This is a rewrite of the story Wind Katana. Honestly the friend I was writing this with, we have both lost touch with each other. Unfortunately for all you out there this with follow the same story line until the OC characters were heading into the one piece from there it will be completely different. I hate to do this, but there is no other choice. Breezy who is my friends oc will no longer be in the rewrite passed the half way point of chapter 3. As always, I do not own One Piece, Breezy or any other references to other works; they solely belong to their original creators. I just own my oc Jade.
Chapter 1:
(P.O.V. Breezy/Brianne)
The air was different. This always happened before a storm and it was my responsibility to alert Monk, our chieftain. These instances were tedious because the nomads held their age-old tradition of traveling with the wind. All the tents had to be packed up, the supplies gathered, and the dragons saddled- yes, I did say dragons. So was the life of the nomads and if a storm was blowing our way, the wind did too.
I shouldn't complain especially after the nomad's generous hospitality. They took me and my friend in after our little incident. They have fed us, sheltered us, and shown us more kindness than I could have learned from strangers. Plus, my friend and I have learned all sorts of talents from the travelers; therefore, I have nothing but gratitude for our saviors.
My name is Brianne. The nomads call me Breezy because I 'read the air' as they call it. As for my friend, her name is Zarah and she is awesome! She is what I call 'the epitome of an adventurer', if that even makes sense. If I know anything about human beings, it is that people always want what they don't have. Zarah is everything I want to be: confident, fearless, strong, and independent. She's not afraid to risk her life for a little adventure, which serves her well when it comes to her profession. Here, with the nomads, everyone must contribute in some way or form. Just as I can sense the change in air currents, Zarah is a blacksmith. She can wield anything from battle armor to saddle bucklers, but she is most known for her swords. Perfectly balanced with lavish designs and exquisite forms, she can create all sorts of bushido katanas, medieval cutlasses, and even the tiniest of daggers. While trawling with the nomads, she can make a variety of profits from the local villages. Her work is known throughout the land, Zarah is an artist of metal.
To fashion her masterpieces, Zarah is in constant need of rocks called ores. Once or twice a week, she saddles up on Icefire, her night fury dragon, and flies out to the mountain range where the mining base resides. These towering mounds of rocks are very special in the sense that they hide all numbers of metal in their stony contours. Taking her pick, she chisels away at the rock bed and produces many different ores. Tin, copper, silver and sometimes gold reward her efforts. Then on her journey back, Zarah flies over to a small forest at the base of the mountains and gathers timber for her forge fires. After she returns, she refines the metals of impurities and begins her crafting.
Two weeks ago, I had the pleasure of traveling with Zarah to the mining base and assist her in her work. I was so excited, but our little expedition was not as pleasurable as I had predicted. After a freak rock slide, an argument between several rival blacksmiths, and turbulence on the fly there and back, I could not wait to be rid of the place. Aside from the misfortunes, Zarah struck a very rare find in the stones. She had found a considerable amount of jade, an ore nearly unobtainable in this country. In compensation for the terrible day out, Zarah created a sword unlike anything she had ever created before. With its unique shape and special abilities, she named it 'Courage', in dire hopes that I might get some. As well as fashioning a jade pendant for Courage, she wielded some jade into her own swords. She never sold one jade sword. Just as an elk hunter's pride is the largest pair of antlers, so is the amount of jade hauled in by a blacksmith.
Zarah and I have been through thick and thin together. Our means of getting here are otherworldly and cannot be fully explained. I will do my best to describe what happened. We were chilling at her place when, for no reason, the atmosphere became increasingly heavy. Gravity was working against us. It was hard to breathe and I was sure it was the same for her. Before we knew what was happening, we were falling sideways, down a waterfall, being propelled through space and time. We were not alone. That was the only thing I felt other than the paralyzing fear. And then we were safe. No more falling. Just the sheer cold blowing in my face. Zarah was fine beside me and that brought me relief, but I was freezing in an unknown world so I could not relax just yet. Fortunately, I saw some silhouettes in the dimness. If it were not for the passing nomads, we would have surely perished. We have now been here for 8 months. This is our story.
"Please pardon the intrusion, Chief." I said, upon entering the chieftain's hut. I bowed low with my palms together as was custom for greeting one with a higher status.
"Have the winds changed again?" His voice rumbled. The chieftain sat on a mound of animal skins with his legs crossed and a pipe in his mouth. Plumes of white smoke drifted to the top of the hut. He was dressed in a robe made of various cloths and leathers, dyed in teals, blues, and gold. Around his neck hung all sorts of pendants and beadwork while around his waist hung a red sash, tattered and faded with age. He had no one hair upon his head, but his beard was full and tied with silver string in the nomadic fashion. His squinty eyes made it impossible to tell if he was looking at you or not.
"Yes, Chief, and they are faster than before so I advise that we make haste."
"So be it" replied the Chieftain as he rose from his mound. I heard his back crack and wondered if he was nearing seventy years of age. He exited the tent and with a surprisingly booming voice, declared, "Brothers and Sisters! The winds are upon us! We are half a day's travel from the next town so let us pack up our things and meet on the road!"
The nomads respectfully listened to the Chieftain's words and afterwards began to put out the fires and take down the tents. I bowed to the Chieftain and went to work, pulling up the stakes to the tent I share with Zarah. I folded the cloth and tied the skins into bundles until I had two bundles, one for clothes and the other for the tent. There was a faint fire burning in a makeshift forge where Zarah played "Creator" with her metals. Unfortunately, she had not yet returned from her weekly mining expedition so it was up to me to pack the forgery and prepare it for her return.
After putting the last of my supplies in my leather pack, I reached into my coat and pulled out a wooden buffalo. It was peg-like, painted white with black horns, the hind legs elongated into a mouthpiece. This was my dragon whistle. I put the figurine to my lips and blew a pure, sweet whistle. An answering roar echoed through remaining tents. I could hear the scraping of claws on random pebbles and the gentle clicks of the serpentine lizard as he approached my campsite. This was Grettir, my dragon companion. Not every nomad has one. In the entire caravan, there were only six dragons, including mine and Zarah's.
Grettir had a long sleek body with thin wings, perfect for slicing the air and gliding on drafts. His front legs were stocky with four gripping fingers unlike the longer, flatter hind legs and his tail curled like a chameleon. When he is relaxed, Grettir's tail would trail behind him like a snake winding down a path. There was a bean-shaped saddle fitted onto the back of the dragon with two straps that gripped around the abdomen and a single metal ring and short rope was attached to the front. There was a single, tiny nick in each wing to allow one of the fastening straps to pass through and to better secure the saddle. A single strip of leather wrapped around Grettir's neck, like a collar. Moving up the body to the head, there was a bridle much like a horse's, weaving around the reptile's muzzle and head. Two rings slipped over the tiny horns and helped hold the bridle in place and left the long pointy ears free to swivel in all directions. The reins connected to the bridle on the mouth ring and hung over the saddle. The head was sleek like his body and flat like a horse with two horns on top, the ears on the side and a single tusk on his snout like a small rhino horn. Grettir had a tuft of hair on his chin held in the same nomadic fashion as the Chieftain and a mane sprouted from between the horns and ran down the course of the body to the base of the scaly whiteness of the dragon's exterior. It was forbidden to cut a dragon's hair so Grettir's mane hung humorously over his face but not so much that his vision was impaired. Overall, Grettir was aerodynamically correct and perfect for speed-flying, but that wasn't his only form.
I approached Grettir and loosened both saddle fastening straps so that they hung loosely underneath. I unclipped the bridle, slid it off the dragon's head, and attached it to the first fastening strap so that it dangled in front
"Okay, Gertie, you're all set."
Grettir snorted in compliance. There came a crackling noise as thousands of tiny white scales scraped against each other, covering the expanding flesh from underneath. Wherever the skin grew bare of scales, more were produced to replace them. Muscles contorted and flexed as Grettir's body got bigger and stockier. There was no longer a long snake lizard but a towering compacted monster as high as an elephant and as long as a house from the snout to the tip of the tail. The feet were more like clawed paws, made for long-distance walks. The head still had the rhino tusk but teeth protruded from both the upper and lower jaw. It held a very eel-like feature about it in the sense that the mouth was gaping and stretched past the eyes. The horns were larger in circumference and length and they jutted out the back of the head. The ears hung back in the relaxed position and the turquoise mane continued to hang in his face and rush along the course of his spine. The wings were colossal with the same two nicks for the straps. It was the same dragon but this was his travel form.
After loading the tent, clothes, and Zarah's forgery supplies, I put my leather pack and Courage on my back and climbed aboard Grettir. The saddle, collar, and bridle were still there. All that was left to do was tighten the slack in the fastening straps and place the collar at arm's length. This was the only way to steer Grettir while traveling. The bridle from before continued to hang in front of the beast's hulking frame.
Grettir let out a long whine.
"Yes, I hope they get back too." I said, stroking the dragon's meaty neck in comfort. Icefire is what Zarah is for me: friends for life. The fact that they hadn't returned yet was making both of us nervous and even more so now that the nomads were on the move. I tugged on the collar in the direction of the caravan and we were off once again. It was like one big, never-ending camping/hiking trip. I looked off toward the mountain range, and then switched my gaze to the oncoming storm. The winds have changed. The air was different.