Page 2 of 2 • 1, 2
- NPCNPC
Tracker
Name : Variable
Epithet : Variable
Age : 0
Height : Variable
Weight : Variable
Species/Tribe : Variable
Faction : Variable
Crew : Variable
Ship : Variable
Crew Role : Variable
Devil Fruit : Variable
Bounty : Variable
Balance : Variable
Posts : 1288
Re: Where entrepreneurs come to die [Episode]
Sun Jul 30, 2017 10:22 pm
The member 'Cobalt' has done the following action : Dices roll
'Reflex Check' : 4, 11
'Reflex Check' : 4, 11
- GuestGuest
Re: Where entrepreneurs come to die [Episode]
Fri Aug 04, 2017 4:33 pm
Reflex Rolls:
- Laurel's Techniques:
- HT used on Xuckerburg
- Heavy Tech:
- Crimson Hell’s Needle Hill
Technique Level: 1
Technique Range: Melee
Technique Cooldown: 10 posts
Technique Description: Laurel uses Life Return to straighten every strand of fur on her tail and harden them. With a swing of her hips, her tail, now made a weapon comparable to a giant cactus, swings towards the enemy to mangle them. If it connects, the strands of fur that made contact with the target’s skin detach from the tail and embed into the skin, potentially causing severe pain, and attacks made against the affected area double in damage output. This effect, of course, is useless against opponents who are armored, including through Tekkai or the defensive use of Busoshoku Haki.
- Light Tech:
- Fathom the Flask
Technique Level: 40
Technique Range: Melee
Technique Cooldown: 2 posts
Technique Description: Laurel decides to take it easy and grab a swig of alcohol from her flask. Besides emptying the flask for a quick refreshment, thereby stopping almost any action she had been doing prior, she gives herself an excuse to swing the flask at a nearby target, after which it shatters to pieces without wasting a drop of booze.Nobody knows where she gets a new flask soon after, but Laurel is not only assaulting her target, she’s littering. The fiend.
- Suckyface's Techniques:
- MT used on Laurel
LT used on Laurel
LT used on Laurel
UT used on Laurel
- NPCNPC
Tracker
Name : Variable
Epithet : Variable
Age : 0
Height : Variable
Weight : Variable
Species/Tribe : Variable
Faction : Variable
Crew : Variable
Ship : Variable
Crew Role : Variable
Devil Fruit : Variable
Bounty : Variable
Balance : Variable
Posts : 1288
Re: Where entrepreneurs come to die [Episode]
Fri Aug 04, 2017 4:33 pm
The member 'Laurel O’Halloran' has done the following action : Dices roll
#1 'Reflex Check' : 14, 11, 1
--------------------------------
#2 'Reflex Check' : 6, 2, 3, 4
#1 'Reflex Check' : 14, 11, 1
--------------------------------
#2 'Reflex Check' : 6, 2, 3, 4
- GuestGuest
Re: Where entrepreneurs come to die [Episode]
Thu Aug 10, 2017 7:59 pm
occulte à la carte As Laurel made her way through the alleys, her theory of the sniper’s bullets seemed to hold water: They were worrying, yes, but only if they reached their mark, and only if the sniper in question even knew she was coming, which did not appear to be the case. If anything, the one bullet that came close to hitting her was the one from before that struck at her flask, and Laurel made sure to react back then as if she had actually taken the shot. To be safe, she stuck close to the buildings, if not inside them, paying no mind to confused civilians, instead using the sound of gunfire to guide her closer to the sniper. It wasn’t long before her tracking brought her to a series of ladders leading up across one of the taller complexes this side of the island, where gunshots still echoed, slowly, routinely. Climbing her way up, Laurel was soon greeted with the skimpily-dressed back of a man donning a blond pompadour. No reaction was made by her arrival; he was completely focused with the firearm he held in front of him. While Laurel couldn’t recognize the other equipment it was adorned with, first impressions certainly upheld Goblin’s quip; the thing looked less like it was meant to take down persons and more like an anti-material rifle. As overbearing in presence as the man who held it. Laurel very audibly cleared her throat. “Pardon me—” The man jumped and looked back in surprise. “Oh, it’s just a talking tanuki. Whaddya want?” “Sorry to bother you, but may I watch? I find what you’re doing quite fascinating.” The blond Elvis wannabe scowled, but was able to relax again. “It’s not like I really want a fluffy distraction like you around, but whatever. I don’t mind, but don’t get in the way of my work, okay?” “I understand. Thank you.” With that, the man returned to his original stance, and the tanuki sidled forwards and lied down, looking onward at the carnage with him. Really, Goblin wanted to object further to the idea of being made to work (or “work,” as the case would be) alongside the Thorne kid, and seeing his Captain sprint off in the distance only fueled that. It wasn’t so much he didn’t see it coming, though. You don’t spend over twenty years with someone, since the time they were still a nubile starlet of the seas, and not have some idea of what made them tick. The reverse holds true as well, though, and Laurel probably made sure to get away before the little toad could have second thoughts. Rather than complain to Nathaniel, though, it was probably best to just go with the flow and see what happened without having to exchange words. He wasn’t planning to help the kid, and he wasn’t expecting the kid to help him, either. He pouted, but not for long. If nothing else, Goblin was irrepressible. He patted his pocket, felt the Baby Den Den Mushi cowering in its shell. He could reach someone on the Xu Fu if he needed to. Since he didn’t at that moment, he just chirruped at an octave above his usual rusty-hinge squall, stifled himself, giggled again. He spun away, dancing a weird and wild jig on the theater stage. Or what was left of it It was something he’d never been able to do before, and probably wouldn’t get to do in the near future—he’d take what he could get. Especially considering a popular credo with Laurel was that the things one inch ahead are dark. In other words, expect the unexpected. So it was that carnage continued to be made in the theater. Nathaniel struggled to save what civilians he could. Goblin continued his weird dance undisturbed. Anyone observing would be forgiven for seeing in him the image of sheer raving lunacy. He finally stopped when something caught the corner of his eye mid-spin. Namely, the image of Nathaniel attempting to help a strangely familiar, voluptuous woman. “Hnh. Now where have I seen that dynamite body. . . ?” Sometimes on that roof, the man would catch a glimmer of a clear target he was meant to shoot. His scope became focused on the image of Nathaniel Thorne, one such mark, and he took a deep breath, held it in, readied his finger on the trigger. And then— “Hey.” It was Laurel’s voice to speak up suddenly. “What,” came the man’s answer. “Mind if I smoke?” “Matter of fact, I do. I hate the smell and I won’t be able to see a gorram thing through it.” “Oh.” Fruitful conversations like these would happen, forcing the man to take his shot less efficiently. Enlightening. Every and any time One-Eye and Darling conspired at something, especially cards, nothing good could come from it. Everyone aboard the Xu Fu knew that, including Whiskeyjack. Especially him. Some crewmates took that seemingly insurmountable challenge with vim and vigor nonetheless, with the banter that came with it as a welcome bonus. Others just saw Conquian as the dull time killer it actually is in the mess hall. Few things are known for a fact about One-Eye aside that he is at least a hundred years old. Texts collected and preserved by the ship archives mention the wizened little black man’s activites, and his volcanic temper, throughout the last century. There was no telling when, how, or why he joined. Over fifteen years’ worth of the Apollo’s Pompokolin’s formal history was lost when its captain fell victim to slavery and the crew was scattered. One-Eye refused to illuminate the missing years, saying he does not believe in history. Goblin and Laurel simply liked to keep others in suspense. “Jack!” One-Eye barked. “You want to play a few hands?” Discounting Darling, One-Eye’s obvious spy under the table, there were only three players, one of whom was Sado. Other crewmates who had no interest or skill in rigged gambling spectated. Conquian was more interesting with four or five. It was just enough to keep the game interesting without having too many hands in the pot. Sado dealt. Whiskeyjack wished it was Mercy instead. She could read the countless scuffs and marks, a language as complicated as poneglyphs, and shuffle accordingly. One-Eye was too nervous to cheat when Mercy dealt the cards. Despite that, Whiskeyjack somehow won three hands straight. “Don’t you have anything to do? Soiled swabbie linens to clean, or something?” “You asked him to play,” the other crewmate observed. “You like flies, Roche?” “Flies?” “Going to turn you into a frog if you don’t shut your mouth.” Among other things, there were rumors One-Eye used to be a wizard. Or at least a damned creative Devil Fruit user. Roche was not impressed. “You couldn’t turn a tadpole into a frog.” Whiskyjack gestured toward the sleeping Baby Den Den Mushi on the table. He asked, “When’s the field team supposed to call back?” One-Eye was in rare form. Smoke poured out of his ears. A screaming bat could pop out of his mouth at any moment. One-Eye hated field work, but he hated missing out even more. Whiskeyjack’s masked grins and Sado’s benevolent glances convinced him he had missed something good. “He seems annoyed,” Sado observed. The others snickered. It didn’t take Goblin’s physical presence to make baiting One-Eye as equally a treasured pastime as cards. “Not sure. When they feel like it.” Roche nodded. There was no apparent rhyme or reason to the way the crew did things in the short term. “Regular Cheerful Charlies today, aren’t we? How much has he lost, Jack?” Whiskeyjack just smirked. Sado won the next two hands. “Darling!!!” One-Eye roared, an astonishingly deep sound for so small a man. “We had a deal!” Darling rolled out from under the table like she was getting out of bed. She stuck her tongue out at the men standing over her. “I stuttered.” “Don’t lie! I had you tell me the cards every way you knew how!” “I stetted!” “You’re serious? I don’t believe it.” One-Eye slapped his cards at the discard pile. “And I was ready to make buckethead here show us his face once and for all.” “God was here with us.” “What kind of miracle is this?!” The ex-conspirators clapped their hands and bowed their heads in prayer. Everyone else ignored them. A few more hands went by. One-Eye sulked off back to the engine room. Darling decided to float away to another room, bother someone else. Crewmates prodded at the Den Den Mushi on the table, anticipating. They expected a call. What they got was bored. One-Eye’s cheating and Darling’s sabotage at least kept the game interesting. Spectators started to scatter, going back to their duties. A bit later, Whiskeyjack said, “Either they’re having too much fun or something came up. Think someone should check on them?” “And save them from our monotony?” Sado answered, though his tone lacked opposition. “Our line heard gunshots, but no distress signals,” Roche said, lazily borrowing out a card from Whiskeyjack’s meld. “They’re probably fine.” “Still. . . .” Sado turned down Roche’s meld, drew another card. “Reckon I can guess who you’re thinking of sending out, Jack.” “Reckon you can.” As bad as he looked, Sado had a high amount of empathy towards other people. “Doesn’t seem like he wants to reach out to us, so we have to go to him. Get him more proactive.” “You mean Mazin?” Roche asked. “Yeah,” Sado said. “Say, Roche, after this next game, you mind calling him over? He’ll probably do it if any of us ask, but it seems he’s taken a shine to you especially.” “Sure thing. Looks like we’re carrying the stake forward, though.” The other two replied, “Damn.” By the way . . .” “WHAT?!” “How is it you’re talking to a tanuki like it’s the most natural thing in the world?” “Oh, for the love of—” A heartbeat and a half passed, the pompadoured man froze with eyes wide, telling of sudden, horrific enlightenment. His jaw dropped so far it could reach the ground, and the rest of his face mirrored that expression of horror. He screeched so loudly even Laurel couldn’t help but jump back ten paces from him in surprise. “Wait!!! Why am I talking to a tanuki like it’s the most natural thing in the world?!” “Oh, you finally noticed,” Laurel said, standing upright and lighting a new tobacco pinch. “I was beginning to worry you lived up to your nickname even more than the stories led me to believe. Suckerburg, indeed!” “Why is it talking?! Why is it smoking?! Why is it dressed like that old hag I shot off the theater’s roof earlier?!” “Excuse you!! I’m still a young lass!” There were many topics that might come to Laurel bluntly that she would handle in a calm, collective, and mature manner. Her age was not one of them. The hairs on her body stood on end, and her muzzle was contorted with fury. Laurel tried to speak further by cursing at Xuckerburg, to no avail; all she could manage was stumbling over her own words. Her tail, however, bristled, hardened, and finally, “It’s high time someone taught you some sense, boy!” She lunged at Xuckerburg’s face with astonishing speed and precision, her body turning just in time for her tail to brush him square on the nose. “Crimson Hell’s—” Getting a face full of tanuki fur should have made Xuckerburg’s day. Instead was about to ruin it and his pompadour. “—Needle Hill!!” The impact sounded as loud as the gun Xuckerburg held. Xuckerburg himself screamed like a stomped cat. [Laurel - HT] “Y-You?! You’re that—” “Say ‘hag’ again and you’ll do it without a tongue.” “Why the hell are you here?!” “I should be asking you the same thing. It was all fun and games ‘til you brutes showed up.” Xuckerburg found the strength to lift his rifle and point it at Laurel. He pulled the trigger. [Xuckerburg - MT] Laurel shifted away from the bullet, her body a blur on the roof one moment, resting over the rifle’s barrel the next. “Oh, yes,” Laurel said, bringing her sake flask out, “you should get that face taken care of. I’m no doctor, but even I know alcohol does wonders for sores like those. Here.” She swung the flask like a flail, connecting with the scantily-clad sniper’s cheekbone. [Laurel - LT] She hopped off his gun’s barrel. He just hopped around. He howled. He dropped his gun, threw things, pulled at his pompadour. He covered his face gingerly with his free hand. Soon Xuckerburg was glaring back at her with one black eye. He swore off talking, much to Laurel’s disappointment. He picked the rifle back up, but now in a way better suited for close combat, to hit her with the butt of the gun if she got within reach. A few ruffians down below, too scared to help their superior, rewarded his earlier tantrum with a shower of catcalls. Laurel smirked as much as her tanuki form would allow it. Xuckerburg took the bait, made the first move. He lunged forward with a burst of speed and swung the gun down like a guillotine. [Xuckerburg - LT] The precision was impressive, given his cranial injuries, but Laurel managed to strafe aside. Anticipating this, his head snapped in her direction and he shoved the butt of the gun at the tanuki, trying to ram her. [Xuckerburg - LT] It almost worked. Laurel brought the stem of her kiseru in front of her as a shield to let her tumble backwards. He tried to charge. [Xuckerburg - UT] The tobacco bowl was still hot, so she poked him with it to keep him at bay. Perhaps she was too forceful, though, as it was enough to knock him backwards on his rear. [Laurel - UT] Before he could try to get back up, she brought the kiseru down mere inches from his chin—an admittedly more effective tactic if it was a sword—and kept it pointed at him as she stared him down with beady tanuki eyes. “I’ll ask again nicely. What are you lot up to that you saw fit to crash a theater?”
| PATHICE PRODUCTIONS @ ATF. |
---|
- Anton La'croix
- [tracker=/t544-anton-la-croix#2124]
Name : Anton La'croix
Epithet : Screaming Grasshopper
Age : 23
Height : 5'9''
Weight : 186lb
Species/Tribe : Human
Faction : Marine
World Position : Rear Admiral
Crew : The Guardian Knights
Ship : The Grand Steamer
Crew Role : Captain
Devil Fruit : Bug-Bug Fruit, Model: Grasshopper
Quality Score : S
EXP Bonus : +0.20 (to all allies)
Income Bonus : +0.15 (from world position); +0.16 (from turf); +0.20 (to all allies)
Balance : [bel] 1,472,069,543
[[baneoftheweak]][[riseandshine]][[bookworm]][[childofdestiny]]
[[berryprinter]][[punchoutguru]]
[[improviseadaptovercome]]
Turf : [turf="/t299-turf-details-minion-island#1113"]Minion Island[/turf]
Posts : 650
Re: Where entrepreneurs come to die [Episode]
Mon Aug 14, 2017 7:09 pm
- Anton's Techniques:
Insect Launch
Technique Level: 10
Technique Range: 50m
Technique Cooldown: 15
Technique Description: Using his jumping power, Anton launches himself at the target at top speed like a missile. Upon reaching them, he shifts his body so he connects with them feet first, delivering a powerful mule kick to the target that launches them back 20 meters.
Great Spear
Technique Level: 5
Technique Range: 15m
Technique Cooldown: 6
Technique Description: Anton lunges forward and delivers a powerful thrust with his blade. The force launches a burst of compressed air, reaching out to fifteen meters in front of the blade.
2 UTs
- Dick's Actions:
- HT
MT
LT
- NPCNPC
Tracker
Name : Variable
Epithet : Variable
Age : 0
Height : Variable
Weight : Variable
Species/Tribe : Variable
Faction : Variable
Crew : Variable
Ship : Variable
Crew Role : Variable
Devil Fruit : Variable
Bounty : Variable
Balance : Variable
Posts : 1288
Re: Where entrepreneurs come to die [Episode]
Mon Aug 14, 2017 7:09 pm
The member 'Anton La'croix' has done the following action : Dices roll
#1 'Reflex Check' : 6, 6, 10, 4
--------------------------------
#2 'Reflex Check' : 1, 9, 3
#1 'Reflex Check' : 6, 6, 10, 4
--------------------------------
#2 'Reflex Check' : 1, 9, 3
- Anton La'croix
- [tracker=/t544-anton-la-croix#2124]
Name : Anton La'croix
Epithet : Screaming Grasshopper
Age : 23
Height : 5'9''
Weight : 186lb
Species/Tribe : Human
Faction : Marine
World Position : Rear Admiral
Crew : The Guardian Knights
Ship : The Grand Steamer
Crew Role : Captain
Devil Fruit : Bug-Bug Fruit, Model: Grasshopper
Quality Score : S
EXP Bonus : +0.20 (to all allies)
Income Bonus : +0.15 (from world position); +0.16 (from turf); +0.20 (to all allies)
Balance : [bel] 1,472,069,543
[[baneoftheweak]][[riseandshine]][[bookworm]][[childofdestiny]]
[[berryprinter]][[punchoutguru]]
[[improviseadaptovercome]]
Turf : [turf="/t299-turf-details-minion-island#1113"]Minion Island[/turf]
Posts : 650
Re: Where entrepreneurs come to die [Episode]
Tue Aug 15, 2017 6:27 pm
"Man, and I thought regular bugs were loud," the man muttered, stepping out of the shadows. Anton's scream had finally died down, but the marine was still clutching his bleeding shoulder. The man was different from the other goons. The way he was dressed seemed reminiscent of a country singer, though more on the grungy side. A cigarette hung from his lip.
"Wh-Who are you?" Anton stammered. How had the man been able to punch through his exoskeleton. That must have been some damn powered gun. The man smirked. "The name's Dick Crimes. Maybe you've heard of me." Dick Crimes...that name sounded familiar. It took Anton a brief second before he remembered. "The second rate singer? B-But what are you doing here!?" To say Anton was not a fan of Crimes' music was an understatement. Especially that horrible song of his. "Kaaaaarl," or something like that.
Evidently Anton's critique of his statues was not appreciated by Crimes, who sneered in anger. "Second rate huh? Well, let's see how you take a first rate shot!" He brought up his revolver, getting read to fire at the marine. Anton yelped and leaped to the side as the man fired, missing him by a surprisingly wide margin. The bullet hit the wall behind him, causing a small crater. Just how powerful was that gun?
Anton glanced back at the hole left, and gripping his sword suddenly charged. Running was going to get him shot again, and he may as well fight back and hopefully hurt him. Crimes tried to fire again, the bullet barely missing him before Cipher closed in. He swung his sword wildly, catching Crimes twice, causing the gunman to cry out in pain. Anton was too busy swallowed in his fear to notice.
"Great Spear!"
Anton thrust his blade out, the compressed air hitting Crimes straight in the sternum as he was sent sliding back. His midsection was bleeding badly from the blow, and he looked up just in time to see Anton bouncing back, putting a little distance between them. Gripping his torso, Crimes brought his gun up to fire again.
[b]"Insect Launch!"
As Crimes fired, Anton shot himself forward at high speed. Crimes' shot veered wide as suddenly Anton twisted his body in the air, hitting him feet first. Crimes cried out as he was suddenly launched back, slamming into the wall with a loud crash. Dust and debris flew in all directions as Anton landed on his feet, panting heavily as the adrenaline rushed through his system
------
Dealt 165. Dick Crimes is Defeated.
"Wh-Who are you?" Anton stammered. How had the man been able to punch through his exoskeleton. That must have been some damn powered gun. The man smirked. "The name's Dick Crimes. Maybe you've heard of me." Dick Crimes...that name sounded familiar. It took Anton a brief second before he remembered. "The second rate singer? B-But what are you doing here!?" To say Anton was not a fan of Crimes' music was an understatement. Especially that horrible song of his. "Kaaaaarl," or something like that.
Evidently Anton's critique of his statues was not appreciated by Crimes, who sneered in anger. "Second rate huh? Well, let's see how you take a first rate shot!" He brought up his revolver, getting read to fire at the marine. Anton yelped and leaped to the side as the man fired, missing him by a surprisingly wide margin. The bullet hit the wall behind him, causing a small crater. Just how powerful was that gun?
Anton glanced back at the hole left, and gripping his sword suddenly charged. Running was going to get him shot again, and he may as well fight back and hopefully hurt him. Crimes tried to fire again, the bullet barely missing him before Cipher closed in. He swung his sword wildly, catching Crimes twice, causing the gunman to cry out in pain. Anton was too busy swallowed in his fear to notice.
"Great Spear!"
Anton thrust his blade out, the compressed air hitting Crimes straight in the sternum as he was sent sliding back. His midsection was bleeding badly from the blow, and he looked up just in time to see Anton bouncing back, putting a little distance between them. Gripping his torso, Crimes brought his gun up to fire again.
[b]"Insect Launch!"
As Crimes fired, Anton shot himself forward at high speed. Crimes' shot veered wide as suddenly Anton twisted his body in the air, hitting him feet first. Crimes cried out as he was suddenly launched back, slamming into the wall with a loud crash. Dust and debris flew in all directions as Anton landed on his feet, panting heavily as the adrenaline rushed through his system
------
Dealt 165. Dick Crimes is Defeated.
- GuestGuest
Re: Where entrepreneurs come to die [Episode]
Thu Aug 24, 2017 12:55 am
- RISE -
"Together, we’re gonna rise with the morning light."
There were few adults Mazin respected on board the Xu Fu, in no small part due to the fact that few were respectable to begin with. This was something he attributed to the very nature of the ship, which to him seemed laughable. A pirate ship hosting scholars and rogues alike, after all, was bound to have an imbalance leaning toward the latter – or worse, rogues who fashioned themselves as scholars, who would of course suggest that in the natural order of things, everyone should be grateful when they offered but a modest sampling of their vast wealth of knowledge. Men like One-Eye, whom Mazin, in the natural order of things, tried his best to avoid.
Thus, when the Xu Fu docked at Mirrorball Island, Mazin was left with two choices. He could stay in a quieter area of the ship where he could get some reading in, such as his quarters or the library, or he could walk inland, perhaps accompany his Captain to the magic show she had invited him to watch.
In the end, he chose to stay on the ship. Not out of any particular dislike for the Captain, but rather due to an all too familiar feeling Mazin had noticed ever since she told him to chart the course for the island. A feeling that he felt every time she or his former captain were about to get involved in something they shouldn’t. And this time, Mazin wanted nothing to do with it.
Not, however, that he expected he’d have a choice in the matter. He never did. Which was why he wasn’t surprised at all when he heard a knock on his door, followed by the voice of Roche, one of the few crew members he did respect, if not for his carefree yet dependable personality, then for his passion for ruins and untold histories: passion being an area Mazin was fairly lacking in. Mazin had almost immediately guessed what had happened, but showed some reluctance toward leaving the book he’d been enjoying at first, even if it was his third time reading it, right up until Roche smiled at him, “C’mon, kiddo. Don’t wanna chance to put the boss in your debt?”
Jumping against the air, high above even the tall buildings of Mirrorball Island, Mazin found himself at odds with this sentiment, as it assumed he even made it to the theatre in time to be of any assistance to begin with. It wouldn’t take long, not with the combination of his Devil Fruit making himself nearly weightless as he propelled himself through the air. Especially given that fact made it that much easier to maintain a swift pace.
There was just one problem, or at least the most important one. He didn’t know the city well enough to beeline for the theatre itself, the city’s plethora of bright lights below certainly not helping him. Not that he was lost, per say. The ship’s navigator being lost. That’d be, well, concerning to say the least, sea or no.
As any navigator worth his salt would be, he was on the lookout for landmarks. Off in the distance, the headquarters of Doskoi Panda was an easy one, as was the dome for which Mirrorball Island was named, its surface now glittering gaudily in the evening light. There were signs advertising businesses ranging from Bugg’s Building Company to the Doll House that helped him navigate from the docks toward the entertainment district, the latter eliciting a blush and just a tad longer than usual glance from the boy’s face as he passed by, although that wouldn’t be the last sign to catch his eye for certain. He had to force eyes to keep moving as he passed a sign indicating a test site of the Rogers Robotics Corporation, a company he’d been trying to hide his interest in from Laurel earlier that day when she showed him an advertisement for one of their mecha figures. Not even he could avoid a boy's dreams.
A hoarse yet seemingly unending scream indicated that he’d eventually found what he’d been looking for. Crowds, panicked ones to be precise, as the city was certainly littered with enough of them.
Perching himself on the top of the tallest building in the area, Mazin took a deep breath and used his Haki to get a better idea of the area while trying to track the crowd's source, only to notice a familiar presence nearby. Mazin looked over to a nearby rooftop.
And there was his Captain, in perfect form. Sighing, he reached for his Baby Den Den Mushi, giving Laurel a wave with his free hand."I see you're handling this already, boss, not that I expected different. He paused for a moment, tempted to ask for details, before continuing, "Hey Goblin, you haven't croaked yet, right?"
Thus, when the Xu Fu docked at Mirrorball Island, Mazin was left with two choices. He could stay in a quieter area of the ship where he could get some reading in, such as his quarters or the library, or he could walk inland, perhaps accompany his Captain to the magic show she had invited him to watch.
In the end, he chose to stay on the ship. Not out of any particular dislike for the Captain, but rather due to an all too familiar feeling Mazin had noticed ever since she told him to chart the course for the island. A feeling that he felt every time she or his former captain were about to get involved in something they shouldn’t. And this time, Mazin wanted nothing to do with it.
Not, however, that he expected he’d have a choice in the matter. He never did. Which was why he wasn’t surprised at all when he heard a knock on his door, followed by the voice of Roche, one of the few crew members he did respect, if not for his carefree yet dependable personality, then for his passion for ruins and untold histories: passion being an area Mazin was fairly lacking in. Mazin had almost immediately guessed what had happened, but showed some reluctance toward leaving the book he’d been enjoying at first, even if it was his third time reading it, right up until Roche smiled at him, “C’mon, kiddo. Don’t wanna chance to put the boss in your debt?”
Jumping against the air, high above even the tall buildings of Mirrorball Island, Mazin found himself at odds with this sentiment, as it assumed he even made it to the theatre in time to be of any assistance to begin with. It wouldn’t take long, not with the combination of his Devil Fruit making himself nearly weightless as he propelled himself through the air. Especially given that fact made it that much easier to maintain a swift pace.
There was just one problem, or at least the most important one. He didn’t know the city well enough to beeline for the theatre itself, the city’s plethora of bright lights below certainly not helping him. Not that he was lost, per say. The ship’s navigator being lost. That’d be, well, concerning to say the least, sea or no.
As any navigator worth his salt would be, he was on the lookout for landmarks. Off in the distance, the headquarters of Doskoi Panda was an easy one, as was the dome for which Mirrorball Island was named, its surface now glittering gaudily in the evening light. There were signs advertising businesses ranging from Bugg’s Building Company to the Doll House that helped him navigate from the docks toward the entertainment district, the latter eliciting a blush and just a tad longer than usual glance from the boy’s face as he passed by, although that wouldn’t be the last sign to catch his eye for certain. He had to force eyes to keep moving as he passed a sign indicating a test site of the Rogers Robotics Corporation, a company he’d been trying to hide his interest in from Laurel earlier that day when she showed him an advertisement for one of their mecha figures. Not even he could avoid a boy's dreams.
A hoarse yet seemingly unending scream indicated that he’d eventually found what he’d been looking for. Crowds, panicked ones to be precise, as the city was certainly littered with enough of them.
Perching himself on the top of the tallest building in the area, Mazin took a deep breath and used his Haki to get a better idea of the area while trying to track the crowd's source, only to notice a familiar presence nearby. Mazin looked over to a nearby rooftop.
And there was his Captain, in perfect form. Sighing, he reached for his Baby Den Den Mushi, giving Laurel a wave with his free hand."I see you're handling this already, boss, not that I expected different. He paused for a moment, tempted to ask for details, before continuing, "Hey Goblin, you haven't croaked yet, right?"
- OOC:
- Notes:
Sorry for the hold up, work's been a bit rough. In terms of action economy, I couldn't see Mazin getting there without another set of combos going off, so I merely had him enter.
For those in Bun Rises I'll try to get it ASAP, but I shouldn't hold this up any longer for what's just a late-entry.
- Abilities:
- Passive Bonus (Level 3): Ability to passively detect a presence within 50m.
- Gray
[tracker=/t131-tracker-gray-starks#504]
Name : Gray
Epithet : "The Conqueror"; "Black Fist"
Age : 49
Height : 10'2" (310 cm)
Weight : 1043 lbs (473 kg)
Species/Tribe : Cyborg Human
Faction : Pirate
World Position : Lurking Legend (Former Yonkou)
Crew : Black Fist Pirates (Destroyed)
Ship : Sangria's Vane (Destroyed)
Crew Role : Captain (Former)
Devil Fruit : Pressure-Pressure Fruit
Bounty : [ber=r] 5,000,000,000
EXP Bonus : +0.20 (to all allies)
Income Bonus : +0.20
Shop Discount : -30%
Balance : [bel] 25,000,000,000
[[strollingdeath]][[baneoftheweak]][[riseandshine]][[childofdestiny]][[freakofnature]]
[[punchoutguru]][[dulcetvirtuoso]]
[[improviseadaptovercome]]
Posts : 3963
Re: Where entrepreneurs come to die [Episode]
Sat Aug 17, 2019 2:30 pm
Archiving this thread as we're missing an important plot character.
Page 2 of 2 • 1, 2
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