Closer to four months actually.
Pretty nicely done. Not gonna complain about anything really, you got across what you had to and you didn't mess it up over the course of your passage. The beginning is a little bit awkward to me but that's probably due to the fact that I always start out by thinking of what I'm reading and I don't start actually reading until later on. It's fairly simple and straightforward with a fairly well built up atmosphere and characterization. That's about it.
Everything I wear was handed to me at some point in time by my parents, so yeah I wear some pretty old stuff. In general I think that if it doesn't run on electricity or have more than fifty pages it isn't worth shopping for.
I can totally stop time with a pair of roller blades. >/
Medabots have been following my lately. Hmm.
Use this angry and shafted feeling you have and write a bestseller and buy new of everything. Problem solved.
I actually tend to disagree with you. Skill is what matters when it comes to art not attitude. If that had any bearing on it at all no one would consider half the great artists of history worth their time. Can anyone here say Frida Khalo? Horrible person, respected artist. Besides, it looks gattai is trying to get at you guys because he knows he can, which isn't particularly right, but I think your reaction is pretty shameful and immature really. So personal feelings aside he's saying the right thing in a less than kind way is all and it doesn't warrant personal attack.
Looking at this now I wonder why ProperArtist, Bradley and gattai aren't on this poll and me and someone who doesn't exist are.
We can all watch anime alone in our basements and make comments no one cares about without the aid of livestream.
I'm not sure why everyone is so turned off to commenting on anything I post but whatever. I apparently do have some readers, or did at one point so I'll keep on slogging it out in total uncertainty until someone has anything to say. That's all for now. Enjoy or don't enjoy if that's what you'd rather do since I'm not one to dictate the lives of others. Door 22: When in Rome Do as Pirates Do “That was pretty intriguing, if I have that power then even if he does use that form again I’ll be just fine.” Daniels smiled to himself as he locked his weapons up beneath his bandanna and glanced at the door that Church and Callum had left through nearly three hours ago. “So Cyril, I won’t keep the map key so you’ll have to lock it yourself remember?” “I’m not that old yet John.” Cyril replied bitterly. Then he jabbed his finger at the door and said, “Now go.” Daniels stared at him for a second, then resumed smiling to himself and made his way to the door. “Alright alright.” With the key in the lock and only a turn of the knob to go Daniels gave a confident wave and in that same instant he was through the door. The world on the other side smelt of the sea. It was dark, dusty, smoky and musty all at the same time where Daniels stepped in through the double door. But he didn’t have time to process all of this before a cannonball zoomed through the wall directly to his right and sailed through the far left wall as well. The first thing he got straight was that cannonballs meant he was in an old world. The second was that he wasn’t on a boat. There was no rocking to be spoken of and the stairs immediately before him were clearly those of a once grand mansion. Where the cannonball had entered there a shaft of pale yellow sunlight had followed. Daniels stooped slightly to get a direct view through the jagged hole and saw a rocky shoreline fade into waters of a light southern blue shade. He searched through his mind for a matching world for several moments as he peered. He’d never been to one. It was clearly a seventeenth and eighteenth century type feel that he got from the place but he was unsure as to exactly where he was or what he was to do with his situation. Just as he pondered his options cries broke out on the lower floor. For once, since his fight with Callum, Daniels felt it was something he could deal with relatively easily: pirates. A gaggle of motley men hopped, leaped, and stumbled into the entrance hall through the freshly splintered doors. It was a shame Daniels thought as the doors had been quite exquisite not ten seconds earlier. Drawing a gun from its lock he sighed and took aim with a leisurely air that was only complete with the shot that popped the lead man’s blunderbuss straight out of his hand with his eyes closed. Daniels smiled as the men looked around in frantic bemusement. “Oi! I’m up here.” Daniels pointed out just after his second and third shots disarmed the other two. “Oh, don’t look so amazed, I just can’t have you shooting at me.” They remained silent. “If you’re not going to be cooperative I’m going to see how many fingers you can live without.” Daniels drew his second pistol and aimed it at the man who had begun inching towards his felled gun. “Now tell me, where am I?” “The Wellington Manor.” One said stupidly. “Less specificity if you don’t mind.” “Fort Lionel.” Said the next. “Again, too specific. I just need more a general area. These townie names mean nothing to me.” “If that be the case there then you’ll be standing in the southern quarter of the Triangle.” Said the leader, or at least the one Daniels assumed should be the leader. “Thanks then lads, I really must be off with myself if that’s so.” Daniels waved genially and leaped straight over the railing to the floor below and sprinted past the bewildered men. The brown coated man glanced back to see if they followed but saw nothing as he rocketed down the cobbles towards the town. Everywhere he looked it was about the same as it was in the manor. Bits of wall were blown out and pirates were running wild over everything. Daniels stayed hidden to the best of his ability and slowly followed after the men carrying the loot from the town presumably back to their ship. Although he knew it would be easiest to simply find another world closer to the core and start his search there he’d always wanted to fight a pirate. So on he snuck with a joyful grin plastered on his face. The men he happened to follow were carrying a chest of some sort, from a private residence it seemed by the look of it. Daniels looked over his should and up at the roofs before following them around each corner they turned. An unnecessary number of them in Daniels’s opinion. Maybe they were onto him despite their stupid faces. Daniels shrugged it off, common brigands couldn’t do a thing to him anyways. Numbers only gave the illusion of strength by covering it up with endurance. Daniels smirked when they finally rounded a corner that led to the harbor. A decent sized port this Fort Lionel was. But it was certainly eclipsed in excellence by the most ostentations ship Daniels had ever laid eyes upon. The pirates made a bee line for it too, the ship with three flags going around the same mast that reached up three times the height of an ordinary one. Three maidens adorned the prow of the ship rather than one. In fact if there was one of it on a normal ship there was three of it on this one. Three cannon galleries, three above deck stages, and three times as many sails. This was not to mention the blood red, forest green and navy blue coloring of the ships hull. To say it was simply strange would be to understate it’s oddity, but no other word came into Daniels’ mind until he heard a gun cock behind his head. “Ahoy there matey.” The brown coated man said raising his hands unthreateningly. “So what’s a cowboy like you doing out here in the Triangle?” The man’s speech was slow and made nearly incomprehensible with slurring. “Came here for the waters?” Daniels laughed. “The waters that have sunk more sailors than there are stars in the sky?” The man said, he was probably trying to sound threatening or ominous but the slurs and stumbles that plagued his speech completely destroyed any atmosphere he could have built up. “I’m a challenge fiend.” Daniels replied with a shrug that shifted his coat enough to make his knife accessible. He was sure it wouldn’t be necessary but he wasn’t going to go in with a killer without a backup plan. “I’m taking you to the captain.” The man said abruptly and shoved Daniels forwards. He was probably confused with the blonde man’s phlegmatic behavior. “Actually, he’s the one that I wanted to see, you see?” “Walk.” The man barked gruffly. “Got it, I like walking anyways.” Daniels chuckled. “Quiet.” The pirate ordered with a sharp crescendo in his voice. “Okay, I can be quiet. In fact, once in school I was totally laconic.” “I said quiet!” The man reminded him with a shove to the back of his head with what Daniels now judged to be a flintlock pistol from the feel of it’s muzzle and the smell of its metal and powder. Nothing to worry about at a hundred feet. Daniels sighed and walked on silently. The sounds of fighting had died down and given way to the sounds of tumultuous retreat. The pirates had either been beaten back, or more likely they had taken what they could and a signal for backup had somehow been sent by the fort. It didn’t matter either way to Daniels, in fact it was probably better to fight out at sea where no one from the Escherian government could find him. Moments later Daniels was jostled, shoved, pushed, and otherwise manhandled onto the ship at the same time as the dozens of crewmen all tried to do the same with all of their luggage. After what seemed like hours of having his face rubbed in the sweat, brine and assorted filth of the crew Daniels had cooled to the idea of being on the ship at all, but it was too late to turn back by then. “I’m taking you to the captain.” The man repeated. Suddenly there was an outburst from the only clean man on board or, more accurately, a continuous inundation of shouts and obscenities. Daniels took one look at him and knew he was the captain. “Oi! You lazy shits get a move on, we can’t have the garbage men on our asses now can we, you filthy little ingrates!” The captain was wearing the traditional pirate’s garb. An eye patch, a puffy shirt and vest under a dark seaman’s coat, a bandanna under a squashed hat, sailors boots, heavy belts of weapons and gear, and the whole works. The was until he threw his hat at a passing crewman that was moving too slow for him. This sudden movement revealed the captain as nothing more than a dark haired adolescent boy of a slightly petite build given his profession. “You deaf, blind, stupid, and slow?! Get your ass below and get us underway before I slit every last one of your throats!” There was a mass increase in the amount of shuffling and bustling on board. Apparently, as young and clean as this boy was they respected him or at least feared him. “Hey you!” The man holding Daniels looked up at the sword pointed at his face as the Captain shouted at the man that had brought him aboard. “Yeah, you, shitface? What’s that?” “I’m not a what, I’m a who.” Daniels chimed in with a congenial smile. “Speak up crewman!” The captain bellowed even louder than before. “He’s a guy I found.” The crewman replied sheepishly. “You into men or something!? I don’t have time to waste with this cowboy--yeah, a cowboy--now fucking throw him fucking over-fucking-board now!” “Hey, hey, hey. Aren’t you being a mite tad bit too hasty there Cap’n?” “Quit dicking around and get to work all of you!” The boy shouted before turning back to Daniels. “You think because your taller than me you can treat me like a kid? Eh?!” “No disrespect meant. I’m just a dude with a plan which doesn’t include my sinking to the bottom of the sea. If you‘ve got other plans I‘m sure we‘ll find a way to reconcile them, right?” Daniels said resting a hand on his gun. Suddenly the boy smiled and clapped Daniels on the back. “I like this guy! He’s not the groveling type like the majority of you lot! What’s your name my interesting fellow?” The Captain was a lot like Callum Daniels thought as he looked down at the half of the jubilant face that wasn’t covered by a mop of dark hair and an eye patch. He was the polar opposite of the boy but at the same time something about him gave him a familiar feeling. “John Daniels.” “Nice to meetcha! I’m captain Davies Johnson! The crew‘s taken to calling me Davy Jones though! Yeah, I know what you insignificant little shits call me behind my back!” He shouted to the crew, who promptly made themselves as scarce as they could while still performing their duties. “They know I could kill the lot of them in my sleep, literally!” He burst into laughter. “Well, I’m not really such an interesting person but I have happened to find myself in the Triangle and like they say: When in Rome act as Romans do.” Daniels chuckled in turn. “That’s what I’m talkin’ about mate! So long as you’re here you’ll be treated as my second first mate, and one of the only people in this crew that’s worth his mettle. Now head over there I’ve got some shit to do. First first mate! Take second first mate to my offices!” “Yessir Captain!” If the Captain was the only clean man on the ship this was the closest second. A wizened veteran that could have been anywhere from his thirties to fifties served as the crew’s first mate. Of all of the crewmen he was the only one with almost no fear in his eyes when addressed by the Captain. He had a slightly disheveled look but he still didn’t look at all squalid. Daniels decided to attribute that much to the raggedness of all of his clothes and the high probability that he’d neither bathed nor actually done any work for some time. “I‘ll see you two in half a tic!” Davies yelled before turning his attention to a chest that just wouldn’t open and the ineptitude of his men that were attempting to remedy the situation with a series of clumsy kicks. As he busied himself with that the first mate motioned for Daniels to follow him. With half a moment’s hesitation Daniels complied. The two passed through a peacock colored door that led into a gaudy drawing room that obviously couldn’t have fit into the ship given the outside dimensions. “So what kinda ship is this?” Daniels asked already half knowing the answer that awaited him. “Tripoli Galleon is my lock, that’s why I’m first mate. All I do is supply the necessary anima to run the craft and I get the best of everything from the Captain.” The man said almost proudly as he led Daniels through another door into what Daniels assumed were the Captains offices. The only things around were wardrobes and trunks bursting at the seams with repetitions of the same outfit Davies was currently wearing, swords and guns scattered about everywhere with no seeming order or purpose. “You’ve either got guts or a death wish if you challenge that man.” The first mate said after seeing Daniels’ perplexed expression. “Oh? He’s strong?” Daniels asked as he took a seat on top of an overturned trunk as his counterpart had. “Davy Jones isn’t just what we call him. It’s a title awarded him by the Escherian government for all of the damage he’s caused, mate.” The man said proudly. “That’s impressive, sounds like he’s a Round level at least then.” Daniels commented as he picked up a gun and examined its design closely. “On the sea it’d take at least two Rounds to beat him.” Said the first mate without a drop in the pride in his voice. “Now I’m all jittery, being around such a strong guy. I’m a fighter myself so whenever I’m around people that good I can’t help but get excited.” Daniels explained as he placed the gun back down and began fiddling with his own. “Forget about it. Strato Vercingetorix is the only guy I’d ever place above the Captain offhand and he’s an old man by now.” “Yeah, probably quite a bit weaker than even ten years ago.” “A good Round could probably do him now.” The man laughed as he withdrew a flask of liquor and took a swig of it. He tacitly offered Daniels the flask but was answered with the now empty flask that Daniels still carried around. “I wish I could see him fight at least once though.” Daniels replied, hardly able to contain his own amusement. “Doesn’t everybody, mate?” The man took another swig as he spoke. “Suppose so…” Daniels trailed off. Just when the conversation seemed to have died the captain entered shouting back to the crew through the drawing room. “--and get back to work and I’ll kill you!” “It’s ‘or’ Captain.” His first mate corrected him. “Or! Or I’ll kill you! Is that clear you filthy little maggots?!” Davies slammed the door and all that could be heard was a general grumble from outside. Once completely inside his offices Davies softened slightly. “Alright you two! Daniels is gonna be a passenger for a bit so let’s get things straight. He’ll be staying in your quarters Drake so take care of him like he‘s your new subordinate!” “Clear captain.” The man made a halfhearted attempt at saluting then dropped back to his seat. “Now let’s get our new friend to the mess hall--” Davies continued to speak warmly and went so far as clapping Daniels on the shoulder again when the brown coated man brushed his hand off. “Sounds great but since we’re acting like friends and all I wonder why you sent the order to call the garbage men for a pick up?” Daniels smiled knowingly but the friendliness had already left his manner. “Smart as a whip this one! Such astuteness is what gets you killed faster out here Lock Hunter!” Davies shouted half to his first mate and half to the rest of the crew who had to be listening from just a room away. “It really is a shame to kill you but it’s the only thing that will get those tyrants off our asses for a while!” “I had changed my mind about fighting you, but now that you’ve turned on me I don’t see much else I can do.” Daniels sighed regretfully. “We don’t fight fair out here mate! It’s you against the whole crew not to mention me!” Davies howled with laughter as he spoke. “I challenge you to a duel then. Accept it one on one if you’re not a coward.” Daniels replied sharply as he drew forth both of his guns. He aimed one at Davies and used the other to push up the brim of his hat. “You aren’t a coward are you Davies?” “Whatever, the warrant says alive. I’m the only one with the finesse to beat you just within that last inch of your life anyways.” Daniels smirked as Davies boasted. “Good.” Davies walked out onto the deck and motioned for Daniels to follow. When the two walked out the crowd of listening crewmembers parted and scurried to places with cover, some even fled below deck. Suddenly the captain threw his coat down and excess arms down and placed his hand on the hilt of a cutlass. “Just don‘t expect me to hold back more than I have to.”
