Post by Lord Bromosalino on Mar 26, 2012 11:55:46 GMT -5
Damn it was cold. With hands in the pocket of a black jacket and a collar lifted high, a lone figure trudged through the frozen tundra. He had landed on this cold, wintry island after an inconvenient mishap. Well, to be exact, he had crashed into an iceberg after he had dozed off. And now the island that he had seen before he had reached its shores from a distance and made every effort to avoid landing there was his only choice. Him and the cold just didn’t mix any more than oil and water could mix. It was just dumb luck that he ended up in this Blue of all Blues, the North Blue. Why couldn’t he have ended up in the South Blue?
It didn’t help that he had a poor sense of direction as well. With the snow, wind, and ice in every direction, he couldn’t even tell if he was even going in the same direction as he first set off. To make matters worse, every other step now resulted in him falling three feet into the slush. Within moments, his clothing was soaked and the wind wouldn’t let up in the least bit. The cold was becoming unbearable and had chilled him to the bones. How did it come to this?
The son of a Captain in the Marines stuck here. Well, he had run away. The old man kept pushing him to be a Marine. Hell no. That was his answer. Become a dog to a crocked government with no control over your own life? Didn’t seem exactly like a great way to spend your life. Still, the waters of G1 and the New World seemed quite comforting compared to this icy hell. If he could just find some shelter. A cave, abandoned shack, or, if there was such a thing on this place, civilization! And that was a big if. Who in their right mind would settle in a place like this?
Trudging on, this solitary man recalled the events that had led him up to this moment. Many years ago saw a thirteen year old Vincent Vitkas sent off to Karate Island with hopes that this fiery, young man would come back to the New World Marine Headquarters disciplined and full of vigor to take on the tasks of his father. Instead, the eight years he had spent on that island only served to harden his firmness against becoming a Marine. After all, there was no freedom in that life, and Vincent would not be tied down by something as trivial as “preserving Justice.” Leaving that island, not for the New World, but for the Blues, the once lanky, hot-headed boy left a fighting machine filled with disciplined and with a secret weapon in his already dangerous arsenal. But more dangerous than the training he received, he left with ambition; to become a Yonkou. All that talk of becoming the Pirate King was ridiculous as far as Vincent was concerned. The One Piece surely did not exist. If it had existed, someone would have found it by now. Though the New World was certainly terrifying, there had been even more terrifying pirates that had been looking for it. The late ‘Pirate King’ was just looking for a way to be remembered and keep his legacy alive. It was a load of crap.
Wait, what was that? Snapping out of his half daze, Vincent spotted something far out in the distance. A light! A lone beacon in a desolate place brought a smile to six foot two popsicle. Too bad it seemed so far out. Well, the light wouldn’t come to him, and God only knew what would happen if he were to sit there. With a sigh, he grudgingly put one foot in front of the next.
Damn it was cold.
It didn’t help that he had a poor sense of direction as well. With the snow, wind, and ice in every direction, he couldn’t even tell if he was even going in the same direction as he first set off. To make matters worse, every other step now resulted in him falling three feet into the slush. Within moments, his clothing was soaked and the wind wouldn’t let up in the least bit. The cold was becoming unbearable and had chilled him to the bones. How did it come to this?
The son of a Captain in the Marines stuck here. Well, he had run away. The old man kept pushing him to be a Marine. Hell no. That was his answer. Become a dog to a crocked government with no control over your own life? Didn’t seem exactly like a great way to spend your life. Still, the waters of G1 and the New World seemed quite comforting compared to this icy hell. If he could just find some shelter. A cave, abandoned shack, or, if there was such a thing on this place, civilization! And that was a big if. Who in their right mind would settle in a place like this?
Trudging on, this solitary man recalled the events that had led him up to this moment. Many years ago saw a thirteen year old Vincent Vitkas sent off to Karate Island with hopes that this fiery, young man would come back to the New World Marine Headquarters disciplined and full of vigor to take on the tasks of his father. Instead, the eight years he had spent on that island only served to harden his firmness against becoming a Marine. After all, there was no freedom in that life, and Vincent would not be tied down by something as trivial as “preserving Justice.” Leaving that island, not for the New World, but for the Blues, the once lanky, hot-headed boy left a fighting machine filled with disciplined and with a secret weapon in his already dangerous arsenal. But more dangerous than the training he received, he left with ambition; to become a Yonkou. All that talk of becoming the Pirate King was ridiculous as far as Vincent was concerned. The One Piece surely did not exist. If it had existed, someone would have found it by now. Though the New World was certainly terrifying, there had been even more terrifying pirates that had been looking for it. The late ‘Pirate King’ was just looking for a way to be remembered and keep his legacy alive. It was a load of crap.
Wait, what was that? Snapping out of his half daze, Vincent spotted something far out in the distance. A light! A lone beacon in a desolate place brought a smile to six foot two popsicle. Too bad it seemed so far out. Well, the light wouldn’t come to him, and God only knew what would happen if he were to sit there. With a sigh, he grudgingly put one foot in front of the next.
Damn it was cold.