PIRATE, bastion

BASTION
18 • MALE • ASEXUAL • 5'11" • 170
LYNEEL KINGDOM • HUMAN • PIRATE • SHIPWRIGHT • DE

"I'll hold onto this courage,
and race toward tomorrow"
^{________________________________________}

[/font]
• appearance[/font]
Bastion sports a head of snow-white hair kept short and neat so as to keep it out of the way. Naturally, he stays in top-shape, and sports a fairly lean, muscular body. Soft, gray-eyes betray his otherwise hard-featured face and attitude. Generally, he dresses casually in clothes that are neither too loose nor too tight for maximum efficiency.

• personality[/font]

[/b]
Though not entirely a front, and not completely overtaken by this illusion, Bastion does tend to put himself forward as apathetic to many situations. In some regards, this is because he simply is uncaring. However, Bastion is an empathetic person, though he refuses to admit it (and is even embarrassed by it), and this front is mostly a cover for how much he does care. The one emotion he can't hide is anger.

Empathetic
Bastion is extremely understanding of other's misfortunes (probably a result of his lifetime as a slave). Combined with his sense of justice and distrust of the World Government, this trait often leads to Bastion brashly rushing off to help complete strangers, only to deny that he did it simply for the sake of helping others later (usually saying he had some selfish reason instead). His empathy causes him immense humility if pointed out by those he has grown close to, and he will always deny it adamantly.

Untrusting
Bastion isn't naive, though he often takes his caution too far. He isn't often scared to agree to work with someone or to help someone, but he almost always looks over his shoulder for any knives that might come. Even once he has broken the barrier of caution and feels that he can trust someone, he often doesn't let them in on his actual feelings or emotions (even he doesn't know why he does this). On the contrary, he will speak about his past or his motivations and goals without hesitation to anyone who inquires.

Short-tempered
Of all his emotions, anger is most prominently seen in Bastion. Insults and other provocation have little effect on him, but the moment Bastion sees (what he believes to be) injustice, he tends to lose all control. Partially because of his own sense of justice, and partially because of his belief that the World Government is inept at delivering said justice, he will almost always take matters into his own hands (and relentlessly, without mercy and without control).

Righteous (in his own mind)
Bastion's viewpoint of morality is skewed due to his life as a slave, but he believes in it immensely and stubbornly. Generally, he doesn't concern himself with small things (stealing, for example), but when the life or freedom of a person is threatened, Bastion feels compelled to act regardless of his situation. Ironically, Bastion feels it almost necessary to kill any wrong-doer he comes across, despite the ideal conflicting with his sense of morality. He feels no remorse or hesitation in the action, though generally isn't satisfied after, either. Likewise, he believes it always falls upon him to deal with whatever injustice he encounters, as he cannot trust or depend upon the World Government to fix anything.

Stubborn
Bastion is a relentless figure, in his goals, in his motivations, and in his doings. Some see it as determination, others as stubbornness. Bastion doesn't care--all he knows is that he doesn't often give up on things, unless he feels he was misguided or that the situation had changed somehow.[/ul]

• weaponry[/font]

• STEEL-TOED BOOTS
  These boots are made of thick and durable leather, crafted with a curved steel plate over the toes. Though not noticeable on the outside, there is also a steel plate within the sole of the shoe, and metal spurs off of the heels.
  

• accessories[/font]

• Dog-tags that read only "Bastion."
  
• Bandages around his hands and forearms.

• history[/font]
You want to know how I got to where I am, huh? If you’re trying to provoke some teary-eyed sob-story or somethin’, you’re digging up the wrong grave. People’s successes and mistakes make them who they are, but that doesn’t mean they are what they’ve done. And unlike assholes like you, the skeletons in my closet are already dead and gone. Buried in a sunken tomb.

If you’re looking for all the details, you’re gonna’ be disappointed. Even I don’t have all of them. But I can give you what I know, if you’re that interested. I’m still not sure where I was born, but I have to assume it was probably at sea somewhere in North Blue. All I know is that not long after I was born I was cast out to sea with nothing but my cradle and dog tags around my neck that read nothing except “Bastion.” So I guess they decided that was my name, and I never argued. Maybe there was a shipwreck, or maybe my parents didn’t want me. Hell, maybe there was someone with a grudge against my parents--I don’t know. But not long after I was sent adrift, a group of pirates came across my cradle floating at sea. They knew I wasn’t more than a month old, and took me in, but don’t get the wrong idea. They weren’t saints, they just saw the money I’d bring them. They probably tried to get a ransom out of me, or sell me, but nothing worked, so they kept me. It was a long-ass ten years, but I grew up on that rickety old ship, eating just enough to survive. They drilled me night and day, and despite the small ration of food I received, I grew up damn strong. I always felt like I was starving, but I never did, and I just got stronger and stronger. But their picking me up all those years before eventually payed off, when they entered the Grand Line and found a slave ring to sell me into. Since I was in such good shape, I sold pretty damn fast, if I remember right.

Things weren’t any better in my new home, though. I got more food, I suppose, but I was a growing kid and they needed me to stay strong so I could labor for them all day. They pissed me the hell off, wandering around with those stupid bubbles on their heads, all high-and-mighty. But what pissed me off even more than that was that I couldn’t knock them off of their damn pedestal. So I just submitted, and worked and worked. The only solace I found was in this kid named Asher. We eventually grew pretty close, probably because we were around the same age. I guess he was my best friend. Nothing particularly special happened while I was there until five years had already passed, and I was fifteen. For years I’d stumbled on, just surviving, not living. And in a single day, everything changed. The day is still clear in my mind--first, there was a gunshot in the distance. I thought it was odd, but just shrugged and went back to work without even thinking about it. A little bit of time passed before another shot echoed off, and another. Part of me wanted to go investigate, to see what was really going on, but I knew I couldn’t.

Fortuntely, I didn’t have to wait long to find out. There was a scream nearby, and I turned to see this huge group of men and women. Everything was blurry, because the sun was shining directly in my eyes, as if they’d brought it with them as some sort of beacon or sign. Like they were hope itself. But I was confused--all I knew was that people were dying. Suffering. Then I noticed the Tenryuuibito at the group’s feet, right in front of the man that seemed to lead it all.

And that was all I needed to see.

I took off running, heart pounding and fists clenched so tight I almost drew blood from my palms. This was my chance, and I didn’t care who it was or why they were doing it. They rescued me, and every other slave that they could in that encampment, and by the time the sun had set beneath the horizon, we were on their ship and sailing away. To freedom. Even now I remember how it felt, how the wind in my face and the spray of the ocean felt so foreign. It was all the same as it had been before, but I couldn’t see that. I was free. Everything seemed new and fresh and hopeful. For some reason, I felt like I could trust the ones that saved me. Maybe I just owed them that much and more, or maybe there was something different about them. Beats me.

They set sail for North Blue--where I was born, ironically--and where they planned to set the slaves they rescued free, hopefully away from marine eyes. The Tenryuubito probably wouldn’t let this crime go, and they’d want to track down every single slave. At least, that’s what they told me. Everyone left, even Asher. But where was I supposed to go? What was I supposed to do? I didn’t even have a family to look for. So I convinced them to let me stay with them. For more than a year, things seemed fine. We traveled around, though they hardly let me do much outside of the ship because it was “too dangerous” for me. Still, I was happy, and for once I had a full stomach.

But, like everything else, things changed. While we were at sea, we noticed a ship in the distance. It looked like it was approaching us pretty steadily, but didn’t bear any flags or anything. We were wary, but let them close, to find that Asher was leading them. A few of the other slaves that were rescued at the same time were with him, and a handful of people I didn’t recognize. They came aboard, saying that they couldn’t believe they’d found us, and wanted to thank us for what we’d done. But I noticed that Asher was acting strange--hesitant, maybe, or guilty. For a little while, he snuck off, and I couldn’t help but follow. What I found wasn’t what I’d suspected, though. He’d been using a den-den mushi, and I’d just barely caught the end of his conversation.

Everything was a ploy. He’d let the marines know our location, and the Tenryuubito still wanted payback. Guess he was scared of being found, and hoped he'd be let go as a reward for turning us in.

Without thinking, I grabbed him and dragged him to his empty ship. I didn’t care what happened, except that the marines were stopped. He was scared, I could tell, and I used it. I threatened to kill him if he didn’t tell the marines we’d stolen his ship and taken off. That their cover had been blown. Asher was weak-willed, and complied. But I couldn’t let it end there. I had to set the ship to sail, and I couldn’t trust Asher anymore. Not only that, but I’d already decided my own fate. I was going to take his ship and sacrifice myself so that my crew could live, and if they boarded and found only me, I had to be perceived as a threat. So I snapped his neck after he’d made the call, just let him fall to the ground dead, and set sail.

Just as I’d arranged, the marines found my ship, now miles away from my crew. They boarded and found only me, and I submitted to them. I remember wanting so badly just to kill them all and make a run for it, remember how my vision went red and I couldn’t think straight. But I knew I’d just get myself killed, so I was arrested and taken to some marine base they wouldn’t tell me the name of. I got locked up, and thought it was ironic that I was still fed better than when I’d been a slave.

But what I didn’t want to happen was for my crew to try and rescue me. The base itself was prepared for an invasion, and their invasion came. I felt like I was living in a dream--a memory--watching the Captain cut down everything just to rescue me yet again. Damn idiots, all of them! This time, the base was prepared, and almost everyone on the crew sacrificed themselves just to get me out. I can still see the Captain in his last moments as clearly as when it happened, taking that bullet through the neck in my place. Just for some kid.

There was no way we were making an organized escape. Most of us were dead, anyways. So I just ran. Ran, because I knew I had to make up for it.
[/size][/blockquote][/justify][/size][/blockquote]