LeavesAlright everyone, now that the scene is set for the competition with the Buccaneer Pirates, it's time that I ask for something difficult. *Heavy sigh* In order to preserve the dramatic tension, not everyone can win their first contest. And so I will be asking to have 2 volunteers to lose their first attempt at whichever contest they face. You won't be alone, as not everyone on the Krunch Krew will be winning all their bouts either.
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Pierce the Heavens with your spoon!
STATUS: Starting new YouTube show, Hell Yeah Gaming! Lots of work to do still, but getting me to 100 subs for a custom URL would be of tremendous help! youtube.com/user/DarthGlamd… 7 yrs ago
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Amidst all the ruckus of the other pirates cheering for a fight, the captain of the Krunch Krew merely gave a shrug and nodded to Boone. "You're the one with the special compass, so I guess we're following your lead. Omnomnom! Bullet Bill, on behalf of my crew, I accept your terms as well!" His declaration led to the cheering of the Buccaneers even louder.
"Good! Good! Truth be told I'd hate to have to scrap yer ships and bust yer skulls here and now. Wouldn't be hospitable of me, eh?" The enemy captain gave a wink. "Then let us return to the fortress, so the games can commence! If ye lose, yer ships and all yer booty become our property! But if ye win, ye get ta stay here until yer log pose registers my island, unaccosted by me mates, and then ye can leave freely! In case ye were wond'rin, the Chokehold takes about forty hours t'record on yer log pose. Now, follow us!" Bullet Bill made an emphatic wave with one arm, turned to leave, and parted through the crowd. The mass of pirates didn't follow their captain, not until both the Red Rums and the Krunch Krew had already moved reached them.
The walk up the island hill was actually quite pretty and pleasant, if one ignored the constant threat of attack and death surrounding them. The Krunches seemed to be taking the situation in stride. Their captain found the situation to be quite humorous, expressing joy that Bullet Bill had some measure of honor to offer the contest to begin with. After all, they had no need to do so, as the two crews literally had nowhere else to go unless they were to brave the Grand Line blindly. Hachirou remained stoic as ever, his face as blank and gruff as it had always been. He took the opportunity to get his cardio going by jogging. Trickshot Jo was actively shooting glares at the island's inhabitants, her body language clearly saying, "I'll slap you all silly without a care in the world." Ken... Hadn't even registered what was going on. As far as anybody could tell, the doctor was totally unaware that they had been surrounded by the enemy, much less that they were to be fighting some sort of contest. As for Smith... Wait, where did Smith go?
Dirk felt a tap on his shoulder, but nobody was around... Suddenly the Red Rum's helmsman was being moved through the crowd, just below eye line and swiftly between them all. When Dirk came to a stop, he had rounded a corner completely out of sight of the marching crowd, and the cause of his sudden movement was revealed: Smith was standing directly in front of him, but the ninja had removed his beard, hat, and eyepatch. Wait, was he harder to see now? Yes. Yes he was, for some reason. Despite wearing an all black outfit against a green and brown rocky background, losing those accessories somehow made him nearly impossible to see. Weird.
"I've measured your movements. You're used to being sneaky. I think that while our crews are fighting the enemy, we should perform some espionage and learn about these foes, find their weak points, and sabotage their operation here. Are you up for it?"
Meanwhile, the rest of the crews had been marched to the front doors of the fortress. Two large, burly pirates wearing marine coats were standing guard. Bullet Bill gave the order, and the guards opened up the doors to a grand entrance hall. Two sets of spiral stairs led to an observation balcony, which had many stands of seating placed along with a concessions booth. A single Buccaneer pirate stood at the top of the viewing balcony holding a try of popcorn and peanuts which read "50 Belli Each." The main area of the hall had been cleared of most obstacles, including the carpet. The walls were lined with targets, practice dummies, and a number of weapons. The center of the floor had a wide circle drawn around it in black paint. But perhaps the most concerning detail of all were the cannons... They had been setup all around the walls! No matter where anybody went in this room it seemed that a cannon was still pointing directly at them, what the hell?!
Bullet Bill strode with pride into the hall, his crew following and still escorting our heroes, keeping a close eye on those that remained. Nobody had picked up yet that two had gone missing. "Officers! Assemble!" One by one a group of quirky and odd characters emerged from the crowd, or around the hall. A red haired woman in a bikini, a dapper man with a cane, coat, and top hat, a tan skinned man, bare-chested, with long ears, a muscular black haired man with a clock tattooed on his back, a man clad in full armor with a face-obscuring gas mask and a marine coat, a cigar chomping man, and a pale skinned woman in fanciful leather with two swords on her side made up the entirety of the officers Bullet Bill had called to assemble, with the captain himself taking center stage between them all.
"The process is simple," began Bill. "I decide which one o'me officers is up to issue their challenge, then you decide who goes against them. When someone loses, they're out. First side to lose all their men forfeits the contest. Sound simple enough?"
"Good! Good! Truth be told I'd hate to have to scrap yer ships and bust yer skulls here and now. Wouldn't be hospitable of me, eh?" The enemy captain gave a wink. "Then let us return to the fortress, so the games can commence! If ye lose, yer ships and all yer booty become our property! But if ye win, ye get ta stay here until yer log pose registers my island, unaccosted by me mates, and then ye can leave freely! In case ye were wond'rin, the Chokehold takes about forty hours t'record on yer log pose. Now, follow us!" Bullet Bill made an emphatic wave with one arm, turned to leave, and parted through the crowd. The mass of pirates didn't follow their captain, not until both the Red Rums and the Krunch Krew had already moved reached them.
The walk up the island hill was actually quite pretty and pleasant, if one ignored the constant threat of attack and death surrounding them. The Krunches seemed to be taking the situation in stride. Their captain found the situation to be quite humorous, expressing joy that Bullet Bill had some measure of honor to offer the contest to begin with. After all, they had no need to do so, as the two crews literally had nowhere else to go unless they were to brave the Grand Line blindly. Hachirou remained stoic as ever, his face as blank and gruff as it had always been. He took the opportunity to get his cardio going by jogging. Trickshot Jo was actively shooting glares at the island's inhabitants, her body language clearly saying, "I'll slap you all silly without a care in the world." Ken... Hadn't even registered what was going on. As far as anybody could tell, the doctor was totally unaware that they had been surrounded by the enemy, much less that they were to be fighting some sort of contest. As for Smith... Wait, where did Smith go?
Dirk felt a tap on his shoulder, but nobody was around... Suddenly the Red Rum's helmsman was being moved through the crowd, just below eye line and swiftly between them all. When Dirk came to a stop, he had rounded a corner completely out of sight of the marching crowd, and the cause of his sudden movement was revealed: Smith was standing directly in front of him, but the ninja had removed his beard, hat, and eyepatch. Wait, was he harder to see now? Yes. Yes he was, for some reason. Despite wearing an all black outfit against a green and brown rocky background, losing those accessories somehow made him nearly impossible to see. Weird.
"I've measured your movements. You're used to being sneaky. I think that while our crews are fighting the enemy, we should perform some espionage and learn about these foes, find their weak points, and sabotage their operation here. Are you up for it?"
Meanwhile, the rest of the crews had been marched to the front doors of the fortress. Two large, burly pirates wearing marine coats were standing guard. Bullet Bill gave the order, and the guards opened up the doors to a grand entrance hall. Two sets of spiral stairs led to an observation balcony, which had many stands of seating placed along with a concessions booth. A single Buccaneer pirate stood at the top of the viewing balcony holding a try of popcorn and peanuts which read "50 Belli Each." The main area of the hall had been cleared of most obstacles, including the carpet. The walls were lined with targets, practice dummies, and a number of weapons. The center of the floor had a wide circle drawn around it in black paint. But perhaps the most concerning detail of all were the cannons... They had been setup all around the walls! No matter where anybody went in this room it seemed that a cannon was still pointing directly at them, what the hell?!
Bullet Bill strode with pride into the hall, his crew following and still escorting our heroes, keeping a close eye on those that remained. Nobody had picked up yet that two had gone missing. "Officers! Assemble!" One by one a group of quirky and odd characters emerged from the crowd, or around the hall. A red haired woman in a bikini, a dapper man with a cane, coat, and top hat, a tan skinned man, bare-chested, with long ears, a muscular black haired man with a clock tattooed on his back, a man clad in full armor with a face-obscuring gas mask and a marine coat, a cigar chomping man, and a pale skinned woman in fanciful leather with two swords on her side made up the entirety of the officers Bullet Bill had called to assemble, with the captain himself taking center stage between them all.
"The process is simple," began Bill. "I decide which one o'me officers is up to issue their challenge, then you decide who goes against them. When someone loses, they're out. First side to lose all their men forfeits the contest. Sound simple enough?"
The situation kept Cyril at a tremendous disadvantage, and he knew it. It appeared that his opponent had no limit as to how much of that material he could generate, or at the very least his upper limit was so great that he needn’t worry about approaching it in this fight. That Runch had simply sidestepped to a new pillar as easily as a single skip along the street after all the effort Cyril had to throw into taking that first tower down, then to have the pirate look down on him with that smile, Runch was mocking him. He had to keep up the pressure, get in close. Then he’d have the advantage again.
The vanguard lodged the business end of his glaive into this new pillar. Then he mustered all his mighty strength, muscles tightening with tension, and pulled himself upward in the strongest pull up he’d ever performed in his life. Even that wouldn’t have allowed him a full ascension of course, and so he called upon his sheen ability once more to propel like a rocket, his weapon dislodging from the pillar in the same motion. Cereal pellets rained down on him, striking off his armor or bouncing away from his shield, like an annoying storm he’d have to weather through. At the apex of his jump Cyril swung his weapon with the intent to hook the head around his foe, and yet the pirate was ready for him.
“Omnomnom!” came Runch’s laughter as the two met eyes. Runch held his pistol in one hand, leveled right for the knight’s face. Bang! The gunshot echoed across the area as the weapon unloaded its ammunition true. Splat! The shot didn’t hit with great force, it caused no injury, but instead splattered across the vanguard’s helm. He could no longer see the fruits of his labor, a most frustrating turn of events, but he could at least feel. Though his balance had been destroyed, he still sensed his glaive hook into his opponent, and even heard the Cereal Killer’s grunt of pain.
A split second later both combatants were falling: Cyril on bottom, dragging Runch down slightly above him. Though he had been pierced in the back, Runch fought through the pain and thought quickly, his eyes narrowing upon the rapidly approaching ground in a steely gaze. He could survive such an impact with only superficial injuries, but could his opponent? If the amount of armor worn was any indicator, well, best not to think too deeply into things. ”Bori bori whoopie!” he called out, his hand outstretched. A large sphere of grain generated from his palm, like a deformed balloon, stretching past Cyril. It soon collided with the earth below, sinking downward a bit, and immediately afterward both fighters hit the surface of the cereal balloon. Each man’s grunts were drowned out in a shower of cereal pellets exploding outward in every direction, the “balloon” letting out a noise that distinctly sounded like, well, like someone had a very poor breakfast indeed.
Runch was the first to rise, looking around for his pistol that had been dropped in the fall, but to no avail. It had been lost somewhere in the hill-sized cereal mound. He slid down, tumbled really, to the bottom and recovered his footing. Cyril attempted to stand, but with his vision blocked he was unaware of his footing. Expecting somewhat solid ground beneath him, his leg slipped and the knight tumbled down the opposite end of the mound. Inwardly he cursed at being made to look such a fool.
Once able to rise, Sir Boniface used his left hand in an attempt to clear his helmet’s visor of the gunk, to liberate his vision once more. As soon as the fingers swept across, they stopped moving, held in place. Cyril’s lip curled in anger and he pulled his hand back hard as he could, but it made no difference: his gauntlet had become stuck to the visor as though it were welded! Not wanting to waste anymore time, he slipped his hand free from the confines of its gauntlet and pulled the helmet off as well. A cursory observation confirmed what he had felt; the two pieces of armor had indeed been stuck together by some sort of dark brown substance, a powerful adhesive unlike any he’d experienced before. However, the situation was not as critical as initially feared, for his foe could not be seen in the immediate vicinity. Quickly he worked to adjust the screw in his head for the boon it could provide.
Meanwhile Runch looked quizzically to his left, and then to his right. His opponent was nowhere to be seen. His head cocked as he thought that maybe Cyril had been buried in the cereal mound? Oh dear, that wouldn’t be ideal. Ah, but of course! “A few strands short of a full wheat bale today, Runch!” he joked to himself with a little tap on the head. Naturally the other fighter had to have landed on the other side of the hill he had made. Some days common sense just didn’t feel all that common.
“Fair warning, I’m coming now! Omnomnom! Bori bori jet!” The cereal man propelled forward with a stream of grain constantly ejecting from the back of his feet. Skillfully he skated up the mound, figuring Cyril would have expected him to be coming around the side. Spoonsaber in hand he launched from the tip of the cereal hill, and immediately spotted his armored foe. “Bori bori grapeshot!” he called, flinging a scattered assault of nearly a hundred cereal pellets down toward Cyril, each with the density and weight of a proper cannonball.
The Knight Sylvestre turned to meet his foe’s attack head on, eyes squinted in determination. Calculations rushed through his mind at speeds the knight never knew possible before this day. The pellets moved toward him in slow motion, allowing him to account for each one, all ninety-seven. The angles, trajectory, if he did not take action he would be struck by thirty-one. Twenty-nine of them would hit his armor with enough force to bowl him over, while two would strike his head. Chances of survival if this were allowed to take place were forty-eight percent. Chances of incapacitation were ninety-six. The screw gave him the calculations he needed. With one hand he brought up his shield to guard his left shoulder. With the other his polearm swung up, striking the first of the cereal spheres on the back of the weapon’s head. Next he twisted his weapon forty-six degree counterclockwise, hitting more of the projectiles with just enough force to throw off their course.
The passage of time returned to normal, and the vanguard witnessed the fruits of his calculations. Each pellet that had been struck changed course ever so slightly and like a collection of billiard balls collided together, which struck another, and another, throwing nearly all of the projectiles off course. Some missed the mark completely while others flew threw the knight’s hair. A single pellet collided with his shield, which he braced for, and fell to the ground. His movements had been so subdued, so subtle, and yet perfectly calculated for this exact outcome.
“... Huh…” Runch barely breathed as he landed a little distance away, his mouth hanging open. He then burst out into laughter. “Omnomnomnom! Suffering strawberries, that was amazing! I really underestimated that screw! Omnomnom!”
Cyril wasted no time, unlike the fool before him. Deftly he hurled his shield straight for Runch, analyzing and calculating the trajectory. “Woah!” Runch ducked down low, and Cyril shot forth with his sheen, glaive outstretched and ready to pierce his enemy’s body. However the pirate was ready for such a tactic. Thanks to the foreknowledge of the journal, and the reduction in speed from his earlier trap, Runch caught the polearm against his spoonsaber, the serrated edges locking the axehead in place. The pirate smirked and held out his hand. “Bori bori cannonb-urk!”
Thwang! The knight’s shield struck the Cereal Killer in the back of the head on a return trip. If he were the type to celebrate before victory had been assured, Cyril would’ve congratulated himself on measuring the angles of his toss, ensuring his shield would ricochet back. Thankfully his foe had stood ground instead of dodging the charge. Taking advantage of the captain’s disorientation, Cyril dislodged his weapon and slashed across Runch’s chest. Blood spattered out from the wound, but he wasn’t done yet.
Runch attempted to step back, but Cyril knew he couldn’t let his foe gain any distance. Every move he made was nuanced and calculated, his strategy focused by the screw in his head. With the tip of his weapon down low, he twisted the shaft in order to hook Runch by the ankle. The pirate fell over like an untreated sack of grain. Next was the thrust; Cyril aimed to slice the pirate’s calves and immobilize him, the same as he had done to Juniper.
His weapon never made contact with his foe’s leg. Instead a layer of cereal rapidly grew outward from where his glaive struck, sinking in a good two inches, but failing to break any skin. “Bori bori greaves. And! Power kick!”
The cap’n kicked upward with his other leg, which had also grown leg armor, and shot off that armor straight for Cyril’s unprotected face. Backing off, the vanguard gave himself the room he needed to parry the attack, intending to sheen back into position before Runch could gain any more ground. He was wrong.
“Bori bori eruption: Sparklepop Recipe!” From every pore on his body, every square inch of skin, burst forth an uncountable, insurmountable wave of cereal pellets. The wave was harmless to one of Cyril’s strength and fortitude, but it still kept him back. Yet that was hardly the most impressive aspect of this maneuver. The cereal pellets shone a bright light, each one different. Some purple, some red, some yellow and green, it was a rainbow assault of the eyes, like a hundred thousands multi-colored torches forced right in his face. For the second time in this battle, Sir Boniface had been temporarily blinded.
The Knight Sylvestre cursed the cowardly tactics of the Cereal Killer, rubbing his eyes as his mustache twitched in agitation. The sentiment only intensified as soon as he recovered his visual acuity. Rather than take the opportunity to strike him blind, Runch had used his recovery time to… Create a ton of clones of himself?!
Surrounded on all sides, Cyril attempted to count them all, but found he couldn’t keep track. At some point his screw had lost adjustment, leaving him to his own senses. By his best guess there were about three dozen Runch’s surrounding him, all in different poses, each one completely immobile. Statues?
“Omnomnomnomnom!” echoed the voice of K. Runch throughout the battlefield. “How do you like my bori bori mascot surprise?” Cyril spun about on his heel, keeping a watch out for his backside. “Just one of these replicas contains the nutrition you’d need for a whole month! Omnomnomnom!”
Cyril’s ears twitched as he attempted to work out what direction the voice had come from. Damn, he couldn’t tell. A hand slowly drifted up to the screw, but then retracted. No, that’s when the pirate would strike.
“So much berry goodness all around you, omnomnom! But only one with a soul. So which one is your chef?”
Metal and energy clashed as two swords struck together. It was clear from the moment they crossed blades the first time that the shrine maiden was the stronger of the two, despite having but one arm. However what Erina lacked in raw strength she made up for with the experience of a master class assassin. When it was clear she would be overpowered, the fox girl stepped to the side and let Juniper take her ground, overswinging the blade of hard energy. Erina took advantage in this break of her opponent’s form to quickly throw a knife into the ground between them, nary an inch from Juniper’s toes. A message of sorts.
“It seems I have underestimated the spirit within you,” began the shrine maiden. “But he is still far from a divine emperor.” She took stance, readying a thrust.
Erina backed away, but kept her posture ready to fight. At the same moment she summoned three wisps of ethereal fire. “We don’t need to fight,” she uttered simply.
“I know.” Juniper’s reply was curt as she thrust her sword forward. Erina swiftly parried to the side and maneuvered her wisps around the other woman’s head.
“Stand down or I will incinerate your brain!” she lied, drawing upon Bend’s confidence to make it more believable. Despite that, her opponent hardly looked convinced.
“I sense no danger from your parlor trick, little one.” She dispelled a flame with the tip of her blade.
Little one?! I am older than you by thousands of years, child!
“You seem to have forgotten that I hold sway over the spirits and the dead as well. Did you believe I would be fooled? A shrine acolyte wouldn’t have been as gullible.” With a wave of her hand, the maiden dissipated the remaining two flames, and charged with a small battle cry. She swung her blade down, fast and with great strength.
Erina barely had the opportunity to react. Though she had Bend’s expertise, her body still wasn’t the most conditioned for combat purposes. Thankfully the instincts kicked in, and the kitsune managed to roll off to the side, simultaneously creating an illusion of herself to mirror her dodge in the opposite direction. Each one stood up and held her katana to Juniper, the steel reflecting in her eyes.
“Curious. Illusions now?” Juniper smirked.
“I want to talk,” spoke Erina in stereo.
The shrine maiden rested her eyes on the real Erina, though it wasn’t clear if she did so out of luck, or if she had figured it out. “Curious. About what?”
Erina read Juniper’s body language, read her eyes. The killer instincts she had borrowed told her there was no immediate danger. She had to take a risk. The katana’s shine and durability faded to rust, and she sheathed it, the illusion duplicate following the same actions.
You should never give your opponent the opening they need, chided Bend.
Hopefully, if this gesture of good will works, she won’t be my opponent anymore.
“We are both out of the tournament,” began the exorcist. “And so we have no stake in battle any longer, but that doesn’t mean we cannot work toward our wishes. Our dreams.”
Juniper raised an eyebrow. Though she dismissed the blade of energy, she did not relax. “Go on.”
“We should, uh, trade notes?” Erina awkwardly rubbed the back of her head. “Exchange tips and such? Two masters such as we, there’s a great many things we could learn from one another, don’t you agree?”
Juniper chuckled slightly, finally relaxing her fighting posture. She brought a hand up to cover her laughter like a proper lady of the shrine. “I suppose we could. I have been frustrated with the proceedings of this event, and needed to take out that frustration in a fight. Do not worry about your ghost ally; it was never my intention to seal him, just to encourage your battle spirit. But I see you have none, and so I see no reason we cannot collaborate.”
Alright, not my favorite introduction to a new chapter of this game, but it is now ready. Huzzah! Basically, if you're a heroic character, and you want to, you can participate in the Charity Event (unless you're a Ward or Protectorate in which case you have to). If you're a villain or anybody that isn't in good standing with the law, regardless of intentions (looking at a certain group of vigilantes) then you are able to participate in the villain meeting if you want (unless you're with the Jacks in which case you have to). If you don't want to participate in either of the large scale events, feel free to go about and do your own thing as an independent, as usual. Contact a GM for a story thread to follow, or another independent player to do stuff with, or make your own events as Denver is absent of heroes and villains for the time being.
Wards and Other Heroes: Charity Event Begin
@Old Amsterdam@Gardevoiran@Lugubrious@solokolos@yoshua171@BCTheEntity@t2wave@LemonZest1337
Nearly three weeks had passed since so much had gone down, throwing the status quo of Denver into question. The Community had been growing larger still despite its losses, the city was in a panic over rumors of Patriarch's power having been revealed as the most dangerous kind of all: mind control, and the Wards had been placed on mandatory leave for therapy purposes. Still, life moved forward, and it was now on this day, September 18th, that the Wards had made their first public appearance since the unfortunate incident many weeks ago. And they weren't alone, either!
A charity fundraiser had been setup months in advance, something they couldn't cancel on such short notice. The all day event was scheduled to begin at 10:00 am promptly, while citizens were being admitted for two hours prior to that. Once the clock hit ten, the festivities could begin in earnest, with many scheduled events across multiple showrooms, ranging from auctions to lotteries to plays, and children's games as well! All this in order to raise money for the PRT to improve equipment, get better response times, and properly instruct independent heroes for a better brighter Denver. As for those two hours prior to the main events in which citizens were still being admitted, it was the prime opportunity for good publicity.
The Wards and the Protectorate were mandatory to appear, of course, and they would be having photo ops with local citizens, signing merchandised toys, comic books, and the like. Fulfilling meet and greets for their fans. Independent heroes had RSVP'd for the event as well, with the biggest attraction having been Denver's favorite hero, Furnace. Such was his draw that he was given a seat at the Protectorate table as well, right next to the newest recruits Hermes and Sylph. Excitingly, Noble and Captain Morales had been able to make it from the hospital, and earned their full bill of health! The only one not present was Protean, having volunteered to keep patrol around the premises in case any villains dared to strike. Even Decoy was participating, in a manner of speaking, projecting his usual image from a hologram projector setup at the Protectorate table.
At 9:37, there was almost half an hour before the main events would begin, starting with Director Kens' speech. The Wards and other heroes had been taking photos, giving autographs, and performing the meet and greet for just a little over an hour and a half at this point. Things seemed to be relaxing, if only a small bit, so they could keep up the good work, or check around and meet up with anybody they wanted. It was a free time, so to speak. A time they could relax and have fun, maybe try their hand at one of the game booths that had been setup nearby? Nothing bad was going to happen where so many heroes had been gathered together.
The Jacks and Other Less-Than-Legal Individuals
@yoshua171@BCTheEntity@Eklispe@floodtalon@Old Amsterdam@solokolos@PlatinumSkink@Gardevoiran@Xandrya@Spiffy
The Cruise Room, a bar that was well known and quite famous in Denver. Today it was completely rented out for a private party, nobody allowed without a special invitation. Unless you had an invitation you wouldn't have wanted to show up on this special day. The event had been setup by the Jacks, with thorough instructions of how exactly to do so from their generous benefactor, and the purpose was quite clear: The Broker wanted to take down the Community. It was not unheard of for all the villains of a town or city to have neutral territory they can go for negotiations, and today this was that territory. Rules were simple. No violence, or everyone else gangs up on who started it. Never use a meeting to gain an advantage over anybody else present in the meeting, that gets you labeled as someone that cannot cooperate fairly and gets everyone against you. Don't speak out of turn, or else negotiations can break down and everything falls back to rule one.
It was no coincidence the meeting had been called the same day all the heroes would be present at a charity event. Less chance of them getting found out. Invitations seemed to have been sent out to everybody, from Purge's mafia to independent mercenaries like Sabotage and Retcon, and even to the most questionable of invitees: Lethal Force. Of course, anybody was more than within their right to decline attending. Such a gathering was dangerous indeed, and who knows what the ultimate result would be? But a great many did show up. Purge was the first to arrive, timely and professional as ever in his white suit and white mannequin mask. He was escorted by his right hand man, Benito, known to have no powers but a highly skilled and intelligent man regardless. The two sat in a corner booth, but not before Benito wiped the entire thing down with wet wipes.
Sabotage arrived next, wearing her black leotard costume and fiddling with some sort of contraption she had stolen from the now defunct Minutemen. She took a seat at the bar, ignoring everyone else in favor of her little toy. Next was Retcon, or maybe he had shown up first? It was so difficult to tell with that little jester's power. What even was his (her?) power anyway? Well the point is, Retcon arrived as well and sat in the middle booth. Nobody noticed as Macavity entered, just as he liked it. He was given a wide berth as nobody came near the seat he had taken, whether due to his power or by sheer coincidence. The Rockers had been invited as well, but Shatterpoint nor his boss came. They instead delegated the order to their two strangers, Creep and Visage. Perhaps the girls would grace the meeting with their presence as requested? Time would tell.
Amidst it all, drinks were being served by a single bartender who, to the Jacks, would look quite familiar indeed. His purple suit, North English accent, and complete lack of disguise in general betrayed his presence to those who knew of him: The Broker. Of course, only the Jacks knew of him, so it wasn't a problem. To everyone else the villainous mastermind was simply "the help."
Once everyone had arrived and it was time to conduct the meeting, a few in the crowd began to show how thin their patience could be. In particular, Sabotage spoke. "Can we get started here? Time is money and I've got a client waiting to pay me for this little trinket."
Ok, here's the dealio, some things are taking longer than anticipated which has caused this unfortunate delay. HOWEVER! I'm not comfortable holding Part 3 back any longer, so come hell or high water, this is launching tomorrow. Be prepared, my friends.
Oh, goody. I think this is what we need to revitalize this game. To be perfectly honest, I had totally lost track with what was happening here at the end of it all due to the sluggish nature of our progression, combined with tons of other obligations crashing down on my head. I think this will help me get refocused and redetermined in my participation once more.
Alonzo smirked as the others began to gang up on him, and chuckled with clear superiority. "Oh ye of little faith." He shook his head, looking downward, then began speaking to each of his aggressors in turn, starting with Erin. "My dear, any attempts upon my life would be quite inadvisable, I assure you. The last person to try is, well, right here." He tapped the lid of the jar sitting in front of him on the table, then turned his gaze to Carnation. "Little miss Hendricks, they are always with you, are they not?" He then spoke to the entire room, standing up from his seated position. "I have been paid by kings and celebrities, politicians and peasants, for everything from murder to espionage. If I have had the honors of Queen Elizabeth's parlor, why should this modest manor be uncomfortable to me? Your logic is pathetic. Or perhaps you would like me to divulge your secret," he spoke dramatically, turning to Elizabeth with a wry smile.
"I believe that's enough, Sebastian," spoke Lady Eve for the first time. She stepped forward. "At this point you are only digging yourself deeper and ostracizing the others. Best to put on your face again, love."
In an instant Alonzo's entire demeanor had changed, as though he were a completely different person. The tense-yet-comfortable shoulders slacked, the steely eyes became more apathetic, and his tone certainly was not that of a professional, but more of a slacker. "Man, it was just getting good. Alright."
Alonzo's skin began to bubble and reform, taking on a new tone, new height, weight, his hair altered in cut and color, even his clothes were changing. Before the group stood a new man, completely different from the grizzled, scarred Alonzo they had gotten to know over the last few minutes. "Sup?" he said, shrugging his shoulders. "The name is Sebastian. Call me Seb if you want. I'm Lady Eve's son." He sat back down, slumped really, and put both feet up on the table, crossed.
"Love, mind your manners." The Lady's tone was stern and strong. Sebastian rolled his eyes and straightened up in his chair. "Well done. That took far less time than I had anticipated. Sadly it did not give me the opportunity to observe many of your tactics and abilities, but my son will fill me on on his own observations as well."
Sebastian gave a lazy thumbs up. "I can't peer into the dark depths of your minds, but I can read surface thoughts. Anything you're actively thinking right now. It's pretty cool."
"Yes, well," Eve straightened up and blushed a bit, embarrassed by her son's blase nature. "I want to thank you all for participating at this time, and I apologize for any inconvenience. If you are no longer interested in my proposal, you are free to leave. My butler will provide you with a check for $5000 just for coming tonight and participating. If you are interested in pursuing this endeavor, then I believe it is time to work our the details, yes?"
"I believe that's enough, Sebastian," spoke Lady Eve for the first time. She stepped forward. "At this point you are only digging yourself deeper and ostracizing the others. Best to put on your face again, love."
In an instant Alonzo's entire demeanor had changed, as though he were a completely different person. The tense-yet-comfortable shoulders slacked, the steely eyes became more apathetic, and his tone certainly was not that of a professional, but more of a slacker. "Man, it was just getting good. Alright."
Alonzo's skin began to bubble and reform, taking on a new tone, new height, weight, his hair altered in cut and color, even his clothes were changing. Before the group stood a new man, completely different from the grizzled, scarred Alonzo they had gotten to know over the last few minutes. "Sup?" he said, shrugging his shoulders. "The name is Sebastian. Call me Seb if you want. I'm Lady Eve's son." He sat back down, slumped really, and put both feet up on the table, crossed.
"Love, mind your manners." The Lady's tone was stern and strong. Sebastian rolled his eyes and straightened up in his chair. "Well done. That took far less time than I had anticipated. Sadly it did not give me the opportunity to observe many of your tactics and abilities, but my son will fill me on on his own observations as well."
Sebastian gave a lazy thumbs up. "I can't peer into the dark depths of your minds, but I can read surface thoughts. Anything you're actively thinking right now. It's pretty cool."
"Yes, well," Eve straightened up and blushed a bit, embarrassed by her son's blase nature. "I want to thank you all for participating at this time, and I apologize for any inconvenience. If you are no longer interested in my proposal, you are free to leave. My butler will provide you with a check for $5000 just for coming tonight and participating. If you are interested in pursuing this endeavor, then I believe it is time to work our the details, yes?"
@Leaves@Spiffy@floodtalon I’ll ask that the three of you please pay attention. When it was just Leaves I was content to just ignore it, but since the two of you followed suit, there’s a glaring flaw in order of events in your posts. Specifically, I had both crews dock and get off on the pier. After that the first cannon shot was fired and then people showed up. If anybody wants to determine that they were in fact still on board their ship at the time then I’ll let you make that decision, but you can’t force that interaction on others (such as Feya accepting the challenge while on board, then touching Slick who hadn’t decided he was still there yet). I ask that you all please fix your posts with the proper order of events, thank you.
Boone's question was answered with a great bellow of, "Never seen it before!" Well that wasn't very helpful, was it? Regardless, according to the information Boone had learned, they would need to spend an unknown amount of time on this island for the special compass to log its magnetic field, then move on to the next one. Despite the apparent danger, they would have to brave the unknown and risk a fight with whoever owned this fortress. After all, they didn't have anywhere else to go.
As they brought the ship in, spotting a convenient dock, Kite was just finishing up with the last of the repairs needed to get the Rum Runner back in tip top shape. The Guppy pulled in on the opposite side of the dock, dropped anchor, and her crew disembarked along with the Red Rums. The dock only had a single path they could follow, an uphill walk that would turn out of sight. On either side of the path was sheer cliff that, with intense effort, could be climbed, but not easily. Either way, the only place they could go was to the castle nestled atop the island.
BOOM! The sound of cannon fire cried through the air.Those with particular keen senses would see a cannonball flying overhead, landing safely in the ocean a few hundred meters behind them, too far out to have even been at risk of hitting the ships. "They know we're here," Smith spoke in a hushed tone, instantly readying himself for a fight. Hachirou nodded and thumbed his nose, not taking a stance but tensing up all the same. "Washat? Hic! We ushing fireworksh? I thought the party wash ov-hic!-er?" Dr. Ken took another swig from his gourd. Trickshot Jo' just muttered something unfriendly beneath her breath.
"Do you hear that?" Hachirou asked, wiggling his ears. "People are coming. A lot of them."
Sure enough it was true. Those with good hearing naturally noticed first, the cries of voices and charging of footsteps. Gradually it grew louder and louder. Once everyone could hear the proverbially stampede, the crowd had shown itself. A huge number of people numbering at least a hundred rounded the corner, heading down the path. They were pirates, brandishing swords and pistols, cheering for action. Yet something was peculiar about these pirates. A good amount of them, maybe about half, wore marine jackets. Those who did had the marine logo on it struck out and painted over with the same Jolly Roger on the flags flown by the castle.
The crowd stopped their marching forward about fifty meters away from the docks where both crews had been standing. What a motley group they came across today! Oh, but they didn't stop out of fear or bewilderment of these newcomers, oh no. They stopped because their captain gave the order. The crowd parted for a man to pass and take lead at the front of the pack. A man who was not only fairly tall at 6 feet, but also very stout and with great girth. His legs looked like toothpicks compared to the rest of his body, in particular his highly muscled arms. On his left arm he had a tattoo of the marine flag crossed out in a big X, while on the right arm he had another tattoo that read "AR-36" in big bold lettering. A marine jacket hung from his shoulders like a cape.
"Well howdy boys! I see we got two crews of pirates visiting our island today! Boomboomboomboomboomboom!" His laughter was deep and traveled well. The man needn't speak very loud to ensure he was well heard. "I'm the master of this island, captain of this crew, and the owner of the fortress. Pleased to meet you. The name is-"
"-And you'll be my guests, on account of how ya got no choice. Boomboomboomboom!" The captain snapped his fingers, and as soon as he did two more cannonshots were heard, these ones much closer. The cannonballs hit the water on either side of the Guppy and the Rum Runner, very close to the ships. And after all those repairs Kite had just finished... Tracing the angle of the shot revealed that at some point two dozen cannons had been wheeled up on top of both sides of the cliff. The cannons were pointed not at the crews, but directly at their ships...
"I like to call this little island of mine the Chokehold. You see, me an' the boys have taken up residence right here at the mouth of the Grand Line, capturing new entries, taking their booty, and tossing them back out into the ocean on driftwood! That is..." The captain took a second to flex his left bicep. "Y'all think that you can best me crew in a contest of strength and skill. So you've got three choices. Hand over all yer valuables and yer ships, fight me officers in a tournament to win yer right to passage, or try something now and we blow yer ships to kingdom come, leaving ya stranded, outnumbered, and outgunned. What's it gonna be?"
A raucous cheer of "Fight! Fight! Fight!" errupted from the Buccaneers. It was clear which option they wanted.
As they brought the ship in, spotting a convenient dock, Kite was just finishing up with the last of the repairs needed to get the Rum Runner back in tip top shape. The Guppy pulled in on the opposite side of the dock, dropped anchor, and her crew disembarked along with the Red Rums. The dock only had a single path they could follow, an uphill walk that would turn out of sight. On either side of the path was sheer cliff that, with intense effort, could be climbed, but not easily. Either way, the only place they could go was to the castle nestled atop the island.
BOOM! The sound of cannon fire cried through the air.Those with particular keen senses would see a cannonball flying overhead, landing safely in the ocean a few hundred meters behind them, too far out to have even been at risk of hitting the ships. "They know we're here," Smith spoke in a hushed tone, instantly readying himself for a fight. Hachirou nodded and thumbed his nose, not taking a stance but tensing up all the same. "Washat? Hic! We ushing fireworksh? I thought the party wash ov-hic!-er?" Dr. Ken took another swig from his gourd. Trickshot Jo' just muttered something unfriendly beneath her breath.
"Do you hear that?" Hachirou asked, wiggling his ears. "People are coming. A lot of them."
Sure enough it was true. Those with good hearing naturally noticed first, the cries of voices and charging of footsteps. Gradually it grew louder and louder. Once everyone could hear the proverbially stampede, the crowd had shown itself. A huge number of people numbering at least a hundred rounded the corner, heading down the path. They were pirates, brandishing swords and pistols, cheering for action. Yet something was peculiar about these pirates. A good amount of them, maybe about half, wore marine jackets. Those who did had the marine logo on it struck out and painted over with the same Jolly Roger on the flags flown by the castle.
The crowd stopped their marching forward about fifty meters away from the docks where both crews had been standing. What a motley group they came across today! Oh, but they didn't stop out of fear or bewilderment of these newcomers, oh no. They stopped because their captain gave the order. The crowd parted for a man to pass and take lead at the front of the pack. A man who was not only fairly tall at 6 feet, but also very stout and with great girth. His legs looked like toothpicks compared to the rest of his body, in particular his highly muscled arms. On his left arm he had a tattoo of the marine flag crossed out in a big X, while on the right arm he had another tattoo that read "AR-36" in big bold lettering. A marine jacket hung from his shoulders like a cape.
"Well howdy boys! I see we got two crews of pirates visiting our island today! Boomboomboomboomboomboom!" His laughter was deep and traveled well. The man needn't speak very loud to ensure he was well heard. "I'm the master of this island, captain of this crew, and the owner of the fortress. Pleased to meet you. The name is-"
"-And you'll be my guests, on account of how ya got no choice. Boomboomboomboom!" The captain snapped his fingers, and as soon as he did two more cannonshots were heard, these ones much closer. The cannonballs hit the water on either side of the Guppy and the Rum Runner, very close to the ships. And after all those repairs Kite had just finished... Tracing the angle of the shot revealed that at some point two dozen cannons had been wheeled up on top of both sides of the cliff. The cannons were pointed not at the crews, but directly at their ships...
"I like to call this little island of mine the Chokehold. You see, me an' the boys have taken up residence right here at the mouth of the Grand Line, capturing new entries, taking their booty, and tossing them back out into the ocean on driftwood! That is..." The captain took a second to flex his left bicep. "Y'all think that you can best me crew in a contest of strength and skill. So you've got three choices. Hand over all yer valuables and yer ships, fight me officers in a tournament to win yer right to passage, or try something now and we blow yer ships to kingdom come, leaving ya stranded, outnumbered, and outgunned. What's it gonna be?"
A raucous cheer of "Fight! Fight! Fight!" errupted from the Buccaneers. It was clear which option they wanted.
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