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Jeremy Filth
Tracker

Name : Jeremy Filth
Age : 19
Height : 6'2"
Weight : 220lbs
Species : Human
Faction : Marines
Marine Rank : Ensign
Haki Level : 1
Hitpoints (HP) : 155
Attack (ATK) : 140
Defense (DEF) : 125
Reflex (RX) : 140
Willpower (WP) : 120
Level : 14
Experience Points : 1418
Income Multiplier : +13%
Berries Berries : 24,302,000
[[hardboiled]]
[[atkt3]][[deft2]][[rxt3]][[wpt2]]
Turf : Minion Island;
Posts : 45
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[Episode] Did We Just Become Best Friends? Empty [Episode] Did We Just Become Best Friends?

Sun Sep 12, 2021 4:14 pm
discription:

Quest Name: Did We Just Become Best Friends?
Quest Category: (Episode)
Player Participants: Jeremy Filth (+3), Volo Rosso (+3)
Planned Time Range: December 30,1828 - january 1, 1829

Summary: After leaving the Guardian Knights Jeremy is offered the chance the join Cypher Pol 6. All he has to do is go undercover and get in good with Volo Rosso and join their crew. Easy right?

Note:Jeremy and Volo will be teaming up to take on a singular +3 enemy (scaled off Jeremy).

Several days ago on Flevance...

The puzzled marine ensign Jeremy Filth, having just been pulled off a mission and away from his new crew, slowly made is way out of Flevance castle into the snowy courtyard where he immediately noticed that something felt...off. Before, when he had arrived at the castle with the other members of the Guardian Knights, the courtyard had been bustling with the activity of guards, servants and various guests. Now, aside from a couple of royal guards at the castle entrance and one or two stationed at the gates, the courtyard was, mostly, empty.

In front of Jeremy, blocking the main path between him and the gates was a large, horse drawn carriage. It was of similar size and build to the ones used by the nobles on the island, but far less fancy. Unlike all those others the was little color in fabrics, no fancy engravings in the wood, nor any sort of adornments anywhere on it. Compared to the rest, it was just sort of plain.

Two cloaked figures emerged from the carriage. One tall and one short. Each of their faces covered by by a featureless white mask. Jeremy, who had already been on edge from his mission, tensed up and his fingers began reaching for his revolvers. The figures seemed to notice this and so they stopped approaching and the tall one spoke.

“Ensign Jeremy Filth, we're with Cipher Pol 6. Come with us,” they said. Their voice was monotone and extremely neutral sounding. Neither male nor female, young nor old.

Jeremy stood his ground.

“You have any proof?” he asked.

The tall one sighed audibly and reached into their cloak, only to pull out a badge which they offered to Jeremy. Jeremy eyed the figure up for a bit before, somewhat reluctantly, taking the badge. Hardly an expert in that sort of thing, Jeremy skimmed quickly looked over the badge and handed it back to masked figure.

“Are you satisfied?” they asked Jeremy.

“Yeah,” nodded the ensign.

All three of them made their way into the carriage. As soon as the the last one of them entered the door was locked and the horses began moving, taking them all out of the courtyard. Inside the carriage, at both the front and the back, were nice, leather, sofa style seats. Between the seats was small wooden table. Jeremy sat one side of the table. The two members of Cipher Pol 6 sat at the other.

“Ensign Filth...bloody terrible name...we wanted to talk to you about that stuff back you did back on Black Drum with that chav pretending to be Richard Maxwell,” said the short one. They had that same nondescript, monotone voice as the tall one. “First you run into some git beating up some old bloke. Just some thug, doesn't even have a proper bounty, but instead of calling for backup or trying to take him alive like you were supposed to, you blew his bloody arm off and shoot 'em right in the bloody face.”

“Then there was your confirmed kill of Frank Barbarossa,” continued the tall one. “Burns, scrapes, cuts, bruises and several gunshot wounds. The coroner's report described your methods as, quote, excessive, end quote.”

“So what is this?”, asked Jeremy “Some sort of internal investigation? Am I going to be punished for doing my job?”

“Yes and no,” answered the tall one. “We are investigating you but not for any sort of disciplinary reasons. We just think that somebody with your disposition might be better suited for Cipher Pol than the marines.”

Jeremy shook his head. “I'm not interested.”

“You bloody daft git!” exclaimed the short one. “The hell you mean you're not interested!?”

The tall one sighed. “I think what my partner means is why aren't you interested? You could do so much better work without all that annoying red tape in the marines.”

“Because,” said Jeremy “I joined the marines to fight pirates. I can't do that skulking around in the shadows. I need to be on the front lines to get a good shot at those bastards.”

“Let me ask you a question Jeremy,” retorted the tall one “Let's say were to rise through the ranks of the marines to the rank of vice admiral, or heck with it, you're a talented, driven young man, admiral even and you were to take the head of a truly big name like...say...the emperor Loha Aurochs. What would happen?”

Jeremy was grinning from ear to ear.

“If I took out a guy like Loha Aurochs,” he said “I'd be a fucking legend.”

“Well...yeah...I suppose you would,” said the tall one “but what do you think would happen to Loha?”

There was an uncomfortable silence as Jeremy mulled over the question until, finally the tall one spoke again.

“He'd become a legend and a martyr in his own right. Pirates would set sail in his name. Stories would be written about him in libraries and songs would be sung about him in taverns. Sure, you would be more famous but so would he. But...if you were a member of Cipher Pol and you took him out silently then history would forget he ever existed, we'd make sure of that. His terrible influence on the world would end permanently, never to be repeated.”

“Yeah, but nobody would know about me either.”

“Do want to be famous or do you want to rid the world of pirates?”

“I want to kill pirates..”

“That's what I thought.”

The tall one reached into his cloak and pulled out a file which he placed on the table.

“I wasn't joking when I said I think you would be well suited for Cipher Pol Jeremy,” continued the tall one.

“That's right. This uptight cunt doesn't ever tell any jokes,” chimed in the short one.

The tall one just sighed continued “This is your latest assignment Jeremy. Think of it as a test. If you succeed we will officially make you a member of Cipher Pol 6. If you fail, or if you simply decide this work is not suited for you then you can go back to the marines and this conversation will have never happened...”




Present day, on an unnamed raft island somewhere in the South Blue...

It was night fall when Jeremy's dingy little sailboat pulled up to the floating island. True to their words, the two members of Cipher Pol 6 that he'd met had given him a new mission. They had also given him a new name, outfit and backstory to go along with it. He wasn't marine ensign Jeremy Filth anymore. He was the bounty hunter Bill Holiday.

Jeremy, or rather Bill, tied off his boat to a pilling on one of the docks and began making his way inland. Over head fireworks boomed and the sounds of music and laughter filled the air as did the smells of booze, food, and various substances being smoked. The island was known as a party island and this time of year pirates and civilians came from all over the blues to celebrate the final days of the year and ring in the new one.

Somewhere among all the rowdy rabble and partying people was Bill's target, Volo Rosso.

Word Count:

Word Count: 1208
Total Word Count: 1208
Volo Rosso
Tracker

Epithet : Red Wing Volo
Age : 18
Height : 6'0"
Weight : 190 lbs
Species : Human
Faction : Pirate
Crew : Airheart Pirates
Ship : Emilia
Crew Role : Captain
Devil Fruit : Moku Moku no mi
Haki Level : 1
Hitpoints (HP) : 150
Attack (ATK) : 100
Defense (DEF) : 80
Reflex (RX) : 110
Willpower (WP) : 100
Level : 11
Experience Points : 1100
Bounty : 14,200,000
Berries Berries : 5,550,000
[[untouchable]]
[[atkt1]][[rxt1]]
Posts : 46
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[Episode] Did We Just Become Best Friends? Empty Re: [Episode] Did We Just Become Best Friends?

Yesterday at 11:45 pm
LogInn, a makeshift island comprised completely off cast off wood and ships no longer fit for sailing the rough seas. Instead they have been absorbed into what has become a floating nation of dubious and dastardly deeds committed by its even sketchier inhabitants and visitors. Having made a name for itself as pit stop pirate den for up and coming newbies on there way to the Grandline with aspirations of being the Pirate King.

It had originally started as a small floating Takoyaki stand that had grown larger and larger over time with success. Eventually becoming large enough to warrant other traders and stands to set up shop as well, and ultimately resulted in LogInn being permanently anchored in place making it easier for would be customers to find. This led to a shady, but welcoming and friendly atmosphere to any and all who were willing to pay their way, those who weren’t, well they were firmly escorted off the giant raft.

Though, in recent months it has come under new ownership and with that has come a whole new set of rules for those that call this place home. A once up and coming pirate known as “Maximal Magnus”, a terrible tyrant from a small noble family who wreaked havoc across the South Blue before heading off too, in his own words, conquer the Grandline. Now however, he’s back, beaten and battered like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs. Back to South Blue where he’s a big frog in a small pond.

“Sheewww!” Volo Exclaimed as Emilia creaked into port amongst the sound of seagulls and sailors bustling about. “Check it out ___!” The little white squirrel squirmed its way out of Volo’s pocket and scurried up onto his head, nestling into his messy teal hair as its bushy tail flicked furiously. “Pretty awesome, right?!” The young man from Karate Island had never seen a place like this, what seemed like an entire island fit onto a makeshift floating raft. Wooden structures stacked atop one another, fusions of metal jutting out of every side to form another home or shop, giving every bit of surface area a purpose.

“Oi!” A robust sailor called out from the docks, “Toss to down the tie offs and go see the harbor master, he’s the man ya pay, capeesh?!”

With a nod and a smile, Volo tossed down the ropes and touched down onto the docks, which immediately drew his attention. The whole island rocked with each passing wave, bobbing and tilting back and forth non stop. A place truly built for pirates. He made way too the harbor master, being sure to pay his way onto LogInn, thinking back too his own towns stringent harbor master fondly. “Oh, any chance there’s a good spot to snag a drink around here?” With the response sending him in the direction of the local tavern.

Moving further into the raft town, the market and common areas were just as crowded as the docks had been. Pirates of all shapes and sizes littered the grounds. There were bicorns and tricorns, captains coats and flintlocks, one man even had a parrot on his shoulder. Volo’s eyes were star struck, never in his country bumpkin life had he seen such a wonderful place. Heathens and debauchery galore as Pirates lived their lives to the fullest, free to do whatever they please. Drink and food flowed like water while those who craved battle and blood fought for sport and bragging rights in the local pits to their hearts content. This was the life that Volo had craved, the one he had heard in stories as a child and for so long dreamed about. The pirates life.

Rickard “Maximal” Magnus | 34,500,200 Beli Bounty

A single table sat inside a grand room decorated in the finest tapestries, accented with great works of art adorning the walls while beautiful vases and artifacts sat upon pedestals of marble underneath them. Seated was a giant of a man, dressed in a fine, form fitting suit adorned with silver metals and gold lining. While his own Jolly Roger was emblazoned on his chest, three stars conjoined into a cross.

Rickard’s massive hand clutched the tiny glass of red wine daintily as he brought it up for a sip, careful to avoid any spills. “Mmmm” He muttered while patting his mouth with the napkin tucked into his collar. “Quite good..” Inspecting the glass before placing it back upon the table, “Now then.” Ringing a small bell, the high pitch chime echoing in the large room.

A pair of doors swung open as a young girl rushed into the room, “Y-yes.. m-m’lord...?”

“The steak, mashed potatoes, onions.” Speaking up from the menu, refusing to grant this mere peasant the gift of eye contact. After all, she was nothing more than inferior breeding stock who’s sole existence was to serve. “Your chef knows how I like it.”

“R-right..!... Right away, m’lord!” Stammering nervously as she rushed back out of the room as quickly as she had come.

Magnus sat for a moment in utter silence before ringing a bell once more, though this one with a deeper tone than the previous. Immediately rushed in two rough looking characters, one with a purple spiked mohawk and sunglasses while the other was a much larger, burly fellow with a cue ball for a head. “Wassup..??! Main man Magnus, how we doing yoooo?” The smaller of the two shouted while waving his hands about.

“Ahem... I told you to refer to me as Lord Magnus from now on.” He said with as his glare drifted towards the larger fellow, “I’d say ask your friend there, but he’s already learned what happens when one forgets their station in life... Isn’t that right, Mick?”

Mick nodding sheepishly in agreement as his eyes pleaded with his friend to mind his manners lest he end up like him.

“Ah... m-my bad... L-Lord Magnus, how can we uhhh, how can we be of service..?”

“Much better, see, that it isn’t so hard now is it? In fact, I imagine it must feel quite good actually, to finally know firmly where you belong. With someone like me around to guide you into the future your lives are just so easy. Wanting for nothing... Not knowing struggle... Sometimes it almost makes me envious, you know?” He muttered arrogantly as he swished the blood red wine, “Sometimes the weight of being a highbred like myself and the destiny that comes with it.... The duty to creatures like you two and the filth and rabble beyond this sanctuary I have built for my own sanity, sometimes it just seems, overwhelming..... Sometimes...” His words trailed off as he echoed his thought and seemed to get lost in the reflection that looked back at him, one seemingly bathed in blood thanks to the liquids hue. “Ahhh, but I digress, beings with such simple destinies and lives could never hope to understand the struggles of one such as I.”

“R-right... B-bos- I mean Lord Magnus... You are so right...” Miles responded subserviently. “So uhh.. what is it that you-..” His words cut off by the waitresses entrance into the room, pushing a wheeled cart with several covered plates on top of it.

“L-lunch.. is s-served..!!”

“Ah, very good.” Magnus said pleased as he readjusted the napkin on his neck and armed himself with the tiny silverware set before him, his massive finger and thumb barely holding the small utensils. As the girl began unloading the plates before him, the smell wafted into the air, filling the mans nostrils as they flared repeatedly to enhance the smells. Once all the plates were set before him, the waitress uncovered the main dish, a charcoal blackened steak seemingly cooked with the fires of hell itself. Rickard took one look at what could be considered a shoe in most countries as he reached for a large bottle of ketchup in the center of the table, splurting out the thick red liquid onto the piece of leather on his plate. “Perfection.” He muttered as the mound of ketchup slowly increased its surface area, like a slug dragging itself across the ground.

Pleased with his meal, the waitress took a sigh of relief before exiting the room as quickly as she had before.

The room was eerily silent aside from the sounds accompanied with Magnus’s eating, the scraping of metal on the ceramic plate. The fork and knife sliding through the crispy, grayed meat like a butter knife through sheet metal. With each piece being firmly dunked and smothered in the ketchup before being consumed with great delight.

“L-lord...?” Miles questioned as he saw Rickard’s face visibly sour, slowly placing his silverware down and spitting out the most recent piece of meat into the napkin and crumpling it up onto his plate neatly before turning the meat to angle his henchmen. Both men leaned in as closely as possible, noticing a minuscule bit of pink in the center of the cut, though however small it was still there. Both men looked at each other before glancing back towards their boss.

“Ring the bell...” Magnus muttered like the calm before a storm as the waitress came once more at the behest of the bell.

“Y-yes..?!” She shouted before noticing the masters demeanor, sending shivers running down her spine as he signaled her closer to inspect the meat.

“Tell me what you see.” He stated coldly, though the girl was too nervous to respond, “Tell me. What you see.” Stating once more, though this time with a much more commanding tone.

“S-....S-steak...? I-I... I d-don’t know....” She replied meekly as tears collected in her eyes.

“Look closer.” Rickard demanded as his henchman looked on without saying a word, “I said look closer!” Now shouting as the girl burst into full tears. “Is it some plot by the marines?! Are you in league with Cipher Pol?! The Moose?? Or is it some no name pirate trying to cash in big??! Huh??!”

“I-I.. I don’t know what you are talking about!! What-Whatever it is... I’m sorry I didn’t do it...!!!”

“Who is it?! Don’t fucking lie too me!!” He shouted as he grabbed the woman by her throat, “Who had you try to fucking poison me with raw meat?!?!?” Shouting as he bludgeoned the girl into the table a half dozen times, splintering through to the floor as the girl’s body crushed under each blow. A few moments went by before Magnus recollected himself, slicking his hair back with the blood on his hands and readjusting his tie before taking a deep breath and turning back towards his henchman. “Bring the chef to the square. They will all find out what happens when you cross the highborn, Maximal Magnus.”

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