A Gamer's Guide to Piracy - The Horror
CH 09 - Jungle, Winter and Sands
Vivi
In the muted light of dawn, Vivi's eyes flicker open, the remnants of a once-royal gaze now tinged with an otherworldly gleam. The air aboard the ship carries the hushed resonance of yesterday's ritual, its echoes lingering in her thoughts like a haunting melody. A breath escapes her lips, laden with the weight of a transformation that defies the natural order.
Serene amidst the ship's eerie quietude, Vivi contemplates her altered existence. Her thoughts, once tethered to the concerns of a princess, now navigate the dark currents of a ritual's aftermath. The spectral luminescence of her wavy blue hair and the haunting depths of her now-shadowed eyes bear witness to a metamorphosis that transcends the physical. A surreal calm envelops her, belying the turbulent undercurrents of the supernatural forces that have intertwined with her very being.
The boat's unusual stillness contrasts sharply with the internal tempest Vivi should rightfully harbor. Fear, a stranger in these once-familiar waters, seems hesitant to claim its place in her newly forged existence. The princess-turned-soul-eater sits in quiet contemplation, an enigma wrapped in regal allure and the unspoken horror of her own rebirth.
As Vivi made her way through the shadowy corridors, she stumbled upon Perona engrossed in a weathered tome, surrounded by the pale glow of candlelight. "Ah, Miss Wednesday, you're up. Care to join me in my readings ?" Perona's voice, tinged with a hint of sadistic delight, resonated in the dimly lit passage. Vivi, still grappling with the remnants of the ritual's impact, hesitated before saying no. Perona's unsettling laughter echoed as she shared cryptic insights into forbidden magics, painting a surreal picture of a world where darkness and whimsy coexisted.
Advancing further, Vivi was drawn into the alluring presence of Agathe, whose hooded silhouette swayed seductively within the enchanting confines of a mysterious ritual. The air itself seemed to pulse with a sultry energy as candles flickered, casting a dance of shadows on Agathe's ethereal beauty. "Princess, your presence imparts an irresistible charm to this sacred undertaking," Agathe purred, her voice a velvety murmur that sent shivers down Vivi's spine. Amidst the mystical ambiance, Vivi felt a tangible weight in the air. "You've become a part of a legacy, undergoing a seductive metamorphosis beyond mortal understanding," Agathe continued, her words lingering with a haunting certainty.
"I will bring you to meet the others"
Nami
"Auguste, having a blind navigator, it is like navigating the Grand Line without a navigator !".
"Nami, don't underestimate yourself ! Cherrs ! Who needs a valid navigator when you've got a walking log pose with magical powers?"
Nami sighed and mumbled.
"A walking log pose that occasionally walks into walls..."
Vivi
In a flirtatious manner, Agathe led Vivi to the formidable figure of Utrecht, the Old Champion of the Chaos god, encased in a dark, metallic armor that seemed to imprison his soul. Only the fiery intensity of his red eyes peered out from behind the ominous mask. With a seductive smirk, Agathe introduced him, "Princess, allow me to present Utrecht, a champion whose prowess in combat is as captivating as the shadows that embrace him. We found him imprisoned in the altar of a church ! I believe you've had the pleasure of a previous encounter."
Utrecht's imposing form loomed, and the air crackled with an unspoken intensity. "Indeed, last night was a good night, generous in blood for the blood god", Utrecht rumbled, his voice echoing from within the cursed armor. The ominous blade at his side seemed to hum with an ancient malevolence. Vivi, caught between the unsettling allure of Agathe and the primal aura exuded by Utrecht, couldn't help but feel a strange connection to the enigmatic crew she now found herself entwined with. Was she also a freak ?
As Vivi ventured further into the haunting depths of the vessel, she stumbled upon Nami engaged in strange and mysterious rituals. The air around Nami crackled with an otherworldly energy, and the flickering candlelight cast eerie shadows that danced along the walls. Agathe, the spectral figure, was still beside Vivi. "Princess, allow me to introduce you to Nami, our skilled mage," Agathe said with a flirtatious undertone. "She delves into the forbidden arts, a master of curses and necromancy."
As Agathe spoke, Nami, with vibrant orange hair and a serene yet unsettling expression, acknowledged Vivi's presence with a nod. The ritual continued, the atmosphere thickening with arcane tension, leaving Vivi to grapple with the realization that she was entangled in a world of dark secrets and mystical practices. Agathe, her voice carrying a sultry cadence, leaned in to share another layer of Nami's mysterious nature. "Oh, and dear Vivi, our mage is currently blind," she whispered, her words laden with intrigue. "But fear not, for Auguste is already working on a solution. The mysteries of our crew run deep, and each member possesses unique qualities that contribute to our...unconventional endeavors." Vivi, caught in the web of enigmatic revelations, couldn't help but wonder about the extent of Auguste's powers and what arcane solutions he might unveil to address Nami's blindness. The ship sailed on, carrying with it the weight of secrets and the promise of unsettling transformations.
Auguste
Auguste looked intently at the shop window :
[Nyarlathotepian Oculus]
Cost : 18 000 Fear Points
Obscured by veils of secrecy, the Nyarlathotepian Oculus emerges as an enigmatic artifact, a pair of cosmic eyes imprisoned within an otherworldly orb. Its surface, as if carved from the shadows themselves, undulates with ever-shifting patterns reminiscent of celestial tides. The eyes within, two abyssal voids, pulse with an ethereal glow that teeters on the brink between eldritch knowledge and cosmic malevolence.
The Nyarlathotepian Oculus bears an otherworldly weight, radiating an aura that tantalizes the curious while unsettling the wary. Encased in an obsidian sphere that seems to drink in the ambient light, the eyes within peer into the deepest corners of existence, whispering forbidden secrets to those who dare to seek them.
When unveiled, the cosmic eyes cast an eerie luminescence that dances across the surroundings, revealing cryptic sigils and arcane symbols etched into the surface of the orb. Each symbol seems to tell a story of cosmic origins and eldritch destinies, leaving the observer with a haunting sense of the mysteries that lie beyond the veil of reality.
The Nyarlathotepian Oculus, a relic coveted by black mages and seekers of the arcane, is both a key to forbidden knowledge and a Pandora's Box of cosmic horrors. To gaze into its depths is to court madness, yet the allure of its power remains irresistible to those who yearn for mastery over the esoteric and the unknown. In the shadows where arcane secrets breed, the Nyarlathotepian Oculus silently awaits, a cosmic sentinel guarding the threshold between the known and the incomprehensible.
Auguste was deep in thought. He only acquired 24,000 points from the terror sown by bounty hunters, and it costed 18 000…However, he was indebted to her. It was because of him that she lost her eyes. To save him. Acquiring the Nyarlathotepian Oculus, he summoned Nami for a ritual, with Vivi and Agathe accompanying her. With a salute to the newest addition to his dark family, Auguste unveiled his plan. A dark ritual, fueled by the points garnered from the bounty hunters' terror, would be enacted to restore Nami's lost vision. The promise of more than mere sight lingered in the air, an enigmatic revelation that stirred a mixture of apprehension and fascination among the crew.
As the ritual's shadowy tendrils began to weave through the chamber, Auguste's crimson eyes gleamed with determination. The Nyarlathotepian Oculus, an artifact steeped in mysteries, stood as a conduit between the mundane and the cosmic. Within the arcane chamber, shadows clung to the walls like sentient entities, dancing in a macabre waltz. Auguste, draped in darkness, held the Nyarlathotepian Oculus—a relic pulsating with the essence of forgotten nightmares. Vivi and Agathe, shrouded in suspense, could feel the air thickening with eldritch energies.
Auguste began the incantations, words dripping with ancient malevolence. The Oculus radiated a sickly glow, casting strange shadows that seemed to writhe with a life of their own. As Nami stood at the ritual's center, her silhouette flickered against the encroaching darkness.
The chamber quivered with an otherworldly cold, and the shadows coalesced, forming surreal patterns on the floor. Nami's closed eyes betrayed no fear as the Nyarlathotepian energies enveloped her. The room became a canvas for arcane forces, and strange shadows, like spectral tendrils, slithered across the walls. The ritual's crescendo manifested as an eerie, palpable energy that hung in the air like a sinister mist.
As Nami opened her eyes, the darkness within them mirrored the shadows that now seemed alive, reaching toward her. The strange energies subsided, leaving an unsettling stillness. Nami, now bearing eyes as pitch-black voids, could see beyond the material realm. Nami's new eyes, born of the Nyarlathotepian Oculus, were an abyssal void framed by her vibrant orange hair. The pupils, like cosmic whirlpools, seemed to absorb all light. No sclera, no iris—just an infinite, velvety darkness that exuded an otherworldly aura. When she gazed, the void within her eyes appeared to reach into unseen dimensions, as if peering into the very fabric of reality.
These eyes, however, were not meant for the world's scrutiny. To conceal their otherworldly nature, Nami adorned herself with a black band, its fabric a stark contrast to her fiery tresses. The band veiled the cosmic emptiness that dwelled within her gaze, allowing her to move inconspicuously among those unaware of the eldritch transformation. Despite the darkness that now resided within her eyes, Nami navigated the world with a quiet, unsettling grace, the secret of her new sight hidden behind the simple guise of a black band.
Auguste
In the dimly lit chamber, where the echoes of dark rituals still lingered, Vivi approached Auguste, her eyes betraying a mix of apprehension and determination. The air crackled with an unspoken tension as she began recounting the perilous situation in her kingdom.
"Auguste, I must speak of Crocodile," Vivi's voice carried a weight, echoing through the shadowed space. "The Sandman is a formidable adversary, a puppet master orchestrating chaos in Alabasta. His ambitions extend beyond the throne, threatening the very foundation of my kingdom."
Auguste, draped in the shadows, listened intently, his crimson eyes gleaming with an otherworldly intensity. Vivi continued, her words painting a dire picture of a land gripped by a sandstorm of treachery. "Crocodile seeks an ancient weapon, Pluton, with the power to reshape the world. Alabasta stands at the brink, and I pledged my allegiance to you, body, and soul, in exchange for your aid."
The vampire lord's gaze bore into Vivi's, a silent acknowledgment of the gravity of the situation. The dim glow of the ritual candles cast an eerie dance of shadows, underscoring the alliance forged in the wake of dark transformations. As Vivi awaited Auguste's response, the weight of their deal hung in the air, a pact sealed amidst the whispers of malevolent forces.
"Listen up, sweet Vivi," Auguste's voice, surprisingly benevolent, resonated with a deceptive charm. His crimson eyes, usually gleaming with otherworldly hunger, softened for a moment as he reassured the transformed princess. "I'll aid you against Crocodile and his Baroque Works circus. I already told you so. Consider it a gift from your dear family, or perhaps, a favor from me to you."
What remained unspoken, hidden in the shadows of his words, was the partial self-interest that fueled his actions. As the master of her soul, Auguste knew that assisting Vivi in the short term meant entwining her fate more deeply with his own. Her kingdom would be his kingdom.
Little Garden
Dorry and Brogy, the two giants engaged in their ceaseless duel on Little Garden, towered over the pitifully weak adversaries they had just defeated. One was capable of crafting feeble wax sculptures, and the other, a laughable painter, posed no real threat. The ground beneath them trembled from the underwhelming impact of their colossal weapons, and the air carried the remnants of an embarrassingly easy victory.
Amidst the aftermath of their lackluster triumph, an odd sight caught the giants' attention. A peculiar boat had docked on their isolated island, and from it emerged a group of seemingly inconsequential strangers. Among them was a blind nun, whose presence defied the savage logic of the land. A gothic figure accompanied her, their appearance as feeble as the weak opponents they had just vanquished.
Perplexed but ultimately indifferent, Dorry and Brogy observed from a distance. The giants, accustomed to battling the untamed forces of nature and challenging each other in their epic duel, found the newcomers amusing but hardly worth their attention. With an air of dismissiveness, the giants witnessed the feeble attempts of the strangers during their brief sojourn on Little Garden, culminating in their departure as abruptly as they had arrived.
The giants, their perspectives shaped by centuries of combat and camaraderie, exchanged nonchalant glances. The blind nun and the gothic figure, along with their inconsequential companions, left behind nothing more than a minor curiosity on the island. Little did Dorry and Brogy know that the Pirates, led by the Progenitor of the Von Carstein, left indelible mark of unnoticed insignificance on the giants' ancient and tumultuous home.
Auguste
Twelve days later, aboard the mysterious boat that had briefly docked on Little Garden, Auguste's mind churned with recollections of the dark magic ritual enacted to poison the island's ecosystem. The malevolent enchantments had seeped into the very essence of the land, tainting plants and animals alike. Although the poison might not have been potent enough to fell the giants, who were seemingly immune to its effects, the creatures and flora they consumed were not as resilient. And everybody needed to eat, even giants. The captain's lips curled into a satisfied smirk as he contemplated the subtle but inexorable fate befalling Dorry and Brogy, victims of a shadowy manipulation that transcended the mere physicality of their colossal frames. Little Garden, once a haven for giants, now bore the invisible scars of a malevolent intrusion that would unfold with a gradual, insidious vengeance. Auguste was satisfied : everything was calculat…
You Defeated you first level 100 opponent
+ 56 000 XP
+ 55 999 XP
"Holy shit ! That was certainly not calculated ! They were so strong ?"
You level up ten times
Auguste Luvneel
Level – 43
Horror Level - Fledging Horror
Race – Fledgling Progenitor Vampire
Fear Points : 120 FP
Experience Points : 1210 XP
HP – 5200/5200
MP - 4400/4400
STR – 52
END – 52
DEX – 41
INT – 44
WIS – 15
CHA – 30
LCK – 19
Auguste Luvneel, the fledgling vampire prince, heir to the illustrious House of Von Carstein, and ruler of the (ex)grand and (ex)mysterious island of Luvneel. Despite his royal lineage, Auguste's attributes seem to have been scattered randomly, as if someone played a prank on his character sheet. Auguste Luvneel, the so-called vampire prince, carries himself with the grandiosity of a bat trying to impersonate a majestic eagle. His "commanding presence" may be more accurately described as the awkward flapping of undeveloped wings, attempting to assert dominance in a realm where charisma seems to have taken an eternal vacation. One might suspect that his crimson eyes gleam not with otherworldly hunger but with a perpetual confusion, as if he's still figuring out the whole "vampire" thing. Auguste fancies himself a sadistic and charismatic leader, a puppet master orchestrating macabre games. However, his version of chaos often resembles a disorganized tea party hosted by particularly uninspired zombies. The "cunning intellect" he boasts might be better compared to the strategic prowess of a chess-playing hamster, where every move is both entertaining and bewildering.
In the grand drama of Auguste's existence, one can't help but wonder if his malevolent aura is more of a theatrical fog machine malfunction than a deliberate display of darkness. Despite these quirks, or perhaps because of them, he remains a character in the grand theater of the undead, a fledgling vampire trying to find his way with all the grace of a bat stumbling through a moonlit night.
Yet, despite these shortcomings, or perhaps because of them, Auguste Luvneel stands as a testament to the unpredictable nature of character creation, proving that even fledgling vampires with seemingly haphazard stats can find their way in the dark and twisted world of One Piece. May he survive a bit, for our entertainment.
"Wait…Yeah…let's not dive into that…"
Vivi
Gathered around in the dimly lit chamber, Vivi took a breath before unraveling the tale of Drum Kingdom, a saga steeped in despair and tyranny. "Listen closely, my newfound companions, to the haunting story of Drum Kingdom and its despicable ruler, Lord Wapol."
The once-thriving kingdom, renowned for its medical prowess, crumbled beneath Wapol's selfish whims. "Can you imagine a ruler so heartless that he'd let his own people suffer for his desires?" Vivi's voice carried the weight of her own kingdom's sorrow. "Drum Island was a beacon of prosperity turned into a realm of despair."
"Dr. Hiluluk, a beacon of hope, dared to defy Wapol's cruelty, only to be cast out. The citizens, once proud, now languished under the rule of a king who cared not for their well-being."
As Vivi concluded the harrowing tale, the Von Carstein Crew sat in silence, the weight of Drum Kingdom's tragedy settling over them like a shroud. However, Agathe, with an air of vexation, broke the quietude. "Is this the legacy they fear? A tyrant like Wapol is considered a fearful legend, yet our darkness remains unacknowledged."
The crew, stirred by Agathe's discontent, exchanged glances. Auguste, with a sardonic smirk, remarked, "Perhaps our tale needs a touch of dread, a splash of horror that sends shivers down the spine. Let them tremble at the mere mention of the Von Carstein Crew." Nami, her blind eyes veiled in mystery, added, "We can weave nightmares with our every step, making Wapol's reign seem like a child's bedtime story." Her words, laced with dark magic, hinted at the macabre potential they possessed. Agathe, with a sultry gaze, spoke with a touch of irony, "It's time to etch our own legend, one that surpasses the feeble fears of Lord Wapol. Our story will echo through the ages, a symphony of terror and power."
Dalton
In the moonlit chaos that unfolded, Dalton, a soldier of Drum Island, could hardly comprehend the nightmarish forces that descended upon his once-peaceful home. The one-armed man moved with supernatural agility, a spectral blur that defied the laws of nature. As Dalton's eyes struggled to follow the unearthly display, the ghostly girl emerged, wielding phantom scythes that danced in the moonlight, slashing through the air with ethereal precision. The horrifying knight, clad in dark armor, seemed impervious to their feeble defenses, a formidable force cutting through the ranks of Drum Island's defenders. Meanwhile, the sadistic girl, swift as the air, lashed out with a thorn whip, each strike cutting through the night like a chilling breeze.
As the battle raged on, Dalton's fear reached new heights. Lord Wapol, the once-despotic ruler, driven to desperation, consumed a building and transformed into a monstrous cannon. The island quaked with each devastating blast, and Dalton felt a sense of dread that pierced the very core of his being. The skies were ablaze with chaotic energies as the crew faced the monstrous transformation head-on, battling against the destructive onslaught.
Yet, amidst the terror, a strange mixture of emotions stirred within Dalton. There was an odd satisfaction, a twisted joy, as Wapol's reign of tyranny unraveled before his eyes. The king's transformation into a colossal cannon was both horrifying and strangely liberating. The once-feared ruler, now reduced to a desperate display of power, faced the relentless onslaught of the mysterious crew.
As Wapol's cannon form shattered under the combined might of the crew, Dalton couldn't help but feel a rush of exhilaration. The crew, with their malevolent leader at the forefront, closed in on the fallen king. Though fear still gripped his heart, a perverse satisfaction lingered in the shadows. The demise of Wapol brought a semblance of relief to Dalton, a conflicted soul caught between terror and a strange sense of justice.
With Wapol's defeat, the island fell eerily silent. The crew, victorious yet a bit bored by the underwhelming fight, left Drum Island behind. Dalton, standing amidst the ruins of his once-proud kingdom, found himself at a crossroads. Uncertain of what lay ahead, he observed as the crew departed, leaving him to grapple with the surreal aftermath. In the quiet aftermath, overwhelmed by a peculiar mix of emotions, Dalton shrugged off the horrors of the night and accepted his new role – the reluctant ruler of a kingdom forever altered by the dark forces that had swept through its lands.
Utrecht
In the dimly lit chamber of the ship, the crew was gripped by Utrecht's low, ominous mumblings. The air carried an oppressive aura, as if unseen malevolence lingered. Wary glances exchanged among the crew members, Agathe, Perona, Nami, and Vivi, sensing an unsettling presence.
"What is Utrecht up to? His whispers sound like an incantation...But he is not a mage ?!" Agathe questioned with a shiver.
"Knowing him... Should we be concerned?" Perona replied, her eyes scanning the shadows.
Approaching Utrecht, whose massive form blocked their view, they caught snippets of his eerie mutterings.
"Shadows dancing in twilight, echoes of battle, the whispers of the damned..."
Bracing for a sinister sight, the crew finally saw what Utrecht was focused on. To their initial horror, it wasn't a prisoner or a torture scene; Utrecht was engrossed in a mysterious activity, hidden from their view.
"What in the underworld is he doing?" Perona wondered, her unease palpable.
"I can't see from here. Is it a ritual?" Agathe questioned, eyeing the shadows with suspicion.
Nami, with her keen senses, tried to discern the unseen creation.
"Hold on, let me get a better look...Now that I have eyes..."
As they maneuvered around Utrecht, the crew discovered an unexpected sight - a canvas. Utrecht, not engaged in a dark ritual, was actually painting. Initially prepared for the worst, the crew found themselves bewildered by the unexpected artistic side of the fearsome warrior.
"What? It's just a paintin'" Utrecht grinned...well, his eyes conveyed he was grinning.
As they examined the painting, their horror turned to surprise - a vibrant, sunshine-soaked landscape with rainbows and playful bunnies.
Auguste
At long last, Auguste had accrued sufficient fear points to acquire his coveted new toy—an arm, he meant an arm. For several weeks, he had been fixated on a particular model, and the terror wrought by the conquest of Drum Kingdom provided precisely the fear points he required.
Veilstrike Limb
Cost : 15 000 fear points
The Veilstrike Limb, a grotesque artifact concealed within mundane wrappings, unfolds its horror with each unveiled layer. At first glance, it masquerades as a seemingly normal arm entwined in eerie bandages, a facade that belies the malevolence lurking beneath. When the veil is lifted, the true nature of this eldritch appendage reveals itself.
This unholy limb possesses an aberrant resemblance to the tentacles of ancient cosmic horrors, extending with an otherworldly fluidity. Its movements defy the laws of nature, reaching out like shadowy tendrils hungry for the life force that pulses through its victims. The eerie bandages that cloak it unravel in tandem with its sinister intentions.
In the heat of battle, the Veilstrike Limb becomes a nightmare made flesh. It pierces through defenses with an insidious precision, the tip of each tentacle piercing armor, flesh, and bone alike. Its primary purpose, however, is more nefarious — a macabre communion with the lifeblood of its adversaries. As it infiltrates the victim's body, the Veilstrike Limb siphons their very essence, drinking in the eldritch sustenance with a thirst that echoes with the whispers of ancient, forgotten realms.
Beware those who wield or fall victim to the Veilstrike Limb, for its origins are steeped in eldritch malevolence, and its actions unfold like a cursed dance, leaving a trail of horror in its wake.
If only he had seen Hentai, he would have had other ideas. But alas, it did not exist in the sad, sad world of One Piece.
Normally, there is an explicit scene here. I've put it on QQ, not here. Tell me in reviews if you want smut, I'm not sure I'll put smut in ffnet.
Alabasta
As the boat approached the shores of Alabasta Kingdom, the horizon transformed into a mesmerizing tapestry of contrasting elements. Golden dunes stretched far and wide, their rippling contours painted by the warm embrace of the sun. The sandy expanse seemed to undulate like a sea frozen in time, merging seamlessly with the azure sky above.
In the distance, the imposing silhouette of Alubarna, the capital city, emerged like a mirage rising from the desert depths. Towering minarets and ornate domes adorned the cityscape, casting elongated shadows that danced with the shifting sands. The grandeur of Alubarna hinted at a rich history and a regal heritage deeply rooted in the heart of the kingdom.
The coastline, kissed by the gentle caress of cerulean waves, presented a stark contrast to the arid desert landscape. Palm trees swayed in the breeze, their fronds creating a rhythmic dance against the backdrop of sunlit sands. The occasional oasis, a verdant jewel amid the golden vastness, beckoned with promises of respite and cool shelter.
As the boat navigated the crystalline waters toward the bustling port, the vibrant colors of the city's architecture came into sharper focus. Market stalls adorned with richly hued fabrics and exotic spices added splashes of vibrancy to the earthy tones of the surroundings. The scent of adventure and intrigue wafted through the air, as the boat heralded the arrival of new arrivals ready to explore the mysteries and wonders of Alabasta Kingdom.
A formidable warrior emerged from the ship and jumped on the swirling desert sands, his imposing figure cutting through the golden haze like a specter of battle. Clad in desert garments that seemed to meld seamlessly with the arid landscape, his muscular frame bespoke years of combat-honed strength. A tattered cloak billowed behind him, a testament to the countless battles weathered under the unforgiving sun.
His face appeared human, with sharp features carved by the harsh hands of the desert wind. Eyes, intense and focused, gazed from beneath the shadow of a weathered hood, conveying a sense of unwavering determination. A katana, its blade gleaming with an ethereal light, hung at his side, an extension of the warrior's formidable presence. Yet, the warrior's face and form were not what they seemed. A mystical amulet adorned his neck, a conduit of ancient magic that gifted him a visage and physique reminiscent of humanity. Beneath the guise of a ferosome desert warrior, the Old Champion concealed his true nature, a creature of darkness veiled in the illusion of mortal form. The magic amulet, a clever camouflage, allowed him to navigate the realms of men, his true identity shrouded in the deceptive facade of humanity.
"I have not eaten meat for centuries, Progenitor. Let's try some crocodile".
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