The Line of the Law

[EriChar]

Aha, we meet again, it seems. Enjoyed the stories before so much that you couldn’t help and see if there was more? It’s flattering, truly, and it seems you are in luck. There seems to be a story here tucked away just for you, and thankfully this story is not about a weary buzzard or even a plucky dung beetle, no. This story is about a girl. That is not to say there is a bad thing about stories told about a somnolent avian or an audacious mover of excrement, in fact, there might somewhere be unparalleled levels of fiction concerning such creatures and even a seminal work on a humble but influential tree frog. Unfortunately, there is something of a barrier to be considered when considering the telling of stories that to relate to these three animals, and quite a few more. That obstacle is the simple and yet broad gulf of relatability. Such creatures tend not to communicate via means that is remarkably understanding by even the brightest human minds, so one might fear that the subtlety and nuance of any fine work is bound to see some degradation in translation. While of course we could try some pandering attempt to ‘humanize’ our characters in an effort to help them be easier to understand, there seems folly in that direction as well. After all, such a story would probably end up being one that seemed more about humanity than the concerns of these fabulous fauna, who would in turn probably find such a gesture somewhat ignorant and quite vain.

Indeed, it is perhaps a good thing we have chosen to focus on a human, and a female one at that. It is probably a little cliché to have a plucky human heroine, though perhaps we should save our judgement until later in the tale? A cliché and a classic are rarely far apart in the spectrum of fictional ideas, so we can only hope that this tale takes a little bump into the direction of memorable, managing to steer clear of the pitfalls of overused formula or misguidance of plot. It would certainly be much more of a joy to pass on something of merit rather than a worn out yarn that you have heard a thousand times before and hopefully it would also be less of a chore to read as well. So, hopefully this information will settle your qualms about what you are about to endure, and if not, please give it a chance to surprise you. What’s the worst that could happen?
So, without further ado, we move onto our story. While it is a shame that your narrator has for a moment ceased his musing and moved onto matters of substance, do bear with it, as the tale will undoubtedly turn into a tangent about the inane once more sooner or later.

Once upon a time there was a princess who could not settle on a suitor. Oh what a chore it was to have the richest and most attractive men waltzing into her halls at the convenience of this young lady and competing for her attention. Oh the struggles she faced in this pursuit, it defies truly defies belief! Who would put her into the dire and disastrous position of having to choose the epitome of perfection in a partner? Those without the life of a royal truly do not understand their struggles of a young woman with all the power and influence in the world!

Actually, that is an excellent point, wouldn’t you say? If we were scraping at the bottom of the cliché barrel, surely a tale of royal romance is what we would find? Let’s not tell this story! One has to say that it already seems rather foolish, so instead let’s focus on someone else, shall we? Who do we have to focus on in this storybook cum crystal ball type appliance? How about her? Yes, she seems much more interesting a lead! Look at her, laying there on the roof of a cabin without a care in the world, a bubble protruding from her nose as she snoozes happily in a warm sun. That is without a doubt a much more down to earth form of heroine, so by vote of one, we shall change our focus to a brunette by the name of Molly Morgan! That’s an interesting name, isn’t it? Much better than Yawnmerelda or whatever that tiresome princess was to be called. So, what is this Miss Molly Morgan up to today?

"But I don't wanna climb eggs today..." Lazily lounging on top of a cargo vessel by the name of the Lucky Hen, the girl mumbled something that would be meaningful only to her and yawned. The eyes of a sleepy soul separating by the scantest split and showing a bead of moisture that spoke only of the highest quality napping, back within the greedy grip of slumber did this young lady fall, apparently in no rush to rise. Dressed in a casual and boyish style, the girl was wearing a rather figure hugging tank top of peach colour, along with a pair of cut-off jeans that were so high trimmed that it seemed rather an overstatement to deem them shorts. Ensemble finished with a pair of brown boots and a shining visor across her eyes like a broad band of amber, the chocolate haired tomboy had the look of someone on vacation, both in appearance and attitude. Seeming to be enjoying the early summer heat, as the mass of wood beneath her slipped steadily into the port, the sleepy sailor certainly did not seem to be in a rush to get anywhere. That, however, was about to change.

“W-What? We’re here?” Eyes opening blearily once more as her paw pushed her goggles upward, the brunette beauty let out another yawn before rubbing her eyes, the colour of fine chocolate decorating the irises of her dreamy looking peepers. Hands moving from her face after tugging her eyewear back into place, for a few seconds the tired traveller looked up at the blue sky above as something turned inside her head, her eyes dazed as the whiteness of gulls and whispy clouds hung overhead.
Wait a second, where is here again? Mind seeming to have guessed their arrival but still coming up short on the exact destination of said terminal, the red lips of the girl seemed to pout from one side to another as she sought the truth of her terminus. Speckles of soft brown colour seeming to wiggle with her motions across her cheeks and nose, it seemed like a day had passed until those big browns seeming to sharpen with red hot steel before he girl did something that completely contradicted her lethargy.

“LOGUETOWN IS HERE!” Body bolting upward with such force that the form of the femme threatened to tip straight off the edge of the ship, our formerly fatigued focus found her feet in the tiniest slither of a moment, her body going from nothing to a hundred with a pace faster than a blink. Mitt of the miss making for a bill over her brow as she scanned her surrounding, the girl seemed to quiver with excitement, no doubt something of great importance to her very being awaiting her. Buildings around the dock seeming like tall and thick trees, the gawking girl glanced around and knew that she was no longer in some backwater burg. This before her was a bona fide suburban jungle, completely with structures whose floors totalled more than two. It was an oddly exciting prospect, really, for a girl who had grown up in the middle of nowhere. The tale of this tall thing with spiked locks just beginning, one could forgive Molly Morgan for her exhilaration. After all, one must consider that the greatest story ever told had but one boarding point, and by now you should know that this was it.

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1

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[❰ Misha ❱]

Post
"Blackbird" Emile Reivelt

With legs crisscrossed over one another and arms serenely draping over the side of a lone bench, the setting could not have been more peaceful for our secondary blackbird. Not that he would really care for who was the hero or heroine in this story, but every protagonist has a counterpart or else it wouldn't be much of a story. His messy blackened hair was salted slightly from the breeze; a small insect had made its home in the shade underneath.

Emile "The Blackbird" rested tenderly in a back alley where the sun was still plentiful, just a few blocks away from the infamous Execution Platform that Loguetown was notoriously famous for. had been made scarce. His garb wasn't Marine, seeing as how he was off-duty for the time being, instead he had elected that very morning to don a muscled cobalt blue T-shirt with the phrase "BONE OF MY SWORD" emblazoned on the back in bold Kanji. The loose-fitting article had come with no sleeves and was admittedly a little worn away at the edges from the past few years of use. He wore a pair of short blue trousers to compliment the shirt and had a piece of golden fabric stitched beneath the waist.

Stirring from his slumber, amethyst irises glared into the light and then a hand came up to shield them. With his limbs and eyes still groggy and unwilling to shift from his current spot, he reached up and tried to stretch them. His butt was sore and numb all the way down to his thighs from having remained in the awkward position. His mind was hazy and unfocused so it came as a little surprise when he became aware of someone suddenly walking off the main street and approaching him.

"Should have guessed you'd be here doro. Hiding out here so Suzie doesn't find you doro?" he heard in a childish voice, one who was clearly about 3 or more years younger than he was. Emile removed his hand from his eyes to stare at the blurry figure for a second before his sleepy eye had cleared and he easily recognized his little intruder. Kaito, the son of one of the other Marines wasn't exactly a welcome sight. He was curt, but mocking and was encouraged to bust his chips on his days off. He was only a 15-year old teenager, but he had the capacity to act both as immature as a 7-year old and as wise as a 60-year old.

Kaito wasn't in Emile's bad books, but when he was in the mood to razz it was done better than any other person. He was also especially good at finding Emile when the other's couldn't which made him dangerous. In his tired state, that fact escaped Emile at the time. "I was asked to come find you. Suzie told me to tell you there will be an inspection tomorrow so be sure to be present at the Marine Base so you should be early for that doro."

"Alright... I'll be there... tell her I'll be there at 7 o'clock sharp.. now let me sleep."

On that note, Kaito steadily wandered off back onto the mainstream and Emile saw him running off past the glare of the sun. His lazy brain made note of the news, but he still made no effort to move for a few additional seconds in which his back began complaining too. It was days like this that Emile missed going owl-fetching in Nocturnia. When he had that activity to preoccupy him, it was easier to hide from people who wanted to see him and to spend his time musing over his newest idea or just relaxing.

He had been stationed in Loguetown only for a little while, but the place made him feel stagnant and craving for something intriguing to occur. Not that Pirates were boring, but acting as the vanguard against potential outlaws was plain to him now. After pacing around for a few seconds, Emile had mostly worked out the numb feeling in his thighs for the most part. He stepped out into the main street, stomach growling noticeably and deciding to head down to the eatery down the road. The young man had just stepped forward, past the small back alley where he had taken a rest, when a slight ding rang out over his head...

'SPLASH'

Emile was caught off guard as a bucket of frigidly cold seawater drenched him from head to toe. His first instinct was to immediately glance up, catching the last inch of Kaito's face fleeing from the rooftop. His hair was soaked and his entire body shivered as the spray dampened him down to the bone. Gritting his teeth in response, Emile promptly removed his shirt. It was still a little breezy, but the sun was warm enough to provide him with a stretch of relief. The coldness in his pants tempted him to remove the garments as well and he chose to do just that the next time the breeze came through. The seawater Kaito had fished out was enough to make him feel like his knees and waist were frozen.

He felt noticeably less happy than before, his mood having taken a sour turn. "Should have seen that coming a mile away... Kaito must have been told to do that. He's gotten even more sadistic as of late." Emile thought as he now decided to take the shorter route to where he was lodged, now with all of his clothes slung over his left arm and wearing a towel he had grabbed to cover his lower body.

And so our tragic story began with Emile "The Blackbird" striding down the main road clad in a single towel in the direction of the Execution Platform.

"Speech Here"

1

[EriChar]

The town of Logue was a strange place associated with lore and legend, as well as a few myths. Some seeming to prefer the name ‘Roguetown’, there seems to be a shady element to the locale because of the large number of pirates that seem to frequent it. Something of an irony then that there happens to be a large and active Marine Base on the same island as well, it almost as if this eastern hub is built to see conflict between lawmen and the ocean base, and raises an important question. Many might query why fledgling groups of criminal sailors would continue to flock to a place that is so well guarded? After all, most of the people who come here are largely untested by the cruel paradise known as the Grand Line, so one might wonder why they would set foot in a lion’s den like this. There are two answers to that question.

Perhaps the most rational being that Loguetown is one of the last ports before the great mountain that separates the blues, but also gives entry to the aforementioned route of the grandiose. Many looking to challenge the narrow band of ocean that has broken so many, the port is used to stock up before setting foot in ‘hell’, since the transition is infamous in the strain it can take. Some seeming to grow ill simply from the change in climate, there have been those who have been killed simply by facing the atmosphere, without ever managing to go up against the ‘monsters’ that make the channel their home.

Fearing a fate such as this, and perhaps rightly so, most would prefer to stock up on supplies and at least make sure that they were at least swallowed by the strength of a rival. Of course it would be preferable to not be swallowed at all, and a relatively small number enter seem to enter the Grand Line with the intention of being destroyed, for that would be simple suicide. Yet, for anyone who has never seen a place that is both terrifying and terrific, a threat looms. Some make their name in this place, swelling into legends that will never be forgotten. Yet most do not. Really, there seemed more chance of winning a lottery than surviving in that wicked and narrow sea, but people still came. Were they brave or simply foolish? That’s a question you will have to answer for yourself. Regardless, the peril of the Grand Line was not the reason that Molly Morgan currently strolled through the streets of Loguetown. No, she had a different reason for being there, which tied far more closely to legend than practicality.

I can’t believe I’m finally gonna get to see it! Dizzy with excitement as she sashayed happily past rough and tough looking souls, while the atmosphere around her seemed serious and almost grim, the girl with goggles felt little of it. Dreaming of this day since she had first read of the stories of a particular pirate king, the girl with hair so brown it might as well have been black was in a state of elation, and why not? No doubt when you are about to meet with someone or something that has been an obsession since you were old enough to read, you too would have a case of the giggles! Spirit untouched by the sombre surroundings as she skipped away from the port where her sleepy arrival had taken place, the mind of Molly focused little on what was going on around her. Eyes only half seeing what was in front or around her as the rest of her vision looked inward, the giddy girl grinned as she drew a picture with her imagination.

I wonder how tall it is? A towering column being invented within, our frolicking focus pulled her hands behind her body, chest pushed out in front of her as she danced along the cobbled stone like a child going to the fairground. Inner image seeing something that would have a better placed on the corner of the castle used by a fairy princess, one would hardly believe that this was the expectation that the young woman had of an execution platform. Obviously on the trail of the scaffold sitting in the centre square of the town, one could now have realized that the somewhat deluded destination of this damsel was none other than the execution site of a man known by his friends as Gol D. Roger. Yes, yes, the man that the world knew with the surname of ‘Gold’ being the one and only pirate king, perhaps it would be a surprise if you hadn't made a guess at this earlier on. Perhaps, if you hadn't, this is maybe a tale that is a lick too niche for what you desire? None would blame you for stepping out at this point and finding something else, but if you insist on staying, please do try and keep up. Anyway, shall we get back to the swaggering squaw who loved buccaneer lore?

A pirate to the core, and quite the fan of all the brigands that had come before her, with her own journey just beginning, it seemed to Miss Morgan that it would have been downright disrespectful to weave her own great legend without paying a little respect to the man who had changed the world of pirates forever. Always having admired such a fellow, though maybe not quite as much as some, while historians seemed to paint a rather wicked image of the one with enough strength and bravery to beat the Grand Line, this amber eyed girl had always felt there was something romantic and noble about him. Surely someone with the drive to build a body of people capable of doing something none other had done could be all bad? Besides, even at the tender age of seventeen, this girl in goggles had already recognized the bias that the Law seemed to put on things.

The good man that was her father already having been chased away by the Marine force when she was a child, Molly had little love for them or the government they barked for like dogs. After all, if they could make her dear old daddy into a bad guy, why not someone else? For certain, any white wearing and seagull bearing sheriff of the sea was not about to be high up on the friends list of this chipper chicklet on this day or any other. It was unfortunate, but they had already burned any bridges they may have made with this particular girl, so she saw no reason to do anything kinder than ignore them. For certain, if you had asked the brunette right now whether she would have sided with the Marines on anything, she would answer with the biggest and fattest of refusals. It was funny then, fickle as the fates were that before her visit was over, she would have done just that…

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2

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[❰ Misha ❱]

Post
"Blackbird" Emile Reivelt

He looked very scrawny to say the least without his clothes and garb, striding down the street looking like a tourist going to the beach or perhaps a boy who had stumbled into some very unfortunate circumstances. The only difference between him and the others were the black wings that furled along his back on flanking sides of his spine. A few people stopped to stare as he passed them by, maybe thinking they were props of some dubious nature and make. Add in the baby pink towel that was wrapped around his waist to hide his posterior and you have a figure whom many wouldn't know what to make heads or tails out of if they didn't think they were looking at an honest fallen angel come down from heaven.

His ribs and chest were slim with little muscle, though he looked wiry and had some toning of the once pale white skin and abdomen from the sun's rays. He saw a few women along the side of the road blush and stare at him without his shirt on and he was obliged to continue moving on lest his feet end up burning on the cooked cobblestones or his shyness get the better of him. After a few minutes, he was lucky that no one had stopped to ask him any serious questions about if the wings on his back were real, seeing as how he would maybe need to lie about that. Not to say he wasn't happy with his body, but he took no delight in letting people see how little conditioning he had and even among Marines it had occurred to tease him about it on a few occasions that he was forced to nod off.

This had to have been in Kaito's Master plan. The kid was a promising future Marine, but his mean streak was strong when he chose to show it. Thinking of the teenage boy as he walked, Emile decided on ways he could pay him back as a devilish smile broke over his features for just a few moments. It was to his advantage as well that he knew quite a bit about Kaito and many of his habits so he filed away the need to concoct something up later for the smug annoyance.

Unintentionally, the young angel had found himself not entirely paying full attention to the way he was going and steadily only moving absently. His lodgings weren't far away from where the Marine headquarters was stationed, but it was across from his current position on the opposite side of town. He turned slightly and found himself smack right in the middle of plaza in front of the Execution Platform; still standing tall today as a powerful testament and reminder of Loguetown's role in East Blue as a symbol of peace. Even for Emile, something had always seemed eerie about it and not just because of its history. When he had first been stationed in Loguetown, something drew him closer like he was a mere fidgety child.

Did Pirates deserve a gallows like this? He certainly disliked Pirates and would hunt them down for as long as he was a Marine, but at the time he had pondered if Justice wasn't what he thought it was and had tasked himself with figuring it out. His first assignment had actually been to sit, contemplate it, and strengthen his resolve. He had done so and in a thoughtful, serene state he had come to one conclusion that he couldn't remember. Things were not as simple so as if he could reach one conclusion that would be all-encompassing. He still admired it, even today, but the concept was ever-changing in the eyes of the people the Marines served.

As he stared at it for a moment, he couldn't find the words to describe the fidgety, drowning sensation that was drawing him forward. Idly brushing a piece of water-salted hair from the corner of his eyelids, Emile trudged forward to stand right in the center plaza. His wings had dried off, but his clothes still dripped with spray and salt. The lax drifts of deep sea breeze were beginning to have their calming effect on his nerves and he shuddered slightly from it. His blackened feathery wings unfurled somewhat, revealing the spreading streaks of white running along the tip.

His mood brightened up at the feeling. It felt somewhat good actually to stretch his wings out in the open and let down his guard after having been on edge for the past few minutes.

"Speech Here"

2

[EriChar]

“Hmmmmmm…” The narrowing jawline of the brunette currently supported by her hand, our tale resumes to find our young lady lead looking somewhat perplexed. That was unexpected, eh? Not the fact that she was confused of course, as she is not always the brightest bulb in the house, but rather that we hop straight into the focus of the femme! Yes, the last two instalments have started with the rather self-absorbed musings of a less than reliable narrator, so it would be understandable that you might feel this is the way all of our little slices of this story may begin. Fortunately for you, every now and then the bard who tells the tale can restrain their ego and whimsy long enough to get in the odd act of focus on the yarn.

Or can they? One supposes that this particular paragraph is rapidly devolving into indulgence of the self, so it might be best to nip this in the bud right now. For certain, and probably to the contrary of our storytellers intention, such prattling’s will become less tolerable the more frequently they appear. With that in mind, it might be best to use them as sparingly as possible. However, forgiveness is asked for the moments when the mind of the mere mortal retelling this tale goes off track, as it is bound to happen again sooner or later. After all, the saying goes ‘to err is human, and to forgive is divine’, and what is our readership if not the intangible and all-knowing authority associated with divinity. If not that, they’re probably idiots, after all they are reading this over Dickens or Shakespeare. Regardless, back to the story!

Didn’t they say Roger was from here too? I wonder which house he grew up in? Yes, this is where we were before that rude interruption. Molly Morgan, the main madam that marched through the Marine town had found herself coming to a halt, yet, it was never explained why. The answer was rather simple really, a land so steeped in history as this was bound to have other areas of interest. While this land might have been the resting place of Roger, those who knew him also would be aware of the fact that this was where he was born. Ironic, isn’t it? Being born and then dying in the exact same place when one had once been the most remarkable explorer and pioneer of modern times? One supposes it could be worse. A person could have been executed on some sandy ball which they had always sought to escape. Only a fool would die like that. Or a dung beetle. Don’t be confusing the two, because dung beetles are overwhelmingly understated in both their trials and the resulting badassery they show. Any who doubt it should try pushing a boulder sized ball of faecal matter up a hill, and then be asked who the real heroes are.

It could be any of these, I suppose, or even all of them! The distant perspective of our feisty focus resumed, the amber eyed lass took a little break from the transit with which she had been consumed. Peering around with eyes that seemed to practically gleam with curiosity, it seemed this girl had lost just about all of her velocity.
I bet he was all kinds of trouble growing up too... A delay demanded by nothing more than simple whim, one can be assured that the bright goal she sought would not grow dim. Soon enough she would be again on the move, when all of a sudden something occurred to her that made Miss Morgan lose all groove.

Wait, where exactly IS the execution platform, anyway? It seemed that as our brown haired beauty allowed herself a moment for the long revered act of dallying, just as she was adding just a hint of dilly, a question occurred to her that might make her seem quite silly. Mind drifting for a few seconds as she stood in the street, when focused back to the task at hand, she realized she had no idea where the wooden tower she sought might stand.
I'm pretty sure it was in a plaza or something... Books that describing the monument as located within the town square, with a gasp and a hint of redness in her cheeks, Molly Morgan realized that she had no idea of how to get there. Just what could she do to find her goal? Whatever would make this more than just the more than an aimless stroll? Regardless of the outcome you might find your bard to be smiling, because a storyteller is now laying down all kinds of Dr Seuss styling.

Consulting a map might at this stage have been wise, yet such an item was absent in this visitor’s supplies. A guidebook also something that might have told her where to head, its absence seemed to say that this girls sense of preparation was dead. She was impulsive and certainly brash, and some might even have assumed that this young woman might even be a little short on cash.
“Hey, uh, you?!” With a carried guideline heartlessly missing, the only thing that Miss Morgan could do was hope that the people around her were not so dismissing. Not even noticing the feathered wings that her target seemed to possess, by now our focused femme was nearing a point of distress. Direction something that our leading lady desperately needed, as the pirate turned to find a slim boy she hoped her plea would be heeded.
“Which way is the town square?!”

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3

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[❰ Misha ❱]

Post
"Blackbird" Emile Reivelt

As fun as it was to let his hair down, it gave him quite a bit more attention than he had intended. Quickly slinging over the damp shirt to hide his striped wings, Emile dodged 'ooohs' from a few kids that happened to be strolling on by. He hurried along like a spooked owl in the thick of the forest, heading into a side alley that would take him away from the plaza housing the Execution Platform. Along the way, he made two more turns that would take him closer to the shopping district where Rebecca Hanberg and several shopping malls were stationed and he could perhaps reach his apartment.

On the main street, Emile emerged and started to pace himself as the clothes hanging over his arm had dried somewhat and it was more comfortable to not be in a huge rush. A woman's voice broke him from his stride unexpectedly as it seemed clearly addressed to him. Reflexively, Emile slowly turned to sight the female calling out for his attention, a single girl of rather plain appearance though slightly taller than he was and rather unappealing in terms of outfit choice. She appeared like a tourist, map in hand with the typical query for directions.

“Which way is the town square?!”

Not a question he didn't get asked on a regular basis. He pointed her back the way he had just came, "It's farther down the main road. Just keep walking for a few more minutes and you'll see it." he returned cordially with a thinly veiled bow of his head. Seeing as how he was in a hurry to get into some new clothes, Emile was quick to head out afterwards and paid no more mind to the girl in question. While she had been unappealing to his taste, there seemed to be no more reason to ask further question. Little did the young Marine know the twist of fate that would inevitably occur. A devilish twist in the making that had yet to unfold.

As the coy Blackbird stepped away and started to resume his stride to his apartment, he spotted a boy off to the side where Rebecca Hanberg was situated. He didn't think anything of it for a second until recognition dawned on him and the black hair brought back the air of familiarity. Kaito, the same boy who minutes ago had dumped water on his back, was now seemingly unaware of him with his backside turned toward him while seemingly staring at something beyond the brick wall and his own field of vision. It was such a surprise that Emile almost dismissed it to head home, but than his gears began to turn and a crooked smile worked its way to the corners of his mouth.

Getting dressed at home could wait. For now, he had a score to settle with the young prankster.

"Speech Here"

3

NOTE: I've wanted to let you know that I will be away for a week starting today. I've been preparing to go on a trip for the past week so I couldn't put this up earlier I'm afraid. I will try to post though when I get back which will be on the 2nd.

[EriChar]

“Oh, just up there?” Following the finger of the fellow who found his sense of direction far more blessed than the beauty with brown hair, our lady lead propped the flat of her hand above her brow as she pursed her lips in anticipation, sensing she was not far away from the quarry she sought.
“Thanks buddy!” Casting what was more of an afterthought in the wake of such imminent excitement it was only for the slightest of moments that this young woman lingered near this human sign post, before dashing off from this unknown soul never to meet him again. At least, that was what the young woman thought, yet this would not be the last encounter that Molly Morgan had with that particular plainly clothed marine this day. Yet, such details are quite a ways off, so we should linger on them little.

Trotting forward along the main road that the mystery man had sent her in a state of giddy glee, this brunette was like a child that skipped her way to the sweetness of a treat or toy. Childish in her own way, while the physique of this pretty pirate was maturing nicely, the same could not have been said for her sense of bearing or maturity. A young woman that retained a sense of youthful enthusiasm, there was little space in the head of our heroine for concerns that other seventeen year old girls might concern themselves with, and some might have chided her for the so often ingenuous character that she showed.

Of course there were times when this dashing dame might be caught up in more ‘adult’ matters, but she was first and foremost a girl who lived in and reacted to the moment. Almost animalistic in that regard, our pluck filled protagonist had a purity that was rarely seen in the world these days, and almost unheard of in the ranks of pirates. For certain, this would be a buccaneer like few others, but whether that was a good or bad thing remained to be seen. All that one could do was see where her story might go. Would she remain an innocent flower in a field of weeds or find herself corrupted? You’ll only find the answer to such a question by sticking with this girl regardless of her flaws and foibles. Let’s hope that whatever endpoint she is heading toward, it is an interesting one, eh?

“Whoooaaaa…!” The dalliance of your author enough to allow our teenage focus the chance to at least discover the destination at least of her day, as the Main Street of Loguetown opened up and became a broad marketplace, it was not the tower of timber that first caught the eye of our leading lass.
“I’ve never seen so many people in one place before…” Muttering to herself in a sense of near disbelief as she sighted more busy individuals than she could ever spare the time to count, it seemed the rural upbringing of this particular pirate shone through in the moment, being left with her jaw a little slack simply by the sight of so many souls. Growing up in the middle of nowhere handy if one wished for a quiet life, there was an unfortunate side effect of that which Molly was currently experiencing. Within the central square of this port town seemed to be a number of people far greater than what had inhabited the entire island on which the brunette had spent most of her life.

A meeker soul maybe having been daunted by such a mob, it was lucky then that we are following someone who has the distinction of being almost as fearless as she was uncultured. The mass of people only an obstacle to the true goal that the girl searched for, after a few seconds of appreciation for such a throng of bodies, the brunette beauty was once again searching for her target. Although the buildings around the centre square like towering walls that seemed to even blot out the sky, there were few barriers to finding the place of Gold Roger’s demise, being the only tall structure not made of white stone.

“That… That has to be it!” A mass of logs arranged into a timber tower standing in front of a somewhat regal looking structure that hung a balcony behind it, most would not have been impressed by the platform on which the Pirate King met his end. Grubby and blackened by some kind of burn, the thing barely seemed to be holding together and on the whole looked like it had been cobbled together with no real mind toward keeping it up for very long. Constructed simply for the purpose of an execution, had a man so infamous as the Oro Jackson’s captain not met his end here, it likely would have been torn down a long time ago.

Now a symbol of a false peace that the government wished to spread, even after a lightning strike had hit this wooden monument it had been rebuilt like some kind of trophy. The Marines and their masters wanted the world to believe they had gotten the better of that man by killing him, but those who knew the truth saw things very differently. The man that conquered the Grand Line having handed himself in voluntarily, the only victory that the corrupt ruling group could offer was ending his life, and that stood as little triumph since the man had been dying anyway. If anything, all that had been given by the executioners was a quick death, but Roger had given so much more.

That great speech that sent a thousands of sails across the sea, each bearing their own motif, echoing out from this one spot, many had been inspired by it. The brunette that was now moving through the crowd no different in this regard than any bandit of blue sea, the legend of the pirate king had been a large part of why she wanted to follow the same path herself. And so, like any idol, respect would need to be paid to the person whose real name was Gol D. Roger. Yet, not all would enjoy the manner in which Molly Morgan planned to offer it…

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4

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[❰ Misha ❱]

Post
"Blackbird" Emile Reivelt

With one creeping leg forward after another, Emile unassumingly approached from along the main road. His eyes followed Kaito's form in every which way it went. The astute young boy, with a stride that was unassuming and seemingly blind to Emile's presence, continued with his walk down the opposite direction. Emile's mind was working feverishly to come up with a suitable payback. It was only fitting after all to return a jest when one is made.

Continuously stalking the young boy, Emile had to shift his poise and position repeatedly to not appear suspicious with the small crowd of people gathering by the beach. While he tried to not appear uncouth in his trailing, Emile fully expected Kaito to be on his guard. He had no option to beat Kaito at his own game in beautiful, stunning fashion or else he would be sighted and probably humiliated like before. Emile scrutinized his surroundings carefully while working on Kaito's tail until he came to an apt payback scheme. They approached a small clearing; a few people working the stands that sold the day's catch of fish by the ocean shore.

"I'll just be careful, he won't know what hit him!"

Kaito didn't make the turn that Emile expected him to, which gave enough of a hint for him to guess that he wasn't heading home. That was the key that set his mind in motion. His plan now seeming certain, he nonchalantly turned a hard right down towards where the shore, breaking away for the moment as soon as Kaito vanished into the next road. He made with all haste for the fish stands and grabbed the oldest bucket with flies surrounding the metallic pail. The stand was currently empty and the bucket he had filched was filled with the most undesirable and smelly parts of the fish that had begun to rot and go bad. It was common to throw such things away, but to Emile's eye it was the perfect tool to use against his nemesis. Kaito would no doubt be headed back to his little hangout, a small little place that Emile had only spotted Kaito retreating to once.

Emile wore a queer little smirk while quickly slipping into his now dried shirt and pants to cover the wings on the small of his back. His pacing fastened to a hurried walk as his eagerness steadily built feverishly. He made way along the back alleys, being careful to glance to his left and right for his pray in case something was amiss. He kept thinking that he had missed something or perhaps that he hadn't been inconspicuous enough. It wouldn't be the first time a plan of his had gone awry. Kaito was good enough to not only not keep matters between the two of them, but also make certain that Emile looked the fool. He pressed on until reaching the checkpoint at the ideal spot to set up his little trap.

Down along the edge of town where several bars had set up shop, Emile zipped through shortcuts and across. If he was correct, than the young boy would be along shortly and walk into the shady home with one of his friends. Emile made his nest he pail clanked up against a nearby wall, shaking and rattling the soup of foul-smelling guts inside. With the slight breeze gusting around him, it was more than noticeable to Emile and probably carried the stench for a short distance away. It was modestly heavy too, a fact that had started to take a bit of a toll on Emile's arms and very slim build. Placing the bucket down on the ground, Emile took refuge behind a small shack several feet behind Kaito's hideaway. It was a dirty-looking place, odd thing to act as a retreat for a 16-year old. In a faraway spot of town though, Emile could make a fair guess or two as to the reason behind why the young boy would prefer a secluded gathering spot. From the looks of it, the place probably had been a bar or tavern at one point. The windows were moldy and cracked, the mildew and stone surrounding it even starting to look withered.

Stowing away like a suspicious vandal sifting through a corner store, Emile stealthily crept in through the back door, fish guts pail spilling a few rogue fish bones out onto the floor where they tumbled to a rest. All that could be heard in that moment was the deep-throated chuckle of Emile.

Kaito pushed the squeaking door minutes later, the rusted hinges and meshing of splintered wood echoing a gentle screech. It wasn't often that he was able to get away to this place, knowing that his family would sooner have him help out more in the Marines than do anything else with his time. Seriously, he wished some days that all of it would go away or just disappear. Reaching into the bag slung over his left shoulder, he withdrew one of his favorite snacks purchased from his favorite pastry shop on a curb near the Marine base on the opposite side of town. This place had been a Marine-favored bar for a while, but it made for a good place for him to catch some well-deserved re...

"Oooooooh Kaiiiitoo! Haaalllleelluuuujjjaaahh!~"

The voice rang out abruptly, interrupting his train of thought for the moment. It was easily recognizable though and he instantly grasped the meaning without having to apply anything further than common sense. "Very funny Emile-kun." he walked back to the kitchen, towards the source of the noise that seemed to be coming from the kitchen. From behind the walk-through gate, it was poorly lit and more difficult to see than from the main dining room where guests had sat when the bar was in its prime.

Yet nothing seemed out of place. There was no sign of Emile. With a wry, knowing glance to his surroundings, Kaito had a good feeling for these types of things. Goosebumps ran up and down his spine like wildfire, preparing him for whatever the pretty-boy Marine had in store for him as payback. "You know Emile... Suzie doesn't like it when you play jokes on me like this. She can have you demoted if I asked her..."

That was when it hit him. Something smelled completely awful. It was foul and horrid, easily recognizable for the salty fish smell. Kaito pinched his nose shut with one hand and then pivoted on his foot to turn back away from whatever Emile had done to the kitchen. That was when it happened.

'SLIP'

He stomped on something underfoot, crushing it completely before it proceeded to violently burst. The soup of fish guts splashed all over him and even into his eyes. Kaito yelled aloud, but that was when his left foot lost gripping with the floor underneath him as the liquid had also now flowed out underneath. He was soon tumbling onto the floor, disoriented and gripping around for anything to hold onto. Blind as a bat from the stink, he couldn't see or right himself before the final 'BING' was heard and a torrent of fish soup spilled out over him while he flopped away in agony.

On the outside of the establishment, Emile Reivelt chuckled away as he watched the terror unfold inside. Knowing what came next though, he was quick to pick himself up and get to running. When Kaito came to, he would not be happy.

"Speech Here"

4

Just for the record, the bar is the exact same one Luffy went to in the anime. It is the Gold Roger Bar, but without Raoul. Also, Emile so sadistic....

[EriChar]

“Get down from there!”

“Why is it we always get idiots who want to climb the scaffold?”

“You’ll bring the thing down like that moron from before!”

“You damned fool, you’ll have the Marines here in a minute if you don’t stop!”

“At least she’s giving us a nice view though…”

“Tch, shut it you old perv!”

“Don’t you think this is getting a little out of hand?”

Everyone and their lecherous uncle seeming to have something to say about what our lady lead was doing, as her impeccably curved rump wiggled its way higher and higher up what seemed to be an increasingly rickety scaffold, Molly Morgan had no attention to spare for the surrounding naysayers. Humming some old sea shanty to herself as she scaled the timber tower, the girl could have made her way up such a structure much more quickly had she chosen to, but this time seemed to elect for a more subdued approach.
No no no, this is a piece of history, Molly… You can’t go scratching it up! A voice of reason within the mind of the mountaineering Miss seeming to be intent on curbing he urge that the girl had to dig her claws into these epoch-making beams, the beauty wrapped her mitts gently but firmly around every little run of this badly built ladder. Clearly not the sort of structure that had been erected with the intent of a quick climb, or any act of scaling at all really, there was a solid minute of ascent that even a girl as fit as this needed to make her way to the top. Yet, as our feisty femme found herself at this lumber summit, she did not regret the time that she had spent getting here.

“It’s… Kind of beautiful…” The eyes of the young woman growing wide as she stood above the marketplace and looked out across it, for one reason or another, it felt like she could see exactly what the pirate king had that day. A sea of bodies that seemed to murmur beneath her, it became clear to at least one soul in that moment why this had been the ‘stage’ from where the great era of piracy had begun.
This is what that Roger saw, was it? The souls that surrounded the platform like an ocean of potential, Miss Morgan could only imagine how much greater the scene would have been before that grand declaration, with all those people looking up to the one and only pirate king. The girl attracting attention but by no means the same level of interest as Gold Roger would draw, she felt like she was being given a window into the past as she stood here, and slowly her eyes slipped shut.

A wonder few others would ever realise... The murmur of the crowd seeming to drift away from the ears of the brunette as she let her imagination seize her, instead the girl saw a crowd that seemed to fill every inch of the island around her, all looking up in awe at her through a gap of almost twenty years. Faces from books and bounties among the crowd, the brown haired beauty could picture the names that now dominated the waters looking up at this moment as mere children by comparison, about to be sent out in a raucous rampage of romance. This was it. This was the moment that everything had been born anew. Piracy had begun on this day in a manner like none before, and it had all been born from a soul whom our lady lead now felt like she was filling the shoes of.

“His treasure?!” The spirit of the pirate king himself seeming to flow into the girl as she transcended time to let herself bask in the moment where the world had been changed, even without realizing it, the girl seemed to bark out at the crowd around her. The clamour beneath the scaffold seeming to be quelled by confusion, there was little explanation needed for practically everyone in the crowd to guess the man whom our heroine referred to.
“It’s out there still! It hasn’t been found, but one day, it will be!” The speech that flowed through the girl seeming to come from a place that even Molly was unsure, the broadest of smiles spread across lips of the girl as she realized where she was and what she was saying. Perhaps not having reached the level of showmanship that the pirate king did, it seemed that the place in which the brunette spoke seemed to make up for any lack of charisma the girl might have experienced.
“I know it, and somewhere deep inside, so do you!” Faces around her seeming to gaze at the girl like some sort messiah, for a few moments it felt to this pretty young thing like she was the centre of the universe, and she couldn’t help but enjoy that. However, moments do tend to have a habit of passing rather quickly.

“Hahaha! Looks like we’ve got another nut!” The witchcraft that had been woven onto the watching group wearing off quickly, unlike a certain fellow, it seemed as if there would be no interventions today to further wow the crowd. Miraculous escapes from almost certain death not on the agenda for Loguetown today, it was lucky for the girl that she was not seeking some instance of infamy in this moment.
“Kids today, eh? Who does she think she is?!” This little act more something that she was doing for herself rather than the crowd, Miss Morgan wasn’t too bothered by the heckling she seemed to receive, and instead was happy to remain bathing in the elation of the moment. Standing here, right where the pirate king had done so much with no more than a few words, it would have been hard for anyone to ruin the mood of this brown haired beauty.

“Bawahahaha! The asylum is on the edge of town, luv!” Folding her arms and standing squarely above the increasingly hostile number, the girl simply smiled and looked out over the crowd as she took a few seconds to wonder whimsically just where her adventures would take her? Would she be the one to track down the legendary treasure known as one piece? Maybe, she certainly wouldn’t object to such a place in history. However, before the girl was given much chance to contemplate her future, a sudden crack stole all the attention away from the moment of Molly Morgan. A crack like the ground beneath had been broken in two exploding outward from Loguetown’s centre square, one would be left wondering if we were witnessing a return of the thunder that had spared a young man with a straw hat a few years before…

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5

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[❰ Misha ❱]

Post
"Blackbird" Emile Reivelt

He was running at full speed, not really stopping to consider very much his direction or where he was going except only that it was as far away possible. For the first few seconds after he had successfully pulled off his devious prank with dramatic flare, he had been self-assured that Kaito wouldn't be able to track him down once he had made his path back to the main road. Apparently he had underestimated Kaito. Because as soon as the houses and buildings started to become more familiar to him and he could generally find his way around quicker, an unmistakable stench wafted over his nostrils.

In the flash of a second, Emile turned his head for a slight glance in the opposite direction with fearful knowing of what he had unleashed. A dark figure turning the corner with a deliberate air that seemed utterly menacing. His face had turned a comedic green flavor and he was huffing hard, taking in seemingly all the fresh, clean air he could process. Without warning, Emile didn't wait for any intense stare-down or witty phrase in the face of absolute anger from the fishy and very livid Kaito.

His once stellar confidence melted away like a chocolate bar in the summer heat. It reminded him most importantly of owl-fetching, only now the roles had been reversed. Ducking and dodging in-between scores of people, Emile was kicking up his speed, though it was obvious by now and almost inevitable to what was going to happen next. Emile was nowhere near as physically adept nor as fast. The chase was going to be just as completely one-sided.

He moved and weaved nimbly through several throngs of people, but Kaito bowled through them like a bull charging straight for the ramp with no discrimination between target and annoyances. The distance separating them was soon narrowed to only a few rapidly dwindling yards as the wily Marine Officer was thinking and calculating as his feet were aching and his breath was coming in more fevered pants.

"EEEMMMIIILLE-KKUN!!!!" a wide-eyed yell came curdling out from the boy stampeding through the crowd behind Emile. He knew what was coming next as the distance was now down to only a few feet; he jumped with both legs springing out and an outstretched arm ready to grab Emile by the shoulder and pin him down for a strong pummeling. For a mere moment, the unusually young Emile was left with only one emotion: panic. One hand of his reached to his side and pulled whoever happened to be standing there into the line of fire. As it so happened, he grabbed the shoulder of an older women which made for a more then perfect shield. It was a surprise that Kaito wasn't particularly pained for. His grasp, instead of reaching Emile's back, latched onto the woman's ample chest instead and sent the two of them careening onto the ground inches to the side from our young Nocturnian hero.

There was a light crash accompanied by a heavy 'BANG' while the few unfortunate enough to be caught in the crossfire were also knocked over. When the dust had settle, the road just beyond the gates of the main Loguetown plaza resembled something of a bowling alley with human pins scattered off to the sides or briefly winded from having smacked against the wall of one of the pastry shop that happened to be nearby. The stink of course was also freshly ripe and multiple people ended up pinching their noses to block the disgust.

All of this was a virtual feast for sore, daylight-sensitive Nocturnian eyes, but there was no time to stand around and gawk. Emile scurried away like a mouse that had finally lost its cat, hurrying between two pillars that supported what looked to be an apartment or housing complex with square-shaped roofing tiles bathed in orange-yellow hues. Without resting for fear of his predator's retribution, Emile hurried to burst past the burgeoning door to reach the spacious interior.

There was a single staircase leading up to the first floor from the main lobby where a receptionist sat behind a desk and the clear-cut windows provided a short view just across the street. There were seats, furniture, and simple lighting lamps placed alongside for new clients to be seated.

Only a small portion of this picture was quick to be registered in Emile's brain as the panic had now set in fully. "GottahideGottahideGottahideGottahide!" was the effective ruling majority of this thought process. When owl-fetching, he could usually hide underground or in a dank cavern, but here it would almost be too easy for him to be found. Room after room, he cracked open doors in bids for places to hide, even as the receptionist and a few people were now scrambling. He threw open one door after another in the hallway, hoping to find a good empty room with an inconspicuous hiding spot.

A girl, not yet a full woman and developed, had woken up in her apartment and after her morning routine had been getting dressed. The door was closed, though she had heard the ruckus coming from downstairs. She paused for a moment and in that very same second, the door burst wide open, leaving the scene wide open for Emile to see. His eyes widened comically before quickly slamming the door shut again just as the scream roiled out, shouting "Pervert!" and all sorts of abuse.

Four minutes had never felt so long. Emile was drenched with sweat and panicking as he stumbled into a completely empty room, catching his breath and dropping to his knees. It was a simple room; several cardboard boxes were laid out to the side and a few other bits and miscellaneous bobbles out of Emile's sight and interest were positioned in the 3 corners. He fell to the ground, his clothes feeling wet and sticky around his neck from the perspiration over his neck and forehead. His legs were near completely numb, having run for so long and burst farther than his limits probably would have dictated out of only sheer adrenaline from being chased.

That was when the resounding crack that seemed to shake the ground beneath hit him full on. It was sudden and violent, rocking him from his exhausted state and bringing him over to the windows in a very limping hobble with weak knees and feet carrying him slowly over to the edge overlooking the plaza. At the top of the scaffold, he could see a short figure in the distance, but that was about it and his left and right sides didn't immediately provide an answer to his question. "What the-Lightning? At this time? Where did it come from? Which-"

"Heya. Lights out."

The voice's owner was unquestionable, but it was too late to register that for our young Nocturnian. He turned around in a hazed reaction only just before being immediately socked by a thrown right fist to his face. The blow sent him through the glassy window, falling down below from the second floor as his consciousness nearly shattering just as well into weirdly-shaped scattered little fragments of sunlight, unsure of exactly what was about to happen.

"Speech Here"

5

Note: XD I always wanted to re-enact Izaya and Shizuo-sempai. So, everything begins now? Let me know what you think or if there is anything I can change. I'm gonna try to get back into doing the best posts I can.

[EriChar]

The bellicose bellow of red hot sound emanating not from the heavens but rather the square itself, it was not a bold of thunder that split the air in Loguetown but rather the screeching of skyward steel. A pistol pointed toward the sky by a fellow who looked like he might have much preferred the chance to aim in a direction aimed more toward murder, in an instant all attention had been stolen from the slim strumpet atop the high stage. The bearer of blaster not a Marine as the calling crowd had earlier indicated, or at the very least the shadiest looking lawman that had ever been witnessed, he wore a tall and slightly ragged top hat and had darkness both within and beneath his eyes. A slanted smile worn because of what seemed to be smugness, it had to be conceded that he had done a much better job of quelling the cries of the masses than Miss Morgan had achieved. Flanked by fellows that were bigger and more brutish than himself, each of them holding something heavy or sharp to use as means of ‘persuasion’, and looking like they were eager to make a statement. Silence clearly the objective of the shot that the man had fired, as the mob seemed to glance between the stealer of focus and each other, with a short cough the man began his own little speech.


“Ladies and gentleman, if you think the entertainment today is done, then you are sorely mistaken…” The crisp voice of the gun holding fellow washing over a crowd that was anxiously absent of sound, the orator seemed suitably pleased with the apprehension that his display had caused.
What’s all this then? Even the interest of our lady lead snatched away by so sudden and prominent an interruption, the brow of the brunette creased as she looked down upon the soul who seemed to be seeking the eye of everyone, leaving behind the sense of bliss she had felt at stepping into the footsteps of Gold Roger.

“The fool on the gallows is more your warm up act, and my friends and I will be today’s main event!” Voice laden with a slight sense of whimsy, as if he was some sort of showman here to wow the crowd through his wicked endeavour, it was clear that this pistol popping proponent had been present for the little display of our dark eyed dame. Seemingly unimpressed and happy to sneer about our lady lead, it is with little surprise that you will learn that Molly Morgan was not about to take such misrepresentation without reprisal.

“HEYYYYY! Who are you calling a fool, ya knob?!” Decidedly unimpressed by pretty much everything that was cast in her direction, it was apparent that the brunette found that she was intimidated by an even lesser degree by the man who had taken the attention of her crowd hostage. Having had pistols pushed quite literally right into her face back when she was a little girl, this stood as little more pushing towards prostration for the pirate girl than someone sticking their tongue out at her, which ironically is exactly what she met the insult with.

“You’re a cheeky one, aren’t you? Do you want me put a bullet between those big eyes, girl!” The theatrical thug clearly not welcoming the interruption, as the words of the pirate dashed down from the gallows, the nervous crowd stopped looking at one another and instead swapped their focus between the two orators of the day. The girls tongue pointed sourly in the direction of the fellow who had sought to steal the show, it seemed that this was no longer a simple case of villainy, but rather a battle of wills.

“HA! Like you and your pea shooter could hit me from here!” Indeed as impertinent as the indignant gunman had none too subtly implied, the realm of trading insults was not a new one for a girl like this particular jagged haired brunette. Having been a little girl who was consumed by the spirit of mischief since long before she could ever could call herself a pirate, Molly had been tossing around trashy talk for years, and such things washed from her as easily as water rolled off the back of a duck.
“What’s wrong? Is a real gun too much for you to handle?” Finger jabbing at the flintlock the man had fired earlier, to a person who could turn her whole body into a deadly weapon, this black burping tube could only seem somewhat lacking. For certain any firearm could prove deadly in the right hands, yet the girl who had been hardened by rocks thrown at bullet speed was not about to start shaking in her boots at the lead cherry that this particular pipe could send through the air.

“What?! Are you trying to challenging me?!” The verbal assault that our lady lead fired certainly seeming to hit a much tighter marking than she expected her foe to be capable of, the teeth of the goggled girl shone with sunlight as she smiled at the huff of her opponent. The punk with the puny piece shaking his other hand in the air as his face grew redder, it seemed that despite the boasting of this fellow about being the ‘main act’, he certainly wasn’t much for handling competition. Raising his gun at our feisty femme and gritting his teeth, it would only take the slightest ounce of provocation now for him to unload his gun, and that was something that Miss Morgan was more than happy to provide.

“I suppose it would be a challenge for someone like you!” Casual in a war of words that was proving to be increasingly easy to win, the girl leaned backward with a shrug as she figurative fluttered a fever coloured flag at the furious fellow. Undaunted even in the face of a gunman and a set of cronies that clearly looked to be spoiling for a fight, even at the tender age of seventeen had this brunette learned a lesson of intimidation. When a wolf comes toward you with its eyes filled with hunger and teeth like shining shards of steel, running away would only lead it to hunt you down. No, what one had to do in the face of a challenge was stand tall and strong, and let your opposition know that if they want a piece of you, they better be willing to lose a piece themselves to get it! That was the statement that the leggy brunette was making in this moment, and as the hammer of her foes pistol clicked forward, our hearty heroine was more than happy to meet this assault in kind…

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6

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