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Post by THOMAS C. FARRELL on Apr 10, 2012 13:21:24 GMT -5
Trouble comes calling.
Why is it always a bar..? Thomas wondered to himself, as he sat alone in the pub of the day. His last visit to a bar had ended with a hefty fine imposed on him by the owner. To which Thomas had shirked responsibility by running away with the reward he'd been promised for completing the mission he'd been assigned. Does that make me a bad person..? Nahhhh, the barkeep was just way too uptight. After all, it'd been that stupid fish's fault for being such a freakin' spaz.
Dressed in Marine regalia, the declared pirate and criminal Thomas Farrell sat in the pub over a cup of water. I know what you might be thinking. Water, in a bar? Blasphemy. Well, Thomas wasn't much of a drinker, so he typically just used this chance to blend in and not cause too much trouble. Of course, it was also the fact that he'd already spent his money on new toys. One of which was still in the shop being looked at. The twenty-two year old sighed, hanging his head so that his black hair hung down in front of his face, the golden earring on his left ear following suit. "No money... no prospects... a wanted man... I guess I'm kinda sunk, aren't I?" He asked the empty seat next to himself.
Silence.
"Yeah, I know what you mean. But what am I supposed to do? It's not like I can just get up and sail off to some other island without a boat... and those cost money."
Silence.
"You're right. I just have to grin and bear it. Maybe something'll come along." He raised his head, putting a finger to the rim of the cup and started tracing it in a circle, a small hum emitting from the glass.
"Ugh, couldn't something come along a little faster?!"
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Post by ALTAIR UTAKA on Apr 10, 2012 18:58:22 GMT -5
[style=background-color:F6F6F6; height:630px; width:370px;][style=margin-top: 5px; background-color: #eacfe9; padding: 2px]LET'S FIGHT[/style][style=margin-top: 2px; background-color: #EFEFEF; padding: 2px]I'M NOT GUNNA SIT DOWN[/style] [style=padding: 0px; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; text-align: justify; color: black; height: 300px; width: 300px; overflow: auto] "I don't care who he is so don't bother explaining," Altair answered the men coldly when they had given her the assignment. The assignment in question? Capture a pirate whose name was Thomas C. Farrell. Altair skimmed over his bounty with lazy eyes. Clearly she wasn't interested in him as a person but his worth in berri. She folded the bounty poster and stashed it in her pocket. As she turned to leave the establishment, one could hear the tiny tinkling of her rings hanging around her neck. "Remember," said the men. "Alive."Altair narrowed her eyes at them. Even if the man had killed hundreds of innocent lives, she would never kill him. She would never kill anyone for as long as she lived. Staying alive was, to her, much more painful than simply dying. She would never allow anyone to escape their sins so easily. She didn't answer the men as she left for the bar, knowing full well what she was getting herself into. The place was packed with drinking men and serving women. The place was cheerful at best, with sounds of tinkering silverware and plates, cups being emptied by thirsty customers, food being passed around, and the like (though there were some serious looking poker players in the back). There was a second floor as well that looked much like the first floor but about half its size. The stairs that led up there were a bit rickety. Chandeliers lit the bar up through lit candles. The thick, wooden walls held candles as well, though none of them were lit. Altair suspected they would be fired up later in the afternoon when the sun was setting. For now, the place was well lit. Altair made sure to note that the only way in and out of the bar was through the front door. The windows were simply too high to reach, even if one went to the second floor and tried to jump through them. That meant that if anything happened, she would be trapped for as long as her back wasn't facing the entrance. She scanned the bar and her eyes fell on the back of a man who was quite alone despite there being plenty of drinking buddies. This did not intrigue her at all...other than the man's earring. She didn't have to look at it twice. This man was Farrell. She walked softly toward him, the cheerful singing of the people in the bar drowning out her steps, and then stopped right behind him. Almost as if she had rehearsed it (though she never rehearses anything), she drew out her rapiers from their blue sheaths and would attempt to cross them against Farrell's neck.[/style][style=margin-top: 15px]  [/style] Created by Gungnir |
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Post by THOMAS C. FARRELL on Apr 10, 2012 19:47:21 GMT -5
My dear, dear friend.
The swordsman sighed as the denizens of the bar decided that singing was a good idea. No, it really wasn't. I mean, for one, they were all singing the same part. Really, who heard of a choir all singing the same part? It was like a bunch of kids singing twinkle twinkle little star! Second off, they weren't even in key. It was like they were purposefully trying to cause early deafness in the youth of today. Third off, were they trying to pick a fight? Why on earth would any of them even think about holding rapiers to someone's neck they didn't know? He'd heard the approaching footsteps, but hadn't felt any killing intent, so he hadn't turned around. The only flaw in his attacker's plan was the fact that she chose such a close distance to unsheath her swords. Using what little time he had, his left hand dropped to his right hip, his hand wrapping around the wooden butt of his weapon. His right hand didn't move from the cup. He'd just changed positions because he was feeling slightly uncomfortable. However, the swords crossing at his throat spoke that even this position wasn't comfortable.
"Is this how people greet travellers these days?" He asked, not turning around or jumping up in surprise as whoever it was may have guessed he would. "You'd think I was back home. How nostalgic." He sighed, raising the water glass in front of him to his lips, taking a sip. It was exactly as his master used to do to him. "So, who're you and why are you holding swords to my throat?" It was strange. The man spoke calmly. It was like the swords didn't even phase him. All the while, he expected a man's voice to tell him that he was under arrest for impersinating a marine. "Judging by the fact I'm still alive, it seems you're not going to kill me." He thought for a moment before amending himself.
"yet."
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Post by ALTAIR UTAKA on Apr 10, 2012 20:59:26 GMT -5
[style=background-color:F6F6F6; height:630px; width:370px;][style=margin-top: 5px; background-color: #eacfe9; padding: 2px]ARREST[/style][style=margin-top: 2px; background-color: #EFEFEF; padding: 2px]THINGS GOIN' OUT OF CONTROL[/style] [style=padding: 0px; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; text-align: justify; color: black; height: 300px; width: 300px; overflow: auto]Farrell drank from his cup nonchalantly. You'd think he was merely having a lazy day. "Judging by the fact that I'm still alive, it seems you're not going to kill me," he said. "Yet." This would be the first time Altair heard his voice. "I am sorry if you wanted to die today," she said keeping her rapiers steady against Farrell's neck, "but you're coming with me. Alive." The singing and merryment in the pub had come to a sudden halt. Everyone's eyes were on Altair and Farrell, none of them daring to move. Everything was quiet, even the band had stopped playing. Altair eyed Farrell's hand that was wrapped around his wooden weapon. A pistol and a rapier. They were two for two. "Now be a good boy and let me capture you." [/style][style=margin-top: 15px] [/style] Created by Gungnir |
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Post by THOMAS C. FARRELL on Apr 10, 2012 21:17:36 GMT -5
I think I'll die another day, thanks."nah, I'm good." Thomas said, leaning back in his chair getting his throat away from the twin rapiers threatening to cut his skin. "For someone not aiming to kill me, you certainly hold those close to my neck, yeah?" he asked, he didn't particularly want to feel the cold steel. He would feel his back on the girl, allowing her to see his hand on the pistol, easily accessable. She sounded to be quite young considering they were in a bar. What, did the barkeep lower the age restrictions since the last time he'd come in?
"Now be a good boy and let me capture you." she cooed, sounding more mature than her voice let on. At that, Farrell smirked and took a drink.
"You do realize that you're assaulting a Marine, a man who has protected this town from people like yourself as part of the World Government." He remained seated, pointing out her prediciment with walking in and drawing two swords on a man of the law. If she looked a little closer, she'd realize that he spoke the truth. Everyone in the bar was looking with terrified eyes, wondering what on earth a sweet little girl was doing holding her swords up to the throat of a Marine. "You know, I'd say this little incident is leaving a bad streak on your image. Now, I have a proposition of how we can progress where you still have a chance at completing what you came here to do... but it does come down to a Hatashiai. By implying I'm a criminal, you have slandered my name as a swordsman and I cannot overlook that." He pointed out. "So, you should be ready to face such consiquences." [/blockquote]
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Post by ALTAIR UTAKA on Apr 10, 2012 21:58:42 GMT -5
[style=background-color:F6F6F6; height:630px; width:370px;][style=margin-top: 5px; background-color: #eacfe9; padding: 2px]ONLY ONE[/style][style=margin-top: 2px; background-color: #EFEFEF; padding: 2px]MEN OF RESISTANCE OR EXILE[/style] [style=padding: 0px; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; text-align: justify; color: black; height: 300px; width: 300px; overflow: auto]Farrell leaned back on his chair. "For someone not aiming to kill me, you certainly hold those close to my neck, yeah?"Altair's face was stoic. "Just in case you try to escape. Necessary precautions." She was used to her targets trying to escape. Best to lock and load as soon as she could, that way they wouldn't be able to escape. It was almost like trying to capture a bird that was already in flight. One either had to injure it so that it'd fall, or shoot it dead completely. Altair hoped she wouldn't have to do the latter. It here that Farrell told her about his status. Altair was not moved nor was she about to let his words sway her from her mission. "I honestly don't care who you are or what you've done. Marine, Pirate, King, no matter. I've been assigned to capture you and that's what I'll do. I am prepared to lay my life on the line for this. Besides," she added. "For a man at law, your bounty seems to be rather hefty."[/style][style=margin-top: 15px] [/style] Created by Gungnir |
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Post by THOMAS C. FARRELL on Apr 11, 2012 9:29:23 GMT -5
A Hefty Bounty?"Just think of all those old ladies I helped cross the street for that." He smirked, wondering exactly what sort of bounty could be so high that this girl absolutely refused even a dual of honor. He could tell she probably wasn't that old by his fool-proof gauge by leaning back in his chair. Her breasts reached a good height on his back, but they were pitifully tiny. Around... fifteen was his original guess, but they were far too underdeveloped for that... twelve? Taking the pitch of her voice into account, he'd say that was about right with his first guess. "Well, I don't want to sound egotistical, but I'd say that I have a slight advantage at this point. If you so much as lower your guard, I'll have my chance to escape. However, if you decide to wound me now, it could turn into an ugly mess for all present. Especially yourself if the civilians in the bar are feeling brave today, aiding someone being assaulted by a Bounty Hunter as far as I've gathered with your obsession on my head and what it's worth. If we just stay here, my division will come and see the situation, and you know how we Marines are. Rules and regulation. You'll probably be taken down to the HQ before you're actually questioned about why you were holding swords up to my throat in the first place. If you think about it, my offer is the best chance you have, and I won't offer it a third time." He was growing impatient with this waiting game she'd gotten herself into. Since she was the one with the swords, she should be the one making the decisions and working things through to a good ending, not him the captive. Then again, she was only a child, and he didn't expect her to have even the guts to make it this far. She'd already exceeded his expectations. However, it was time for this to end. Even the way she was trying to play it cool, it was like she was new to this.
"As a swordsman of Shimikatsu Village, I swear on my Honor and the Honor of my village that you can trust me that I won't kill you. However, you've slandered that same honor. Since my goals are unattained, I cannot allow you to capture me, however if you manage to beat me I will go with you quietly." He offered, making the best deal he could in the circumstances present. If he had already completed what he'd set out to do, he would probably have gone with her without so much as a struggle. But at this time, he couldn't justify it. "Or we can sit here flinging witty banter and reason at one another, waiting for something to happen to break this ill-conceived stalemate... Seeing as you are seemingly unable to kill me to receive the bounty, I'd say you're at quite the disadvantage in that respect, and time itself is not your ally." Thomas pointed out, referring to the longer she waited to act, the less of a shock the rest of the bar would be in and may even get involved in the situation to the point that this public setting in and of itself would be Farrell's saving grace. In all honesty, she should have known that it wouldn't be so easy as walking up and dragging him out at sword's point, even if she'd succeeded at getting him there.
"It's your call, so what'll it be pancake?" Her new nickname. Actually, he really liked pancakes and he thought it suited her.
If she asked a random person on the street about it, she would know Shimikatsu Village as a village of swordsmen. If she lived in the North Blue, she may have even met one of them and she would now recognize the earring he wore was a symbol of his mastery of the sword handed down from master to student. And if she'd known that much, she also would have heard of an incident six years ago where most of the men and some women and children were killed by Marines. Rumors had been whispered of an uprising of the swordsmen, trying to overthrow the World Government. Others believed that the World Government attempted to recruit the village into their ranks to strengthen their might, but after failing negotiations decided to make an example of them instead. Whatever, the case, why one of them would be wearing the uniform of a Marine should raise questions that weren't being asked, hinting at there being more to this story than the Bounty Hunter truly cared to listen to. However, the true meaning of bringing it up was to clarify on the meaning of his promise. Even a fifteen year old girl would know that such a promise as he was making was binding unless he was a complete scumbag. [/blockquote]
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Post by ALTAIR UTAKA on Apr 11, 2012 12:27:37 GMT -5
[style=background-color:F6F6F6; height:630px; width:370px;][style=margin-top: 5px; background-color: #eacfe9; padding: 2px]BITTER ORANGES[/style][style=margin-top: 2px; background-color: #EFEFEF; padding: 2px]REMINDING ME OF HOW WE MET[/style] [style=padding: 0px; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; text-align: justify; color: black; height: 300px; width: 300px; overflow: auto]Altair had no idea that Farrell was sizing her up in his head but if she did, she would've knocked him out right then and there. But as much as she didn't want to admit it, thing would be go nasty if she didn't bring him to her commissioner as soon as possible. For one thing, the marines would come and capture her, and another, it'd just be too much work. Altair didn't like getting into surprise businesses. But if the marines did capture her, what would they even do with her? Torture her? Make her their slave? Sell her off? "It's your call, so what'll it be pancake?" Farrell said. Altair blushed immediately and glared at him. "P-p-p-pancake?!" She gripped the hilts of her rapiers tighter out of sheer anger and embarrassment. "H-h-h-how dare you...!? You...you...ingrate! There is no way I am letting you go after what you have just said!" She removed her weapons from his neck and then took a few steps back from the man. She pointed her rapier at him. "Beat you? Fine. I accept. Whoever gets a scratch from the other's blade loses. If I win, you'll let me capture you. ...well?" She lowered her rapier to her side and waited for him to stand up and face her evenly. "What do you want of me if you should happen to win? Turn me in to the marines?" She eyed him suspiciously. If Farrell did stand up and face her, Altair would bow her head to him, straighten up, and then the duel would begin. Why would she bow, exposing her neck like that? Maybe it was because of how Farrell had acted from the moment they had met.[/style][style=margin-top: 15px] [/style] Created by Gungnir |
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Post by THOMAS C. FARRELL on Apr 11, 2012 13:02:36 GMT -5
Innocence among thieves.
Thomas smirked, the girl caught on fast. It was surprising that she was able to lose her composure like that. Innocence on the battlefield was a rare thing, and not something to be looked down upon. Actually, he was a little relieved at her response. So, she was still just a kid. Maybe she was a little desperate in her attempts to bring him down, but even a child in this era could be caught up in the blood lust that seemed to come with it. He was relieved that she accepted his proposal with the dual, solving things in a more honorable way than might have degraded from the situation. Farrell took his hand off the hilt of his pistol and stood from where he sat, tipping his head back as he finished off his glass of water.
"What do you want of me if you should happen to win? Turn me in to the marines?" The girl asked, her voice carrying a bit of an accusing tone.
"What? Have you arrested? Hardly." He spoke as calmly as he had before. "I honestly couldn't say what would happen to you if I did, and I promised you that I wouldn't hurt you. Granted, I wouldn't be hurting you. But I would be the instigator." He reasoned, setting the glass back down on the counter. "No. Honestly, I don't know what to make of you. You walk boldly into a bar, a place with many people of unknown origins and histories and all of them being shady in these days, and instead of being scared when you saw me, you assaulted me." Now his right hand drifted down to the silver hilt of his own Rapier, tracing the leather binding before drawing it from its sheath with a long hiss. "I can't decide if you're desperate for the money, caught up in a bad business, or forced to do something you don't want to." He finished, giving his sword a few practice swings by simply swinging from the wrist, the blade swishing through the air. Satisfied with the feel, he brought the hilt up to his chest in a salute before swinging it down.
It seemed this would be done inside the bar itself. Objects protruding from the ground would present obstacles to be aware of as well as impediments in footwork. Should either of them not be careful, it could easily end in simply being tripped by a chair.
"All you who are here, bear witness. This is a Hatashiai, a dual of Honor. The match will be determined by a single scratch. Interference will be met with penalty. For your own safety, I advise you evacuate the premise temporarily." The civilians didn't seem to be all that keen on missing the action. A few stayed, but the ones who didn't want to be involved in this left to find a more peaceful place to enjoy their drink. Looking back to the girl, he could see her now for the first time. Relatively short, she had about a foot disadvantage already, her reach being compromised by her height. Overall, she was rather pretty.
"So, pancake." He smirked crookedly, bowing to his opponent out of habitual respect, the same respect being returned, "It seems I'm at a disadvantage. You know my name, yet I don't know yours. You don't seem to like the nickname I chose for you, so I'm at a loss of what to call you." He spoke, taking a profile ready stance, his body narrow to his opponent and knees slightly bent, holding out his sword to allow her to mimic him, crossing their blades when she was ready to begin.
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Post by ALTAIR UTAKA on Apr 11, 2012 15:12:55 GMT -5
[style=background-color:F6F6F6; height:630px; width:370px;][style=margin-top: 5px; background-color: #eacfe9; padding: 2px]THEIR REASON TO FIGHT[/style][style=margin-top: 2px; background-color: #EFEFEF; padding: 2px]MY REASON TO LIVE[/style] [style=padding: 0px; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; text-align: justify; color: black; height: 300px; width: 300px; overflow: auto]Altair didn't catch his smirk but his words did strike her. Hmm.... He wouldn't turn her into the marines? That was odd. Altair was sure he would. Sliding a weapon against a marine's neck was probably a very bad thing to do and yet he told her he would not arrest her. Strange man. "I can't decide if you're desperate for the money, caught up in a bad business, or forced to do something you don't want to," said Farrell. He had drawn his rapier out. "It's nothing like that," Altair replied, her eyes showing fierce determination. "Nothing like that at all." Farrell addressed the bar, asking everyone to evacuate the area. Some left, others stayed. Altair wasn't worried about their safety. One's safety was up to that person. If they chose to get hurt, then it was their fault. No one else's. Just like if she was injured in this dual, that would be her own fault. No regrets. She noticed he was examining her. Probably trying to determine strengths and weaknesses in his mind. Already she could tell he would have the advantage with reach: He was a foot taller than her at least. "So, pancake," he said with a crooked smirk as they bowed to each other. Altair bristled. "Don't call me that!" she snapped. "I'm at a loss of what to call you."Altair paused to consider telling him her name. "My name is Altair Utaka." She raised her rapier, crossing the blade against Farrell's already raised weapon. She looked up at him, determined as ever to win. "This body that was created by my parents, I should never allow come to harm. But no matter what, I must fight to live. Their curse is mine to carry. Even if I should hate them, even if they should hate me, I will live."She took a breath, paused, and then breathed out. "No one can force me to do something I do not want to do. My will is mine alone."With that, she would spring into action, attempting to push Farrell's weapon of out the way so that she would have a clear shot to lung her second rapier right at his chest.[/style][style=margin-top: 15px] [/style] Created by Gungnir |
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Post by THOMAS C. FARRELL on Apr 11, 2012 15:48:11 GMT -5
[bg=f3f3f3][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=border,1,true][atrb=width,500,true][atrb=style,background-color: #f3f3f3,btable][atrb=style, background: url(http://i218.photobucket.com/albums/cc34/RyuHasigawa/Decorated%20images/ToD-DC_c2_p22-23-2.jpg) no-repeat bottom][STYLE=margin-top: 10px; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; width: 300px; height: 475px; overflow: auto; background-color: #ededed; color: #333333; font: normal 10px helvetica; text-align: justify; padding: 5px; opacity: 0.8]
"Altair..?" Thomas asked, his smirk growing a fraction. "That sounds like a boy's name."
He was enjoying the girl's reactions. It wasn't that he wasn't taking her seriously, however it was hard for him to not have a little fun with this girl who fancied herself a warrior. When it came to swordplay, it didn't matter who it was, he would take his opponent seriously. Being a fifteen year old girl was no exception. After all, if she wasn't forced to do this, she was doing this of her own free will. If she was doing this of her own free will, it was probable that she had confidence in her abilities. If she had confidence in her abilities, that meant that she bested other swordsmen before.
"Truly." He agreed to her statement, analyzing her dual rapiers. As she attempted to bat his rapier away to make room for a sudden lunge, Thomas circled his own sword around her off-hand sword as she started to move, the hissing sound of metal on metal ringing through the air before a light whap sounded, the stabbing blade being knocked aside so that her arm would cross more towards her other if it was anything more than a quick jab. With the parry, he would take a small step, shifting his position so that he would stand more toward her back if she was, in fact, overstretched after her initial strike.
"I find it odd, then, that you would be in this line of work. And at so young an age. Do your parents know about what you've been up to?" Farrell asked. He had given her a bit of time to allow her to start re-centering herself before starting an offensive of his own, keeping her focused on the fight. From this position, he would come in with his rapier, swinging from the wrist, seeking to land a quick blow to the girl's extended shoulder. "It seems a bit dangerous. Allowing your daughter to run off with a pair of swords, going after wanted men for the beli on their heads."
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