Post by Terminally Chill on Oct 21, 2015 23:18:53 GMT -5
“Magnum...”“... Fist...”“... Magnum...”“... Everything...”
A raucous rumble rolled across the expanse of the West Blue, a phantom roar with origins difficult to trace. The western weather was characteristically fair, sky devoid of the black behemoth of a cloud capable of producing such a booming racket. Much like the sky above, this particular stretch of the sea was clear of much activity. Only a single ship streamed across the open waters, chugging along with a low buzz drowned out by the thunderous swell. The vessel was peculiar, modeled in the visage of a gaudy flaming bird and carrying three teenagers whose ragtag alliance was even stranger than the ship speeding them to their destination.
Upon closer inspection, the mysterious noise could be quickly attributed to one of the odd ship's passengers: Magnum Garands, self-proclaimed Pirate King and an all-around jerk. The blue-haired demon was passed out hard on his back atop the ship's avian figurehead, mouth agape with a small stream of drool flowing freely from the corner. His hand held his prized Pirate King Championship even in slumber. Apparently, Garands' snoring was just as loud and obnoxious as literally every single other thing he did in his life. The teenage firearm's violent mind surely dreaming up fantasies of punching through Liger Delgado's face, the result of Garands' last confrontation with the suited luchador displayed in the form of bandages bound around much of his body. The lazy king was ensuring the wounds sustained from the festival's trying battle healed appropriately by engaging in copious amounts of sleep, the area around him littered with cans of discarded food and old bandages.
The ship gifted to the trio by Aman Delgado was undoubtedly fast, but the trip to reach the Flying Delgado Company's headquarters had still taken a few days. Perhaps the only way Bailey Barnum and Arcis Erranta had been able to handle an extended period of time with Garands was the fact he hadn't said a single word to either of them since waking up from the bout of unconsciousness following his skirmish with Liger. Since that moment, the bare-chested barbarian's routine atop the figurehead was solely sleeping, eating, and doing a ton of push-ups in preparation for the redeeming title fight against the Delgado family's patriarch.
A sudden sway shook Garands from his slumber with a series of confused grumbles. The coal-fueled propellers whirred to a halt and the ship gradually began coasting across the water. Arcis' knowledge of navigation had proven to be exceptional judging by the small island awaiting them in the distance. Lifting his blade-like shades, Garands rubbed the sleep from his eyes and peered to the sight before the trio: a great, ominous tower lording over the sea in a shroud of darkness. The loud-mouthed Pirate King grinned with a devilish excitement, the sight of their destination instantly snapping him from any sort of grogginess.
“Now this is what I'm talkin' about!” Garands sprung onto his feet in one fluid motion, red cape dramatically flourishing behind him as he stood cross-armed at the ship's helm to receive the first wave of the Flying Delgado's Company's forces. As their eye-sore of a vessel approached, the great tower slowly came into view. As the pure scope of their destination was revealed, there was no doubt the Delgado's family's headquarters was...!
… Pretty lame.
The tower was definitely... tall? And yeah, generally pretty large, but that was really the only sort of impressive feature. Otherwise, the building was an endlessly boring wall of windows on all sides, placed atop a manicured lawn stretching across the entirety of the small island. There were definitely ships anchored around island's edge, but not a soul graced the neat expanse of green. The only break in the grass was a welcome walkway stretching from the wooden dock about to greet their drifting ship, leading right to the Tower of Dull itself. The sight was a painful contrast to the bombastic flair the Grand Floating Festival provided; it was hard to even fathom the same organization could be involved in both constructions. Finally absorbing the immense mediocrity of their enemy's stronghold, Garands slowly turned to address his two fellow passengers for the first time in the voyage's span. His face was an unimpressed scowl, arm weakly pointing in disbelief at the lackluster setting.
“Shit's weeeeeeaaaakkkk.”