Set Sail for Adventure – The Name’s “Redbeard”!

[SeaBear]

Left Town on Raito Isle – an otherwise innocuous village on the small island, but a regular port for pirates and bandits from all over.

With such an implicit source of traffic, it was no place for the faint of heart to be making port.

But for one who had found the resolve to fly his own flag, perhaps there was no better place to begin!

---

Within a seedy bar in the lower end of town, a large number of regulars were having their evening business and mirth. They came in all shapes and sizes, some towering over the regular human average, but one thing that could not be denied is every person to the last had a certain air of danger about them. Certainly not the place to enter carelessly.

Which is, of course, precisely why the individual who had just entered the scene, barging the front door in with a loudly announced entrance, had just done just that.

With a loud creak of the hinges, the door swung open wide, a palm outstretched in thrusting outwards, the light from outside pouring past the arm’s owner, casting his shadow into the establishment. After some moments, the sudden activity having quietened the bar as a number of patrons’ attentions were caught, a pair of worn workboots came tromping on in along the floorboards, the newcomer tipping the brim of the white captain’s cap upon his head to those he passed.

“Evenin’, gents, ladies.” Looking towards the back, he raised a hand to catch the owner’s attention. “Spare a moment for coin, Mister Bartender?”

As he made his wat to the back, a large, rounded man with a receded hairline and a thin moustache raised an eyebrow at him from behind the counter, having been cleaning out a few glasses.

“Well, ain’t’cha just th’ pict’cha a’ panache.” The barkeep droned unimpressed, setting down the glass he was working at and leaning over. “Alright, chief, whatsyer poison?”

The crimson-jawed man who’d approached lifted the brim of his hat just a touch, to glance at the barkeep from the corner of his eye—and, dipping a hand into his pocket, he flicked two 500 Beli coins the man’s way, the money clattering onto the counter.

“Hard cider, if’n you’d be so kind. Tall.”

As the barkeep took the money with a sigh and a small nod, turning to grab a vessel to fill up, the man in captain’s coat turned his attention to the rest of the bar – and, in some overblown flourish, tossed his arms wide.

“Lend me an ear, if you’d please, lads an’ lasses!” He bellowed at the top of his lungs, an ear-to-ear grin spread across his face. “If there’s any soul in this establishment who’s been looking for a reason to take to sea, look no further – I’m looking t’ set off on a grand voyage, and I’m in the market for a crew of the best!”

No sooner had he made the grand bellow had the barkeep returned from behind the counter, a wooden tankard with a metal binding and handle clattering down on the countertop loudly.

“Ey, ey, foghorn, y’wanna run yer mouth a little less? I got payin’ customers who didn’t ask fer a stage show. An’ we don’t do ‘solicitors’ in this part of town, capische?” Giving the man a narrow-eyed scowl, he turned away. “There’s yer drink. Take it, siddown, and shaddap already, wouldya?”

The clear and present warning garnered no more than an amused chuckle, the boisterous patron plucking up the frothy mug with a tip of the hat and spinning on his heels.

“If I’ve caught anybody’s interest,” He continued on from before, taking a moment to survey the attitudes within the bar, “feel free to approach for a talk. I’ll take all comers!”

With that said, Frederick B. Reis, the newly-christened pirate “Redbeard” of some scant few weeks, made his way over to a lone booth off to the far wall of the establishment, taking a deep swig of his drink before letting it down onto the table with a loud, satisfied sigh.

So, his starting out had been a little rough.
So he’d been to three islands already with not yet a single crewmate to his name.
So he was...bound to have a company of Marines after him soon, if they weren’t already.

That was fiiine. None of that mattered! The tide of Reis’s fortunes were sure to change.

...Sure, he might’ve told himself the same thing several times before, but this time really, he had a good feeling about this one!

…It just so happened that he had indeed managed to catch some particular attentions, as a small party gathered at a table across the bar seemed to be giving him additional looks, and were nodding amongst themselves with a particular gleam in their eye…

[The Last Berserker]

To where the journey may begin for one, it has already started for another. 

This 'Raito Isle' as it was, it had been visited by the plenty and meaningful guests. To those whom weren't exactly... On the right side of the law.

Nay! They'd been Pirates to Bandits, Fighters to Thieves, Adventurous to Downright Dishonorable!

There... There had been one who had journeyed here... One to who held a greater purpose. A warrior of mixed-blood, a warrior who strived for greatness... A warrior in search of something chaotic.

---

As the evening skies continued to slowly pass alone overhead, the intricate shapes that they had been forming from inanimate objects to living animals in a way had been the current form of entertainment for one person that was traveling. A singular fellow to whom was walking at a snails' pace, observing the clouds with a relaxed posture and certain calmness to him.

Ignoring the glances and sneers from passersby given the slow movements of this walk. A walk that had interfered with how some others' were moving at the moment and had places to be unlike himself... And this had continued for some time beforehand which expanded the journey into a longer than expected one to be frank.

This guy... It was as if he were in his own little world... Stuck there in a daydream observing the clouds like a child. 

Yet that little world however just happened to be attached to someone who a 'bit' taller than your average man and seemed to be carrying fair bit of heavy items in one hand which was slung over a shoulder. Shaking and clattering with every step one after another - this was someone who despite how he seemed to be 'slow' wasn't someone to mess with in the slightest.

His garments happened to be another story. Both exotic and foreign with their sleek, loose and unqiue designs - the jingling of loose chains and sparkling of pristine jewelry was enough to catch the sight of some folk that couldn't help from but look at him walking onward.

To see those feet, yes... Those two bare-feet coming down one after another. Making heavy-steps into the dirt of the villages' turf. A bare of highly-callused soles that worn away at the dark-brown soil beneath itself. As he'd done so... His attention shifted from the clouds... To look at the entrance of this place.

Left Village.

A town from where he heard the 'low-lives' or 'scoundrels' resided, the perfect place to get some proper liquor if you however asked this lad at the moment. Someone who was as 'dry' as fish you could say and he was utterly dying for a drink!

And by the gods... He'd get a proper drink. Afterall... This wasn't your average traveler.

No, No, No! 

For he wore an odd poncho, long enough to cover his torso but not enough to cover his arms... Large, lean limbs in which were packed to the brim with muscle that naturally flexed with every sway of the arms as his walk had increased in speed to a normal pace.

For he wore a hat, raggy and made of straw. Damaged upon it's brim by a cut which reached the center, it reached over to display a small component of the traveler's face to whom was an exotically, handsome fellow.

For his long, black hair that shook and swayed with his steps, the chest underneath the bulky poncho heaved and sank with the lad's nostrils' flaring and shrinking with every breath that he took.

For this was Beowulf Grenz.

...

And this happened the moment that he was waiting for!

The perfect place that a traveler would need, the place that were he could put his feet up and enjoy himself in utter complete bliss of relaxation.

...

Not an Inn!

Nay, Even better!

A Bar!

It's entrance was home to where the most prized item was to the Beowulf... Liquor! Weeks... Weeks, it had been without a singular drop of the succulent poison and damn it all!

He'd risk it all for a taste of it!

Arm that was unoccupied reached out and pushed through the swinging doors of this fine establishment had then been parted, their creaking and groaning had been the call for the person who happened to be entering and...

Why had been so quiet? 

Which Beowulf turned over to see someone... A bold man who had been calling out with a fierce tone of voice.

Grin so large that the traveler's own grin may've widen naturally in respond for the things that this guy was saying.

This... Man... To whom had been calling out for any, Any interested bodies' to join him on a voyage at the sea and perhaps... To someplace' even beyond the blues' perhaps?

'... This guy... Maybe he has a big ship? Perhaps I can retire the Hustler after so long." Thinking to his compact vessel of a 'Sailing Vessel' - He walked through the bar til he arrived at this red-chinned man and took the seat opposite to him.

His grin never leaving his face... Lifting up his hat to look him right in his eyes and he spoke first to this fellow sea-fairing man of the ocean with a low voice...

"Gathering A Crew? Ta where ya be goin', Ya Red-Faced Mysterious?" His own curiosity had gotten the best of him... Besides... As his long-hair fell onto his shoulders... He and this 'Captain' may have similar goals.

[Shiro]

Cold.

Greasy.

Who ever pictured the glorious tale of a samurai to begin in a ramshackle fish-barrel in some lowlife town? Certainly not the very same samurai burdened with this exact fate. No- in truth, the risks involved in angering the Marines certainly did not include spending a night in hiding, drenched in the stench of flounders and anchovies. If this was the world's crude way of humbling the hiding man, so be it. 

Shiro had always considered himself humble enough to take most iniquities in life, but this? A common reader may find that context is important. You see, while the manner of how a samurai of Wano Country got himself to Left Town is a tall tale for another day, hopefully to be accompanied with heavy dousings of wine, the last twenty-four hours of his journey are most paramount to understanding why indeed he is now stuck in a barrel of wet and slimy fish. The answer; a little bit of bad luck, and a hefty lot of adventuring spirit got him traveling by ship, not his own but stashed secretly among Marine cargo for the vessel known as the Hope Trident. His escape to Left Town, while in his own mind as clean as a fledgling pirate's burlap cap, turned out to have more closely resembled a wild goose chase. 

Such is how he ended up in this crisis of comedically epic proportions. Such is how those within the seedy bar by the alley where Shiro was hiding could hear the distant clanking of rifle steel encroaching on what was supposed to have been a good and carefree day. A lesson that the samurai had to learn now was that consequences are harsh no matter to whom they are dealt. As life in the bar blossomed and conversations bloomed regardless of the initial cricket-chorus that Reis' declaration prompted, soldiers made their march in search for someone they'd drawn and distributed on the fly based on fleeting description; a mane of white hair and harsh features, a heavy and long foreign blade in hand, and poorly sketched layers of haori and kimono- it seemed whomever made this etching of Shiro's likeness was not very familiar with his culture or its intricacies.

Their first stop was an old woman's hat shoppe, quickly and easily turned from upside entirely down as a triad of boorish footmen turned to harassing her for information. The second; a young kid's fresh lemonade stand just outside of the dim, glorified tavern-bar, now but a shack with clear-yellow dripping down its splintered oak. They would stop at nothing and thus, eventually, the wooden door to the establishment was kicked open violently. A bald, huge man wearing a marine vest with purposely torn sleeves, each boasting a cornucopic plethora of tribal tattoos which seemed to culturally originate from Skypiea- and his first words to the unassuming patrons of all possible walks of life?

'HAVE YOU SEEN THIS MAN?!' the belligerent, loud fool shoved an imitative sketch of the samurai's apparent likeless to the townsfolk while two more marines, these more nondescript than himself, came to support his flank in case any citizen were to argue. We call those ones bruisers- the type you don't want around your kids. One of them muttered off to the other, brow raised and teeth bared like wolf fangs; '[Low] Bacchus might be going overboard here.'

Right at that time, a fish-barrel crashed into the bar from the nearby window and landed between that burly marine called Bacchus and the newly fledged pirates. A few moments of silence ensued. A couple more lingered.

[SeaBear]

The crowd turned their attention towards the burly man as he barged in, some waving him off and grumbling, one lying down in the corner winging a bottle that shattered against the wall adjacent to him as they tried to sleep off a hangover. The bartender and owner, on the other hand, just shook his head with a heavy sigh. Was this joker new or something; the government presence native to Raito Island knew how things worked—

“Ah, fer the luvva Pete, loudmouths all day today.” The bartender muttered before continuing at a raised pitch, much more openly irate disposition. “Marine, you some kinda dense? You know the score ‘round these parts; ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’. Am I right, fellas?”

This brought a round of heckling from the bar patrons, a number openly booing at the bare-armed Marine.

“Cryin’ out loud; besides, ain’t nobody ‘round here lookin’ out fer some kinda—” He stopped short, squinting at the poster, wondering what on earth he was looking at. “—circus…performer.”

Back at the table, Reis blinked some as a barrel of fish came sailing through the window, landing a little ways from his table where he’d just been joined.

“…Lively town, ain't it?” He grinned unconcerned, taking a moment to survey the new arrival. Quite the interesting getup he had, here… A little wild, too. Perhaps he’d just been approached by some warrior-sort of the sea? A twinkle in his eyes, Reis leaned forward some. “Well, my good man, you could say that and a whole lot more—but lemme start from the top, les’ manners escape me.”

Sitting up straighter, Reis gave the brim of his cap a little gentlemanly tip.

“Name’s Frederick B. Reis, iffin you please. But nowadays, folks have been startin’ to call me—”

Their conversation was cut off as a machete’s edge came carving down into the tabletop, embedded in firmly and sticking up in the air. The group from a minute or two before who'd been eyeing Reis from across the establishment had made their way over, and were now announcing themselves.

The knife's owner, a man of a round nose, hair tied back into a ponytail, showing a thick build and standing around seven feet tall, sneered down at the two, flanked by a much fatter man of slightly lesser height and a woman of a stickbug-thin physique.

“…” Staring blanky at them a few moments, Reis’s grin came back upon his face. “Evenin’, sirs and ma’am! Caught your attention with my pitch, have I?”

A low, sinister-sounding chuckle escaped the ringleader, a grin of his own showing off crooked teeth.

“Might be sayin’ that.”

“Oi. Oi, mate,” the rotund man stepped forward, his jowls causing his voice to warble, “Izzyoo th’ clown wot calls ‘imself ‘Redbeard’?”

“I’m the clown what’s been called Redbeard, yes.” Reis corrected, a finger raised. “Interested in a grand voyage, are we?”

The ringleader leaned in forward over the table, his elbow planted on it, casting his shadow over Beo and Reis alike.

“Voyage? No.” He gripped the edge of his knife, roughly yanking it out from the table. “Just a chance at some coin.”

Reis’s grin died down a bit, turning into a wry smile, looking down and drumming his fingertips along the table.

“…Ah. You’d, ah, be bounty hunters then, I take it.”

A tense air settled across the table, the trio looming over the two young men sitting across from one another.

[The Last Berserker]

What was on his mind? That would be the very vital question - The lazy look on his face hidden by his straw-built hat, the smoothness of his posture and firmness of his build... This guy was both a mysterious to this islands' inhabitants that had seen him. But the figure opposite to him?

Well... He was a 'Powder-Keg' if Beowulf had ever seen one, his... 'Scent' as it was didn't back down or seem small... It was bold, it was firm, it was 'alive.' This man before him wasn't someone speaking from his rear-end after too many drinks here... Nor was he a simple braggard with a hefty ego in need of feeding. This man... Oh, Beowulf had seen folks like this on a handful in his life.

However... Their situation was sentenced into naught but disarray for when a fish-barrel had both smashed through a window, sending the situation into one... Oddness? As why was a simple fish-barrel suddenly tossed through the Bar's window, breaking the glass and sending over stray customers. Beowulf's hand remain despite the glass falling which seemingly bounced off his skin as he remain somewhat undisturbed... That was even before the nonsense caused by Marines. 

'Oh, Great. White and Blues' - The Hell they doin' here?' To where upon hearing the booing that the Marines' were received, Beowulf joined in. "Head out, Navy Dogs... He..." A coy grin on his face as he had been looking over this red-bearded mans' shoulder to glance at the chaos that had been occurring at the moment but his attention was then focused onto the figure before him.

His arms moving closer together as his hands interlocked in interest as the offering-sea-farer spoke to him... Where Beowulf's grin enlarged at that but he needed something to support his legs however... Hmmmm - As this now-named 'Frederick B. Reis' had spoken in a manner befitting of a gentlemen.

The taller mans' legs' reached over; his barefeet came upon the fish-barrel that was near the table as this manipulate and refined movement over his legs where he rolled up the barrel til it was now stand before his feet then came on the lid. Beowulf's posture changed as he went from more forward and uptight 'stance' to relaxed and fluid... Attention lessened but still focused only to be more relaxed.

His feet up and his eyes' a glint as he looked at this... 'Reis' with a grin but he did lift his hat slightly, his dark and piercing eyes' glanced directly at the likes of the mans' own... Awaiting the mans' name.

*Hack* The sound of blade meeting wood only caused Beowulf to snort in disgust at the treatment of the blade... Not even a smooth attack but none less... A wasteful move where Beowulf's head slowly shuffled upward to simply look at these newcomers that happened to have... A Woman? 

...

'How'd these bug-brains get her to stay round them?' A thought floated in his mind as his eye focused on the woman as the leader of their group had been gettin' aggressive with the red-chinned fellow at the same table... Beowulf was getting a tad bit smooth with the woman, his mouth parted as his toothy smile appeared and he said to her... "Hey~ How bout you ditch these boozos' and hang with me?" A playful offer in addition to the tense air at the moment?

Oh... This party was gettin' crazy!

[Shiro]

Admittedly, the samurai's plan was not entirely well thought out. Thank only the barrel for having been as large and spacious as it was for he could fit not only himself inside, but the sword which was his pride and joy just barely ended up pressing 'gainst the lid ruthlessly to be let out. Shiro would have to repay it for that crudeness some day, yet not this one brimming with an unjust lack of lackluster luck. You see, once his viewpoint from the tiny hole on the side of the fish-barrel was upended and, for once more, his unorthodox vehicle was standing upright by the grace of the barbarian who thought enough of himself to be gentlemanly, brutish fingers turned and opened the lid- and what did they find? A man whose sanguine haori, once proud and clean, was stenched and slippery as his beautiful silver hair, and a single finger up against his taut mouth prompting the barbarian to keep silent about him ever even being there in the first place. One could piece it together rather quickly; this man was the subject of the marine's strife on this day, and perchance if Beowulf were gracious enough he would not tattle a fellow sea-legged adventurer like himself to the man named Bacchus. Ideally, the hushing samurai held an expression that could only ever be described as wrathful panic.

Bacchus, all the same, remained in the establishment for a good few lingering minutes before his thick lips stammered a 'tsk', and his large left arm raised to flick off his comrades. 'Scum ain't 'ere. We's goin' back to the ship fer now', he uttered, hiding a fair measure of humiliation- he was, after all, Captain to a ship that was constantly transient along the high seas, and didn't always bother with local customs. Especially when those customs encroached with Bacchus' own brand of justice, one that could only ever have been derived from the likes of historical touchstones such as that fabled Sakazuki. With grunt and heavy step to soon follow, the marine captain and his subordinates took another cursory snipe of a glare around the beaten down speakeasy and turned heel, leaving. Once outside, Reis and the rest of the patrons could hear the scrambling of marine soldiers being ordered back like obedient cattle, and a littering silence lingered for a few moments after the coast was, indeed, proven to be clear of the presences of seahounds and their short leashes.

A long, drawn out sigh came from the broad fishing barrel. Barrels didn't talk, so what gives?

As though completely disregarding the heft of the heavy atmosphere that was still at play in the bar, a broad-bodied samurai rose from the confines of the barrel in a way that could only make one wonder- how'd he even fit in there? In his hands, protected and treasured, was a long nodachi blade with violet 'same' adorning the hilt- somewhat nondescript yet still curious. It was not the blade which made the man, but the man who made the blade.. and that man planted his palm on Beowulf's shoulder to help his feet out the makeshift hiding spot and onto 'dry land'- in this case the seedy underbelly bar's creaky floorboards. He blinked once or twice, adjusting to the light of day like a fish out of water, as a few sea-dwelling anchovies and other varieties of caught fish slid back into the barrel from clinging to his wet form. Yucky!

Shiro was not unlike his poster- at least in whatever primary colours they drew him. Other than that, no; he did not look like a caricature in real life as well, thank the fates. He was a foreign man in a foreign land, yet clearly trained in the manner of the mortal form. His first words were spoken in the way that he often speaks; crude perhaps, though trained thoroughly in honesty.

'Thank you, good man. Those fools have been on my tail since I used their sorry vessel for transport.' the pirate laid claim, yet his beady eyes cast their glare toward the meek murderous intent that the bounty hunters were displaying at full- something not many are apt in detecting, yet something that is intrinsic to being a samurai. 'I overheard. Are these little bugs harassing your companion?' Shiro's first thought was to repay Beowulf for his apparent kindness, though the brooding wildling himself may not have been aware of any kindness shown.

[SeaBear]

Reis gave an awkward chuckle as Shiro in the background popped out of the barrel, tugging at his neckline as he realized his current situation.

“Now, c’mon, let’s be realistic, can’t we?” He stammered some, trying to find the words. “I mean—? Look, I don’t even have an official posting yet; I’d go so far as to bet half the people in this bar right now have an actual price given for them!”

A chuckle and a raised finger cut him off.

“Oh, aye. Most, in fact. But 'ere’s the thing, see. This here’s a hive of petty crime an’ banditry. Heads worth couple hundred thou, at best.” He stood up tall, folding his arms. “But the underground pipeline here in the West Blue’s a special one, in’nt it?”

He turned his head towards the rest of the bar, a number of others having now given the scene their attention, most of whom looking of similar ill repute.

“Word’s gotten around fast, ain’t it, though?” He called out loudly. “The oh-so-shinin’ rookie pirate Redbeard, what made himself a right grand debut on lil’ Crock Pot Isle!”

His tone of exaggerated mockery brought a bout of chuckles from around them, as he began to count off on his fingers.

“Say he stole ‘imself a Devil Fruit, straight from the World Government, ‘e did!”

“Listen, that’s not exactly—”

“Resisted arrest from a full company of Marines with a warrant for him!”

“I…wouldn’t really call it—”

“Went and staged a violent breakout from said Marine custody, battering whole swaths of the blighters on his way!”

“That’s…ah…”

“To top it all off, battered and subjected one Captain Stern of the 82nd Branch to public humiliation, makin’ a right calamity, dealin’ some hundreds of thousands in structural damages, and declarin’ piracy before goin’ off on his merry way!”

“…Okay, yeah, suppose I’ve got to own that one.”

The hunter gave a boisterous bout of gruff laughter, sweeping up his arms in a grandiose fashion, beckoning some of the nearby patrons to join him. As the small chorus of mockery died down, he leaned in over the table again.

“And that’s the kicker, y’see.” Sneered in a low, dangerous tone. “Whether yer postin’s been made official yet or not makes no difference. Yers is a head that’ll have a startin’ worth in the millions. That there is a bounty worth my time.”

Meanwhile, the lady of the group was taken aback as Beo subtly schmoozed up to her, waving her hand in front of her face as a flush came over it, clearly charmed by this dashing younger man making a pass at her. Meanwhile, an odd-looking man with bits of fish clinging to his person was leaning into the scene, the scent of his chosen containment permeating the air.

An annoyed vein popped on the ringleader’s forehead.

“…But first.”

The leader of the bounty hunter group snapped his fingers. At once, the large, hefty fellow reached out with doughy arms of deceptive strength, grabbing hold of the wrists of Shiro and Beo both, hoisting them up.

“…!” Blinking in surprise, Reis half got up from his seat, a note of concern on his face. “Hold on, there—"

“Back to you in a minute there, big fish.” The ponytailed man snapped, shoving a palm towards Reis’s face as he turned his attention to the dangling others. “Let’s ‘ave a chat with the minnows, first. You makin’ passes at my sister there, Tattoos?”

“Oi. Oi, bruv.” The fatter brother raised the arm holding Shiro, dangling him a bit. “Lookit th’ man. Lookit th’ funny clothes man. Oi think this ‘eres the circus man. Circus man wot the loud Marine wonted.”

The ponytailed man stroked his chin, giving Shiro a closer look, before glancing at Beo, and his expression lit up.

“Hahaha… Ain't that just how the stars align.” The leader grinned, maliciously, clapping his hands together. “Bruv, sis – I do believe we have here a fugitive and a fellow what was caught conspirin’ with a pirate! What say we do our civil duty, and, ah—'escort' them to the nice fellows outside?”

“Oh, bruvvy – can’t I keep the exotic one, maybe?” The tall, thin woman giggled out amidst batted eyelashes. “Seems like he could be worth some fun~.”

“Ahhhh.” A sigh and a facepalm. “No, sis, you ain’t known where it’s been.”

Reis’s expression had darkened beneath the brim of his hat, his grin fully having faded to a clenched grimace. Slapping his palms loudly on the table, he stood up fully, glaring daggers at the group. 

“Hey.”

An exasperated groan was Reis’s abrupt response.

“Bugger me, what part of ‘in a minute’ don’t you get, ya daft runt?” The hunter hissed between gritted teeth, flashing Reis a glare over his shoulder before looking back towards the two his brother was holding. “Yessir, I do believe this’ll whet the appetite, some good Samaritan work fer the day! Come out of it with some milk money, won’t we? Hahahaha—!”

He was cut off in his mirth as two fingers roughly tapped his shoulder.

“I thought I told you—”

A loud, metallic ring silenced him as, right in front of his face, another beli coin was flicked straight up into the air.

For a moment, the bar seemed to go quiet. The sudden action had caught the full focus of the bounty hunter siblings, their eyes momentarily trained on the coin as it ascended into the air.

For Beo and Shiro, they might’ve noticed as Reis drew an arm back.

More peculiar still, a metallic sheen flashed over the crook of his arm, what appeared to be some manner of cog replacing his elbow.

Ka-chunk.

The metallic sound seemed to deafen all else as Reis’s arm locked into place – before the gear at his elbow whirred to life, spinning rapidly…and shooting his arm outward like a piston.

Right into the knife-holding arm of the leader of the three.

“Wot the blee-ee-ee-eE-EE-EE-EE-EEDIN’—?!”

A loud whack of impact rang out before the bounty hunter leader was sent backwards in an uncontrollable tailspin, the arm still gripping the knife flailing about as he spun like some bladed top well out of control, smashing through other nearby bottles and dishes, crossing half the bar in under three seconds as he stumbled backwards helplessly—

—before, ultimately, crashing and tumbling headlong over a full party’s table, coating himself in the entrees.

He sat there, stunned, a plate overturned on his head with sauce spilling onto his apparel, trying to process what just happened.

Reis, arm still extended outwards from the heavy palm thrust, lowered the brim of his cap with his free hand.

“—Oi.” The round man looked paler, dropping Shiro and Beo in the moment of shock. “Oi, bruv?”

“Bruvvy?” The lady stepped forward some, hands wringing in worry.

The shock began to fade. And, in it’s place, heavy, chest-expanding enraged puffs, eyes raising to where Reis stood with a murderous gleam.

“…You…!!” He began, sitting up now, hand twitching for his knife as he began to go red in the face. “Forget ‘Dead or Alive’, you scrawny red pissant—!”

“Excuse you!”

A woman of the party who’d been eating at the table he’d upended scowled down at him, fingers trailing to a flintlock at her hip.

“You just ruined our meal, you stupid goon!” A growl as she and those who’d been with her now rounded on him. “You’re going to cover a replacement, or so help me…!”

“…Really?” The bounty hunter looked up at her as though speaking to an idiot. “Really; you think this is an important conversation to be havin’ right now, you squawkin’ hen?”

“She ain’t the only one, you friggin’ headhunter!” A call from one of the tables he’d ruined on his way followed up.

“I paid good money for that drink!!”

“Godssake, you bounty hunters think you own the damn place!”

“Would all you little blighters just PUT A BLEEDIN’ SOCK IN IT—!?”

[The Last Berserker]

Where to begin oh, where to begin?! As Beowulf's mind retraced the events and his actions that would begin this utter and glorious mayhem of events that had just absolutely fell directly into his lap?!

---

Using the very same barrel as a make-shift footrest... The wild man noticed... A rumble in it's lid... It had begun to shake and shift in place however... It let out a sigh.

A sigh?!

For this barrel hadn't exactly been filled up with hunted and minced up fish guts, it wasn't filled with bits of grim and gooey remains of butchered sea life... But rather; it was filled... By the odd-appearance of a man in strange clothes? 

The very same one in which that marine... Bacchus had been searching for alongside display a rather... Childish portrayal of the very same man in question - the image that the familar art-covered marine had shown held some of the same traits but quality was absurdly horrible!

This fellow's face was contorted into a sneer, a blade of an unknown make to Beowulf was brandish and he had been covered in lumps and bruises... Or was that merely the color of the image?

The next was where the very same man used Beowulf's shoulder as an aid to removing himself from the barrel. The slimly sensation of his hands falling upon Beowulf's skin caused him to shiver in discomfort at the cold and pungent smell that'd befallen him at the moment, a small look of what could be considered as a mixture of disgust and confusion appeared over his somewhat covered yet handsome features.

Tilting his hat up to get a better look at this 'weirdo.' He would've asked him for a name in different circumstances but Beowulf had been somewhat tight-lipped and awaiting for what this man was gonna do next.

Afterall, you don't find people in fish barrels all of the time but How in the hell do you explain this to folks' at a bar?

Alas, the young man relented in allow for the strange, foreign figure to climb out and use his shoulder as aid in the events to removing himself from the very nasty environment. Bits and chunks still on him where Beowulf noticed a fish-head that was stuck to this mans' face, the side of it as the dead-eye was staring at warrior who watched with a blank stare.

"You got something, let me help ya." Reaching over, his finger was cocked backwards by his thumb before the barbarian gave off a powerful flick that sent the fish-head hurtling off and crashing into an unknown table. The sounds of grunts of someone losing a plate of food or bottle of booze was apparent in the anger that they were display in swift-harsh curses. 

The site combined with the guts'-covered man had caused for Beowulf to chuckle slightly for this 'Samurai'  to openly see the face of Beowulf. Fine features and mingling bits of tattoos revealed a open smile, eyes-closed young-adult who was having the time of his life at the moment... But stopped in his laughter when he heard Shiro speak to him in regards to what Reis was dealing with. "They are but I wouldn't call the lady an insect, my friend. She's too pretty for that." A sly grin as he adjusted himself in his reply towards the Samurai where Beowulf's smile never exactly ceased.

And observing the actions of the 'Redbeard' to which was an excellent name being spoken to by the leader of this fine group of headhunting, underground-following whelps... Well, Beowulf was somewhat of a... Full grin as he observed, the more and more that he heard of the deeds of this Captain like figure... Well; it only made him want to journey the seas' alongside him!

Perhaps even bring along towards his own goals, goals in which he'd challenge with gusto but... Sometimes you need someone else to bring you along a ride to push your limits. Sometimes ya can't do everything by yourself and Beowulf just felt like this guy actually had a ship worth sailing if he was apart of the marines given his list of activities before he arrived on this island. 

However... Beowulf's grin smoothed down to a suave look at the womans' flushed face, his low laugh where he looked her up and down at the moment during Reis's somewhat lacking motivations to fight back against the claims laid against but the younger of the bunch had his eyes' attached to the womans'... Only to feel the grip belonging to one of her 'brothers' to which in the back of his mind that Beowulf scoffed.

How could a pair of ugly, bastards be related to this woman?

They looked nothing alike!

Lifting from his seat, Beowulf lazily hung their - His tall body limp as he was barely focusing on the two who were trying to scare him at the moment. Raising a hand and extending a pinky, he begun to dig through one of ears as if to clear it up where he barely paid attention to the pair.

"Hm? Oh yeah; Tattoos love the way your sister looks right now. She looks like a trait that I just wanna eat up~." Feeling the two gettin' serious, Beowulf had done so as well - His hat coming off and slowly floated on his large bag with the wrapped-up metallic object. His smile had changed; it wasn't lazy but razor focus... It was also quite savage in which he ripped his hand free with resounding strength and stared face-to-face with the two men that were given his new boss some trouble.

...

...

...

But then... The unexpected occurred where the group kept arguing, kept on talking... Kept on not paying attention to the ones' that mattered in which the Pirate gathering a crew had suddenly unleashed an attack!

An attack involving a metal-changing arm?!

It got better and better!

His blood get hot, his eyes' growing wide and his grin get bigger... Beowulf reached over and grabbed something... Like the man that started this... He tapped on the fattest of the bounty-hunters' shoulders...

"Never mess with a Berserker... Because-" Just as his words rung out... Everyone saw the young mans' raised arm, the one that was gripping the handle of a sword as large and tall as a man!

His grip tightened and the leather-binders burst off it revealed a wolfish-weapon with a jagged, harsh edge that was brought down onto the head-hunter's shoulder - The sword of flesh being cut and a mans' cry following.

"CAUSE YA NEVER KNOW WHAT THEY MIGHT DO!" Driving his sword downward with a thoom that rippled in the bar, grin apparent as he smiled at the woman who had been yelling at the pair. "How's that for justice, beautiful?" Awaiting the respond of the pissed-off tavern going whilst he'd been given the gal attached to the bounty-hunters a wicked look.

...

As if saying... Let's fight.

[Shiro]

There's often a strange feeling abound when one is met, unknowingly, by companions with whom the future may hold adventures aplenty. Often still, a stranger is just a stranger. As Shiro's broad form contemplated his plan to leave Left Town within the innermost mazes of his head, all the while being tossed and turned like a ragdoll, the rocking suddenly stopped after the ringing sound of further commotion. Shiro's supposed 'captor', who until now had free reign over his momentum by the sideburn hairs - painful, I realize - was now in shock not only from his big brother's colloquial 'bodying', but further because the wolfenchild had taken great offense to being grabbed by his over-thick limb. That alone offered enough of a chance for the samurai to slip through the duo of headstrong warriors and so he did, with the dextrous agility inherent to one trained in the way of the sword. After putting a few feet's distance between the lot and scratching his mane of sea-salted white hair, Shiro witnessed the angered slash of Beowulf's sword against the boorish bounty hunter. Positively animalistic, and very different to the swordsmanship the samurai had learned so far. That alone intrigued him somewhat, enough to mutter off to a now momentum-recovering Reis;

'Redbeard, was it? I believe we might have to-' 

As the family's big honcho struggled to get up, his face splattered with the violent face-paint that was some sort of salad condimen from the table he'd party-crashed, a sense of urgency built up. Not that, were the trio to truly get hungry off of their advantage, they wouldn't continue the bounty hunters' humiliation and the out-of-place hitting upon the sister of the group. It was simply a characteristic of Shiro's as of late that were he not to draw his blade, violence needn't occur. And so, with the proverbial mast raised towards curbing the scene they'd already caused, he proposed to the two men whose first time meeting had now been ruined by some glory-hawks;

'We've caused enough trouble for the bystanders.' Shiro's tone was stoic yet didn't betray an inkling of heroism, in spite of words which served only to betray his good side to the speakeasy's patrons. Diffusing the situation would be difficult, but given that Bacchus had only freshly left the scene with his Marine subordinates at least a sensible thought would be to make haste and leave the place. The samurai, greatly influenced by the goodness of his late father, turned to walk to the barkeep's run-down counter and placed a few Beli as recompense for the damages. Perhaps those were among the few coins he had left, given he was a straggler, or perhaps he'd stolen those few pieces off of the Marine vessel. That much was unclear just as much to himself as it was to the uninitiated reader. They wouldn't want to make enemies of such a welcoming establishment, that was for certain.

There was an inexplicable sense that Shiro left unuttered for now- a notion that Redbeard, in his stand against the iniquities of the day, somewhat resembled the ideals of his father. He would be a good man to follow unto the world, yet all that the Wano-born samurai could let slip in his expression was a sombre note and a simper of a smile. Shiro would proceed to sling his nodachi over the shoulder protectively, patting the hilt as though patting a child's worries away. He... definitely needed a good bath at some point, fish-stench be forever damnable.

[SeaBear]

Reis’s grin began to creep back onto his face as he watched the bar’s patrons begin to descend into generalized discontent, the bounty hunter leader losing all momentum by the second as he was rounded on for unintentionally making a mess of so manys’ evenings.

It was a spur of the moment plan – but had gone just as planned, regardless.

Now, all he had to do was—

Wait, why was the guy who first showed interest in his crew picking up that big sword.

“H-Hold on just a—”

Before he could fully interject, the gleaming edge of the huge honking greatsword came down tremendously, coming down across the bounty hunter’s shoulder and crashing into the floorboards, causing a great cratering in the floor and ripping up the immediate floorboards.

“—d’ah, jeez.”

“Owwwwww-hoo-hoo…!” The fatter man howled, holding his shoulder as he dropped to the ground, rolling around. “Oi, oi bruv, the tattoo man’s big knoife is really shaaaaarp…!”

“Bruv!” Beo’s attempt to impress garnered the opposite reaction as the woman hissed venomously, beginning to produce a long chain from beneath her frock. “Oh, I’ll be wringin’ yer ‘andsome neck for that one—!”

Seeing the events from across the way, the leader of the siblings puffed angrily, beginning to pull himself up.

“ ‘Old on, fam, I’m comin’!” However, before he could make any headway, the woman who’d accosted him grabbed a handful of his shirt. “Are you kiddin’ me right now?!?!”

“You aren’t goin’ anywhere, big man, not until you’ve paid what you owe!”

“Ohhhh, would you JUST—” Brimming with rage, he grabbed a handful of various food debris off his person, turning around and winging it right at her, “SOD OFF!!”

However, with a yelp, the woman ducked the flung wad of mixed sludge, the sharp pitch flying right past her face…

…and into the face of a much larger, rougher-looking tattooed patron across the way with a buzz cut, rippling with muscles. For a moment, all was quiet. Then, a guttural growl rumbled in his throat as he stood up, beginning to crack his knuckles.

Reis brightened up again as the danger of tensions dying down was immediately abated.
Never mind, the plan was back on!

It was at this moment that the bar’s owner and tender emerged from the kitchen section in the back, holding a couple orders on his arm.

“Alright, which one of ya mooks had th’ beer-battered cod—” Seeing the drastic change from before he’d gone back to get the order, he loudly dropped it onto the counter. “Ey, ey, ey, what the HELL is goin’ on in here?!”

Reis paused a moment as Shiro leaned in over by his shoulder, speaking in a hushed tone. While ordinarily Reis would have concurred with the sentiment – well, that just wasn’t the plan for the evening, sad to say! He raised a single finger to Shiro.

“Hold that thought.”

Reis took back the thrusted-outward arm, rotating it the shoulder, and kneeling down low before taking a big leap backwards, landing on the opposite end of his booth’s table. Arms folded over his chest, he belted out a loud, hearty laugh from the diaphragm!

“Yarhahahahahar!” He brought his fingers underneath the table’s edge, gripping it tightly…and, with a mighty fling, sent it sailing outwards into the center of the establishment! “BAR FIII~IIIGHT!”

“Wha—?”

The lady of the siblings had barely time to stammer out a blurt of alarm before the edge of the sailing table cold-cocked her across the face, sending her reeling backwards and onto the ground not unlike her hefty sibling, a number of other patrons diving out of the way as it crashed into the opposite wall.

All at once, the bar began to descend into disorganized, wanton chaos. The huge, tattooed man lunged at the leading sibling, tackling him to the ground as the woman threw a wad of ruined food his way in retaliation, missing and instead hitting one of the men whose drink was destroyed in the earlier flailing from Reis’s shove, picking up his chair in irritation and winging it her way, instead cracking a different man in the side of the head, who grabbed him and proceeded to bodily throw him clear into another party’s table – and the dominos just continued to fall in a glorious fashion from there.

All the while, the pirate responsible for setting off the anarchy as intended had huddled by the window. Tongue poking out the corner of his mouth as he focuses, he bent his index finger around the window’s lock, two sets of gear teeth peeping out from the interior side of his phalanges, whirring loudly as they “chewed” at the metal-banded plastic.

Weeeeeeeeeeeeee – CRACK!

The lock on the window snapped apart, Reis giving a quiet little fistpump of victory as he returned his digit to normal. Grabbing hold of the window’s pane, he began to slooowly slide it open, the crisp outside air flowing into the bar.

Meanwhile, the bartender and owner was demonstrating very adeptly why he was in charge of the establishment, as with thick, rippling arms he effortlessly snatched up variously peoples getting into brawls, forcing them down before moving onto the nearest others without missing a beat. Hearing the creak of the window opening, he shot his eyes up towards the end of the bar.

“—! You!” Gritting his teeth, the bartender rolled up his sleeves, beginning to approach where Reis, Beo and Shiro were with huge, heavily-tromping stomps promising a sound beating. “You come in ‘ere, make a mess a’ my establishment?! Ooooh, I am gonna rip alla dem whiskers right outta yer skull—!”

However, he was cut off as a small handful of coins were flung his way, scrambling to intercept them and looking down dumbly at the amount of money he had cupped in his hands now.

“Awha?”

“For the tankard, my good man!” Reis proclaimed loudly, beaming ear to ear as he waved the wooden mug of his own finished drink up high. “You pour a fine drink! I’ll be sure to be comin’ back another time! Yarhahahar!”

And with a little two-finger salute, Reis simply fell backwards through the open window, making his escape from the calamity in the establishment—

“Oi!!” The leading bounty hunter sputtered as he tried to pull himself out of a dogpile. “Get BACK HERE! I ain’t DONE with you!"

He futilely reached out towards the open window, watching in helpless infuriation as his quarry made a clean getaway.

"REDBEARD!!”

[The Last Berserker]

That rush... Hairs' on the back arose, blood was pumping much faster through his form and eyes' sharpened into predatory silts where his grin grew savage in a swiftly flash... The crackle of his knuckles popped had been heard in tow with the winding-sound of heavy-metal.



In a singular fury, an impactful slam of an attack was driven into the fattest amongst the bounty-hunting family... The rigid feeling of impact, the wicked and sickening slash as his blade broke the skin and drove a majority of the hefty into the flesh of this foolish foe.



A singular arm in which had been bulging with huge, robust muscles - Pushing and plowing through the unaware defense... Landing a strike in which uprooted the dozens' of floorboards... Plowing through til he reached a fair-bit into the ground with a grin.



Ripping his blade free in which the blood-thirsty lads' grin widened as the man just so happened... Easily maneuver his weapon around til it was on his shoulder and his some-what of a taunting grin appeared to focus onto the bounty-hunting woman.

Suddenly; this odd dressed... Clown... No... 'Saumrai' - He heard stories of men that had been dressed in such a manner with similar blades in such manners. The warrior being Beowulf's casual grin reappeared, tilting a head over in curiosity where he watch this good-manner and kind man was attempting to dissuade the current commotion.

...

After-all, Beowulf had seen this mans' slick and smooth movements upon escaping the grasp of the fat man in contrast to his more brute force method of freeing himself. "Felt like these guys' started it." Maneuvering a head tilt to where their leader was scrambling upward to stand up after his colossal fall and impact from the captain...

"Hey-o, Sailor-Man - Wheres' your... Eh?" Speaking outwardly to the fine-pirate that was just the powder keg of trouble that he wanted, his ears' perked up at the crying and whining belonging to the heftier sibling that he struck with his sword.

He expected pain, he expected a curse... But whining?

...

Are warriors' difficult to find here in the place or was he the only one... Well... 'The Samurai' looked like he was swordsmen of sorts, perhaps he was someone that was keen on the warrior's code. Smirking to himself as his head tilted... only for his eyes' to go wide in shock at the female bounty-hunter's sudden anger towards him!

He hadn't done anything wrong... Yet...

In his mind atleast, beating the utter smack out of her sibling should've impressed her... Right? "W-whu?! B-B-But!" Her hiss however caused him to pale in shock, his mouth agape in a cartoonish manner in which he produced a long-chain from her own frock... A small tinge of red appeared on the cheeks of the shocked berserker as he saw this. 

"M-Miss! I didn't believe that you'd bring toys' in our love-nest, so soon..." Gesturing to the weapon as his almost-tomato red face had quelled into a savage grin as she continued to speak at him, his weapon slightly a drip with her 'Bruv's blood as Beowulf dropped into a stance as he got into a stare down with her. "Wring my neck, beautiful... But let's see if you can wrangle a beast like me~." A taunting sneer came over him as the warrior in him demanded that he'd answer violence with more, excessive violence when push comes to shove.

...

"Hm? ... What in the hell is your leader doing?" Before he readied himself to lunge at the chain-wielder, he so curiously asked as to what exactly the head-hancho of her group was... Doing... It was if he was beginning to get into quite a bit of trouble with the locals... 'That gal give walrus-gut some trouble is a cutie too... Man, this Blue has some beauties'!' His attractive face warped into that same suave smile in which he peered over towards the girl only to see that she narrowly avoided food being thrown and the entire bar was silenced by who it had struck.

"... I feel like this is the start of a B-" His eyes' caught the glint of something - 'The Samurai' and Reis were by some tables, it looked as if he told him something before he broke out into a full-blown laugh. His unqiue laughter only caused for Beowulf's brow to rise only to watch as he yelled out the words that warrior himself was thinking would be the start of this!

A 'ole fashion bar-fight!

Grasping a table and throwing it towards the female bounty-hunt, Beowulf could only "Ooooooh!" as it sailed through the air... But now? He was in the thick of it, dozens of folks were fighting and well... Instincts took over, his blade began to move - Slashing into those that got to close and those were ready to fight him.

Small crackle of laugh was heard in which a poor fellow brought down a bottle on Beowulf's head only for the berserker to wind up a foot and slam it home where it really hurts for a man sending him flying through the air. "Brings some more zest with that one!"

Hell! Even the bartender was showing folks what for at the moment!

...

But wait... Where i-

Eyes' had been lookin' around... Looking for the one to start this and... Damn, that guy was hard to track it seems which only made a fighting Beowulf who parried a punch responded with a hard-hitting haymaker driving his now-downed opponent in the floorboards with a thoom.

...

There he was.... Giving off money and heading out through the window, this guy could make an exit!

Heading over; Beowulf snagged his things but noticed something... The leader... Maybe... Some heavy 'Impact' would fix him up... Running behind as he called out towards Redbeard in fury, Beowulf appeared behind him. "Sorry, head-hunter... But you are done... IMPACT!" Coming up from behind - His weapon sheathed in the leather-binds, his bag over his shoulder and hat on his head...

One of his hands however was carrying a strange... Shell?

But this shell wasn't a normal shell, it had been a Dial... Coming up and placing it right into the mans' head - Grabbing his hands and using his feet, in tandem with it's activation - Beowulf step the man off his feet and drove him face first in the floorboards.

But the Dial then *Clicked* and all hell broke loose!

The Fat-Man then only felt... An explosion - A crackling-roar in which the entire tavern shook violently where Beowulf submitted this man to a vicious combo-attack... One that used the face-smashing sweeping-throw but also a internal-damaging explosion that seemingly drove him harder into the ground til a crater was formed after the burly n' strange attack. 

Wooden-chunks were sent all around, folks were still fighting yet hopping out of the crater with a grin... Was Beowulf Grenz!

Running towards the window as he called out... "Hey! 'Samurai!' - Follow us, pal! Ya-hoow!" Like a wild-creature - Beowulf reached out towards one of the edges of the window and practically swung his body through with a flip, a scream of excitement and a troubling-bit of damage in his wake.

[Shiro]

One could only ever identify Shiro's expression as that of second-hand embarrassment. Toward the bedlam caused partially by his own unlucky interference with local law, toward the chaos of the fabled piratic barfight that one might bear witness to in these deep blue seas, even toward the barbarian who was vying for the love of an uninterested bounty huntress like a fisherman casting his net in piranha-infested waters- this day seemed to yield a vast variety of reasons to want to dissociate. Still, as the two pirates of note made their escape, so did the samurai decide to utilize the very same window of opportunity - in this case both proverbial and physical - to get out of dodge as fast as possible.

Footsteps measured in comparison to those of the drunken patrons indulging their own brand of tomfoolery all the same, the man named Shiro had almost made it to the window when a stray calico kitten sharply gnawed upon his fish-smelling garment; partially ruining the seam at ankle-length and making him look like a right bootlegger at that. With a livid 'shoo' and a grungy grunt the swordsman picked the kitten up and, recognizing that it might be prudent not to leave her in the middle of the foodfight's ground zero, made away with her. Following 'Redbeard' was not all that difficult, granted he was also being tailed by a much more pungent presence with a brutish sword of worrisome proportions. 

And so mid-run, a man bedraggled and in grave need for better fragrance than cat-bait eventually caught up with the gang through a lively and energetic, spring heeled sprint- yet somehow he looked neither worse for wear nor tired from the effort. There was an unplaceable camraderie that this wee coterie of pirates inspired within Shiro, a feeling which burned brightly enough to follow indiscriminately. 

'I imagine we lost them!' emoted he, his alabaster hair following the wending of the playful wind at his back with every pace making hurdle of the legs. At that point the trio might have been nearing a cliff in Shiro's own mind, uneducated in the ways of Raito Isle and most other isles that weren't his home. He was no navigator, this fact was certain. It did not stop him from making a rushed, stoic introduction to the other two scoundrels;

'The name is-' he hurdled over a stray tree root that threatened to end his run, 'Shiro.'

Part of the unique man's mind was still somewhat addled by the matter of the Marines he'd only dodged a few minutes ago, by realistic standards. Would his absence prompt them to search further, to flaunt, sashay and terrorize the town for answers over whether they'd been keeping his stay a secret? Even though he was aware that there's a code even for one such as a pirate, one of his own ill mannered ilk at this point, there was no telling what a ruthless Skypiean drunk on authority could really commit. That alone punctured into him a sense of duty toward ending whatever he'd started by smuggling himself into this foreign land- yet that would have to wait. For now, he may have found someone dependable enough to help him fulfil his lifelong aspirations.. and they were rather numerous. 

As the kitten in Shiro's embrace leapt toward Redbeard, she let out an amusing, affable mewl and found purchase on his shoulder.

[SeaBear]

In the fading light of dusk, Reis was hauling a trail well and away from the bar being left well behind in the distance, vanishing out of public eye and into the dense forest brush of the island. He eventually came to a halt in a small clearing some minutes later, panting slightly with a weak chuckle as he rested with hands on his knees a moment.

“Haha… Well, suppose that’s one way of makin’ a plan!” Taking a few deep breaths, he reached around into his captain’s coat, fishing for something – and pulled out a weathered-looking sea chart, unrolling it. “Let’s go ahead and just…”

The chart rolled out fully, Reis looked over a mapping of the West Blue, the bottom of the map marking the entrance to the Calm Belt. A dotted line had been marked in fresher ink, tracing a path along multiple islands, starting with Crock Pot and onward hopping three islands further, before arriving here on Raito. Looking at it a few moments, his wide smile died from his face.

Already, been three islands with no luck. With this, it’d be four.

Some “great pirate” he was turning out to be… At this rate, he’d end up chased out of every island in the West Blue without a single crewman to his name.

If it came to that… Well, his voyage might as well be over before it could even begin.

“…Well… I guess that’s— another island down, ain’t it…?” A shake of the head and a sigh, before muttering under his breath. “Steady on, Reis. No one said the pirate’s life was gonna be easy.”

The sound of hurried footfalls coming to a stop behind him brought Reis to halt in his musings, turning on his heels. There, having been less than half a minute behind were the tattooed swordsman and the man in the peculiar attire, both skidding to a stop behind him. Shaking his head incredulously, Reis rolled up his chart, resting his hands on his hips.

“Yahahar! Guess you fellas are pretty quick on your feet yourselves, ain’t’cha?”

As the tiny kitten made her leap, Reis was quick to step forward with a little “whoop!”, extending an arm to help her along as she scrambled along his arm, reaching his shoulder. With a small chuckle, he reached up with a finger, tenderly giving a little scritch along the chin.

“Aww, look at you. Sweet girl, haha…” Gently cupping her in both hands, he offered the little kitten back to Shiro. “Let’s getcha back over.”

Once she had hopped back to the samurai, Reis took a few steps back, looking to the sea chart rolled up in his hand…and, shoulders raised, heaved a heavy sigh.

“Well— Mister 'Shiro', you say? And you, stranger.” Reis glanced between the two, giving a little tip of the cap with a sheepish smile. “Got a bit excitin’ back there, didn’t it? Apologies for the trouble.”

His smile faltered as he shuffled a little in place, glancing aside as he jammed his hands into his pockets. The unnamed fellow had shown some interest in his pitch for joining aboard, but… Well, there was no doubt in Reis’s mind that bit of incited chaos had put more than a damper on any impression he’d been making.

“Suppose I’d—best be making myself scarce, yeah? Needn’t be aggravatin’ a delicate situation,” He pointed towards Shiro, “what with the big and burly from before already looking for you for some cause or another.”

Giving a weak wave, Reis began to turn away from the two, giving a small nod.

“Well, ah… Best of luck to the both of you, lads. Good meetin' ya.”

[The Last Berserker]

A hop through the window, a daring-maneuver was only responded with a violent *Crash* of a sound... For as Beowulf leap out of the window, his foot  caught onto the lid of some large cast. It wasn't as if he was covered in any foul smelling substance or throwing into a wide-spread mound of rotting-thrown away food.

It was just... A really, really loud crash which was exclaimed by the lad swiftly saying.. "Damn It!" Where the warrior found his very-odd poncho had snagged onto a bit of the cast who seemed to be quite heavy. With a hardy tug, his make-shift device for keeping torso free and covered had ripped tad causing his expression to wrinkle in a faint-image of sadness.

This sadden-expression however didn't last for much longer where he was soon running after the now-forest sprinting backside of Redbeard, his eyes' locked onto the flapping coat where Beowulf's own sprinting had become faster to match up... BUT THIS GUY WAS FAST!

Same with the Samurai who as Beowulf had hopped was running after the himself and Redbeard, his smile large and grand - the group was now heading into the more forestry-area where it required finer movements, something that... Beowulf wasn't exactly keen on... However... Unsheathing his sword, nothing that couldn't be helped with a good set of slashes!

"I'M NOT FALLING BEHIND, YA SPEEDY-BASTARDS!" The almost pleasant roar of what could be examined as excitement was heard through the woods as his blade was shown slashing, crashing and mashing whatever plant life that found its' sorry way in front of the heavy-blade belonging to the Barbarian.

But as he was catching up... He noticed something - One... The samurai had a cat?!

Beowulf's eyes' narrowed and his teeth were bare... He and cats... Do not get along at all since he was a child... And even now... That fact was even worse! 

Running up and beside as he had now firmly caught up without the more annoying planet life to get into his way, the warrior heard something from Shiro which made him smile... His 'name' - A very important detail to be sure as he said it whilst avoid a branch that was in the path causing Beowulf to loudly snort. "Nice Name, Samurai! I'll-" Seeing a large-branch ahead, the man cracked his neck and proceed to do a stronger slash that destroyed the wood in his way.

"Man. *Exhale.* We should really talk where there isn't so much forest." Speaking in a bit of faint annoyance given that the mount of hampering forest that just seemingly get worse n' worse and worse!

Give the damn-skies, this place had one heck of forest for such a blue place but to Beowulf's chagrin at how much he was required to slash away at the forest rather than actual opponents... the running captain had begun to slow down where Beowulf had become somewhat happen at this event, putting a palm onto one of his knees and smile as he took deep breathes. 

"Ya know... 'Redbeard' - Ya fast man gettin' out of dodge?" Speaking up where Beowulf raised a back-hand to wipe away at his brow before sliding on the fishers' hat that he'd been previously wearing and was watching silently as the kitten exchange purchase between the two.

Shiro still smelling because of the barrel found himself in... Well; Beowulf could smell him from a handful of feet away and that cat seemed interested in that fishy smell but she happened to seem content with jumping onto the two different men's' bodies.

However the cat was pushed back into Shiro's arms after the Pirate was busy with something which prompted Beowulf to come over, a small smile on his face as he peered at the young animal. "Aren't you a cute little pe- *Slash* Aaah... Why I oughta!~" Going near the cat, it responded with instinct. Hairs rose and as the finger of Beowulf came over - It slashed at it, refusing to feel the snatchy-snatch of this man for a strange reason.

A tick formed on his brow where it proceeded to hiss at him angrily where a darkness formed over his head - Beowulf and this little... 'Beast' were in an unseen battle of the minds! 

A war of epic proportions!

A clustering flurry of melee!

A... Okay; it just looked like a big, tall tattoo guy has having a hate-filled stare down with some very, small and cute kitten at the moment but it ceased when Reis spoke up.

Beowulf's head tilted over to look and his postured changed, his face relaxed and his eyes' closed... Hearing every word... And sensing as the Pirate in his miserable state began to turn around.

"OI!" Barking out with a roar, Beowulf's head tilted and a tick formed on his head. "What ya doin'? COME ON, DON'T WE HAVE A VOYAGE TO GET ON?! CAUSE BEOWULF GRENZ ISN'T LETTING A TROVE OF ADVENTURE LIKE YOU SLIP!" The shout caused nearby animals to scramble aside from the kitten as the screeching birds was heard in the near-distance and the massive grin on Beowulf's face reappeared, looking out towards the form of Redbeard with a smile as he came walking over and after the man.


Afterall... THIS JOURNEY IS GONNA BE WORTH IT!