Post by dreameater on Sept 17, 2012 23:52:27 GMT -5
Marcus walked through East Street in his immaculate matte black suit, marvelling at the mechants haggling in the bazaar, the children running around, playing in the streets, and the jogging nuns, desperately trying to catch the wayward children. "Hmm. I didn't know nuns could run.[/I]" He silently chuckled. A child bumped into Marcus and, quick as a whip, Marcus' arm snaked out and stole back his wallet. He was just in time, even though the boy shot him a raspberry when all was said and done. Marcus was familiar with the trick, having spent some time with pickpockets, learning dexterity. He probably could rip off suckers with the best of them- if he didn't rather starve than steal or beg. He may have been deposed, but he was still royalty.
Marcus shook his head and brought his mind to the problem at hand, the entire reason he decided to make landfall at Straberry Hill instead of Stetson Island. Sailboat. He needed a sailboat, desperately. He was sick and tired of rowing across the entire West Blue. If he didn't have the beli for a sailboat, he'd simply buy a sail, rig it up, and lock the mast into the rowboat's lockbox. Hell he was perfectly ready to buy a bedsheet, string it up to a stick, and sail across the Blues relying on a dead tree branch than pick up those oars one more damned time. Marcus rolled his neck and shoulders. He got stiff just thinking about it. If he couldn't find a good deal for a boat like that here, in this city of merchants, it wasn't meant to be. After looking around for a bit, Marcus found his target. An old man, obviously ex-Marine, was selling just what he needed out of a small booth. The man had his feet up, rested on the booth table, and was reading a magazine, occasionally flipping the page. A little boy, who Marcus presumed to be the man's grandson, eagerly manned the booth. "Okay, I'll humor them." Marcus muttered to himself before striding up to the booth.
"Hello there, good sir! Might I inquire as to how much for a sailboat?" Marcus chirped, a smile on his face as he addressed the child. The boy's grin grew ever wider,and turned to his grandpa, excitedly tugging on the man's shoulder. The old Marine looked up. "Just a couple thousand fer ya, yer Lordship. But only 'cause yer the first person t' humor m'grandkid." Marcus blanched. Half a year ago, that wouldn't have even been a drop on the bank. "Half a year ago, I could have bought myself a galleon.[/I]" Marcus internally mocked himself. Oh how lowly the prince had fallen, to become a pauper. But still, Marcus forced his smiled and continued. "Unfortunately, even 'his Lordship' is struck by the economic drain. How much for the sail?" Marcus asked hopefully, gaining a chuckle from the old man. "Nothing, yer Lordship. All or nothin'. Sailboat or swim." Marcus raised an eyebrow. "Haven't you ever heard of merchandising? You sell what you can, to whomever you can." The old man turned another page, grinning. "Yup, I heard o' it. Never held with it, personally. You want the boat or not?" Marcus shrugged theatrically. "Not today, my friend. Perhaps another time. Have a good day sir." Marcus started to walk away when the old man called after him. "Yer lordship! If ya really are gonna try t' swim t' the next island, be careful o' pirates. Vermin have been raiding the coasts o' several o' our neighbors. And while you're in town, visit the entertainment district. A handsome fella like yerself might get a doxy or two for free!" The old man chuckled, and Marcus couldn't help laughing in return. "I'll think about it, old man. Thanks!" Marcus called over his shoulder as he continue his leisurely stroll.
Before long, Marcus did indeed find himself in the entertainment district, though through no fault of his own. He had just kept walking when suddenly the houses and merchant had been replaced with garishly colored signs and ladies in distinct need of clothing. And like an old prophet, the ex-Marine's foretelling came true. Soon Marcus had a full set of doxies that follow him like bodyguards. "Though I don't think they'd be so willing to guard my body as use it." Marcus silently mused. Finally, the ladies caught up to him, showing surprising speed even in high heels. One of them put a hand on his shoulder and spun him around, immediately slinking up against his body. "Hey there, honey. Care to take us home with you? You can have your pick- reduced price, just because you're a sight more handsome than the slives around here." The doxy then leaned in and whispered into Marcus' ear, while the other two advanced on him. "And if you're good enough, you might even get it for free." The other two giggled, now as close as the first woman. Marcus slid from their collective embrace like a snake, managing to get a step between them. "Ladies, you'll have to forgive me, but I simply couldn't decide something like that." The first doxy cooed. "Did you hear that, girls? We got ourselves a real man here! He plans to take us all at once!" Marcus spoke quickly and quietly, his voice cutting through the riotous giggling like the blade at his hip. "No. I could never decide on something like that because I could not take advantage of a lady like that. Forgive me, but I must take my leave." Marcus took a deep bow at the waist, then turned and walked away, leaving the doxies dumbfounded.
Marcus felt the burning at the back of his throat, and was fortunate enough to see a pub to his left, "The Pirate King." Thinking it appropriate, Marcus wandered inside, and found himself a seat at the bar. "Bartender! Would you mind bringing me a glass of rum? Thank you." Marcus spun around on the chair and rested his arms on the bartable, in order to survey the pub. It was a wonderful establishment, in fact. The only thing wrong with it were the three men harassing a woman in the corner. The woman had lovely auburn curls and emerald green eyes, but that didn't really affect Marcus' judgement. A Lady was in trouble and required the services of a Gentleman. Sighing, Marcus got off his stool and stalked over to the three men, looking for all the world the panther that was his family's coat of arms. He tapped one of the men on the shoulder. "'Ere, fuggoff!" the man snorted, rolling his shoulders violently. Marcus shook his head, disappointed. "Sir, if you don't mind, the lady clearly doesn't enjoy your attentions. Would you be so kind as to leave her alone?" The man turned to Marcus, incensed. His eyes widened when he saw who had addressed him. "Wha kinda prissy city boy's gonna come down 'ere 'n' tell me wha t' do? I'll show ya attenshuns, ya queer." The man was obviously drunk. Still, he wound up to take a swing at Marcus. Leaning forward, Marcus flung his left arm forward, pressing back on the man's bicep at the apex of his windup, offering the thug no leverage. With a smile, Marcus swept his leg and knocked the rickety old barstool from under the drunkard. His head hit the table and he was out like a light. By this time, the molester's buddies had seen the struggle, and had drawn weapons. Many ran out the door, screaming, but Marcus merely skipped back, landing left leg forward. "Yer gonna pay fer that, brat!" Marcus smiled softly as the man sprinted forward.
"Overture." Marcus spoke softly. The rapier, until then hidden from sight with his body, leaped into Marcus' left hand, ducking under the blade and drawing blood from hip to shoulder. Then, with his blade held high, Marcus brought it straight down, piercing the man's hand with the pommel spike. He fell to the ground, whimpering in pain. Marcus settled into an old fencing stance, his blade pointing at the man's heart. The man, obviously more skilled than the first two, actually managed to keep up with Marcus' onslaught. But with a twist of the wrist, Marcus locked blades and spun the thug's sword out of hand, disarming him. Not letting up the assault, Marcus ducked and lashed out with a sweep kick, putting the man on his back. Quickly standing up, Marcus firmly put his foot on the man's chest and his blade at the man's throat. Marcus spoke softly, but each word had its own gravity, forcing people to listen. "See, I just get so very angry when men try to take advantage of women. It's just simply not right. Now, I suggest you apologize to the lady for your actions. Count of three. 1...2..." Marcus menacingly flicked the blade up, drawing a single drop of blood. The injury was no more than a shaving cut, but it got the point across. "Gah! I get it! We're sorry! We're sorry for messing with you, miss!" Marcus smiled. "There. That wasn't so bad, was it? Now go pick up your friends and get out of here." Marcus took his foot off the man and drew a rag from his pocket. He gently cleaned the blood from his blade before sliding it back into the sheath. "We'll remember this! We're gonna make you regret this tonight!" Marcus smiled and called after them, "So I've been told! Feel free to ask for round two anytime!" Marcus nodded an apology to the bartender, who simply waved Marcus' cares away. No worries, his face seemed to say. Thus assuaged, Marcus turned his attention to the lady. "Good evening. My name is Marcus Umbra. Are you hurt, mi'lady?" Marcus asked sincerly, not a trace of mockery or scorn in his voice.
Marcus shook his head and brought his mind to the problem at hand, the entire reason he decided to make landfall at Straberry Hill instead of Stetson Island. Sailboat. He needed a sailboat, desperately. He was sick and tired of rowing across the entire West Blue. If he didn't have the beli for a sailboat, he'd simply buy a sail, rig it up, and lock the mast into the rowboat's lockbox. Hell he was perfectly ready to buy a bedsheet, string it up to a stick, and sail across the Blues relying on a dead tree branch than pick up those oars one more damned time. Marcus rolled his neck and shoulders. He got stiff just thinking about it. If he couldn't find a good deal for a boat like that here, in this city of merchants, it wasn't meant to be. After looking around for a bit, Marcus found his target. An old man, obviously ex-Marine, was selling just what he needed out of a small booth. The man had his feet up, rested on the booth table, and was reading a magazine, occasionally flipping the page. A little boy, who Marcus presumed to be the man's grandson, eagerly manned the booth. "Okay, I'll humor them." Marcus muttered to himself before striding up to the booth.
"Hello there, good sir! Might I inquire as to how much for a sailboat?" Marcus chirped, a smile on his face as he addressed the child. The boy's grin grew ever wider,and turned to his grandpa, excitedly tugging on the man's shoulder. The old Marine looked up. "Just a couple thousand fer ya, yer Lordship. But only 'cause yer the first person t' humor m'grandkid." Marcus blanched. Half a year ago, that wouldn't have even been a drop on the bank. "Half a year ago, I could have bought myself a galleon.[/I]" Marcus internally mocked himself. Oh how lowly the prince had fallen, to become a pauper. But still, Marcus forced his smiled and continued. "Unfortunately, even 'his Lordship' is struck by the economic drain. How much for the sail?" Marcus asked hopefully, gaining a chuckle from the old man. "Nothing, yer Lordship. All or nothin'. Sailboat or swim." Marcus raised an eyebrow. "Haven't you ever heard of merchandising? You sell what you can, to whomever you can." The old man turned another page, grinning. "Yup, I heard o' it. Never held with it, personally. You want the boat or not?" Marcus shrugged theatrically. "Not today, my friend. Perhaps another time. Have a good day sir." Marcus started to walk away when the old man called after him. "Yer lordship! If ya really are gonna try t' swim t' the next island, be careful o' pirates. Vermin have been raiding the coasts o' several o' our neighbors. And while you're in town, visit the entertainment district. A handsome fella like yerself might get a doxy or two for free!" The old man chuckled, and Marcus couldn't help laughing in return. "I'll think about it, old man. Thanks!" Marcus called over his shoulder as he continue his leisurely stroll.
Before long, Marcus did indeed find himself in the entertainment district, though through no fault of his own. He had just kept walking when suddenly the houses and merchant had been replaced with garishly colored signs and ladies in distinct need of clothing. And like an old prophet, the ex-Marine's foretelling came true. Soon Marcus had a full set of doxies that follow him like bodyguards. "Though I don't think they'd be so willing to guard my body as use it." Marcus silently mused. Finally, the ladies caught up to him, showing surprising speed even in high heels. One of them put a hand on his shoulder and spun him around, immediately slinking up against his body. "Hey there, honey. Care to take us home with you? You can have your pick- reduced price, just because you're a sight more handsome than the slives around here." The doxy then leaned in and whispered into Marcus' ear, while the other two advanced on him. "And if you're good enough, you might even get it for free." The other two giggled, now as close as the first woman. Marcus slid from their collective embrace like a snake, managing to get a step between them. "Ladies, you'll have to forgive me, but I simply couldn't decide something like that." The first doxy cooed. "Did you hear that, girls? We got ourselves a real man here! He plans to take us all at once!" Marcus spoke quickly and quietly, his voice cutting through the riotous giggling like the blade at his hip. "No. I could never decide on something like that because I could not take advantage of a lady like that. Forgive me, but I must take my leave." Marcus took a deep bow at the waist, then turned and walked away, leaving the doxies dumbfounded.
Marcus felt the burning at the back of his throat, and was fortunate enough to see a pub to his left, "The Pirate King." Thinking it appropriate, Marcus wandered inside, and found himself a seat at the bar. "Bartender! Would you mind bringing me a glass of rum? Thank you." Marcus spun around on the chair and rested his arms on the bartable, in order to survey the pub. It was a wonderful establishment, in fact. The only thing wrong with it were the three men harassing a woman in the corner. The woman had lovely auburn curls and emerald green eyes, but that didn't really affect Marcus' judgement. A Lady was in trouble and required the services of a Gentleman. Sighing, Marcus got off his stool and stalked over to the three men, looking for all the world the panther that was his family's coat of arms. He tapped one of the men on the shoulder. "'Ere, fuggoff!" the man snorted, rolling his shoulders violently. Marcus shook his head, disappointed. "Sir, if you don't mind, the lady clearly doesn't enjoy your attentions. Would you be so kind as to leave her alone?" The man turned to Marcus, incensed. His eyes widened when he saw who had addressed him. "Wha kinda prissy city boy's gonna come down 'ere 'n' tell me wha t' do? I'll show ya attenshuns, ya queer." The man was obviously drunk. Still, he wound up to take a swing at Marcus. Leaning forward, Marcus flung his left arm forward, pressing back on the man's bicep at the apex of his windup, offering the thug no leverage. With a smile, Marcus swept his leg and knocked the rickety old barstool from under the drunkard. His head hit the table and he was out like a light. By this time, the molester's buddies had seen the struggle, and had drawn weapons. Many ran out the door, screaming, but Marcus merely skipped back, landing left leg forward. "Yer gonna pay fer that, brat!" Marcus smiled softly as the man sprinted forward.
"Overture." Marcus spoke softly. The rapier, until then hidden from sight with his body, leaped into Marcus' left hand, ducking under the blade and drawing blood from hip to shoulder. Then, with his blade held high, Marcus brought it straight down, piercing the man's hand with the pommel spike. He fell to the ground, whimpering in pain. Marcus settled into an old fencing stance, his blade pointing at the man's heart. The man, obviously more skilled than the first two, actually managed to keep up with Marcus' onslaught. But with a twist of the wrist, Marcus locked blades and spun the thug's sword out of hand, disarming him. Not letting up the assault, Marcus ducked and lashed out with a sweep kick, putting the man on his back. Quickly standing up, Marcus firmly put his foot on the man's chest and his blade at the man's throat. Marcus spoke softly, but each word had its own gravity, forcing people to listen. "See, I just get so very angry when men try to take advantage of women. It's just simply not right. Now, I suggest you apologize to the lady for your actions. Count of three. 1...2..." Marcus menacingly flicked the blade up, drawing a single drop of blood. The injury was no more than a shaving cut, but it got the point across. "Gah! I get it! We're sorry! We're sorry for messing with you, miss!" Marcus smiled. "There. That wasn't so bad, was it? Now go pick up your friends and get out of here." Marcus took his foot off the man and drew a rag from his pocket. He gently cleaned the blood from his blade before sliding it back into the sheath. "We'll remember this! We're gonna make you regret this tonight!" Marcus smiled and called after them, "So I've been told! Feel free to ask for round two anytime!" Marcus nodded an apology to the bartender, who simply waved Marcus' cares away. No worries, his face seemed to say. Thus assuaged, Marcus turned his attention to the lady. "Good evening. My name is Marcus Umbra. Are you hurt, mi'lady?" Marcus asked sincerly, not a trace of mockery or scorn in his voice.