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Epics in a Daze

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It is said that a whole world is actually nothing. And that new worlds are made every day by those who have the power to shape reality. Any man, woman or child with that power has the potential to change history forever, and so the world is everchanging. The world as we know it is a vast blue ocean littered with small islands. Fearsome pirates roam the seas terroizing the world, and men of great power hold the globe in their grip. And yet the seeds of change will inevitably sprout, it has happened before. As the world is changed by significant figures from past to future, there will be others forgotten in their wake. As mighty as those are who shape the foundations of history, many more will never be recognized. A story begins with each new jopurney and ours begins on an island in the vast expanse of ocean known as the East blue. For it is here the man of our focus will begin his journey. A new legacy is about to be born...

East Blue

The sun rises over the waves to reveal a sleeping man in a small beached sailboat. He has a hat ove his face and an unfinished bottle of rum in his hand. The smell of salt, smoke and grog waves off of him. He seems to be older around 20 or so, his clothes are slightly worn and have been tattered by the waves and breezes of the sea. As the sun rises a bit higher the man stirs, he grabs his ruffled hat with his hand and sits up, pushing it up so his face could be seen.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaooooooooooooooh!" he yawned as he sat up looking toward the waves. "Gah, suns up already, eh, well then guess I'd better get to work." He said with a smirk.

[Weiler Rober, Boat Cleaner]

Rob stood up and got out of his boat, stumbling a little. He took a pack of cigarettes from one of his pockets and lit one of them with a match. After taking a large breat h of the smoke he walked up the beach to small shack. When he arrived he unlocked it and went inside. He raies a wooden curtain and flipped a sign around from closed to open. He turned and made sure his tools were in order, buckets, shovels, rakes, and a number of odd scraping tools. Then he sat down at the booth and waited taking another puff of his cigarette.

"Who'll be first?" Rob said with a wheezing chuckle.

-flashback- last night

"Oh hey Rob, how are ya!?" A bartender asked.

"Fine Joe, just fine."

"The usuall then?" the bartender continued.

"Yup, 40 burgers and 20 hot dogs." Rob said taking a swig from a bottle of grog.

"Ya know I just can't fathom where you put all that food." The bartender chuckled.

"Hey they make great fishin bait ya know." Rob smirked

"Yeah that's what ya tell me. Okay here ya go then."


Rob whistled as he snuck down the docks tossing handfulls of burger and hot dog bun into all the fishing boats. He then took out a hot dog and chomped down on it.

"Heh" he smirked.

-end flashback-

It didn't take long before people began lining up in front of Robs booth, Ship Cleaners. After all, Skylesa Village is known for it's fishing, and that business is big, many people have htere own fishing boats, but when they get dirty, someone needs to clean them.

"I don't know what keeps happening I wake up every mornin' and there is so much seagull crap that I can't even see the deck!" A fisherman said to Rob.

"That's okay Mr. Barqs, that's kinda my job." Rob said going through a card catalog. "You have the 60d Trawler right? And you said that you can't see the deck, eh? Well then that sounds like a six hour job, 100 Belis per hour means that'll be 600 Beli's."

"Meh, you know you drive a hard bargain, but your fair and ya do a good job, there ya go." Mr. Barqs said laying down some money. "Just don't go drink yerself sick wit' it."

Rob grabbed some of his odd scrapping tools and stepped out of his booth.

"I can't promisse that Mr. Barqs, but you'll have a spotless ship in six hours then."

"Thankya' Rob. I just can't understand how every week the things just bomb a couple ships and then poof! 'Sbeen what? Eight months?"

"I don't know, must be some odd twist of nature eh?" Rob said with a smirk.

Rob picked up a bunch of cleaning supplies, tools and buckets and left eh shack for the docks. It wasn't long before he found Mr. Barqs' trawler. Everyone who fished in the town always docked their boat in the same spot every time, so it made it easier for him to locate and clean them. Though sometimes the seagull waste got so bad it was impossible to see what kind of ship it was.

"Ah, the Shirley." He said staring at his handiwork, a 60d Trawler covered in white bird shit. "Well time to earn a livin, if this wasn't the worst part." He said sighing.

As he climbed aboard the ship he began to scrape it with some of the tools he had brought along, tearing off large quantities of bird dropping. He had finally reached the deck when the sky went dark.

"Oh that's not good." Rob said turning to see.

From a fish shop nearbye a customer who knew Rob bellowed.

"Rob get down! Tie everything down and get away, MAX is coming!"

"Shit!" Rob said grabbing his tools and leaping onto the docks. Quaint and quiet as the village and island was, there wass one thing that quivered everyone in their boots. MAX.

There are many laws of the sea that are nearly unexplainable, and while most happed in a confined belt called the Grand Line, here in this corner of the East blue their is a dangerous storm called MAX. Somwhere in the open sea a large basin will appear and a whole straigth to the ocean floor will appear, but as the air inside the swirling tunnel collects it expells up and outward creating a massive tidal wave that can swamp whole islands. Robs home town is directly in the path of that wave.

Rob reached his shack quickly and in a flash flung his things inside and locked it. The small shack would normally stand no chance against the impending wave about to occur, but he had been smart about it's placement. He had built the shack right on the other side of the Concrete wall that is raised out of the ground every time MAX threatens the island. As soon as he locked the shack the sand on the beach burst and a 50 foot wall of concreat began raising slowly out of the sand.

By this time Rob could see it, but not hear it, the sound of the roaring winds it bought with it deafened all. But there it was int he distance, miles of shore but he could see it, an emmense wall of water several hundred feet high probably, barreling toward the shoreline.

Suddenly there was a tug on his arm. He turned to see Mr. Barqs.

"ROB WE NEED TO GET INSIDE< THE WALL WON'T HOLD!" He yelled over the wind.

"I HAVE TIME! I NEED TO TIE DOWN SIDESHOW!" Rob roared back.

"YOU'RE SAILBOAT!? ROB LET IT GO!"

"NO WAY! IT'S JUST AS IMPORTANT TO ME AS YOUR FAMILY IS TO YOU!" Rob roared before barreling down the beach.

Rob didn't reach his boat in the time he had thought, the wind had held him back quite a bit. He knew his small boat could survive the wave, because it was made of Adam Wood, the strongest there was, but it was also incredibly rare and expensive. He reached his boat and promptly bound it to the sand as best he could, he weighed it down with buckets of sand and placxed a tarp over it to hold it down, but as he looked up he realized he was out of time. MAX was less than 30 feet a way.

"SHIT!"

With one last ditch move Rob lept into the boat and covered himself with the tarp bracing for the impact.


The clear sky echoed with the sounds of gulls in search of food, many flew arouinf with bits and pieces of meat and what looked like bread. More circled a small nearly derelict sailboat. The sailboat seemed to be in good condition, parts had beed snapped asnd broken hear and there, athere was also a partially shredded tarp covering much of it. Part of the erectable mast was sticking out and speared on the few splinteres of wood here and there were burgers and hotdogs that appeared waterlogged. The sun shone down on the tarp and through it's holes, under it something stirred. Amidst the seagulls and splinters a hand burst from a hole in the tarp. Then another and the two ripped a large hole, big enough for Rob to sit up.

"Son of a..." he said wearilly. The MAX had damaged his ship but nothing to drastically, instead it had grabbes his small ship, snapping the lines that held it down and had lung it high into the air far over the island and far out to sea. Rob, who had been in it at the time had ben bumped around so much he had actually been knocked unconcious. Not that he was awake he checked himself for broken bones and concussions.

"Well apart from billions of bruises, I appear fine." Rob said tearing what was left of the tarp off the small sailboat and tossing it around scaring away the gulls.

Rob surveyed the damage to his boat as he folded the remains of the tarp. "Not too much damage, I should be able to sail."

Rob went to store his tarp and found a problem...His compass, and some of his cases of beer had smashed all over some of his maps in the impact, much of what hte used to navigate while fishing was now useless.

"Great!" Rob said looking around. There was no land he could see anywhere. But there had to be some somewhere,or there wouldn't be any gulls.

Rob pulled out the extendable mast and set it up pulling out the said and fastening it tight.

"Well it's really simple, I just go in a straight line to where I see gulls." Rob said standing on the edge of his boat. "Come on Sideshow, we can make it."

Off he sailed, in what direction he did not know, his journey only just beginning, his lan, only to return home, for he was no adventurer, he was only a ship cleaner, well the last tiem he checked he was...

Boson Island Arc

The streets were earilly calm. All the citizens in the small port town had locked their doors and closed their windows. All of them afraid of something that was going on just north of the market.

An oriental looking building stood on a small bluff just north of the Port town of Amos. Standing before it was a large band of ruffians carrying guns and swords. and against them stood a 19 year old man wearing a traditional gi. He sttod them down with a steely glare.

"You know how it is, we are the 'protectors' Amos. Which means you have to pay up for our protection." one of the ruffians declared with a disturbing laugh.

"This is the fourth month in a row in which you have come to claim such a toll, and this will be the fourth month in a row in which I singlehandedly removed you from the premesise"

"That's not smart kid, keep hirtin my firends and you'r little dojo won't be standin' fer long." a bandit said pointing a gun at the mans head.

The man quickly reacted grapping the mans thum and pulling his arm back. The pain of the act caused him to drop the gun in pain and that allowed the man to put him in an arm lock with his own gun now pointed at the back of his head.

"I'm not in the mood to play games. My master is horribly ill, and I have no time to deal with thugs like you. Now I sugest you leave the premesis imediately or by god I'l force this gun down your spinal cord." the man said with a horrifying glare.

The ruffians all shivered and took a few steps back. The man release the ruffian he had pinned.

"Feh, we'll be back soon, and you'd better be ready punk." he said before him and the others tore down the bluff.

At that time a younger man in a gi stepped out from behind the doors of the apparent dojo.

"Matthew, what did you mean by what you said?"

The man who a moment before was so brave no stood shivering himself, "Empty threats Mako, empty threats."

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