Appearance: A tall man that often wears a leather robes. He is usually seen with a bow from his past life as a Hunter.
Talents: Alath have the talents of magic of Mind affinity
History: Alath was of the forests of the Neutral Zone, spending most of his life as a Hunter Gatherer. His life back in the village was mostly a carefree one. He decided to continue his own studies as an Apprentice. He have the ambitions to travel to distant lands, and he thinks that being a wizard would help a lot on his dreams.
Being from the Neutral Zone, Alath is mostly unaware of the affairs of Humans and Beastkins of the other Kingdoms.
“Right ahead!” As the ship enters the reverse mountain, Alesia made sure that her ship is in the correct currents of waters. Any mistakes here, and they will be crashing onto the Red LIne like what the Dragon bakuto have warned. It was much worse than sailing through a storm. And right ahead of the Scarlet Pirates, was quite a beholding sight to see. A canal of water that flows upwards from the turbulent waters of the Four Seas.
The ship of the White Pearl treads on the river of the Reverse Mountain, from the treacherous waters of the Red LIne. “We’ve made it,” Alesia put her hands off the ship wheel, checking by the railings as the stormy clouds resided. The ship ascends along the river that lead to the very top of the Reverse Mountain, making its descent down to the Grand Line.
“So, I’ll just have to follow on where this thing is pointing to?” Alesia asked Bakuto, looking at the log Pose. She wasn’t certain on how the first island would be like. The most dangerous sea is up ahead, Raftel is said to be where the last island points to, the island of the Pirate’s King Treasure, One Piece. The sun from the top of the Reverse Mountain cast a crisp of yellow. There was one thing that would catch Adrian’s attention.
Flint’s sword of the starry night has a semblance to the Sword of Adrian’s Master. Its just that the one from the late Nightblades’ leader wasn’t Seastone hilted. The Ship of the White Pearl enters the Grand Line via the Reverse Mountain.
The Grand Line- Argin Kingdom
The chef took a detour along the Quarters of Duke Benniad. Outsiders call him by this name: ‘Rel’chunk’ of the Seven Warlords. That wasn’t what a lowly chef would know, he was actually a spy loyal to the Late King. The true heir of the Kingdom, deposed so easily from the efforts of Duke Benniad. Nothing more than a pirate that appeared in this Kingdom for a mere decade. Yet he knows that Benniad now have the true influence of Argin. The King’s death wasn’t just a mere coma. What that accursed pirate could do isn’t unheard of. Just his band of Privateers were a pain to begin with.
The privateer Ezequiel sat along the Duke’s Quarters, taking a sip of tea along the marble fireplace. An Autumn Island here, but the ‘folded fire’ gave him enough ambience of his hometown. Ezequiel, a man with drooping mustaches along his sides of his chin. His brown hair dangles along the shoulders. His 'folded light' caught sight of a suspicious chef. “There’s someone outside, Benniad.”
That was one of the few tricks from his Captain’s teachings, and he’d admit that he wasn’t any good apprentice. Back before he met Duke Benniad, or what he often refers as ‘Rel’chunk’ , he wouldn’t think of using his Devil Fruit to such extent.
“Took you long enough for you to notice,” A tall man of an imposing presence, with a pale face that appeared dreamy. The Captain’s skin is as pale as the waning moon, and a long draping suit of the colour of the night. His heavy tone suggested a scorn,”You’re still careless of your Devil Fruit, you should use it like it’s a part of you.”
The chef noticed a flicker of light that came out of nowhere. Instinctively, he sprang himself for the windows. The Marbles’ rim folded itself together shut. It wasn’t just the window, the exits along the corridors are all cut off. A tint of blue surrounded the chef. Rel’chunk!
By the time he noticed the cyan tint, it was already too late for him. Benniad’s abilities are known far and wide amongst the nobility. The rumoured ‘Turning’ from the Lord of the Evening. The place right where the chef was standing no longer any place that he knew, nor even anywhere within Argin Kingdom. He is now part of his ‘dream’. The fearsome ability to turn nightmares into reality, the Dream Dream Fruit. “Your duty to the last King, my identity as Rel’chunk. All of these, shalt be dreams you forget.”
That chef collapsed as the cyan tint receded away into reality. Rel’chunk’s capability with his Devil Fruit was often a frightening sight for Ezequiel. His Captain is out of his league. “Shall I take down the ‘Spear of Ravens’, Duke Benniad?”
“There’s no need for such hassle, the ‘Cutthroat’ will finish his job.”
A wolf tied to the masts in more knots than Alesia could discern. That would be awkward had it been on any other situation. Taking out a Log Pose from the crate, she looked at the needle that pointed to a certain direction. That would be the first island that they would be heading towards. But for now, that wasn’t something to be counting on for much, not when they are still in East Blue. Unmooring the ship, The White Pearl set sail off the Harbour of Loguetown.
The Red Line
As the White Pearl approaches the charted area of the Red Line, storms of grey clouds roared the skies. Then the storms of grey converged into thick black clouds. Gales and winds gushed abruptly from various directions. Even the flows of the sea was chaotic. No signs of any birds or seagulls at this point. Just a mountain standing in the way. To call the Red Line a mountain would be to call the sea a puddle of water. An enormous cliff that stretches towards the clouds, its height doesn’t seem to end at that point yet. It is said that the Red Line stretches across the globe, Alesia didn’t believe in those tales wholeheartedly until she saw it with her two eyes.
Alesia spun the ship wheel, steering the ship towards one point where the waters converge. A river that flow uphill, it is the entrance of the Grand Line known as the Reverse Mountains. Even then she could hear the faint snores of the ship prisoner. Sleeping while the crew is on this treacherous voyage, despite being tied to the mainmasts. For now she would leave that wolf Arafael alone. Better let him sleep than to wreck havoc at this crucial moment. He is going to get it once he wakes up. Whispering to herself a long line of curses, Alesia then shouted out orders to the crew, ”Lower the masts! We’ll be heading into the Reverse Mountains!!”
Arafael flinched instinctively following the attack from the Dragon Bakuto. So much for him trying to slip away from that table unnoticed. Just before he could open his mouth, he felt a slam on his head, then blackening out at the scene of the bar.
Alesia lightened on her own weight after that scuffle with her pet wolf, and stood up from that mahogany table. From the way it looked, it was a good thing that Arafael is still in his wolf form. Capturing a wolf would be less suspicious than kidnapping a human. Tying that wolf of his small size with that layered coat was an easier task also.
The bartender accepted the half of Bakuto’s treasure, not hiding a frown of his bushy eyebrows, “Quite a generous amount to recompense, but its still a hassle to do the repairs. I’ll keep my mouth shut as long as I need to, but I’ll politely ask you pirates to scram.”
Alesia pushed open the swinging doors of the bulls’ mast, “ “I’ll get some equipments for the ship, the White Pearl will be setting sail by the evening.”
Evening at Loguetown Harbour, White Pearl
Alesia walked up the gangplank, placing down a crate of goods along the creaky ship decks. Inside it contained Log Poses. It was the right thing that Alesia bought. Just a Hundred of Those, along with Navigation tools like telescopes and rolls upon rolls of parchments and. “There was a sale… They might be useful someday…” Alesia stated, glaring towards the other side of the port. She was not going to say that she got duped into a sale by a very convincing and persistent merchant. And that was how she spent all her Ten Million cut of the plunder. “So how goes Scruffy, or Arafael, so as he calls?”
She expected to see him tied to the masts or the railings.
The Finger pistol technique. It was better performed than Bakuto’s ‘Shave’. Arafael’s fur thickened, its tail lengthening as the figure stood up in his two legs. Arafael’s Hybrid form almost towered towards the ceiling. His arms and legs are roughly as thick as a pillar. Arafael’s Whit Fist clashed against the Living Dragon’s Finger Pistol.
One of the tables flipped towards Arafael in midst of the chaos. It wasn’t a problem for him, not with that strength of his Hybrid form. With one howl of his oversized canines, Arafael pummeled the Mahogany table.
“One ton.” Alesia was hiding behind that table. Using her weight shifting powers, Arafael got pinned down from the adrupt weight of the harmless-looking table. “You know, I never lose in a barfight.”
“Somebody, tie him up!” Alesia leaned above that table, as Arafael shifted back into his smaller wolf form, eyeing to escape with the extra gap of space created from his sudden transformation. ”Bakuto, your jackets, Hurry!”
That weighted clothing would be good enough to restrain him.
The wolf Arafael’s pair of eyes glinted at the technique from the dragon. The set of dozen steps of the assassin’s technique. Arafael stopped on his paws to see on what that former marine was about to do. It was a surprise to see a person Bakuto using those techniques, but the direction is a bit off, he didn’t need to dodge that ‘shave’.
“You talk so much on the raw power of Devil Fruits. Didn’t you learn anything from that battle with my teacher?” Arafael taunted that dragon of his defeat against Shakar. Arafael kicked one of the tables, and it snapped into pieces from one of the gales and winds of Alesia’s blade.
The familiar sound, scent and wind reached his ears. The dozen refined steps of an assassin. A properly performed technique of ‘Shave’. That crew have been attracting those dangerous sort. Arafael the wolf howled at the Nightblade Adrian. Hidden in his mouth was a loaded pistol, as the sound of gunshot rang out at the same time as Adrian completes his dozen steps.
The bullet burned a hole in one of the confetti of cards, as it soared headfront to that Nightblade in his top speed. The wolf have his cold snarly eyes on Adrian, watching on what he will do next.
Following the lead of the group, Selovia thought that the talking survivor was a trap of some sort. She had a bad vibe on the field of traps and corpses regardless. So, it might be rude to cover her face in the eyes of the dead, as the companion warned. Had it been not he job that she was tasked to do, she’d rather leave the place sooner or later.
The dreaded sound of the Orc warhorns echoed along the tomb ruins. Have they been tailing them all this while? She wasn’t sure of the numbers, but the previous night was a skirmish as far as she knows. The traps of the tomb become the least of her concern. Following the leader of the band, Selovia watched to see the warboss showing up with his band of orcs. The depths of the tomb were eerie, especially from that smell of the rotten miasma of the tomb.
Snakemen emerged to fight off the orcs. But she doubt the snakemen would be able to take the orc warlord that easily, not especially with that size of his.
“Sounds like a decent plan, I’m going forward with this.” Selovia tapped on her powers of her soul stone, forcing the magic into a rough shape of lightning. Her magic wasn’t well-refined, and seizing magic was a better term than casting magic. Holding her cast of magic, sparks of purple and blue surrounded her spear. She was ready to send lightning at that orc army at any moment.
“I know, that is what I’m planning to buy, the seas of the Grand Line isn’t easy to cross,” Alesia got up and moved to the table of fortune telling. That cold brown eyes glinted towards the pirate Captain.
“You know its impolite to look at others’ fate,” That fortune teller flipped the cards face down, then revealed one card on the center of the table. “Interesting, yours is the sign of Ravens.”
“Putting that aside, I can see that the wolf is a ‘human’ that ate the Canine Canine Fruit, of the Arctic wolf subspecies.” That fortune teller stood up and let out a familiar smirk. “I go by the name Arafael.”
Alesia had no idea what that fortune teller been going about. Scruffy? Impossible… She glimpsed an oddly familiar shape of an outreached hand, slowly descending upon her head. “I didn’t get to see you clearly from the last time, but you’re really short.”
“Get your filthy hands away from me, Scruffy!” Alesia slapped Arafael’s wrist away with her full force.
“You were much nicer with those headpats of yours,” Alesia’s cutlass sprang out from the scabbard almost immediately after the last few sentences of Arafael’s mouth. She grasped on the sword so tightly that her hands turned white, she was going to make those words his last. Arafael drew out his swordbreaker from the reaches of his leather cloak, slamming the edge of the blade towards the table.
“Ten tonnes,” Alesia leaned her full weight towards the mahogany table, as it collapses into plywood and splinters, Arafael’s deck of cards fluttering along the scene of the barfight. Just when she was about to break his throat with her sword, that tall man that called himself Arafael shrank into a very familiar creature, a wolf of white elegant fur, with the same brown eyes, ‘Scruffy’.
“I’ll be taking my leave from here, in courtesy with that ill temper of yours~” The wolf sprang forward with his four legs towards the edge of the windows, and it seemed that he was about to make another escape from the Scarlet Pirates.
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KiltmanBagz
