Post by Pete on Mar 8, 2013 14:22:23 GMT
Pete wandered down the street, on his way to the bar where he almost seemed to live. He knew exactly who would be there, what they'd be drinking, what the conversation would be like, et cetera. Maybe he spent too much time at the bar. But that wasn't important today! No, Pete had plans for his trip to the bar today, and we was very excited about them as he walked down the street. Many folk in the town waved to the happy face of Pete as he passed them by, and we happily returned the waves and smiles. People stopped him as he walked to talk to him, ask him how he was, show him things and tell him stories, and despite the fact that he had somewhere to be, he was pleased to speak with them. He just loved people, especially the extremely pleasant folk of Toroa.
Toroa had been anti-fighting for almost thirty-one years, and the island of pacifist men, women and families had, save for one bandit incident, enjoyed being left alone. The whole island was a big ecosystem, completely self-sufficient and very much content to let the outside world run it's course without them. The marines nor pirates seemed to ever travel to the island, despite the potential for wealth, as the rumor of what happened to the Katayangi bandits had apparently spread very far.
People didn't just love Pete because he was super-fun to be around and a very nice guy, though these things were true, but because Pete was sort of their protector. Everyone on the island had an official job, save for Pete. The islanders knew that even if they wanted to be peaceful, the rest of the world wasn't quite ready for their ideals and ways of life. It was still a very violent and angry place out there, and it was very possible, almost likely even, that those bad people would come to Toroa for the express purpose of causing trouble. Pete was the trouble-deterrent, but they had never wanted to give him the name of "bad guy killer" so they just never gave him a job title. He was just Pete, who lived on Calloway in the tiny shack and could be found either there or at the bar. If anything that caused a threat to the island did show up, Pete happened to be the one to make them... Go away.
Finally Pete reached the bar, singing a soft tune to himself. "Ladededa, ladedadum da de da dum dum." he sang as he walked through the bar door, greeted by the cheers of his comrades and the raising of their glasses. "Ah Petey, you've finally arrived!" said the barkeep, lifting a drink from under the counter and placing it in front of the empty bar stool that he always sat at. The drink was his usual, Gin and Tonic with a sliced lemon, which he grabbed and raised to his lips as he sat. Once the drink had been finished, he returned it to the table and said, "Afraid I was running late, had some things to do back in the shack!"
"Well you're here now! Common, ya' were telling' me and the lads about ya'r fight with a mighty sea-beasty last time ya' were here!" replied the barkeep as he leaned his arms on the bar. The rest of the patrons went quiet as Pete smiled, beginning to resume his tale.
"Aye, so there I was! Sent out to the open sea on nothing but eight logs tied together with vines! Then, the waters began to shake..."
Toroa had been anti-fighting for almost thirty-one years, and the island of pacifist men, women and families had, save for one bandit incident, enjoyed being left alone. The whole island was a big ecosystem, completely self-sufficient and very much content to let the outside world run it's course without them. The marines nor pirates seemed to ever travel to the island, despite the potential for wealth, as the rumor of what happened to the Katayangi bandits had apparently spread very far.
People didn't just love Pete because he was super-fun to be around and a very nice guy, though these things were true, but because Pete was sort of their protector. Everyone on the island had an official job, save for Pete. The islanders knew that even if they wanted to be peaceful, the rest of the world wasn't quite ready for their ideals and ways of life. It was still a very violent and angry place out there, and it was very possible, almost likely even, that those bad people would come to Toroa for the express purpose of causing trouble. Pete was the trouble-deterrent, but they had never wanted to give him the name of "bad guy killer" so they just never gave him a job title. He was just Pete, who lived on Calloway in the tiny shack and could be found either there or at the bar. If anything that caused a threat to the island did show up, Pete happened to be the one to make them... Go away.
Finally Pete reached the bar, singing a soft tune to himself. "Ladededa, ladedadum da de da dum dum." he sang as he walked through the bar door, greeted by the cheers of his comrades and the raising of their glasses. "Ah Petey, you've finally arrived!" said the barkeep, lifting a drink from under the counter and placing it in front of the empty bar stool that he always sat at. The drink was his usual, Gin and Tonic with a sliced lemon, which he grabbed and raised to his lips as he sat. Once the drink had been finished, he returned it to the table and said, "Afraid I was running late, had some things to do back in the shack!"
"Well you're here now! Common, ya' were telling' me and the lads about ya'r fight with a mighty sea-beasty last time ya' were here!" replied the barkeep as he leaned his arms on the bar. The rest of the patrons went quiet as Pete smiled, beginning to resume his tale.
"Aye, so there I was! Sent out to the open sea on nothing but eight logs tied together with vines! Then, the waters began to shake..."