The special bonus offer haha. Chapter 1, The Gunslinger is up together with the Prologue! Have fun guys.
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Disclaimer: I do not own anything that is affiliated with Maplestory or Wizet.
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The glaring light of the day merrily shone on the world of Maple. Citizens smiled happily at each other, blissfully living their life in harmony. All was well in the island of Victoria.
Tuore awoke. He opened his eyes ever so slightly, letting the light of day wink at him conspiratorially. That's what it all was. A conspiracy for waking him up.
Tuore ruffled his hair, feeling the thick hair clump together- stubbornly refusing to separate itself. Tuore groaned, mumbling something about having to get a shampoo that actually delivered on its promises of silky smooth and no split ends.
A butt-ugly crow landed on a nearby tree, cawing away. "Damnit." Tuore swore, hastily cupping his ears against the horrid screeches. Tuore rolled around on the ground comically, trying to get back to sleep.
Time ticked by slowly, and the foul crow continued relentlessly, pelting Tuore with its terrible noises. Tuore sighed, covering his eyes with his left hand, signaling a sign of helplessness. Just what was needed to ruin his morning.
There was a single gunshot, and the crow plummeted to the ground, softly collapsing unto the thick grass. It had been completely unaware of the danger it was in, and within a flash Tuore had put it out of its misery.
Smoke slowly drifted out of the long barrel of Tuore's revolver, with Tuore still lying on the ground. He grudgingly got onto his feet, feeling his joints ache in protest. His Ruby-red Toymaker's Cape rose behind him, the edges of it frayed and crumpled.
At age 19, Tuore was quite a sight. Standing at a total height of about a hundred and eighty centimeres, auburn brown hair hung around his head untidily, and a pair of listless green eyes drooped out from under his moderately thick eyebrows. A His lips were constantly pursed, giving one the impression that he was deep in thought, while actually Tuore's thoughts were usually drifting off to finding treasure to splurge on his hobby- stamp collecting. A pirate collecting stamps- the proud founders of the pirate class would be rolling over in their graves at such inappropriateness.
He was level forty-nine, donning a tattered old Red Royal Misty upon his forehead- the once vivid red and white stripes had almost been converted to a dirty brown-, a couple of oversized Brown Rain gloves that drooped clumsily over his wrists, and a duo of gleaming new Brown Leather Crags that he had bought yesterday at a yard sale. Tuore chose to wear a comfortable Blue Brace, which was dusty and dull due to the sands of time, over the Red Hemp Cloth armour of level forty, because the latter was simply hideous. Although it provided an increase in bodily protection, it was simply hideous. Personally, Tuore thought that whoever who created the armour should have fried in hell the moment the designs were complete, and he thought he made that point by refusing to purchase such an item. The Toymaker Cape, which he also cheekily snagged at the same yard sale, was also new, and together with the Brown Leather Crags created juxtaposition against the older equipment that Tuore wore.
Now that Tuore actually started thinking about his equipment, last night's events started prodding him in the head. He had gone to a yard sale at Ellinia, and had a long fight over housewives when he was buying the items. Their argument was that they needed it for their kid's costume party, while he needed it because he was actually living out what the kid was dressing as; as he rather bluntly put it- pimpin the hoes.
He lost the argument, and had to run all the way from Ellinia while enduring blows from their umbrellas. "Geez, you would've thought that they would hit softer." Tuore had remarked unhappily, running his hadn along his bruises in an attempt to soothe the lingering pain.
He slowly strided over to the crow while reloading his revolver, painfully aware of the aches in his bare bones. He would have to recall how he got them later. Meanwhile, he squatted down, inspecting the still-breathing body of the crow.
The Invisible Shot he had previously fired was true to its aim- flying and shattering the beak of the crow. Tuore grinned impishly, before taking his leave, cape flapping majestically in the wind. It wouldn't be cawing properly for a long time.
Tuore made his way through the jungle of Ellinia, passing the beautiful fauna and flora that made Ellinia famous. Another night, another memory. In fact, the memory was more of a nightmare- a grim reminder of his childhood. He had only been eight back then.
Unintentionally, Tuore unholstered his revolver, spinning and twirling it had become a rather bad habit, something that Tuore had been accustomed to doing when he was either deep in thought or letting his mind wander off. His gaze turned to the revolver that he loved so much, Razer. Razer had been custom-created for him by a shady merchant, a non-committal fee had been paid and yet his gamble had paid off.
Razor, to put in simple words, was vastly superior to the other guns that were mass produced. It functioned as both a single action and a double action revolver, which meant that Tuore could choose whether he wanted to prioritise damage per second (DPS) or accuracy by either firing with or without the hammer.
Razor's primary colours were deep arsenic black that seemed to seep into the titanium alloy that held it together, and stunning scarlet highlights over it. A simplified symbol of a Minotaur was proudly etched into both sides of the gun barrel, giving it an air of power. It was instead coloured an elegant Islamic green, a contrast in itself because Islamic green was meant to symbolize paradise, while the Minotaur itself represented chaos and confusion.
The anatomy of Razor was extremely unique, as being a hand-crafted work of art, bore parts that were different to normal caliber revolvers. The cylinder was specially modified and improved such that there were various miniature springs lying inside to aid it in the clockwise motion; resulting in facilitation of the reloading function. This helped Tuore reload Razor more efficiently.
The grip consisted of a fusion of mostly leather and bits of rubber at the places of contact with Razor's fingers. Rubber was essential to the proper functioning of the handle due to the fact that it provided a certain degree of traction. Meanwhile, leather could not be compromised, because it provided durability and was of course long lasting, qualities that rubber lacked.
The gun barrel of Razor stretched to a grand length of 12 inches, the maximum length it could go before having to compromise on accuracy for power. Any longer, and the revolver would have border lined on looking ridiculous.
Of course, there were various other minor improvements that were added, but they were too numerous to be actually counted and remembered. An inexplicably wide smile formed itself on Tuore's lips as he recalled the disreputable merchant insisting that Razor had been his finest work to date. After spending so much time with Razor, Tuore knew that he had not been lying.
Tuore finally decided to give his habit a rest, holstering his weapon; not before he mocked firing a shot into the sky though.
As he made his way through the flourishing greenery of Ellinia, Tuore took special care to enjoy the peacefulness and serenity that only Ellinia could offer. It was the absolute best place to meditate, because it offered the perfect environment for one to be at peace- lush flora and lively fauna that helped to calm one's spirit.
As a travelling vagabond, Tuore led a carefree lifestyle. He roamed the lands of Maple, aimlessly exploring and experiencing new sensations. Tuore thoroughly enjoyed the way he lived, an unburdened life exempt from any imprecations or responsibilities.
After the hardships he had suffered under his father, he needed a break. The nightmares of the torture that he had suffered never actually left him. Tuore suppressed those thoughts during the day, but in the night they came back to haunt him in his dreams, never letting him forget the agony he endured when he was just a child.
"It was for a good cause." His father had mentioned. But what earth-shattering cause could possibly justify his actions?
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She rushed down the corridor of Kerning's Niora hospital, her white doctor's cloak drifting gracefully behind her. A tiny patch of almost unnoticeable pinkish freckles decorated the side of her right cheek- just clinging above her right cheekbone. Her picture perfect white teeth- like the ones commonly seen on models and actresses-, bit into lips that were richly covered with thick red lipstick. She walked with an air of confidence, her high heels treading on the ground firmly. She was not happy at all.
Pivoting on her right foot, she expertly navigated the sharp right corner turn. It came as no surprise, considering the sheer amount of time she invested into her career in the hospital. Nurses ducked into the sides when she passed them, doctors leapt out of the way and into stationery carts that were carelessly left lying around, and Mr Nojay- the hospital's most elderly client who had been hospitalized for 20 years- hurriedly hobbled on his walking stick so as to not block her. After all, when she was not happy, shit would hit the fan.
Rounding the corner, she reached her destination, a rather plain-looking wooden door with the words "Head Officer". She burst into the office, not bothering to knock beforehand. The poor manager inside was caught completely off-guard- he immediately spun around in his comfortable leather armchair, hastily trying to hide his dirty magazine.
"I have something important to announce." Her indifferent stare pierced him.
"Just a second…" He was like a deer being caught in headlights, desperately looking for a place to stash his magazine. After about five seconds of searching, he gave up and in his frustration, slammed the magazine against the mahogany desk table. She could've sworn that he was whimpering slightly.
"I've come to tender my resignation." She stated in a matter-of-factly manner.
"What in the world?" He spluttered out, losing his balance but somehow managing not to fall over. He took a brief second to regain his composure while she tapped her feet uncomfortably.
"You can't leave. You're only 18, and you have a great future here!" The manager was now on his feet. "I'm your boss, and I say that you can't leave! I repeat, Syelle Deviato, you are remaining as a member of this hospital staff!"
Syelle took a moment to inspect the man. She felt sorry for his insecure attitude towards life, towards work, towards anything that mattered.
"Goodbye." Syelle slipped him a neatly folded letter with the words "Resignation" written in bold. She briskly pivoted a hundred and eighty degrees, and walked away from him.
"You can't leave! You can't lea-" The officer inelegantly chased after her, clumsily tripping over his feet in the process. He crashed comically into the squeaky clean hospital floor, his left elbow viciously scraping the floor. Syelle shot him a quick glance, only to see that he was sprawled over the floor, with crimson droplets steadily trickling down his newly acquired wound.
Syelle groaned exasperatedly. He was so bothersome. She quickly whipped out her wand- a well maintained Fairy Wand that winked in the sunlight- from the coat-tail.
"Heal." She commanded, as soothing green magic sprouted from the Fairy Wand and unto the fresh wound of the officer. It was a matter of seconds before the wounds stitched themselves back together, and he was left gawking awkwardly at her. She scoffed at him.
And then, she walked out of the prestigious Niora Hospital, turning her back on her career.
"What will you do now?" a tiny voice squeaked at the back of her head.
Easy. She would become an adventurer, but first, she needed proper clothing.
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Tuore trekked groggily through the vast land between Henesys and Ellinia. His destination was of Nautilus Port- the grand capital of pirates. He could've easily taken a taxi there, but he found that walking helped to raise his level of alertness and helped to make him sober. Curiously, Tuore started to wonder if he passed out last night because he was drunk.
After making his way through the vibrant vegetation of Ellinia which assaulted him with their powerful shades of green, the countryside view of the lands of Henesys provided a much needed change of scenery. The land of Henesys was simply put, a Dickensian dream of the countryside.
Henesys had been founded by elves- firm believers of peace through diplomacy and abhorred violence- more than a few thousand years ago. As such, Henesys was the most peaceful town in Victoria Island.
The World of Maple had been split into three main continents, namely Maple Island, Victoria Island and lastly, the magnificent Ossyria. Rumors were that a long time ago, there was a grand battle between 5 legendary heroes and a legion of corrupted creatures- the widely feared Crimson Barlogs. The sheer intensity of the battle tore the gigantic piece of land into three pieces.
But of course, there were numerous other theories concerning the natural phenomenon. It could've been a meteor shower. The gods- if there were gods- could have shaped the world in their favour. So many explanations were offered, but a clear cut answer eluded the world.
Maple Island was for the mere beginners of the world, the only monsters that thrived there were those of extremely low power levels. As such, it was the perfect training ground for aspiring fighters.
On Victoria Island, there were seven main towns or cosmopolitan cities that were worthy of taking note of. Lith Harbour, the linkage between Maple Island and Victoria. Henesys, the proud town of the dexterous bowmen. Ellinia, the magical homeland of the arcane energy wielding Magicians. Perion, the dangerous mountain land that only those with the will of warriors could truly embrace as home. Kerning City, the bustling industrialized city that the shifty rogues loitered around. Nautilus Port, the town that housed the sea-loving pirates. And finally, Sleepywood, which was famous for the Ant-Tunnel- the single most dangerous area in the entire continent of Victoria due to the foul beasts that made the dank cavern their home.
Ossyria was an even more complicated area, with various cities and towns that housed the most powerful monsters that roamed the world. Only the fittest of the inhabitants of the world of Maple were allowed entry to Ossyria.
The look of each town or city differed greatly from one another, due to the contrasting ideologies of each class and the constraints of the environment. The vegetation that was so commonly seen in Ellinia, for example, would never be able to properly flourish in Perion due to the latter's lack of humidity and infertile soil.
Henesys had its own unique feel. It effortlessly attracted the largest diversity of Maplers over Victoria, farmers grew their crops in Henesys, beginners with their faces full of determination and ambition trained on the lower leveled monsters there, and the pros who had at least reached their second level of training used the various magic portals found in Henesys to challenge themselves against the more formidable beasts that resided in Henesys. As such, when Tuore began to approach Henesys, the scenery warped from the greenery of Ellinia to the more rural country-like Henesys.
However, Henesys was not his destination. Tuore was heading for the hotspot for pirates like him- Nautilus Port- which lay between Ellinia and Henesys. He was in dire need of advice from his mentor- the pirate instructor Kyrin- concerning an important decision he was about to undertake.
In no time, he had shaken off the grogginess that had plagued him. His senses fully sharpened from the years of arduous training, Tuore's sixth sense was constantly active. In the far off, he saw a couple of lone bowmen striking down slimes- which were cannon fodder creatures- with their newly acquired skills, yelping with exhilaration as they slayed the creatures. Tuore cracked a wry smile. It seemed not too long ago that he too was pitifully blasting the slimes with bullets while trying to gain more experience as an amateur pirate.
Looking around, Tuore realized that he had finally reached the famous forked road where he could access Nautilus Port. Without pause, he fluidly chose the path that led to the east. He had gotten so accustomed to the travel routes to his beloved hometown that he could probably find his way there blind. It would be a stupid experiment though.
Tuore got tired of strolling at a snail's pace. He focused his arcane energy for a split second, building up his potential energy. After reaching his forty ninth level of experience, and using that technique for over thirty levels, Tuore could be safely considered more than proficient in it.
"Dash!" Tuore willed himself, gathering his arcane energy at the balls of his feet. Skillfully manipulating the arcane energy to his feet, Tuore vigorously blasted off with his right foot. A surge of speed propelled him forward at an amazing speed. Tuore kept his body close to the ground, arms forcefully pumping up and down to facilitate movement. Using explosive sprinting, he dodged, leapt over, and in some instances even muscled his way through all obstacles to reach the entrance of Nautilus Port.
Acrobatic maneuvers were executed in near-perfect fashion, as Tuore hurdled over deep crevices and slipped under particularly protruding tree branches. He ended his "routine" breaking into a forward roll to cushion the impact of the ground, thus stopping his momentum. This drew a couple of "wows!" and hoots from the inexperienced beginners who were too making their way to Nautilus in order to become a pirate.
Paying them no heed, Tuore confidently pranced into the very core of Nautilus Port- the great Nautilus itself. Nautilus, to put in simple words, simply exuded grandeur. Nautilus was a gigantic submarine that was almost permanently docked, in the form of whale. The affluence of the original Nautilus made it such that only the privileged could ride on it- it was meant to be the pinnacle of tourist attractions. However, on the day of the grand opening ceremony, pirates swarmed the ship and wrestled it out of the companies' control. And the rest, well, was history.
However, the once opulent Nautilus was now reduced to simply functioning as the headquarters for the pirate class. It wasn't necessarily something negative, as the legions of pirates that had suddenly invaded the carrier had brought a much needed tinge of spice in the peoples' lives.
The pirates had modified the exterior of the Nautilus to reflect on the drastic change of ownership. The mark of a skull- the traditional symbol of pirates- had been proudly branded on the head of the whale, and large jewels were firmly attached to the body of the whale; daring any aggressors to assault and steal them. It was the way of the pirate- daring, blunt and above all, aggressive.
Once inside the submarine, Tuore inhaled deeply, taking in the salty taste of the ocean. A smile blossomed over his lips. He was home. True, the interior of the submarine was nowhere as splendid as its exterior, but to Tuore, it was home.
"Hey hey Kyrin!" Tuore flung open the rusty submarine door, revealing the stunning view of the captain's deck. Light gently shone into his eyes, revealing to him once again the splendor of the well-maintained captain's deck. The floor sparkled conceitedly, showing off the sheen of cleanliness that hung over it. And of course, the crème le cream was the absolutely breathtaking view. A complete 180 degree view was provided on the captain's deck; the glass windows bore no tinge of polarization, leaving the scenery to showcase itself in all its natural beauty.
Next to the tiller stood the vain captain- Kyrin. An overbearing pirate hat flopped over her huge hair, threatening to fall over at a moment's notice. A classy amber fur coat hung around her shoulders proudly; the front was left open to show off her striking scarlet tube top and a short black miniskirt. She wore platform boots that rose up to her thighs,
"Hey Tuore! How's it going you craphound? Hair still as crap as ever huh?" Kyrin gave him a wolfish grin, baring her teeth. She was glad to see that her old pupil had came back to visit her.
Tuore scowled, ruffling his hair unconsciously. It was still a touchy issue for him. "Yeah well, actually I've come with something in mind. I need a favour." Tuore spoke indignantly. He hated to have to bother his mentor with such requests that were like baggage to her.
Kyrin immediately narrowed her eyes at him. "What kind of request do you speak of? Choose your words, for they may cost you dearly." She spoke dangerously.
Tuore was immediately taken aback. The tension in the room was rapidly escalating; it was reflected clearly as the onlookers started backing away from the two, the hostile mood triggering their sense of danger.
"I…want you to help look after my ship, Mellow. I'll be going off for a long assignment soon for the Enclave." Tuore replied emotionlessly. He knew that his mentor was prone to sudden mood swings, and as such it was best to remain neutral at times like these.
A huge grin plastered itself over Kyrin's face, spelling "TROUBLE" in block letters for Tuore. "Out of all the inhabitants in Maple, you want me to help you take care of your beloved ship?" she mocked him sardonically.
Tuore grit his teeth. Although he hated to admit it, his ex-mentor was the only person with the sufficient capabilities to properly care for Mellow. She, being the master of the pirate arts, was more than qualified to tend for his ship.
"We-ll, I require a teeny favour." Kyrin curried her voice into one that was dripping with innocence. "I need you to fetch 2000 cursed dolls for Rowen the Fairy. You should know her, she resides in Ellinia."
"Know her? I bleeding completed that quest that required gathering cursed dolls for her when nine levels ago! And now you want me to complete it all over again?" Tuore retorted, clearly annoyed.
"Lets put it this way." Kyrin's patience was too being stretched. "You will help me gather 2000 cursed dolls for Rowen by killing Zombie Lupins, or so help me, I will crash Mellow into a coral reef!"
Tuore gave a resigned sigh. He simply had no choice. Nodding his head in resentfully, Tuore turned tail to leave, flinging to her the keys to Mellow.
"Tuore, wait." Kyrin's coarse voice sounded out, stopping Tuore in his tracks. "Are you still working for those control freaks…the Coalition?"
"They aren't control freaks. They're the government." With a swish of his ruby-red Toymaker's Cloak, Tuore turned his back on her.
Kyrin watched as her prized pupil treaded expeditiously out of the room. It seemed like it was only yesterday that he had came up to her, his eyes burning with passion to learn the way of the Gunslinger. As she had gazed upon the disheveled teenager of sixteen years, she had never once dreamt that he would master the art of the pirates so efficiently. He was, simply put, a genius. Why hadn't he specialized in a job?
On those nights when the moonlight splashed across the surface of the world, she sometimes caught glimpses of a melancholic Tuore sitting next to the lake, pensively staring into the night sky. Sometimes he cried, sometimes he didn't.
Answers to Kyrin's queries mysteriously eluded her, but a single fact remained certain- that Tuore was an extraordinary person. She doubted that having him on the side of the Coalition was favourable.
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At least i think these 2 chappies are better than the horrid beginning of Destiny Of Tears haha. Thanks for reading, and remember to review!
Cya guys,
Ccw.