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Name : Moreau
Epithet : "Gentle-Weapon"
Age : 24
Height : 6'10
Weight : 222 lbs
Species : Human Cyborg
Faction : Marines
Crew : The Hunting Party
Marine Rank : Ensign
Crew Role : First Mate/Cook
Devil Fruit : Buki Buki no Mi (Arms Arms fruit)
Quality Score : S
Balance : [bel] 0
Posts : 61

[Episode] Winds of Change Empty [Episode] Winds of Change

This post has in-line assessment comments.Sun Feb 12, 2023 3:53 am
Quest Request:

Under the blanket of nightfall the Naval outpost sat quietly, a tranquil bastion of peace and justice gently buffeted by the chaotic whorl of the ocean. For most stationed here, it was quiet hours or rotating guard shifts; but for Lieutenant Junior Grade Howitzer this night shift was an arduous one. The ceaseless prattling of the Officer on the other side of his desk was an unwelcome nuisance, and his request for transport in the middle of the wee hours of the morning was further proof of the bastard’s unearned sense of entitlement.

Nonetheless, to do his job properly he would have to pull files and have the lad do some paperwork; and seeing as how he’d already gotten the posh’s goad, hopefully a bit more squabbling would get the guy to bug off until morning.

[npc=navy]“How do you suppose we’re going to get you and your little offshoot back up to the North on that timeframe Ensign?”[/npc] Howitzer spoke with a sarcastic gravel in his voice.

“Seems like you all had an easy enough time getting us down here…” Moreau trailed off, tensing his fingers against his temples. The young man’s bleary, sunken eyes spoke for him; he wasn’t just tired from staying up, even at a glance it seemed he’d been weary for some time

[npc=navy]“Yeah, and what were you down here for anyways?”[/npc] The Lieutenant shot a skeptical glare over his glasses.

“I can’t talk about it…” they’d been over this, he’d been given an order by a higher ranking officer not to disclose the nature of his presence in the South, “... the most I can speak to is a crew assignment mission, and now that we’ve completed it we’d like to return to our primary deployment in the North.”

It was suspicious on its face that the lower ranking Officer refused to account for his duties in the South, which further justified Howitzer’s perspective: this was just some idiot trying to pull one over on him, [npc=navy]“You know I could have you court martialed, eh guy?”[/npc]

“You’ve made it abundantly clear, yes. I’m afraid that you’ll have to keep that threat on the table, at least until we can reach some consensus on the matter of your next available deployment route for myself and my fellows,” affecting some of the manner of a dignified officer Moreau tested the man’s mettle; would he rather do the paperwork for a convoy or a court martial? The answer seemed obvious enough.

Howitzer looked the Ensign over, he thought to himself for a moment whether or not to just follow through on his blustering; the cyborg was a pain in the ass, but getting him on his way would be easier than taking him in for the night. Plus, based on the look in the kid’s eyes and his prosthetic limb, it seemed like there was a bit more to the dandy than some foppish brat, [npc=navy]“Ugh, alright. Let me see what I can do for ya, wait here.”[/npc]

The Lieutenant begrudgingly stood from his chair and headed back towards his office, he’d get the job done, but he’d take his sweet time doing it, [npc=navy]maybe I can make some coffee, this is gonna be a long night,[/npc] he thought to himself, scratching at his scruffy orange beard.

A bit smug with his negotiation, Jean rubbed his eyes before slumping down into a nearby seat. This brief amusement quickly passed, and was replaced with a creeping sense of unease; he’d already seen worse cruelty than he could have imagined, and the prospect of returning to Spider Miles alongside a crew of people he’d come to know as friends loomed in the distance like an ominous smokestack.

“Aria? I think I’ve got things moving along, how are you holding up? I apologize we’ve had to wait so long,” he spoke out to his comrade, not knowing her location as he kneaded his heavy eyelids. The ordeal of navigating the outpost and the prospect of redeployment was a logistical nightmare, one that had lasted well into the wee hours of 3 AM; but this would only be the beginning of the nightmares.

Post Word Count: 690
Total Word Count: 690
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