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Post by CJ on Jun 4, 2012 22:07:26 GMT -5
See the Discussion Thread for information about this topic. People who participated in the Manga Ground thread are free to post without creating a new character profile, so long as that character appeared in that RPG. --- It is said that dead men tell no tales. Some living, therefore, recant theirs so that they might never be forgotten. These are the unfinished tales of the Phantom Hawks, the pirate crew of infamous legend. --- "I can’t leave Sam.""I know, Hil. That’s why I’m going alone."Kusu R. Kidd sat cross-legged in her normal, human form on the pink flower patterned bed near her pillow. Her bright clothing popped and clashed with the bed spread, making her an almost unbearable sight to behold. She had a private room on the Elton Johnson, the ship once sailed by the Phantom Hawks. In that moment, she stared at the bed stand by the circular window by her bed. There was a candid photo on it, taken of her, her old captain and friends. Hilbrand "Hil" Zuberi stood at the other side of the bedroom. He was near opposite to the young captain he was associated with. His pale skin was composed of various shades of gray, stitched together in black in random places. Aside from his obnoxious red hair, his body nearly screamed "Hogback" and "Thriller Bark" to those who knew of its origin. He wore baggy clothing, comfortable in them likely because of his upbringing in Alabasta. His broadsword, Brightkiller, was leaned carelessly against the wall. "You don’t have to do this," he said, walking to her. "You and Nick formed this group so you could have allies, not so you could abandon them."Kusu shook her head. "No, Nick could have never seen someone like Cid Coral appearing. It’s because of me and no one else, so I’m going alone. Sam needs you more than I do anyway.""It’s not your fault, brat.""Yes, it is," Kusu said in a hushed voice. "I don’t belong in this timeline, Hil. Uzo said it himself. You saw the vision too. If we weren’t in Regala that day, Cid would have died and the government would have been able to take care of the weaker Titania from there. But since Bell accidentally saved him… when he dies, it’ll be too late for this world."Hil went to say something, but remained silent. "Five years," Kusu continued. "That's when he'll contact the crew to join us. We can’t wait that long. I have to go to Regala now and kill him before he discovers Titania’s true power.""Kusu…""I’ll fix this… and then Uzo can send me back wherever I belong."Hil muttered something unintelligible at this. Kusu knew of his hatred for the man who called himself her brother. It was no secret he didn't trust him. Most didn't, after all. The zombie sat on the other end of the bed opposite Kusu. He sighed and brought his hands together. A stitch on his left palm caught onto the index finger of his right hand. He shook his hands to try and unhook the stitches. "You know, I left some people a long time ago… actually, it was when I turned into that sword.""Shitty Sword?" Kusu asked, pointing to the katana on her pink, wooden dresser. Hil nodded with a deep frown. "There were many times I could have gone back to them, sent them a letter, did anything to let them know I was alive. But I never did. I was scared of what they would think of me. I’m not like how I was then. I’m a freak now.""You’re not a freak. You’re a good person.""You’ve been with me too long to see me as anything else."Kusu kept staring at Hil, likely wondering if what he said was true. He sighed again. "I guess what I’m trying to say is that leaving your friends shouldn’t ever be an option. I left my family and I regret it every day. Don’t let yourself do the same."Hil got up and then stood at the side of the bed. He crossed his arms, looking down at her as a bodyguard would his employer. "No matter what, I'll always be there for you. I can't say that for the others, but you can trust I'll be there."Kusu kept frowning, however, and bit her lip. "You should see your family again. It isn't fair to make them think you’re dead... and it isn't fair for me to do this to you and the others. Even if Uzo says it's for the best, it probably isn't."She looked over at the katana on her dresser again and back at the animated man who seemed shocked and almost disturbed at her response. Or was he? He breathed heavily as he touched his stitched forehead. "If I talk to the crew about the Cid situation, would you promise we could visit your family? I'll stay, only if you give your family a chance to see you again.""Kusu," Hil said quickly. He pointed at the back of his right hand in a strange signal. His legs began to shake. "If you're really that scared, I can go with you," Kusu continued in her ignorance. "I think you're right. We can't do these things alone."Just then, Hil's eyes rolled back. He collapsed, fell on his side and remained motionless on the ground. "Hil?" Kusu asked. She jumped off the bed to see what happened. A sound boomed in her left ear. A shock erupted in Kusu’s chest, like someone had punched into her heart. Something exploded inside of her rib cage. Before she could think, she was on the floor, seizing as she began to feel something wet. She heard light footsteps as her vision darkened. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a familiar white glove. She looked forward to see Hil staring back at her. His dull brown eyes were wide open, completely lifeless. The glove touched her face. She was gone.
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Post by Kyubey on Jun 5, 2012 15:23:59 GMT -5
To the Phantom Hawks.
I have written to inform you that as of now, I officially resign from your crew. I am aware that I have not done this formally, nor do I have permission to leave from the captain, as is the proper custom, but I do not want to make this more difficult for any of us.
I am sorry. I have sworn allegiance to your crew, and have vowed to serve under your flag until we reach our goal, and I have broken that promise. I am aware of what this means, and I will not blame you for any harsh feelings you may hold against me, but I have my own reasons for leaving. As some of you might know, I have my own goals, and I have found it impossible to pursue them if I continue to travel down this path. That is not to say being in the Phantom Hawks has weakened me in any way, quite the opposite, in fact. As I’m sure you noticed, my experiences in your crew have strengthened me greatly, and I thank you for that. You have not only given me new powers, but you have also taught me many things about the world that I could not have learned alone. But most of all, I am thankful for the friendship and camaraderie I have felt on board the ship. I have not felt such kindness for years, and I shall remember it for the rest of my life. Even so, there are certain things I cannot do under the command of someone besides myself, and I wish to fortify my abilities even further. To do that, I am afraid we must part ways now.
Do not expect us to meet again. I wish you all the best, but I feel it would be best if this is our final interaction. So, I implore you, do not try to find me again.
Your crew is both noble and strong. I have nothing but faith in your ability to achieve what you wish for. As a Phantom Hawk, I was content.
Sincerely,
Morrison
Morrison left that letter on the deck of the ship, not knowing if they would find it or not. It didn't matter much, really, as he mainly wrote it for his own purposes. Giving his old home one final glance, he silently left that boat forever, and disappeared into the island where the Phantom Hawks were docked.
He still had some money left in his pack, from before he became a pirate, and used it to buy a Log Pose, extra paper, and some cat-friendly food for his voyage. He then headed back to the docks, after making sure none of his old crewmates would see him there, and began searching for a decent ship to steal. It had to be a small one, that would last him long enough to get to the next populated island. After a while he might start stowing away with random crews again, but he could no longer be as aimless as he was before. To simply go back to his old ways would be an insult to everything the Phantom Hawks did for him. He had to be focused, and he already had his next destination in mind. A rumor he overheard while in town gave him enough information to decide what he would do next.
He climbed aboard a tiny, but well made little fishing boat, fit for one or two people, that lacked supplies but made up for it in quality. What's more, it didn't sink when Morrison got on it, which was as good a sign as any. It suited him just fine. He loaded his things onto the boat, trying to make it as much as a home as he could, though he knew it could never be the same as the open spaces of his old ship, which, to his small form, seemed huge. Nevertheless, he would get used to his tiny boat for now. The owners wouldn't miss it much, anyways.
With one paw, he pushed his nameless vessel away from port, and began his drifting into the open horizon. It was a bit strange, how vast the sea looked when he was alone. After he set a course and got his bearings, he spent hours simply staring at the island where Kusu, Sam, and the rest were anchored. As the island shrunk away, vanishing with the sunset, Morrison had to fight the instinct to turn his boat around and sail back. He still had a goal to complete, and, from that point on, he couldn't waste time on emotions. At that time, that's what he thought.
"Best of luck to you, Kusu," he said to himself. "And Sam, I'm sorry. I promise you, though, once I better myself, once I can make up for my failures, I will find you again."
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Post by Hitotsumami on Jun 6, 2012 1:04:23 GMT -5
Hito had lost contact with the Phantom Hawks.
He wasn't sure how it happened. He hardly remembered much of their travels. He remembered some of his friends, and he remembered his battles. He somewhat remembered being caught on fire, or maybe causing the fire, and a boat sinking, and being locked in a prison.
He didn't remember Kusu, though. When thinking back to the past, he saw a white space where someone should have been, but he didn't remember Kusu. Why this was, he wasn't sure. It wasn't something that weighed on his mind heavily, though.
One thing he remembered completely was his childhood. His home Ohara had been burned down and destroyed by ships. So he pledged he would destroy all the ships in the world. That was always his dream, even now.
So as he woke up on the shore of a land unfamiliar to him, he did just that. And he did that for many more years to come.
What happened after that, maybe one day we will find out.
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Post by Sprite on Jul 26, 2012 20:13:24 GMT -5
Dian paused and let the rope he held in his fingers drop slowly to the wooden boards of the ship's floor. He looked behind him and squinted through the rain at the dark cloud cover. It had felt like his heart had just stopped for a second, a shiver ran down his spine as he pulled the tattered remains of the threadbare cloak around him, trying to ward off the cold wet and horrible feeling of omen hanging over his shoulders.
Returning to his work and shaking off the ominous premonition he stooped down and resumed tying down the ship as he stormy winds intensified. As he did his shipwork, the young runner paused to brush his ever growing hair out of his eyes to peer at his destination. It was not a pretty sight. Walls of whirling wind and crashing waves seemed to surround the island, a red glow from within the natural prison bars seemed to hint at some sort of volcano...
But the speedster was not worried. His legs had carried him out of every situation known to man. Whether it was fleeing hungry ped-o-kamas, scaling vertical walls to escape a pit, and even that one time he had to weave his way through a ravenous horde of zombies while wearing a meatsuit. Nothing was too much for him with his trusted feet to carry him forward. Looking down at his treasured feet, he realized that the orange and red lacquered surface of his Mizuno Hyperspeeds did not reflect his face anymore. Putting down all his work for a moment he grabbed a rag and spent a good five minutes rubbing furiously at the shoes until they gleamed like new again.
He smiled sadly at his distorted reflection in the surface of his running shoes, they were a precious gift from a darker time. His thoughts and reminiscing were interrupted as a sword flew from somewhere behind his little dinghy and impaled itself inches from his foot. His wide eye stared back at him from the polished silver surface, it was seamless sword, all seemingly crafted from one piece of immaculate steel. There were no flaws, no levels changes, it was beautiful. Beautiful painful death.
Dian stumbled back a bit as he stood up, a sudden impact shaking his small dinghy as water started flooding in. Looking behind him, the young runner noticed a large barbed silver lance's head peeking at him, it had been thrown with considerable force and accuracy to pierce all the way through the lower rear end of the ship, allowing water to begin flooding in.
Waving and bobbing with the raucous waves, Dian could see a small yet beautiful cruiser made of immaculate polished gray wood sailing after his rapidly sinking ship. It cut through the water with precision despite the horrid conditions, it was beautiful like the blade. But just as deadly, as Dian had just gotten away from the owner, for good he assumed, but apparently not. He was not eager to meet that man again...
Looking at his destination once more, Dian gauged the distance as he gathered up his pack and began stretching his legs. Six...no seven miles from shore. Not a problem. His legs had carried him forward and out of every ordeal. From outrunning a raging wildfire, evading platoons of sharpshooting cannibals, and...
Dian jumped from his ship, his legs already kicking furiously at the air, as his right foot struck the water's surface he was already speeding forward, swiftly leaving his ruined ship behind as morningstars and giant shuriken rained upon it, thrown from the malicious silver ship.
...and running on water.
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Post by Shark a' Pult on Aug 26, 2012 2:52:06 GMT -5
"Stop kicking or we'll kick back. We're just putting you in here for safekeeping."
"Ow! You can't lock me up in there, I have my rights!"
"Slaves don't have rights, you're lucky you weren't actually doing anything wrong when they caught you."
The guards paced down the corridor of the jailhouse, carrying a kicking captive between them past the line of cells. To get her to stop struggling one of them twisted her arm in a direction it wasn't supposed to bend, to which she seemed to get the message, and remained cooperative until they reached an empty cell near the end of the hallway. With a jangle of keys and the sounds of clanking metal, the door was open. A rough shove later and she was inside, a resounding clang as they slammed and locked the door behind. Immediately she made for her feet, throwing herself against the bars with her face pressed between them as she held on with her hands.
"We'll keep you here until we can find your owner, if we can't then it's off to the auction houses. How much do you think they'd get for her Frank?"
"A fishgirl, she looks pretty young and not in terrible shape? I figure they'd run her for at least two mil, could pull in more, you know how those dealers make them look good."
"Well if it's about money then can't I just like... pay for myself?"
She realized the mistake she made the moment she said it, and she shrunk away from the bars when the guards both looked at her with disapproving stares.
"I-I'm sorry... that was a stupid question."
"That was a stupid question. I want you to sit here and think about what you said."
Using their night sticks they poked at her fingers till she let go of the bars, then proceeded off back the way they came to handle other police work. In response the slave girl shambled over to one of the benches and slumped down in a defeated mess, lazily turning her head to look up out of the window after several minutes. She could see some of the colossal mangrove trees towering outside, as well as the countless bubbles floating all over the place. As well she noticed what looked like a large bird circling far above, and though she welcomed the sight, it didn't do her any good in here other than to reinforce just how real the bars were to her. Coming to Sabaody Archipelago was a mistake, but then how could she have known? And to think, she almost made it all the way to the Ashfall Islands...
"You've messed up this time Sam, messed up real bad."
Things were grim indeed, and it looked like she would soon be headed off to the auction houses to be sold, because she already knew the police weren't going to find her owners. She did have owners, but they had all abandoned her now. An endearing bird girl there was, and a zombie with a good heart. A dependable doctor, and a unstoppable Prince of course. A supportive dragon and his spirit fox lover, and how could she forget that fantastical cat? A heartwarming musician, and a sterling arsonist in addition. An admirable rival pirate, and a devoted stowaway to round it off. There were some others along the way, but one by one they had all left. All of them her owners and all of them gone, till now she was alone in the world. She didn't blame them though, who would even want to spend time with her, let alone own her? It was probably for the best anyway, they were probably all off happily living their own lives and achieving their dreams; no need for her to get in the way or to tarnish their ambitions. If being left behind by them meant she could no longer hinder them, then she would gladly be abandoned and sold into slavery a hundred times over, and she'd do it with a smile.
Could she escape? Probably, but she wouldn't. It was better this way. After all, they were the only ones who ever mattered. She would give everything for them without being asked, that was the way it should be. But then, if that were the case, why did she feel sad to see them go... why did she miss them?
Without warning one of the alarm clocks on her arm went off, startling her a little. With a sigh she silenced it, and clutched at her arm where her tattoo was; a bleeding heart.
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Post by Sprite on Aug 26, 2012 3:35:24 GMT -5
"Please. Just stop. Stop breathing, spare me your pathetic presence. Stop breathing my air. Just die, that's all I'm asking really."
It was at this point it became apparent that Sam was not alone in the jailhouse. Of course, Sabaody would not give slaves the luxury of their own building. It was unfortunate of course that the poor fishgirl would find herself imprisoned directly across from such a outspoken and unpleasant individual.
The pretentious man sat cross legged in the far corner of his cell, where the few rays of sunshine spilled into the unpleasant room. Though, his attitude did not seem that of a person trying to stay warm or anything. His entire posture, facial expression, and very being screamed out that he owned this light, that it was not that he were the one sitting in the light, but it was the light adjusting itself so that he sat in it.
He was dirty, unshaven, and a bit bloodied up, but the man's natural good looks still showed through. Bearing the looks of someone famous, perhaps the coverman for a magazine or a poster, his face might have been familiar. Narrow and curved muddy green eyes glared at Sam, a small furrow forming between his brows in something akin to disgust or frustration. As his mouth followed his eyes into a disgusted and disgruntled pout, his immaculately groomed goatee shifted with his well-defined jaw. It was a bit odd that despite his begrimed state, the prisoner seemed to have his hair all in order. Even his hair-do was in a proper state, combed back in a sophisticated and clean fashion with the ends falling to his shoulders.
How he had accomplished this was a bit odd seeing that his hands were locked up, spread far apart from his head by the rectangular block that went around his wrists and neck. Very medieval in make, but more modern in that the entire restraining device seemed to be crafted from stainless steel and seastone.
Scuffed and blood encrusted penny brown loafers tapped irritably against the cobble floor of the cell. The male prisoner's entire outfit was of a higher brand and make, but similarly crumpled and soiled like his expensive shoes. Following his footwear, he was wearing a pair of neutral brown slim slacks, and what used to be a white-ish green dress shirt with a neat vest and tie thrown over it.
"Ugh. I can smell the pathetic and self-loathing on you. It's disgusting, stop it, you filthy trash."
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Post by Shark a' Pult on Aug 26, 2012 16:04:26 GMT -5
"Well I don't think I smell that bad, the hotels here have these crazy super bubble soaps and stuff."
Leaning forward Sam tried to better make out the prisoner in the adjacent cell, though she was more concerned by his bitter comments. She sniffed at herself just to be sure, though she still felt a little self-conscious.
"And anyway, at least I'm not the one wearing loafers. Talk about pathetic..."
Ah yes, at the end of the day when all else failed, she still had her Jordans. Even if she was a total loser, and she was stuck in jail, her shoes were totally badass. Just to be sure she stretched her legs out and wiggled her feet, basking in their glory.
"So what are you in here for, you're not a slave are you? It looks like you got in some fights, they way they got you locked up in there."
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Post by Sprite on Aug 27, 2012 11:16:27 GMT -5
The rugged prisoner sniffed haughtily as he looked off to the side in apparent disinterest in Sam's responses. He rolled his eyes, seeming all too familiar with the gesture.
"Not even the finest of soaps can wash away the scent of failure, girly."
Upon the remark of his choice of footwear however, the handsome stranger seemed to freeze up, his face going blank. It was almost comical for a moment as he began trembling, his face still blank an empty as if in shock. Just as it seemed he would begin bawling however, a dark murderous and vicious rage darkened his features as he turned a livid laser beam stare at Sam.
"You...Y-You....FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF-"
His eyes rolled up in the back of his head as he shook, his manacles shaking and clinking at a crazy tempo. The furious man had to bit his lip as his anger reached a peak, muffling his next few profanities and almost drew his own blood.
His hands shook and twisted, clenching and unclenching. All in all, it was quite a magnificent and grossly impressive little temper tantrum. It was quite obvious that he wasn't quite used to being called 'pathetic' or anything close.
"FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF- AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGHHHHHHH-"
It was quite safe to say that if he weren't restrained by the manacles and the medieval style executioner's block he would have probably destroyed the entire prison to get at the fishgirl who was causing him so much rage. It was odd however to note that there appeared to be puddles forming on the floor around the prisoner, odd thick concrete colored puddles. The walls seemed to dripping- melting almost.
After several minutes of raging, the prisoner seemed to calm down slightly, from fatigue if anything. He sat there panting, still glaring daggers at Sam as he ground his teeth, his fingers twitching hungrily, almost like small murderous animals.
"Me? A slave? Hah! The thought of that is laughable. Such a title is only befitting slovenly peasants like you, a slovenly peasant that's going to die at my hands that is."
A single hair had strayed loose from his comb-back during his tantrum. He blew at it irritably and tossed his head in a vain attempt to get the rebellious follicle back in place.
"Some lowly vermin merely could not appreciate or comprehend my grand and royal intentions. They dared to interfere, and they paid the price. Simple, no? But they dared to choose and strike me down with their backhanded methods and throw me in here like some common bastard."
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Post by Shark a' Pult on Aug 27, 2012 17:29:43 GMT -5
"Wow... slovenly, I've never heard that one before. I've definitely heard about dying at people's hands though, that never gets old."
It was true, she'd so never heard that one before that she didn't even know what it meant. Those crazy humans and their complex linguistic skills, what would the come up with next? On the other hand, maybe that was why when she tried to pretend to be human as a disguise, it didn't always work; because she couldn't talk quite like them? Maybe that's what she was missing all along, she'd have to try speaking differently in the future. Using big words. Obsequious. Yeah.
"Yeah... I remember the time they dared to choose and strike me down with their backhanded methods and throw me in here like some common ba- wait, royal? As in, royalty? Are you some famous person?!"
Suddenly Sam's eyes went wider than usual, shimmering even a little. After all, it wasn't every day you met famous people, and in a prison of all places! Maybe this wouldn't be such a bad day after all. Well actually it was probably going to get a whole lot suckier when they put her in chains again. Maybe she'd get a nice owner this time? Still though, this guy! The last actually famous person she could remember meeting was Karalisk Valdiensk the seventeenth.
Or was it eighteenth? She couldn't help but feel reminded at how similar the Prince and this guy in the cell were. They'd probably be best buds if they ever met.
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Post by Sprite on Aug 29, 2012 20:24:07 GMT -5
After much tossing of his head, the handsome psychopath had finally managed to get his rogue hair back in place. Leaning back as much as his block shackle and chains would allow him to, he attempted to relax and rest a bit after his epic temper tantrum. Spotting the melting walls and concrete puddles on the floor he seemed a bit confused. He twirled his fingers at his cell as if hoping to magick them back into proper shape, but to no avail.
He was distracted however by Sam's starstruck state. An easy smile crossed his face as he recline as best as he could. His ego was sated and the temper tantrum and threats of death in the past could have easily never even existed now.
"Finally you realize the greatness you stand before."
"Indeed, I am royalty. Not just any royalty, but a Prince, the rightful heir to my father's throne, a throne which would give me control over a powerful nation of noble warriors. It would have been mine if not for my cowardly and evil younger brrrrrrrrrrotherrrrrr..."
Another fit of rage seemed to come over the prince as his face colored with anger. His jaw clenching as he managed to force out the final word with some difficulty as if he refused to admit it as anything more than a distasteful and unavoidable truth.
"He stole what was rightfully mine! My kingdom, my inheritance, the trust of my parents and my people. He turned them all against me and then drove me out of my homeland."
He spoke with such conviction and he seemed so convinced in what he was telling it would be hard to doubt his words.
"As if that were not enough, he chased me and my loyal retainers across the sea, hounding us. Finally, he struck me down and humiliated me.."
His fists clenched, his eye burning a hole into the ceiling of his cell.
"But I survived and made my way here. I came seeing so much pathetic trash milling about, heading to lives of even more misery. So I thought, why not liberate them, and imprison them once more under my ru- er bring them under my rule. Why not make my own noble kingdom here, and bring down my traitorous brother...But of course these narrow-minded slugs can not comprehend or appreciate my greatness or noble intent."
As he approached the end of his story, which now made clear his reason for being imprisoned, he pointed at Sam with one of his hands.
"You exude self-pity and are not worthy to be breathing the air my lungs obviously require. But you interest me, what say you trash. Become great, and serve me as my retainer."
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Post by Shark a' Pult on Aug 30, 2012 0:49:06 GMT -5
"Well I don't know what retrainer means, but if you need help I'd be happy to uh... oblige? Was that the right word?"
Sam had listened to the stranger's wondrous heart wrenching story as though it were the most amazing and tragic thing in the world. Which for her, considering her current circumstances, it may very well have been. Of course there were a lot of complex ideas and big words she didn't understand, but it sounded to her like the guy wanted to get out and continue being a Prince. Now the being a Prince part she wasn't sure how well she could help him, as she didn't know the first thing about being a Prince, but the getting out part she had a feeling she could manage.
"Alrighty then, commence operation 'Help the Prince Get Out of Jail'! Yeah, that should work..."
Right about that time another of the watch alarms went off, but she merely silenced it before pumping her fist in the air. With that she pushed herself off of the bench and to her feet, pacing about her cell and looking for anything and everything that might help with her new planned operation. As she got into the right mindset, she began nod and press against various objects around her cell, mumbling to herself in affirmation as all the pieces began to fall into place.
"Yes, yes... right! According to my calculations, with the ideal position of the window, there versus the bars there..." With both arms outstretched, she pointed each at the barred window and barred door respectively, thinking out loud as the plan began to formulate in her mind. "...taking into account the bench here and the bed here, offset by the toilet-" stopping to flush said toilet, "then based on the strength of gravity against the proper trajectory of an ideal vector, in addition to the presence of a rubber buffer," wiggling her feet again and grinning at her shoes, "the proper course of action to result in the perfect completion of the operation and breakout..." at that she backed up against the wall, standing in a runner's starting position just beneath the window, "...is this!"
With that she took off at high speed, bolting across her cell and crashing face-first into the metal bars of the door. Rebounding off without any ill-effect to the bars or the door, she promptly hit the floor in a lifeless crumpled mess, looking like an animal that had been hit by a car. She remained on the floor, lifeless and unmoving.
---
Some minutes later, Sam began to stir groggily, groaning to herself about a mission accomplished or something. Clearly dizzy and trying to suck back up the blood leaking from her nose, she promptly brought her hands to her face in a coughing fit. When she was done, she smiled sheepishly at the stranger across the way as her head swayed unsteadily back and forth, a good few of her teeth missing from that smile with blood trickling from those gaps. As she held out her hands though it could be seen what it was she was coughing up; those missing teeth, several of them all thin, pointy and sharp.
"Hthis houtta thdo hthe htrick!"
Stumbling to her feet in an unsteady mess, she went to spit out some blood in the toilet before making her way over to the barred door. Moving to her knees, though her head still swayed side to side in a dizzy mess, her hands were as steady as ever as the moved for the lock. Placing her ear to the inner side of the lock and utilizing the handful of teeth, she slowly but surely managed to work the lock and trigger the tumblers one after the other. It was a painstakingly difficult and delicate effort taking much time, and while it seemed like there was no logical or possible way someone in her state could perform the task, she still managed regardless. Maybe it was just dumb luck. Either way the lock was lifted, and the door was open. Standing up again, she slid it open with a dazed smirk, as though it was all according to her plan.
"Hthere hwe hgo, hnow thfor hthe hkeys."
Though she did not make it verbally clear to the prisoner, she did not attempt to open the door to his cell in the same way as she had done for hers. The reason being, she wasn't willing to press her luck that far, that she would be able to both open his door and his stockade using what few teeth she had left. She could probably do it anyway, but it would probably come back to bite her later. No, her next idea, thought up in her brain-damaged state was a much better one. Stumbling in a drunken fashion down the cell block corridor, she attempted to sneak back the way the guards had led her in from. To the stranger she would soon be out of sight from his cell, but he may have still been able to hear what was going on.
There were various whispers and calls from other prisoners about being let out, but Sam merely shushed them with an erratic "Shhh!" and a giggle. Eventually there was the sound of another door opening, and the jangling of metal. Understandably some shouting following that, and then some running mixed with shouting. To the Prince's eyes he would soon see Sam stumble and trip, sliding across the floor to a halt in between his and her cells. She was laughing unsteadily, but this was soon cut off when the two shouting guards from before apparently caught up with her and fell upon her with boots and nightsticks. Between the small smoke could that followed, rife with kicking, punching, hitting and shouting, one of Sam's arms emerged to slide the keyring to Vasil's bonds as well as most if not all of the doors to this place across the floor to the Prince's feet. Above the tussle could be heard something roughly akin to;
"Hthere hyou hgo hyour hmajesty!"
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Post by Sprite on Sept 2, 2012 2:03:14 GMT -5
The Prince watched with some interest as Sam began the process of breaking down her escape plan. Taking her surroundings facet by facet in a most logical and impressive manner. Soon even the raucous prince himself found himself being drawn into her plan layout, even finding himself leaning forward and nodding along with the fishgirl as her plan came to a climax.
As she crashed headfirst into the prison bars and fell unconscious however, his brow merely fell, casting frightening shadows over his eyes. Instead of a jaw drop, it seemed like his jaw merely tightened as he gritted his teeth.
"FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF-"
---
Sam began to stir groggily and eventually arose once more!
"-UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKK."
The volatile royalty had been sitting tensed and trembling at his spot in the cell, his head arched back as he bit his lip, attempting to hold back the tremendous profanity that strained to escape his lips. Of course he had to let it go eventually. He sat there panting to regain his breathe, the red draining from his face as he realized his newest retainer had risen.
"Hthis houtta thdo hthe htrick!"
One of his muddy green eyes twitched. He trembled, his lips pursed and cheeks ballooning. He was torn. He found it ridiculously hilarious, more organically and naturally hilarious and pathetic than even the finest court jester. But laughter was not freeing him any quicker from this drab prison.
Before he was forced to come to a decision however, the Prince was relieved and slightly impressed to see the fishgirl pick the lock to her door and wander down the hall, presumably to find the keys to his door. Normally, one would think the violent prince would give way to even more tantrums and rage, assuming the idiotic fish had escaped without him. But the thought of betrayal hadn't crossed his mind. He was so convinced that the fishgirl, having accepted being his retainer, was fully aware the greatest of tortures, beyond even death, awaited her should she betray him.
At last. The keys slid across to him. With some fidgeting, he managed to get the key into his fingers, and freed himself from his seastone shackles. Sliding the executioners block off of his shoulders he stood tall once more in his cell, he manacles still hanging from his ankles and wrists. Gathering up the chains between his hands, he pressed on them and somehow seemed to weaken them enough to simply tear the metal links like they were wet paper. Noticeably, a few thick sludge like droplets the same color as the chain links were splattered against the wall and floor.
Now the Prince was left holding a rectangular slab of seastone in his hands. He himself knew the value of the diamond-hard metal that could render even the mightiest Devil Fruit users comatose, and so he did not completely destroy it as his first impulse urged him to. Opening the door to his cell, he looked upon the cloud of smoke that was his retainer being beaten on by two prison guards.
A wicked smile crossing his face, his dull emerald eyes lit up with a fiendish glee as he raised the seastone imprisonment instrument above his head and brought it in a swing to send the first of the guards smashing through a solid concrete wall and into a blissful black dream.
"You insolent fuckers are about to receive punishment at the hands of true royalty! Rejoice in your pain and retribution, vasisisisisisisisisisi!"
The second guard seeing his co-worker being smashed through a concrete wall quickly backed off Sam and called for more help on a miniature Den Den he drew from his belt.
"Two inmates loose! I repeat, two inmates loose! Samantha Faro and Prince V-"
The prince took another powerful swing at the prison guard's head with his former constraining device, missing as the guard skillfully ducked underneath the blow but interrupting his call. Brandishing his nightstick, the guard lunged at the rowdy escapee and attempted to subdue him with a quick but heavy blow to the jaw.
Swaying back with ease to let the nightstick sail centimeters from his shapely jaw, it was apparent now that the Prince was truly an accomplished fighter as he whipped back into the guard's face with a crushing elbow strike. The guard dropped to the floor, his face unrecognizable, seemingly crushed and sunken into a point on his face where his nose might have been. It was almost comical, but frightening and odd, seeing as the effect the elbow blow had produced did not quite match with how powerful it seemed.
"Good work wench! Now come along, now begins my noble conquest, vasisisisisisisisisi!"
Hardly pausing to wait for Sam to get up or even assist her, the warrior prince took off down hall in the direction Sam had just come back from, still holding the seastone executioners block underneath his arm like a suitcase.
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Post by Shark a' Pult on Sept 3, 2012 17:17:28 GMT -5
"Oh wow, you're pretty strong... I thought the plan was I pass you the keys and you sneak out while I make the distraction. But uh, this also works!"
With the guards laying on the beating, Sam had some sense quite literally kicked into her, so the dizziness from before was quite lessened. Crawling back away from the fight she ended up backing into cell bars, and it took her a few moments to realize what had actually happened. When she did though, she was both surprised and welcoming of this change in plan.
"Good work wench! Now come along, now begins my noble conquest, vasisisisisisisisisi!"
"Thanks... I guess? I hope you're not trying to conquest this place, it's not all that great. If you need to get somewhere though, I have a boat you could use... maybe."
While she was appreciative of the Prince's efforts, she wasn't sure she wanted to go anywhere with him. Partly because his fashion sense was atrocious, but mostly because he had beaten up some police, so things could only get worse from here. The last thing she wanted was to end up as an outlaw with this guy, and fighting off an entire island where already there was a strong marine presence. Hence why she was reluctant to mention her boat, or offer it to the Prince for use.
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With the help of the keys, it would not be some great task to get out of the holding area of the police station, and onto the reception area near the front. They had to pass through the offices area before that, but no one seemed to notice or care, probably because they were not in chains or being escorted. The reception area was pretty nice, with a front desk and some chairs lined up around the room. Just beyond that were the doors to the outside, the doors to freedom.
"Ah here she is right now Sir, sorry for the wait. You'll want to watch her more carefully though, slaves run away quite frequently around these parts, and who knows what might be waiting to claim ownership over her next."
"Jawohl, duly noted! Danke, your assistance has been most preferential!"
Seeing the way out, Sam was intent on running for the doors and frolicking in the splendorous flower meadows of rabbits outside. As such she wasn't paying much attention to anyone or anything else in the room, and missed the conversation going on at the desk between a receptionist and some... thing else. As she went to run, she was promptly stopped short as an arm practically hit her in the chest, her body trying to move forward from the effort but the strong grip preventing it. The secretary meanwhile seemed not to care one iota, and went back to her paperwork.
"Hey let go of me who do you- oh no..."
"Tsk tsk, Fraulein! Where do you think it is that you are going to?"
Although she kicked and struggled at first, she stopped dead when she heard the voice and saw who it was, falling to a slump on the arm as though she were like a wet towel hung on a clothesline to dry. The person whom had stopped her did no look like any person most people would ever see. While they looked to be wearing a sort of metallic insulated suit that one would expect someone who tests power lines to wear, the indication that they were in fact a person ended there. In place of a head, there was only a greatly oversized lightbulb, the glowing filaments (perhaps indicating eyes?) flickering as the figure spoke in a strange accent. In place of hands were only three-pronged metal power plugs, and on the chest portion of the suit was present what appeared to be a large light switch in the 'up' position. All in all they stood in stark contrast with... well, anything really.
"It would be most preferential if you did not resist, Herr Baloan is not to be kept waiting!"
"Just go on your majesty, it would be better just to forget about me-EAARGH!!" Her speaking was suddenly cut off when a buzzing noise sounded, and her entire body illuminated bright blue for a few moments as she writhed around, a view of her skeleton briefly visible.
"Speaking falls under the category of resisting, Fraulein!"
"Okay okay, I'll be quiet-TYEOW!" A repeat of the previous shocking display occurred once more.
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Post by Sprite on Sept 5, 2012 22:25:36 GMT -5
"Hm hm hm? What's this?"
As the duo ran down the hall towards the reception area, the violent prince seemed to stop and perform a double take upon spotting a door labeled 'Confiscated'. A wicked grin crossed his face as he opened the door and slipped inside without a single word to Sam, apparently forgotten.
---
After much rummaging around, he gave a snarl of frustration as he ran his hands through his air. His eyes darted about the mess he'd made in the confiscation closet. He rummaged about, tossing lethal weapons, booty, loot, and various other goods over his shoulder in his obsessive search.
"Where is it..."
A couple more seconds of fruitless searching and the prince gave up, throwing his hands up in frustration, and sinking his hand into the wall with a punch. Extracting his fists he cast his eyes about irritably, his gaze stopping to examine a garment. He sighed and shook his head as he picked it up to examine it.
"This will have to do, though my royal raiments shall be returned to me. Oh?"
Well at least everything wasn't lost. Perhaps these Marines were not completely incompetent and only deserved a light beating to the death. Pulling his gloves back over his hands and replacing his blackish-green shades back on his eyes, the prince gave a predatory grin as he flexed his hands.
---
The door to the reception area was promptly blown out, probably scattering debris and dust over everyone and everything in the room as the offender strode into the room. As the dust cleared it would become apparent the former prisoner had acquired an additional article of clothing to his outfit.
A coat, though not quite as fine or illegally authentic as his previous article which he was infamous for.
Tipping the dark green lensed sunglasses down the bridge of his nose to peer over them, the volatile royalty spotted Sam in the clutches of the odd lightbulb creature. A slightly amused, but also threatening looking smile crepts its way across his features as he lazily brought an arm up to point an authoritative finger at the captor.
"That fish-whore is the prop- er my retainer! As such she shall remain in my glorious possession and service you filthy mongrel! You will release her for she serves the one and only..."
His hand, now clad in an odd brownish glove seemingly woven of plant fibers, tightened into a fist which was brandished menacingly at the odd electric individual.
"Vasil Iskar, Crown Prince of Ravunya!"
Vasil's tacky zebra stripe patterned coat flapped dramatically in a non-existent breeze as he pushed his shades back up to his eyes with a cool finger. Crouching, he launched himself at the accented electrician, his right hand coming down in a chop at his metal pronged appendage that held Sam. His goal being to simply sever the offender's 'hand' for daring to dirty his property.
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Post by Shark a' Pult on Sept 8, 2012 4:30:33 GMT -5
"Wait I never agreed to any of that, I just said I'd help if you neede-ARG!"
"I am not liking to have to repeat myself Fraulein."
After glowing bright blue with a buzz again, Sam nodded her head with a whimper, lip quivering and looking like a kicked puppy. Of note her skin was starting to look dark and scratchy in places, and there was the distinct smell of burning hair. The electrician on the other hand merely responded to Vasil with his filament flickering as the Prince launched himself forwards.
"Not at all preferential."
Rather than some showy display or amazing attack, the electrician merely moved. While he had clotheslined Sam with his one arm to stop her from leaving, he now shifted his foot forward and moved so that his free arm was now facing Vasil. All he had to do was reach out with his pronged "hand" in front and meet the Prince's attack straight on. Only a touch, that was all that was necessary. In preparation for what was to come, the bulb in the place of his head began to glow ever so brightly.
"Can you people take it outside?"
The receptionist meanwhile just continue with paperwork.
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