Storm the ship!

OOC: Officially beginning the task. 10 post limit I believe with at least 250 words each. No problem.

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Playing off the undercurrent of abuse and resentment utilizing subtle suggestion and alcohol had been a good strategy only bolstered by the dramatic introduction of the charismatic one eyes sniper. All around Tyson, chaos reigned over Dock One. Dozens of ships in the harbor which had been crafted for use by the Marines had already caught fire, their crews desperately attempting to beat down the riot without a massive loss of life. Black powder and screams of pain and rage filled the night air, making it all the more difficult for Tyson to dodge the major fighting. While it made a perfect smoke screen, they were simply running out of time too quickly. The riot had gotten out of hand and there was no guarantee that Dock One's latest ship would not be destroyed before they could grab it.

Thankfully, rounding a burning general store, the massive warship came into full view of the martial artist. It was still untouched by the rioters thanks to the dedicated defense of it's fifty man crew. A line of Marines had formed a human barricade around the gang plank leading to the ship while additional men remained on the ship armed with muskets to pick away at the growing crowd. They would need to break that line if they were to take the ship.

Gritting his teeth, Tyson mentally prepared himself for battle and slipped into the crowd amassed before the Marine barricade. Crouched low to force his way through the crowd without presenting a tempting target to the snipers, Tyson was relying on the element of surprise as his electrified fist suddenly burst through the front of the mob directly into the face of a Marine holding the center of the barricade. The unawares sailor was sent flailing back over the edge of the dock and into the ocean, creating enough of a disturbance for Tyson to break through the small hole he'd created in the human line. Not wanting to waste his advantage, the martial artist brought his elbow down hard against the left temple of the Marine on his immediate left, severing his consciousness cleanly.

By now though, the brief surprise he'd created had worn off among the musketeers on the deck of the ship. Even with his Devil Fruit abilities he would be too hard pressed to try and bring them all down in time from this range. Instead, he'd go on the defensive for a moment. Reaching to his right, Tyson grabbed hold of another Marine focused on holding back the crowd and pulled him in between the musketeers and himself as a human shield. The volley of lead tore into the poor sailor's back, stopping short of striking Tyson himself.

OOC: 47 Marines remaining.

Not so much one to get in the midst of things like the martial artist, Slade had all but disappeared from beside his blond companion whilst in the approaching horde in favor of a more tactical vantage point, that being the rooftop of a nearby house in which he had climbed via the use of a nearby drain pipe. It was one of the few buildings that had yet to meet the unlucky force of the roaring flames which currently darkened portions of the sky with it's abysmal smoke stacks. Additionally, it served as a nice viewpoint to observe the scene of chaos and bask in the disorder that came with any revolt, much to the one-eyed snipers amusement. Perched atop his sniping point with his rifle now draped across his lap, Corban had decided to only get involved when he saw fit and took the time to analyze everything he could about his new companion.

It didn't take long before it became obvious the young man was in possession of powers that could only be afforded by devouring a Devil Fruit, which came as a slight surprise to the old man. It had been quite a while since he'd seen one, even in his experience on the high seas and years of experience. A low, slightly-impressed whistle escaped his lips upon observing the mans electrical sparks and the poor, unfortunate Marines who were at their mercy. The mans Devil Fruit ability would likely make his earlier plan of throwing him overboard rather difficult. Come to think of it, didn't the blond mention something about a flying man in glasses? "So, his buddy ate one too, one that grants the ability of flight, no less. Well, that complicates things. Should I jus' kill the blond now?"

A moment of thought passed by before the sniper shrugged, "Nah, I can use 'im. If they become too problematic, I can always sell 'em into slavery for a nice profit. Devil Fruit users fetch a decent price, after all." The thought completed, Slade took a grip on his rifle and casually pointed it in the direction of the line of riflemen lining the ships deck, their attention focused on the immediate mass of men and the blond beast before them to even give a courtesy glance towards the rooftops. It seemed as thought his new friend was put in such a predicament that he had to result to a human shield, which only went to prove his earlier point about a line of well-trained riflemen being able to take out just about anything.

Lining up his shot, Slade pulled the trigger and sent his own bullet flying into the rifle mouth of one of the freshly reloaded ones within the marines' line, not only causing the gun to jam, but to also explode from the backlash of a clogged barrel and thus sending shrapnel spewing out in all directions, the majority of it catching at least five of the near-by marines and the one who was unlucky enough to be holding the rifle in various parts of their body and dropping them to the deck in utter pain. Lifting his rifle unto his shoulder, Slade jumped to his feet, gave a quick two-fingered salute toward the blond currently hiding behind his meat shield, and bolted over the peak of the roof to quickly change locations before being spotted.

OOC: 41 Marines remaining.

From the bowels of the city, he exploded outward onto to scene with a brisk walk of danger-filled piracy. Apparently, the plan had already gone off. And no one invited him. Somehow, that seemed almost insulting. Either way, they had things to do. Couldn't really take the time to complain about being left behind right now. Save that for when they were sailing out of port on that fine looking vessel.

He spotted one of the guns explode knocking out a few of the men on deck who'd been gunning at the mob. He assumed they had some kind of sniper on their side, but worrying about that wasn't what he should do right now. Rather, he punched both hands forward, sending two air columns to knock the remaining two snipers to the other side of the deck, rendering them unconscious. He broke into a run now, boosting himself above the row of Marines with two jets from his heels. A flip through the air and he landed behind another soldier. "Jet Punch!" he exclaimed, the man turning just in time to see a burst of air smack into his face and break his nose.

"Somebody's having a party and didn't invite me," he mentioned to his first mate, not sure whether he'd be paying attention during all the ruckus. He bent backwards to avoid a punch aimed at his head, raising a foot to the assaulter's face and launching a Jet Kick directly at him, sending him into a similar position as the one from before. Rolling back to his feet, he took out a bomb from his coat pocket and lobbed it at Tyson's head. "Catch," he said, not 100% on whether he'd hear him or be able to grasp it at that point in time.

The dock seemed to have exploded during his absence. Whatever the guy did, he'd done it well. He continued to fight his way through the mob, but couldn't help but feel impressed by the amount of pure chaos their presence had been able to create. Their bounties would definitely be something after all this. It'd be a lot of fun.


Skills Used: Jet Punch, Jet Kick.

It had definitely been a good idea to recruit that sharpshooter.  Sending a casual wave of gratitude back at the master gunman, Tyson was happy to see his captain finally make a dramatic entrance of his own.  Employing his wind powers, Fisher had further reduced the number of enemies and relieved them of those pesky snipers once and for all.  Throwing his now useless human shield into the mass of struggling bodies to clear some space, Tyson was able to catch Fisher's quip easily enough not to mention his bomb.  "Didn't peg you for the social type," he said his hands closing around the small explosive.  

Eyes flicking to his left, Mikal caught sight of his new "friend" Jones sprawled on the ground with two Marines brandishing a sword overhead intent on finishing the dock worker off.  Features settling into a glare, Tyson created a spark between his thumb and forefinger to serve as an electrical lighter for the fuse of the bomb held in the palm of his hand.  Then, waiting a moment for the fuse to burn down a bit he called out to the Marine swordsmen.  "Hey!" he cried, his voice barely penetrating the ruckus to reach their ears.  The twosome looked up just in time to see the explosive enter the air space between their heads and explode at eye level. Luckily, the explosive was small enough and high enough in the air to avoid inflicting significant injury to poor old Jones who slowly dragged himself to his feet. "You've got some fun toys, Fisher!"

Sliding down the tile roof to gain momentum, he waited till the last possible second to launch himself over the moderately sized gap that had needed to be crossed to reach the second rooftop, in which he did with noticeable grace. Dashing up to the tip of the arch that served as the pinnacle of the roof, Slade glanced over his shoulder to see how the chaos was coming along. It seemed, from what he could make out, the accomplice and secondary devil fruit user that was mentioned earlier had arrived, and was doing a rather decent job of clearing out some pests. Satisfied with how the battle was unfolding, Slade once again slid down the opposite side of the roof to once again cross yet another gap and continued on his trek across the rooftops, careful not to knock loose any of the tiles and crossing another three before being forced to halt due to the next gap being far too spacious for him to cross even with the added momentum of a slide.

Seeing as it would serve just as well as any rooftop for a sniping perch, and seeing as how he was pushing the maximum range of his dearly beloved R.O.A.T.S, Slade spun on his heels and once again observed the area with his keen, hawk-like eye. Propping a foot up on the top of the hill-like roof, Slade twisted as his waist and brought his left arm out infront of himself and bend it at the elbow, to which he would lay the rifle in the crook created with his right hand and utilized the scope to gain further clarity. There were still quite a few Marines from what he could see, but they were gaining a decent amount of ground. They didn't have any excuse to lose. Slade had instigated an arson-laced riot to spread out the majority of the marines and thin the numbers, but with the addition of two devil fruit users, a loss on their end was unthinkable.

Then again, he knew all too well to not celebrate before the victory had been won.

Eying an unfortunate soul through the lens of his scope, a deep inhale and slow exhale acted to steady the mans aim before his finger twitched on the trigger. The bullet shot from the rifle with a fierce bark, though one hardly heard over the ongoing ruckus, and sped across the vast space between it's origin and intended target, which happened to be the Sniper that had gone unnoticed within the crows nest who's sights had been set on the crowd below. Needless to say, the man's head let loose a spray of red mist and toppled over the edge of the nest to fall to the decks below with a heavy thud.

Skills Used: Deathshot

The bomb had proven to be a success. His skills in the technical aspects of piracy were still as sharp as ever. He'd hope, at least, considering he'd only set out on his journey less than two days ago. And they were already stealing a ship. Progress.

Drawing his sword, he guarded a slash from one inept Marine, cutting across his chest just enough to send him to the ground in shock. They might be pirates, but the idea of murder was still a bit hazy as far as he was concerned. If he could help it, he'd rather not be forced to send anyone to the hearse this afternoon. It would only complicate matters on a moral level.

Seeing a Marine with his back turned, he smacked the back of his knee with the blunt edge of his sword, sending him dropping to the ground in a pile. For good measure, he stepped on his face, a blast of wind jetting out into his head just to make sure he was sufficiently incapacitated. Noticing a flaming plank, he grabbed another bomb out of his coat and rolled it through the fire towards a crowd. It exploded behind them, sending two Marines into the water and another to the ground. One of them returned from his quick swim and tried to attack by swinging his fists wildly at a dock worker, only to be swiftly returned to the ocean by a punch to the nose. It seemed those guys were pulling their weight, after all. Better than constantly saving them.


Marines left: 31

With the mosh pit in full swing around them, Tyson gradually worked his way over to Fisher, keeping his back facing towards the Jet Man. Flung from the crowd, a Marine broke for him swinging a length of chain as a makeshift weapon. Catching the movement easily enough, Tyson ducked low underneath the swing before shattering the man's jaw with a thunderous uppercut. Then shifting his stance into a classic mountain climber position, Mikal thrust out a solid left punch to send a powerful bolt of lightning streaking forth to strike an airborne Marine who had attempted to leap into a crowd of distracted dockworkers.

The momentum was continually swinging in their direction now that they'd stabilized the area immediately in front of the gang plank to ensure that their mob didn't burn down the ship. That being said, it couldn't hurt to start getting things prepped for departure before the Marines were entirely dealt with. Tyson very much doubted that the dock workers would simply allow them to steal the ship just like that. Or maybe they would considering the strong hatred for the Marines around here. More of a toss up at this point really but Tyson was not fond of gambling. "Holler if you need anything," he shouted back to Fisher before jumping into the air. However rather than allow gravity to simply pull him back down into the melee, Tyson kicked the air itself and launched himself upwards towards the deck of the ship, correcting his course with a second bound off seemingly invisible platforms of air.

Skills used: Geppo

Marines Remaining: 29

Lowering his rifle to his shoulder and allowing it to rest there after taking his previous shot, Slade simply took a moment to watch the ongoing chaos now that neither of his new associates were in immediate danger of getting an extra hole punched into their flesh by someone skilled enough with a rifle. There was really no more task's for him to fulfill at the moment, seeing as picking off any more mooks in the moving, wriggling mass below would be rather pointless when two devil fruit users should be able to handle themselves well enough. Placing his free hand upon his chin to stroke his black stubble, Slade went about further observing the actions of the two assisting him and took notice of the fact that Tyson had set his sights on the ships upper deck, using a rather odd technique that allowed him to skip on the air itself.

It might have made Slade a bit dumbfounded had it been the first time he'd seen it used, but in his many years alive as a pirate, there weren't many things that could do that. However, seeing it beneficial to help buy the kid some time, Slade brought his rifle to bare once again and took aim towards the masses colliding with one another in the street and carefully took into consideration all of the variables and surroundings. Seeing a perfect target for him to put a hole in, Slade let his finger twitch on the trigger once again, allowing the bullet to burst forth from the mouth of his rifle alongside it's harrowing bark. The speeding bullet slammed into one of the support beams under the dock, the impact of which blew off quite the decent chunk. Four more followup shots, each on different support beams that were visible, would cause a structural weakness that would be abused via the weight of just how many people were lining the peer.

The glasses guy might get caught in the fall, but that really wasn't Slade's problem. The peer would collapse, and if the guy had enough sense, he'd use that unique little power of his to get some air. In the mean time, Slade rested his rifle on his shoulder and instead bolted off across the rooftops in the direction towards the waterside, leaping across various gaps as he did until he came to the end. Not slowing, Slade took a deep breath and simply dove off the edge of the building and into the ocean water, disappearing beneath the surface. Of course, he'd make his way toward the back end of the ship and begin to climb himself aboard, though he wouldn't fully expose himself by reaching the top deck, he'd instead hang on the side by one of the many footholds used by overboard sailors to climb to safety. Him being on the other side of the ship would effectively hide him from all the prying eyes on dock side, and that's where he'd wait.

OOC: I'm assuming around eight or nine marines would be on the portion of the peer that collapsed, so going by that let's just assume that 20 marines are remaining.

Look at that Stupid dock. Falling apart on him like that. Oh well, it was no concern. He hadn't tried flying for a while now, so it was always refreshing to get into the air for a time. He might as well decide to take a look up on deck. It seemed like the dock workers had it more or less taken care of down below, what with the incredibly decreased number of Marines.

He touched down on the deck with a small blast of air releasing around him from his palms and feet, striking a dramatic landing position for the fun of it. With no one immediately trying to attack them up there, he decided to clear the area of unconscious people and guns. Dropping the intact weaponry into the ocean to let it sink, he blew the bits of the one riffle overboard with a jet. "Help me out with these guys," he called to Tyson, dragging one Marine by the arm to dump him overboard (right side up so he wouldn't end up drowning). He heard a loud splash as the first man was tossed into the water. They were a long way from finishing up, though.

Flying had taken it out of him, though. He wasn't a trained fighter - he was just a scientist. He say down for a minute on the deck, opening up the umbrella he'd been carrying on his back. "Actually, can you take care of these? I haven't eaten in, like, six hours." He looked to his right and saw an angry Marine standing over a man. He blasted him in the back of the head with a gust, causing him to fall face first into the wood.

Landing nimbly on deck, Tyson gave the top deck a once over to determine whether or not there were any immediate threats.  Seeing no one but the unconscious Marines that his allies had taken care of earlier, Mikal made his way towards the door to the ship's interior to scan the rest of the vessel.  However, he was quickly joined by his captain and asked to assist in manual labor.  Specifically, by "assist", Fisher intended for him to do all the hard work while the Jet Man sat on his lazy hind quarters.  Scowling, Tyson placed his hands on his hips and groaned at the overwhelming lack of work ethic in the other man.  

"Alright, alright.  I'm comi-" was all the lightning man had time to say before a large meaty fist crashed through the door and struck Tyson squarely on the left cheek.  Thrown across the deck, the Lion Kempo practitioner rolled with the momentum and came to a stop in a kneeling position in time to see the seven foot juggernaut fully emerge from below deck and charge after him.  The burly Marine's bare arms flexed with effort as he threw another powerful punch at the pirate only for Tyson to raise his right hand and catch the fist square on before closing his fingers around it.  "Gimme a minute here, Fisher.  Lion Claw!" Tyson roared as his highly trained grip crushed down on the giant Marine's hand, shattering the bones as if they were kindling as punishment for the audacity of opening with such a cheap shot.

"I'm gettin' too freakin' old fer this..." Slade groaned internally, hanging on the side of the ship with one hand with the other clasping onto his precious rifle. Taking a quick breather that only lasted a mere moment, Slade finally hoisted himself through one of the windows in which cannons were traditionally stationed and, after giving a quick peek inside to make sure none remained, in which after the hulking giant had made his leave, there were non, he finally hauled himself into the hull and dropped to the floor in a crouch. He was tempted to use the lower decks as a hiding spot and wait for the rest of the lot to clear the way and set sail, then use the lower areas to potentially set up an ambush for them once they had gotten out to sea. However, upon seeing the lovely instruments of absolute destruction stationed before him, those being the fully functioning cannons, another idea sprung to mind.

Sliding his rifle onto his shoulder by it's strap, Slade began a feverish search for any form of projectile that was meant to be launched from the loving weapons. A few moments of tossing loose rope and rolling empty barrels aside bore fruit, as he finally found the stash of bagged gunpowder and cannonballs in the corner of the lower decks. Picking up two of them, one in each hand and one bag under each arm, which he struggled with at first, he walked to the two chosen cannons and went to work properly loading them. Upon completing the lengthy task, which took around a two minutes or so, Slade finally took his position behind the two and placed a hand on them, heaving with all his might to roll the cannons toward the opened hatches in which their mouths were soon visibly protruding from.

Finally, taking some of nearby matches, he struck two of them and held them near the fuses, a maniac grin coming across his lips. The fuses lit, and over their hissing the one-eye'd man would shout for all to hear as the deadly weapons slowly ticked down to discharge upon the target, which happened to the port and everyone one it. "Lads, lasses, and fellow farers of the high seas, I grant thee a salute of two guns to see you off to yer trip tae hell!" He quickly pulled back and plugged his ears with his index fingers just before the fuses disappeared, igniting the powder inside and bringing to life the sound of absolute destruction in the form of cannon fire. The two cannonballs impacted the docks with indiscriminate wrath, the explosions engulfing all those in eyesight and utterly ruining what was left of the docks and everyone on in, Marine and rioter alike.

He would peer out the window to view the destruction, which gave birth to the most maniac laughter he'd displayed in quite a while. Still laughing, the sniper would make his way toward the stairs that would lead up to the upper decks to meet up with his new companions. The docks were destroyed, so anyone wanting to board the ship would either have to fly or swim a good distance to do so, and they'd be noticed long before they managed to reach their destination.


OOC: Marines left: 1.

Look, a giant monster. Not every day you see one of those on a ship. Looks like he'd have to take care of this one before a nap. He'd been slowed down quite a bit from all the flying (even if it was only a bit), but he was still going strong enough to take out one big guy. He blasted him with a jet of air to the face, then a real Jet Punch right after. It would lose some strength, being about 10 meters away, but it would be sufficient for someone with a broken hand like that. He got up just to make sure, coming forward with sword in hand in the event he still had some fight in him.

He noticed the dock seemingly having disappeared at this point. It was probably from that big cannon he heard a few seconds ago. At least they weren't shooting at them. It was too bad they had to break so much of their stuff, though. These people seemed nice enough, not to mention they helped get them the ship. They were lucky enough to make this charge on a day when the foremen were all out. From what he'd heard around time, they were on a whole other level from the general workers around here. If they had to fight those guys, this plan probably wouldn't have gone as smoothly as they'd seen so far. But, he had bigger things to worry about right now, like the big guy standing over there with a busted hand and face punches.

Skills Used: Jet Punch.

No sooner had Tyson crushed the man's hand, Fisher chose to get involved with the matter and take the Marine Captain off his feet with surprise blasts of air. Between the pain in his hand and the sheer surprise of Fisher's assault, the higher ranking Marine was easily knocked off his feet to the deck below. A bit disgruntled at having his meal taken away so easily, Tyson made sure to get in at least one more shot on the downed Captain before Fisher could close the distance with that sword of his. Dropping his knee onto the Captain's solar plexus, Tyson delivered a heavy right cross to the man's chin to ensure unconsciousness once and for all before returning to a full standing position.

Examining the dock, or at least what was left of the dock, Mikal could only let out an impressed whistle. "Crazy one eyed bastard..." he muttered to himself, crossing his arms over his chest. The cannon blasts had completely destroyed the ropes tethering the massive war ship to the dock and they had already begun to drift out with the tide into open ocean. "Well, that went way smoother than expected. Looks like we got ourselves a real ship at last," he exclaimed over his shoulder to Conrad. "Think it's about time we got out of here before anymore big guns show up?" Suddenly remembering the maniac who had demolished the dock, Tyson leaned over the side of the deck and shouted down towards the cannon slots in hopes that the sniper would hear him. "Hey old man! Get up here, we're planning stuff!"

Pulled from his laughing fit that was obtained by the previous display of destructive firepower by what sounded like Tyson's voice calling down to him. Letting out a few lingering chuckles, Corban finally allowed himself to take a small breath before steadying himself on the stairs. After another moment, he finally made his way up and finally exited the door that allowed access to the upper deck where the others were. He had begun tossing around the idea of whether or not he should still carry out his plan of trying to hijack the shit and take it for himself, but it was still too early to make that decision. They weren't far enough out to sea, the ship wasn't in full sail, and there could still be potential threats on board in the form of lurking Marines. Still, he tossed the thoughts aside for now a cradled them in the back of his mind.

Reaching the doorway, he'd stop and rest his forearm on the frame to lean on, a questioning look of disappointment on his face at the mention of his age. "Oi, oi, let's make a compromise. I'll stop callin' ya kid and you never call me ol' man again, agreed?" He stopped for a moment, casting a glance at the downed giant of a Marine that had been apparently laid out for his two new companions. Retrieving his rifle from his shoulder, the marksman lowered the barrel in the downed mans direction and made a poking motion with it. "Hoho, fee fi fo fum, what beanstalk did that big bumpkin fall from?" Slade stepped out of the doorway by a step and placed his free hand on his hip, glancing around to admire the spaciousness and size of the latest conquest that was the ship.

"We should probably shoot 'im, ya know. Or throw him overboard. Or both. Buuut that's really up to you two. Anyway... What's this about a plan I hear?"

That was over much too quickly. If he had it his way, they'd be off and sailing the seas for new adventure in random, navigator-less romps, but it felt like there was more to do. Yes, like some arbitrary rule kept them in this area for some strange, unknown reason. What was it? He didn't normally have this feeling, but it was here. Maybe it was all the Marines left on board? Could it be them holding things up? Whatever the reason, he'd have to take care of these guys eventually. They'd drifted away from the city already, so dropping them in the water was going to be a bit more complicated.

Life boats were plentiful, so they could spare one just for this one time. He grabbed one of them by the arm and began dragging him over to the tiny ship waiting on the side of their new vessel. He was still rather tired and would very much like to take a nap right about now, but this had to be done. It was a short trip, but it could have easily passed for walking the world in his mind. Finally, they reached the boat, dropping the soldier in before returning for more. "I'm lowering these guys down. Someone help me pull." He grabbed another and repeated the process, dragging him over to his waiting comrade and preparing to toss him on top of him. They seemed out pretty well, so hopefully no one would wake up before they were far out on the water.

"Whatever you say pops," Tyson said in response to the one eyed marksman, bending over to grab the giant marine by the boot and drag him to where Fisher was piling the others. "Cap'n says no go on killing the unconscious so we're not about to cross that line," he continued, shooting down Corban's suggestion while hauling the big mook over to where the life raft was rapidly being filled. By the time he'd gotten the unconscious officer over to the boat, Conrad had already successfully filled it with the other neutralized Marines so all that was left to do was grab hold of one of the lines and help lower them down.

That is, until one of the men groggily regained consciousness. Though awake and aware, it appeared as if the man was still too injured to fight back. Taking initiative, Tyson grabbing him by the jaw and spoke using a slow clear tone. "My name is Tyson Mikal. The man with the glasses is Captain Fisher Conrad," he said, turning the Marine's head to better see Conrad before turning him towards the one eyed sniper as an afterthought. "And that's Pops. We're a pirate crew and you're going to tell everyone about how we drove Dock One insane and burnt it to the ground with your ship." With that, the lightning man released the Marine and happily helped lower them into the open ocean at a brisk pace. "What? I want to make sure we get credit for this."

Corban placed his palm over his face at the alternative phrase the youngster went about using, causing him to groan audibly. However, his attention only lingered on it for a moment before the mention of the glasses being the captain, causing the marksman to peer out from his fingers with his one good eye. He had his doubts about these people, and the fact that the so-called captain refused to deliver finishing blows and abuse the situation to the fullest only made those doubts grow. Perhaps throwing them overboard was the best thing to do. "Right, so ah guess we're jus' ignorin' all tha ones I jus' killed with my rifle, indirectly burned alive due to my sparking the idea of torching the docks, and indiscriminately massacred with point-blank cannon fire. 'Onestly, what kind of pirate captain refuses to kill his enemies when the opportunity presents itself? Mercy's not a quality of any pirate I've evar met. Sure yew two are up for the task?"

He understood leaving some survivors in order to spread the word, but there were a lot more than some in that lifeboat. However, Slade straightened and suddenly turned his attention toward the boat being lowered and the blond man assisting in the effort to do so. "Oi! If "Pops" winds up on my Wanted Poster because of you I'll strap you to a cannon and drop ya to crushin' black depths of the ocean!", he paused, then shouted to the men in the boat with hopes some of them were still conscious enough to remember what he was about to say. "The names Corban Doe Slade! Mess it up and I'll find and burn yer houses down!"

He didn't really care what the gun guy had to say about him. All he had was a gun. How strong could he really be like that? He waved to the last conscious Marine in the boat as he was dropped into the water and left to float off in the direction of Water 7. He remembered his hunger now, realizing that this vessel wouldn't be stocked with food. "Crap!" he declared, looking back at both of the men. "We don't have any food!" They couldn't go back at this point. Or could they? Maybe if they sailed around to the other side of the town, they'd be able to pass themselves off as someone new just long enough to get some supplies and ship out somewhere new.

"Can anyone sail this thing? I'm only good for blowing it in the right direction." While unable to steer, thinking of sails did make him realize something he needed to change. He opened his parasol and boosted himself up the mainmast until he reached the top. From there, he untied the Marine flag flying from the top and let it blow into the breeze. He jumped off the top, slowing himself by blowing into the umbrella once again. "Also, can anyone paint? I really can't draw up a good Jolly Roger for this ship." Stupid art.

Covering his mouth to hide his yawn, Tyson gave a slight shrug at Fisher's concerns. "There were Marines on here when we took it. Chances are they've got a little grub down below to hold us over until we can reach a port and properly stock up. Maybe find a proper navigator while we're at it," he said, folding his favored coat up neatly and placing it into his travel bag. Readjusting his sleeves, he immediately went to work on the sails. "I know just enough to help manage the sails a bit but I'm rubbish at directions. You don't want me at the wheel." Drawing down a large length of rope, Tyson unfurled the main sail, a glorious pearly white revealed to the world for the first time. With the stars overhead sparkling behind it, it was enough of a sight to give the large man pause. "Probably don't want me painting anything either but it does raise a good question. What are we gonna name this little crew of ours?" They certainly couldn't just sail around the world with nothing more than the moniker of "those guys" to signal their accomplishments. As Captain, the responsibility of naming their pseudo family fell to Fisher. With the main sail deployed, there was little else Tyson could do until some further marching orders were given. Instead, he decided to busy himself with a discarded newspaper from one of the now vacated Marines. Specifically, it was the headline that caught his eye, mentioning the latest exploits of one of the Yonko known as "The Thunder God". Interesting...

The only thing that could be heard from Slade was an audible "tsk" escaping his lips as he ran his hand through his bedraggled hair, mostly out of the annoyance he felt for being utterly ignored. Honestly, it would be a miracle if he didn't act upon his earlier plan to throw them overboard in their sleep. The topic of lacking supplies was countered with a logical argument from Tyson, which was one Slade had to silently agree with. The ship was sea ready, after all, so it was unlikely that the marines were lacking in supplies so close to their own departure time. There should be enough to hold them over, at least. Slade pondered a bit more on the ships current condition and the cargo. He had seen quite a few crates below deck with the cannons and what not laying about, so it was likely they had rations stashed away in a few of them.

"Oi, four-eyes!" He shouted toward the top of the mast to get the so-called captains attention. "Check below decks if yer hungry. There were a few crates alongside the gunpowder and cannons that are probably packed with military rations and other supplies, not to menti-What the hell?!" Slade interrupted himself as he saw the only Marine Flag on the ship be cut loose and allowed to drift away in the breeze, to which Slade bolted across the ship and up to the stern in an attempt to catch it, which failed miserably due to the railing catching him. Staring hopelessly as their only means of disguise float away, Slade suddenly turned on his heels. "The hell is wrong with you people?! You don't kill, you're hardly organized, and you let our only means of stealth just float away?! I'm having a hard time seeing you as pirates and more as morons!"

Slade exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air and grabbing hold of his own hair in a dramatic display of rage and irritation. Rubbing the unruly mop atop his head in further agitation, Slade finally threw his hands up in surrender and made his way to the shroud of rope that led up to the masts. "Che, I'll take a position in the crows nest as lookout. I'd rather not be run into a goddamn reef with the two you driving blind." Those were the only other words he'd say before climbing his way atop the rope ladder and into the hanging sails and booms above, climbing into the crows nest to nestle into his new station.

He cared little for what the beardy man had to say. It was all negativity and no one needed that in their life. It was a bit disheartening knowing they had neither a navigator or an artist on board with them. It seemed like they'd just have to blast forward into the night and see what they found. "Let's go that way!" he declared, pointing off to the right and to what a compass would determine is west. He went inside to change the rudder position, something he could figure out easy enough, though it took a few tries to get in the right direction. With that in order, he went down lower and opened up a box. It was filled with disgusting hardtack, which he promptly ate a handful of after tapping them all on the side of the crate. It was a challenge, but one his healthy teeth could endure. Sucking on the edges would soften them enough, and moving them around with his tongue usually finished the job enough to chew and swallow.

He headed back up on deck. "I found some crap cakes," he said, still eating one. He was really hoping they would find something good to eat soon. Sailing around for an extended period of time with just these crackers to eat would be a pain. Not to mention, it would really be a bother if any insects managed to get on board and they'd be forced to deal with them infesting the stuff.