, causing him to spiral and turn as he fell. His landing was saved however, if only because he landed right on top of Justin, who cried in anguish. As Sean rose to his feet once again, he looked down at his smaller friend, who was bent strangely from the impact. Trying to rise himself, Justin struggled as far as he could before finally collapsing in a painful pile. No time to think Sean simply picked the man up and tossed him over his large shoulder. The Marines were closing in, their nameless faces swimming at the corner of Sean’s eyes. He took off at a run, not stopping once even as he literally stepped on someone. The only thing in his world was that ship, his ship, and if he didn’t hurry it would be just outside his reach. The new vessel was silky smooth in the water, and turned swiftly towards the bay, almost unconcerned with the navy ships that were slinking in around her.

It was then that many things happened all at once. One of the pirates jumped down from the ship, following his captured Nobles, while a few men on the ship still spoke to each other. Sean was only aware of these small facts because he himself hit the deck with another thud, and Justin slide a few more feet before coming to a stop. Immediately a pistol was trained on them. To save his life he could only do the first thing that came to him, the only word that seemed to matter.

“Aubrey!” he yelled.

---

Marius had been standing with his arms folded listening to Ren, urging the man to sail towards the point he had indicated. He was entirely correct, they only had a few minutes left to spare before the noose was locked in, and the chance gone. When the flamboyant pirates disembarked, taking the Nobles with him, he could not have been happier; the man was a loose cannon that would be of no use to them unless it was as a human shield, something they already had to be perfectly honest. And this way the newbies wouldn’t need to contend with the Nobles and their pursing Marines. But when the other guests arrived he reached instantly for the blade at his right hand side. Ponte was quicker, drawing his pistol and holding it at the face of the very large man who had appeared. But the man had said the magic word, their sworn-friends name. That was enough for him, and Ponte caught on quick enough.

“He certainly has strange friends eh Cross?”

Marius smirked at the suggestion, looking over the curious pair, an injured marine and a very large man. Unfortunately he was not blessed with the time to dawdle over the issue, so he decided to act as quickly and efficiently as able. “Watch them Ponte, we have to go get Aubrey.” He turned once again to the last remaining pirate aboard; the punk with his two blades and squinty eyes. Though Marius had no affection for the swordsmen, he seemed skilled enough, and he for one would not complain to another helping hand. As the pair conferred in short words the ship glided down the coast, tilted for the small spot that they had been instructed to anchor at. Now however, they wouldn’t have the time to do so, especially with what was behind them.

A posse of 5 ships, all just as large and most likely better armed and manned than their own were hot on their trail, their sails rising up to catch what wind they could. They knew these waters, and it would be tough to out-think them here. It was all over unless something could help them, something out of their control. That’s when he saw it, the only hope they would have left.

The dock on one side ended with open ocean, but the direction that they had taken went instead through a very narrow corner. Only a few feet separated their boat and the pier on either side, but this tiny gap might be just big enough to let them through. By comparison the other ships would need to cut around the larger, but father off opening. You see, the Marines had placed so many ships in this section of the Rougetown piers to discourage anyone making off with a ship out of fear of being overrun as they tried to maneuver through the masses, that they had in fact made it very difficult for themselves to move as well. If Ren could hit that tiny gap then they could cut out a great deal of distance, and hopefully outpace the enemy, assuming they caught this breeze that this “navigator” had spotted on the horizon.

The expectation was killing Marius, his eyes focusing and refocusing over the tiniest of spots, hoping beyond hope that they would slide unmolested through the pier. Eventually he shut his eyes, letting fate decide things for him, the last thing he remembered was the violent scrapping noise that filled his ears…

---

A man cried out, his voice shrill from terror. “He must be Bulletproof!”

Aubrey smiled at the notion, his feet sliding a few more inches apart to keep his shaking from toppling himself over. Most heard the man’s claim and didn’t think to fire, but a few never did, launching a few more rounds his way. All bounced off harmlessly, the audible ricochet filling the alleyway. One man charged with a sword out, his killer intent plan on his face. It was long past the time of thoughts, and Aubrey was left with only his gut reaction. He punched the man in the face so hard that he must have taken the man’s head off, for he spun backwards until he met with the ever growing group of spectator Marines, blood whirling from his face and splattering all over the ground. Our hero in the meanwhile, merely stood up straighter, his body still fighting his every movement. He couldn’t help but smile, happy with the notion of a “Bulletproof Aubrey”. Maybe that would strike some fear into these Marines. It was unlikely however, especially when an officers coat stepped up amongst the mob.

The two men stared at each other, faces unchanged and body’s unmoving. The Marine was tall, and broad of shoulder, Aubrey was shorter and certainly less comely. The rookie wore a smile, the Marine a frown. The “Man of Justice” stood proudly, surrounded by his troop, the pirate alone and bloody, beaten and nearly dead, his back to the ocean. But he would not give up, not as long as his friends were on the way. He still had to find them, still had to set things right. Gritting his teeth, the man set his jaw and tensed as the blows came.

A heavy right to his temple rang his bell like some church ceremony, a knee to his gut might have blown his insides apart if they had not been so tainted by the devils magic. A glint of light singled a coming blade, aimed directly at his eyeball when he finally had his moment. To this day Aubrey might not have been able to tell you how he saw it coming, or how he knew what to do in response…but in one motion he pushed up his left arm, crossing it over the right side of his body and dragging it gently back towards its home. His forearm seemed to catch the enemy’s, and his sliding arm guided the blow away, just as his right arm locked around the man’ throat, his fingers finding soft flesh as he clenched tightly. Smoke filled the air as his vision went black, and a small pop light up his ears. The pressure of the Marines body seemed to fade away from him, he must have let go and backed up in reaction. Turning quickly to find relief from the building pressure of the darkness he saw the alley, and off in the distance the sky beyond. He took off towards it, never looking back. His light at the end of this tunnel was the only thing in the world, the rest of it a silly stage where he had played at having a real life. Reality was much simpler now, and so much harsher.

He was a pirate now.

He never felt the ground leave his feet, never felt the air brush his face, nor even the deck come up to meet him. His augmented body might have crashed through the thing entirely if he had the energy, not that he really knew it would be there. Aubrey jumped only because it was all that was left to him, the fact that a ship had been below him when he landed must have been lady lucks fault. Vague memories of his childhood washed by him as darkness spread through his eyes; a small raft, a pair of friends, a wooden sword…fire, burning, burning…burning.

“Sean…Justin…I’m coming home…”

The Ship never stopped moving, its time in Rougetown was over…

...END THREAD...

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SPOILER: Click to show

I must apologize. This is nowhere near my best post in this thread, and Im sure that everyone will have more to add to this. However i would like to end this thread one move along with the story. Feel free to contact me if something is amiss. Thank you all for an excellent thread.

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