The following excerpts are chronicles from the journal of the Dread Pirates' adventures.
Induction of DreadEdit
It was a quiet day in Kiyoshi Village, as was the norm. It was a peaceful village that many residents saw as a safe haven within the tumultuous waters of the West Blue. Yet this was where a certain field reporter found himself, in search of a good story. His instincts told him that he ought to be here, and he always trusted his instincts when he was off chasing a scoop. He had good instincts too, it was the reason he was close to being promoted to work the Grand Line. He was sure that if he just turned in one more good report, he would get that promotion. Though if asked, he couldn't truly say whether that was what he wanted. He didn't know what he wanted. But his gut was telling him that this village was the best place to be right now.
Drinking a light glass of white wine at a local restaurant, he watched as a small ship pulled into the port. Ah, now I'm craving a nice port. Maybe I should order some dessert. As the crew left the docked ship, one of them seemed to be arguing with the others, but they were too far away for the reporter to make out what they were saying. Not that it mattered though, quarrelsome sailors was no story in and of itself. Still, he would keep an eye out to see if it would lead to anything. After placing his order, he went back to reading his book.
The young sailor walked away from his crew fuming. Or rather, his former crew. They had unanimously decided to kick him off the ship, and it didn't make any sense. He's the one that would deter pirates from raiding the ship during a voyage, but they claim that he was too violent. He supposed it was no coincidence they chose to dismiss him after reaching this village; there shouldn't be any fear of pirate or mafioso while they were here. Whatever. They can get wiped out by vicious criminals now for all I care. They said that he could come back to grab his stuff at any time before they sail off again in a few days, so that was why he was empty-handed. Though it's not like he really owned a whole lot to begin with. Guess I'll come back after I find a place to stay for a while then. But first, I could use a hard one.
Finding a grungy hole of a tavern down a back alley, the seafarer decided to give it a shot. He wasn't much of a drinker himself, but after all the different ships he's sailed on, and all the crews he's sailed with, he had probably heard of all the best sailor friendly drinkeries in common port towns within this Blue. As such, it only took him a short amount of time to find the place, though it didn't seem quite as charming to him as his former companions had made it out to be. In fact, it looked rather like a dump to him, but he was just looking to get wasted so that didn't really matter all that much at the moment. Walking into the bar, it seemed even more rundown inside than it did outside, if that was possible. It was so dark in there that he could barely see at first, despite how sunny it was outside. Once his eyes adjusted, he saw loose, rotting planks of wood as stools, rusty nails sticking out everywhere, surfaces covered in spilled alcohol and puke, and rowdy sailors making a ruckus. Everyone here seemed to be much older than himself, and fairly drunk as well.
"Well I suppose that means I've found the right place to drink myself stupid," he said to himself before grabbing the barkeep's attention. "Hey, I'm having a shitty day. I want to get drunk enough to forget my troubles. Think you can help?"
Mumbling something or another, the grizzled old barkeep poured six shots of vodka and a large stein of grog. Pushing the frinks to the sailor, he grumbled "Take these. You feel better," before walking away.
Nervously staring at the imposing amount of liquor in front of him. Taking a moment to compose himself, he shot back three of his six shots quickly before they had an effect on him. Already reaching for the fourth, he suddenly stopped dead in his tracks, seemingly frozen in time, before a shiver ran through his entire body. Much slower than the previous three, he then finished the next two of his shots, making a face after both shots.