Post by Phantasma on Jan 4, 2020 20:28:23 GMT -5
4:00 PM, Somewhere in the Grand Line, On board the "Guiding Light".
Merchant vessels were not an uncommon site in the Grand Line, in fact they weren't really all that rare in general. For Islands that could not grow a certain crop or obtain a specific metal a system of Exports and Imports were their lifeline and allowed them to make do in such an exotic location, the selfsame principle also attracted a bustling industry of salesmen and book keepers who looked to opportunity. This same opportunistic nature is what often provided the nonmercantile to hop from island to island in absence of a boat, pay a toll and you get a free ride-- among whatever other promises you have to make to the captain and his crew.
As a rule of profit you do not pay for something you could get cheaper. Stands to reason you wouldn't want to lose money. Pirates and their ilk were an unpredictable sort and while their money might be good you'd always run the chance of them causing trouble or the World Government catching wind of the assistance. Bribes could only go so far to keep you out of jail and then suddenly it becomes apparent having them pay just isn't enough!
Why bother taking them in the first place if they cause so much heartache?
Of course this whole little moral quandary is easily solved if the pirate in question were to sneak aboard and remain hidden. Oh yes, if he could keep himself hidden and make it to the next island then all's well and good!
Kite was beginning to regret this play and sitting ankle deep in cargo as you contorted yourself from within the crawlspace between crates was not exactly comfortable. In many places the hunter was sore, a lot of those spots he wasn't even aware you could get sore. Occasionally he'd groan or let out a little frustrated sigh to no one in particular as he tried his very best to sit pretty and wait out the trip. His impatience was rightfully earned after all, he'd been down in the hold for some good three hours after jumping onto the ship just as it was leaving Alabasta.
Judging from conversations he'd heard while crouching down earlier this ship was on a multi-stop trip towards Water 7 or something. Not one to eavesdrop much this was wonderful news and had been what motivated the albino to stay quiet for so long, a potential opportunity to escape deeper into the grand line-- to lay low as the marines stopped looking for him-- perhaps he would go back to the blues after such a time to truly rest?
"Only time will tell," Kite whispered to himself, grunting as he insured his knife didn't prematurely emasculate him while in his awkward crouch.
Thinking about how much trouble he had caused recently caused the hunter to fidget with his hair, left free hand running through his damp grey mane. Reminded that he had to jump ship once word had reached his previous vessels captain... Only hours after that incident at Rainbase and people were out for blood. His.
`Sure as hell got me to swim fast. Nearly popped a lung chopping through the water all the way back to the docks,` Shivering more from the memory of how fast the welcoming crew turned versus the coolness clinging to his body Kite fell still once more.
Muscles tightening in an expectant flex as footsteps drew near to his location. He was robbed of site while behind his wall of crates but his hearing was exceptional. And in the belly of the ship ones movements were easy for the air to carry and echo, a creeping kind of noise that distorted with continued activity.
Red eyes narrowed, breath caught in his throat, mind ran over a few plans. To dash, to clash or something else entirely.
...
Above deck the crew were a very chipper sort making sure to always be busy. Tending to the helm, the sails or moving merchandise into the ships hold two levels down. Most of these young men were of average build and had a healthy outdoor tan from their activities, a motley bunch with different browns and blonds staining their rugged head-mops. Few beards here and there, baby faces, some people even had the rustic eyepatch or bandanna. For the most part though they were clearly civilians with not a weapon in sight, save for the captain who loved to walk around with his holstered flintlock.
Unlike his hardy crew that greyed commander was of a thicker, heftier build with a muscled physique and large stomach strained against his simple black overshirt. Short, stocky well built legs outlined his jean-like pants which had evidence of sloppy stitchwork and various black stains near the knees and ankles. Leather boots completed the ensemble and ensured his powerful stomps were heard as he lumbered about.
He had a friendly face, squared jaw, emerald eyes that sat against his frayed hair.
His personality was almost as strong as he looked, ensuring he personally shook the hands of all his traveling clientele. A strong grip would've threatened to deprive many of feeling in that palm for a few days and if that didn't hurt you then his loud, deep laugh would leave ringing in your ears. The laugh of an experienced sailor who found the stories of new faces to be hilarious or interesting even if they weren't all that.
Captain Rodan was just that kinda guy.
The guiding light was in tip top shape after its hasty retreat from the Alabastan port and if someone had to give a guess the ship was probably of the Galleon or some kind of old world Corvett build. It possessed a total of one upper deck, one crows nest, an above deck captains room which included the 14 crew bunks and a system of two layers below the deck with a final basement rounding it all off. A trapdoor like hatch near the center of the deck could be opened and after walking down the wooden stairs into the romantically lit interior you'd see how open the place is.
First came the galley, which was more of a bar type set up complete with booths although from how hastily everything was arranged and how open it felt you'd be right in assuming it wasn't the rooms initial purpose. Turning further down the stares you'd run into a long stretch of doors which would house guests in a similar spartan set up to the crew.
One bunk, two beds, a ladder precariously affixed to the top bunk to ensure people could get up and out without kicking the person below them. A table with a single chair and a little electric lantern designed to allow some light. A green and yellow chest also sat against many of the walls furthermost from the door, green wood with yellow metal.
The final layer was that for storage. With all the boxes down here you'd have just but a thin line running to the nose of the ship all the way back towards the shoot that contained the stairs to head back up. Boxes were secured with lines of ropes and with all the knots it was clear someone was very bad with making sure things stayed secure. From lack of light, in the form of hanging wall oil lanterns, or perhaps the odd noises... this holding area had a peculiar vibe to it.
Curiously although the ships outside was wood a lot of this inside section seemed to be of a reinforced artificial material, although the ground was often covered by nondescript red carpet.
As a rule of profit you do not pay for something you could get cheaper. Stands to reason you wouldn't want to lose money. Pirates and their ilk were an unpredictable sort and while their money might be good you'd always run the chance of them causing trouble or the World Government catching wind of the assistance. Bribes could only go so far to keep you out of jail and then suddenly it becomes apparent having them pay just isn't enough!
Why bother taking them in the first place if they cause so much heartache?
Of course this whole little moral quandary is easily solved if the pirate in question were to sneak aboard and remain hidden. Oh yes, if he could keep himself hidden and make it to the next island then all's well and good!
Kite was beginning to regret this play and sitting ankle deep in cargo as you contorted yourself from within the crawlspace between crates was not exactly comfortable. In many places the hunter was sore, a lot of those spots he wasn't even aware you could get sore. Occasionally he'd groan or let out a little frustrated sigh to no one in particular as he tried his very best to sit pretty and wait out the trip. His impatience was rightfully earned after all, he'd been down in the hold for some good three hours after jumping onto the ship just as it was leaving Alabasta.
Judging from conversations he'd heard while crouching down earlier this ship was on a multi-stop trip towards Water 7 or something. Not one to eavesdrop much this was wonderful news and had been what motivated the albino to stay quiet for so long, a potential opportunity to escape deeper into the grand line-- to lay low as the marines stopped looking for him-- perhaps he would go back to the blues after such a time to truly rest?
"Only time will tell," Kite whispered to himself, grunting as he insured his knife didn't prematurely emasculate him while in his awkward crouch.
Thinking about how much trouble he had caused recently caused the hunter to fidget with his hair, left free hand running through his damp grey mane. Reminded that he had to jump ship once word had reached his previous vessels captain... Only hours after that incident at Rainbase and people were out for blood. His.
`Sure as hell got me to swim fast. Nearly popped a lung chopping through the water all the way back to the docks,` Shivering more from the memory of how fast the welcoming crew turned versus the coolness clinging to his body Kite fell still once more.
Muscles tightening in an expectant flex as footsteps drew near to his location. He was robbed of site while behind his wall of crates but his hearing was exceptional. And in the belly of the ship ones movements were easy for the air to carry and echo, a creeping kind of noise that distorted with continued activity.
Red eyes narrowed, breath caught in his throat, mind ran over a few plans. To dash, to clash or something else entirely.
...
Above deck the crew were a very chipper sort making sure to always be busy. Tending to the helm, the sails or moving merchandise into the ships hold two levels down. Most of these young men were of average build and had a healthy outdoor tan from their activities, a motley bunch with different browns and blonds staining their rugged head-mops. Few beards here and there, baby faces, some people even had the rustic eyepatch or bandanna. For the most part though they were clearly civilians with not a weapon in sight, save for the captain who loved to walk around with his holstered flintlock.
Unlike his hardy crew that greyed commander was of a thicker, heftier build with a muscled physique and large stomach strained against his simple black overshirt. Short, stocky well built legs outlined his jean-like pants which had evidence of sloppy stitchwork and various black stains near the knees and ankles. Leather boots completed the ensemble and ensured his powerful stomps were heard as he lumbered about.
He had a friendly face, squared jaw, emerald eyes that sat against his frayed hair.
His personality was almost as strong as he looked, ensuring he personally shook the hands of all his traveling clientele. A strong grip would've threatened to deprive many of feeling in that palm for a few days and if that didn't hurt you then his loud, deep laugh would leave ringing in your ears. The laugh of an experienced sailor who found the stories of new faces to be hilarious or interesting even if they weren't all that.
Captain Rodan was just that kinda guy.
The guiding light was in tip top shape after its hasty retreat from the Alabastan port and if someone had to give a guess the ship was probably of the Galleon or some kind of old world Corvett build. It possessed a total of one upper deck, one crows nest, an above deck captains room which included the 14 crew bunks and a system of two layers below the deck with a final basement rounding it all off. A trapdoor like hatch near the center of the deck could be opened and after walking down the wooden stairs into the romantically lit interior you'd see how open the place is.
First came the galley, which was more of a bar type set up complete with booths although from how hastily everything was arranged and how open it felt you'd be right in assuming it wasn't the rooms initial purpose. Turning further down the stares you'd run into a long stretch of doors which would house guests in a similar spartan set up to the crew.
One bunk, two beds, a ladder precariously affixed to the top bunk to ensure people could get up and out without kicking the person below them. A table with a single chair and a little electric lantern designed to allow some light. A green and yellow chest also sat against many of the walls furthermost from the door, green wood with yellow metal.
The final layer was that for storage. With all the boxes down here you'd have just but a thin line running to the nose of the ship all the way back towards the shoot that contained the stairs to head back up. Boxes were secured with lines of ropes and with all the knots it was clear someone was very bad with making sure things stayed secure. From lack of light, in the form of hanging wall oil lanterns, or perhaps the odd noises... this holding area had a peculiar vibe to it.
Curiously although the ships outside was wood a lot of this inside section seemed to be of a reinforced artificial material, although the ground was often covered by nondescript red carpet.