aka z
Played by kami
Cash
|
Post by ZACARÍAS FLORES on Dec 19, 2017 21:36:23 GMT -5
Where is this fucker?
Dashing through Z’s subconscious mind, anticipating destruction when his mark appeared. Situated onto a timber chair inside the festive pub the youth observed the fluctuating wooden entryway. Steadily tapping his polished opaque footwear against the tattered lumber flooring. Onyx jacket carelessly established over his exposed trimmed shoulders as his scarlet spheres sustain their perception on the doorway. A mere week had ended since he was maliciously crushed by two imposing Marine’s. Their names mysteriously unknown and the only guidance given to him was their most recent words before Z succumbed to the physical suffering that dreadful evening.
“We’ve gotta slowly cauterize your wounds kid. Consider it our parting gift, but don’t fret. You’re our only lead so we’ll see you again.”
The vision deliberately flared in his imagination and it thoroughly infuriated him. Heavily clamping his digits together from the remembrance he fiercely pounded his clenched fist into the framed table. BAM! “No one makes me their bitch!” The destructive but notable strike reverberated in the already bolstering pub. Any neighbouring characters certainly should’ve witnessed his nonsense. Nonetheless, his analysis of the words “you’re our only lead so we’ll see you again” hints towards a character observing his actions. Thus suppressing yourself amidst a uproarious pack makes discovering your spectator effortless.
Any individual continuously eyeballing him is an indication they’re the onlooker informing his assailants of his actions. The assaulters couldn’t conceivably be the observers, they’re massive and eye-catching. Both exquisite ebony revolvers alert on Z’s chiseled abdomen with their holsters. Cardinal crystals streaming through the immense quantity of characters Wait, there! Flaming orbs ceasing on a cloudy figure that was gawking at the buccaneer. Evidently this clown was frightling shameful at concealing themselves. Promptly the youth emerged from the timber chair and progressed towards this dense entity.
Perceiving that Z had acknowledged his proximity he cropped up from his timber chair. However the pursued progress was interrupted by the buccaneer. With the individuals rear to Z, the youths left digits swiftly clasped the tail of the figures collar. One imposing bash of the observer’s visage onto the immediate framed table blared around the pub. CLASH! Characters were inevitably at the hammered counter and the boundless confrontation was made clear by all. Cheek vigorously pressured into the stand, optics lagging upward as Z dominated the figure. Immediately with his unrestrained digits the youth clutched his illustrious jet revolver.
Dramatically rotating it around his digits before addressing the savage barrel onto the clowns skull. “Listen you fuck, if you plan on leaving here alive you’ll tell me where they are!”
| |
|
|
|
|
Post by JOAN SHARK on Dec 20, 2017 22:54:47 GMT -5
Sabaody was a real shit place. An eyesore of colorful folk sitting in some rainbow land while the stink of chains and rot crept straight down through the bubbles and into the mangrove roots.
There, a mouth that looked like a kicked-in trash compactor parted slightly, a thin trail of smoke weaving between the crooked teeth.
Yeah, Joan hated Sabaody. Bad name bad place bad memories. Becoming a pirate after those events were supposed to get her away from it all and towards the only thing that mattered. But false hope, dead ends and too many fools to pity made a fish's scale turn dull and finicky.
Despite the lazy way she puffed on her pipe, her eye was wide and bloodshot and watching, deviled yellow from the shadows of the room where her heavy coat hung over her form; like an angler fish in the dark, watching a burnt man rag-doll some poor s.o.b. into the warm wood.
The fishwoman doesn't move. Her eye just rolls back in her head and closes as she props a foot up on her table and sighs, exhaling more smoke. All the while the commotion in the room causes several other shady individuals to rise and inch closer, each certainly some tough sort needing to flex their muscles at the slightest hint of provocation.
'Is he gonna get thrown out?' thought the serrasalmid idly. 'Or take on the whole bar?'
|
|
aka z
Played by kami
Cash
|
Post by ZACARÍAS FLORES on Dec 22, 2017 19:14:39 GMT -5
Feathers were rattled by Z’s behavior and though his vermilion spheres were obsessed with his contemporary target his receivers heard numerous timber chairs scraping against the strenuous beamed flooring. Figures nearby the youth sluggishly standing with puzzlement. Who are these characters, and what is their dilemma. Was inevitably what splashed into their subconscious thoughts. Fixated, the youth dialed into his Kenbunshoku Haki and consummated that none of these characters meant to execute any regrettable actions, yet. So his judgmental crimson crystals endured their vision towards the clown. Casually burrowing his vicious ebony barrel into the clowns brawny temple. Inhaling the despair that was oozing from the fools pores, and observing the petrified grimace blanketing his facial features.
“Start talking fucker!”
Z identified these vulnerabilities of the hireling and realized he was gradually cracking but it couldn’t be a lingering interrogation. The youth estimated one minute before the proprietor shoved him out, and if he rejected the command, patrons would undoubtedly barrage the buccaneer with their onslaught. Given the volume of the clientele the likeliness of becoming victorious against those statistics was improbable. Nonetheless, as Z erupted with his dauntless insistence the clown gave a feeble sob before reciprocating “They’re in a warehouse smuggling slaves, and drugs into the area.” The marks orbs began to mildly moisten after educating the youth on the whereabouts of his assailants.
Tch!
Discharging a moderate tick from his rims as Z perceived that the hirelings spheres were dampening. Furthermore generating expanding intelligence from the clown was hopeless as the proprietor emanated from the horde of appearances. “Cut the shit out and leave! This is bad for fucking business!” The figure arose facing the youths left, and nonchalantly flaming crystals coasted to the resonated shout. The tensity in the breeze heightened dramatically, the encompassing characters hadn’t cherished and highly regarded the pawn but they would safeguard the landowners request. However Z had secured the intelligence he was ensuing and consequently hadn’t any purpose to dispute the keepers request.
“Fuck off, I’m leaving”
Vigorously itching his immaculate ebony barrel across the fools surface the youth began strolling towards the entryway. Holstering his threatening armaments his receivers caught the crackle of the gate mere seconds after his departure. He hadn’t the present moment to tango with tragic characters who determined to take their discontent outside. Discovering what warehouse the clown was mentioning was of the utmost concern. Scarlet spheres beaming over his sculpted shoulder Z expressed his intentions “I don’t have time to rock with you shit stain, I’ve a warehouse to find.” The obstacle of course was there are numerous warehouses in Sabaody Archipelago.
| |
|
|
|
|
Post by JOAN SHARK on Dec 27, 2017 15:26:57 GMT -5
What was brushed off as just another confrontation between bloodless mongrels suddenly became of great import to the fishwoman by virtue of a single word. Slaves. Six syllables that turned rest to rage and static in her ears. Joan stood up as the commotion died on, trading a slaughter for a hunt as she moved across the floor to intercept the burnt man in his mission.
Luck, coincidence, fate... all these things would melt away into the rivers of blood owed.
"Wacha standin' ahround gabbin' fer?" the fishwoman spat, exasperated. He'd had his information and he was wasting precious time gloating it. "Git out!" With a rough hand she'd push the slightly shorter human out the door, acting the part of imposing bouncer. Once outside, she'd step through the doors as if to see him through only to shift her heavy coat in the cool evening air, and gave him a grin in the sudden calm.
"Looks like yous and I, we's got ah common enemy 'ere. Care if ah tag 'long to th' ware'ouse? Ahm good in a fight so don't werry, Blisters." Probably not the wisest notion to give him a nickname based on his injuries, but Joan could care less about hurting his feelings. The small leads she'd chased down over the years bore little, and every new hope made her fingers itch. Especially when it looked like someone else had the vendetta to match.
|
|
aka z
Played by kami
Cash
|
Post by ZACARÍAS FLORES on Dec 30, 2017 14:00:54 GMT -5
An interference!
His Kenbunshoku Haki was ineffective, this character evidently hadn’t had a destructive intent. Nonetheless an unanticipated shove caused the youth to spring forward. Cardinal spheres amplifying from the unforeseen thrust through the entryway. “What the fu…” Forcibly liberated from his rims.
Once Z attained a foothold on the earthen terrain he settled several feet from the smurf as it acquainted itself with him. An accomplice? This could help, after all identifying the specific warehouse may test their self-control. But it delivered words as though an oversized object was dwelling in its mouth. Wait, it can’t breathe! It needs water! Truly Z hadn’t any intelligence regarding fishmen, or mermaids. Carmine crystals bewilderingly glared at it after it’s introductory before the buccaneer puzzlingly inquired “Are you slowly suffocating?”
Honestly, the youth caught the blister moniker but he was marginally more concerned the creature was suffocating. Raven revolvers still clutched in his digits, Z nonchalantly holstered deaths companions against his abdomen. Hopefully this creature had a greater comprehension of the present domain, because the youth was lightly misplaced. Which didn’t bode well for discovering the enigmatic warehouse. “Any idea where to start?” Aimless words inquired as the youths burgundy irises inspected the region.
Fuck!
Architectures laminated the province, which hinted to a challenging inspection. If the living thing hadn’t a solution to their dillema, Z had the impulse to explore the harbor. These Marines had to smuggle the tragic souls from somewhere.
| |
|
|
|
|
Post by JOAN SHARK on Jan 3, 2018 22:06:00 GMT -5
Are you slowly suffocating?
"...Wad?" The lips continued to move for a brief moment without sound, truly not comprehending the sudden question. The fishwoman's eyes glanced down at the dark silhouetted steel in the burnt man's hands before travelling back up. Her own fist curled into a ball momentarily, feral nails pressing against palm. A threat? But the following statement was far more agreeable. Almost immediately, Joan Shark beamed and the shadow of confrontation dissipated. "Yous funny, Blisters. Aye. Them ware'ouses on the edge so's people can't 'ear the wailin' n' stink o' piss. Slavin' makes th' sounds n' smells o' sufferin', yous know it soon enough." Her jaw worked a bit more, like she was chewing on a particularly bad memory. One that would probably explain why she had an immediate thought as to where to find these slavers. After a moment, she pointed one blue finger to the far side of the docks. "Big concreed buildin', fencin', many doors in n' out, easy ahccess ta ships. One of 'ems bound to be id." One hand cheerfully wrapped around the human's shoulders as Joan began to lead him forward through the streets of Sabaody. "'Ope ya got nah conscience on thems triggah fingahs, yours." So far he talked the talked good, but did he shoot the shots? Hesitation was the last thing she cared for. |
|
