[Center][h3]The New World[/h3][/center]


To many, the New World is the goal, the place where your every desire will be met, where all of your hard work will finally pay off, and it's the sea that will make all of your struggles worth it. It's where you will be rewarded with wealth, treasure and renown unmatched by any other place in the world. The greatest adventure anyone has ever been on, and the place to find your way into the history books.

That is, for the strong, the fearless, the savage and the mighty. For the rest, it's a sea full of nightmares, where everyday is a battle for your every breath and each meal might be your last. This is where the Marine Base, G5 is, the first – and last line of defense from the pirates. It's a position that is viewed with just as much dignity as it is pity, the men and women here have some of the hardest jobs in the entire Marine organization, which is commendable. But, the base also has a reputation for being filled with deplorables whom are barely any better than the pirates they hunt.

Our story begins with the Warship of the third class, “Mirana”, a Marine vessel, a somewhat sizable Man O' War, for a Third Class Warship, but no giant, either. 100 men strong, and commanded by Vice Admiral Freyja, sailing on the seas of the New World. The Second Patrol of the G5 base. The crew was keeping their spirits high while everyone is working on their chores, cleaning the decks, moving cargo, making repairs after their last battle with some low-life pirates, or tending (or perhaps torturing) the prisoners from the previously mentioned battle. The seas seemed easy, and the outlook on the assignment ahead of them seemed likewise. 

Their mission was to head to the Little Lagoon Island, and escort a government official, of no real influence, so not a very likely target for attack, but, of course, this is the New World, where you should expect the unexpected. The official was to be escorted from Little Lagoon to the larger island of Loetown, one of the World Government outposts in the new world, and one of the fewthat had a direct seatrain connection to Marineford. 

En Route to Lagoon Town, The Quartermaster sat in his quarters, marking some papers, new deliveries, that sort of thing, busywork that the old warrior hardly found interesting, yet, it beat being shot at – not that it would take very long before that would change on these waters, Little Lagoon was in Scrapyard Territory, and while the Scrapyard pirates were savages, they stayed out of Marine business unless provoked, and a lone Warship was hardly worth the bloodshed for the servants of the Emperor.

That was what Commodore Colt prayed for, anyway. He finished his documents, and let out a loud sigh. “I need a drink.” And with that, he made his way towards the mess hall, his tank top revealing many scars on his massive torso, while he pulled his coat from the chair he had been sitting on. For a all but Legendary Marine, Colt hardly looked the part, with his scruffy beard, tank top, his not-washed-this-side-of-two-decades Marine cap, and his torn and dirty shorts hanging down to his knees, combined with his combat boots, he looked more like a homeless man than a well esteemed warrior and leader.

With a loud cough, he made his way to the mess hall, to engage the loonies of the second Patrol, they had a load of different characters on board, some were easy to like, some were hard not to hate, others might fit with the high society of the Marines, and others might as well been throw in the brig with the Pirates they had captured. 

Making his way to the mess hall, he got a cup of warm coffee and before he could enjoy his first drink of the day, sounds much like a thunderclap were heard and the boat quaked, making him spill the coffee onto his torso, a high pitched shriek escaped the large man, whom started blowing hysterically at the very warm spot on his torso, only to soon look around and see the other Marines looking at him, he put a cool demeanor on and simply exclaimed.

“That was warmer than I thought. What was that quake, anyway?” Diverting attention from his little mishap. 

“Ship at 12 O' clock.” One of his Seamen informed him. 
“But it's barely past the break of Dawn!” Ax joked, only to be met with a few semi-forced chuckles from his fellow Marines. 
“Very funny, sir.” The Marine assured him.

“Go inform Freyja of the ship, rest of you, get  your asses off the seats, and get ready for a fight, just in case. This is Scrap Country, after all.” 

Some responded with “Yes, Sir.” While others chimed in with something akin to “Okiedokie, Bossman.” The G5 was a cesspool, for sure, but they did know better than to question the orders of the Commanding Officers, even if one of them was a former prisoner, and the other was spending her entire commission on gambling.