Nendo Haven (141)

ZK

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Nendo Haven

Nendo Haven is an island characterized by sand beaches, grass and lush forests. It is a warm, subtropical climate, a fact that many settlers taken advantage of. The island’s most recognizable feature is the large Mount Nendo, which lies in its center and consist almost entirely of light beige clay. Many communities of easygoing fishermen, artisans and manufacturers can be found here, taking advantage of the island’s many natural resources. A few smaller ninja clans make their home closer to the mountains, accepting contracts from the inhabitants.
 

Mudo

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Arriving from here.


Ever closer to his final destination, Jack loops around a route past the imposing Mount Nendo, taking a boat to his next stop.



Leaving landmark.
 
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Gutsy

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#5
Players Involved: Gutsy Jiraiya

Mission Rank: B

Story Elements Chosen:

  • Torture a suspect [3]
  • Convince a criminal to confess [3]
Pyke The Bloodharbor Ripper: https://animebase.me/threads/pyke-the-bloodharbor-ripper.765290/

Summary: This is the beginning of the tales of the Bloodharbor Ripper. He has tracked an individual to the island of Nendo Haven, this is where the story begins.



The road lay before the man like a tarmac ribbon, albeit one that had been worn over time. The cobbles broken and torn up from their places in the road. He continued walking down the street, only a few lights illuminated the road, the rain drops propelling off the roof tiles, dirt and leaves from the trees around on the street. The warm lights coming from the pubs inviting him in with the smell of well-aged whisky. He was swaying as if he was on a ship at high seas, the bottle in his hand half empty, he had been singing sea chants for a long time now. He was being soaked, as he made his way down the slaughter docks, a place where the tide itself was not strong enough to wash away the red slick that ran constantly down its wooden slips.

The gulls shriek, their warbled cries caught on the wind, as Pyke found Maziers name on the list. The last name on the parchment. A feeling gnaws at Pyke, Resltess, unsettled, unsatisfied. He cannot be done. There were too many of them there, on the decks. Perhaps he got the wrong manifest, maybe it does not even matter.

They let me die. So many hands. So many times. Pyke thought to himself.

Another sound. Not gulls. Not waves. Not teeth closing. Not the voice in the back of his mind screaming out “you’re not done!” over and over and over. Not the music he remembers from the swimming city, all those years ago.

It’s a new sound. A real sound. A here-and-now sound.

Pyke looks with his living eyes and sees wooden planks under heavy bootfalls. The man, walking down towards the moored, bobbing vessel by the end.

He stops when he sees all the blood. His hand disappeared into his jacket, pulling a knife, keeping the edge of the knife close to his chest, ready to attack. Like a bloody idiot.

Pyke steps into the moonlight. The man looks like he’s seen a ghost. The skin around his mouth clams up tigher than a dock banker’s coin-purse. His eyes go wide and quivery, like jellyfish, like calm water catching a breeze.

“Who’s that?” he yells.

“Come find out…” Pyke said, with his faded dead eyes staring at him.

The knife is aimed at Pyke’s head. Then comes the throw. The aim is true, but it strikes the wood because Pyke is no longer where he was. He is in the mist.

He falls apart, into salt and drops of water, a fine man to a fine mist. He heard they call him a phantasm. They’re half right.

He heavyset man pulls another knife. Sweat beads his wrinkled brow.

In those precious few seconds, Pyke is all around him, in the in between, somewhere behind the air itself, studying him. Those fearful eyes, crap-brown. His beard wild and white. Sagging jowls, crooked nose, cracked lips, the way his earlobes are cauliflowered from countless dirty tavern fights.

Looks like a captain. Pyke whispered into the mist.

The man reeks of sweet, prickly fear. Good old boot-quaking terror.

Smells like a captain… the mist grew ever darker around the man.

Pyke needed to be sure. He took form, he was always a big man, now with the baleful, glowing eyes that the sea gifted him, he feels larger still. Tell me your name, he rumbled.

The man did not expect anyone to appear behind him. Nobody expects that. Maybe they do in fantasies or nightmares or the stories they tell in bars. But everyone just craps their pants and falls flat on their face, and this heavyset captain is no rule-breaker on that count. He trips on his own stupid boots and rolls down the stairs like a sack of potatoes.

Pyke took each step slowly. A galleon from the land of fire is moored at the dock. Trader ship, or traitor ship. Is there really a difference? He guessed not.

You got ‘til I get to the bottom of these steps to tell me what I want to know. His rumbling and clicking voice echoed through the mist towards the man, his frightened eyes and the subtle cries from his mouth reaching Pyke like a symphony.

The man wheezed, his wind knocked clear into someone else’s sails. Gasping. A fish on land. Chubby hands reaching out.

I remember you…

Step.

White-knuckle grip on the deck rail…

Step.

The man tries to stand, but his knee bends the wrong way.

Step.

You were watching.

Step. A wharf-rat scurries close. Dinner time soon.

You were smiling.

Sputter. Tears coming now. “P-please… I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

Step.

Name. Now.

“Beke Mazier!” The man cried out.

Pyke stopped to consult the manifest, one step from the bottom. All the red marks. All the crossed-out names. There, Beke Mazier. Uncrossed clear as day. Must have had the paper folded wrong.

Beke Mazier. Yeah, I remember you. You were there.

“I have never seen you before! It’s my first night in Nendo Ha…”

People can’t lie with a hookman’s barber lodged in their cheek. They can’t beg or trade facts they don’t have.

Fine tool, the barber-blade. Made of tempered sharkbone. Keener than steel. Sticks in really good. Snagging on bone and flesh. Struggling only hooks it deeper, as Beke is learning. His eyes are afraid now. Those eyes stab at Pyke’s mind.

The memory rises like a tide, and he opens to let the waters come crashing through, drowning out Beke’s gurgling pleas. Though not long enough for him. Pyke pulled the blade from Beke and wrapped something around his deep wound, as he carried him onto a small boat. He still had ten minutes to live.

He was lying on the boat, gurgling as blood dripped from his mouth and nose, his eyes terrified of the events unfolding. He had thought this a night of drinking a pleasure but to his mind it had been nothing more than torture and pain. But it was not over yet. Pyke wrapped a chain around the man’s legs together with a rock, tying the rope to the mast, hanging him over the edge like he was a capture dead sharp hanging by his neck, barely able to breath, the ever-looming water below.

You are going to tell me who else was on that vessel that day… you are going to confess to me what you did was wrong! And then ill set you free! Pyke said with a cold and calm voice, his spiked blade gently caressing Bekes cheek.

“J-just kill me now…” he managed to gurgle out of his bloody mouth. Surprisingly enough, the pain, terror and adrenaline had washed away all the alcohol in his blood.

Death is too easy… You have to earn your death…” Pykes blade slowly pushed through the skin, the rip giving out, cracking under the pressure of the the blade, the veins and muscle tissue shredding. The screams of agony filling the docks.

“P-please stop…”

As I said… you have to earn it. Pyke slowly pulled the blade, as he grabbed the rope around his neck, the rope tightening around the neck. Let’s see how well you do… underwater…

He cut the rope, as the man dropped into the water below, though keeping his head over water, Pyke was still holding the rope as he crouched down looking at him.

There is plenty of room for everyone at the bottom of the sea… Pyke loosened his grip on the rope.

“Wait… wait wait… I admit to watching you falling into the depths, I admit to being part of it… but I was not the one giving the order, I swear!” Beke looked with despair at Pyke, his mouth could not stop moving, he was getting colder, and paler as his blood seeped into the water below. The animals in the sea slowly approaching the area, large eels, piranhas and other animals circling the man.

Give me his name and where he is… and I shall set you free.

“Mid… midnight island… his name… Gangplank.”

Gangplank, the name resonated through his mind, the notorious pirate captain, he was residing on an island nearby, the last man. Pyke nodded at Beke, he was gonna set him free now. Beke expected a quick death, for his cooperation. Pyke let go of the rope, the screaming man quickly disappearing into the water below, the bubbles of air raising like hundreds of balloons through the water to the surface. The eels and other animals came upon him from all sides, eating and tearing away at his flesh, bones and bloodied body. Pyke stared down at him from above with a smile, a man dying the way they expected him to have died. The blood and flesh filled the harbor, until no air bubbles were to be found, there were no more movement in the water, the stone tied to his legs the body would not raise to the top only chunks of flesh and skin. Pyke stood up and crossed the name off his list. He then opened the sail and went into the open sea, leaving the dead behind. He continued onward, with his task to find the notorious pirate, the last man standing, the last one to have betrayed him.

  • Leaving Landmark for Midnight Island
 
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