- Messages
- 50
- Character Biography
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"To all you saints and sinners, you losers and you winners; Here's to one more day above the roses!"
- Gaelic Storm
Those were two words that seemed to echo through the port town's busy street, followed by a rapid footsteps hitting the stone pavement and sounds of unconvinced people getting shoved to the side. A closer look down the street would reveal the cause; a man wearing a turban and frock coat was sprinting down the street, bobbing, weaving, leaping through/past the crowded street, narrowly avoiding the obstacles in his path as he maintained his momentum. Not too far behind him was what looked to be a gang in red of armed men attempting to close the distance, trying to force and batter their way through the crowd in a more headfirst approach. It wouldn't have taken long for most people to realize that the man with the turban was being chased by this group of thugs, with the entire debacle making its way towards the center of the port town where the market was located.
Though the space of the town center had an open layout, there was a maze of stalls lined all across the space, with plenty of merchants and customers to take up the remaining areas. It was through here the chase continued, as the turbaned man ducking into one of the stall lanes with the gang of thugs in green not too far behind. But unfortunately for the turbaned man, another group of thugs had just arrived on the other side of the stall lane, with one of their members quickly spotting and pointing out the man. What might have worsened the situation was the fact that some of these guys had bolas in their hands, capturing weapons that were immediately these men quickly sprung into the air before launching it at the man with the turban.
Yet without so much as breaking a sweat, the man with the turban picked up speed, diving over a nearby seafood stand. As the man with the turban leapt, the bolas meant for him swirled, a mistake that would end up restraining the other pursers attempting to get their hands on this one man. By the time either of the pursuing groups reached the fish stand where the turban man had dove into, said man had seemingly vanished.
For the next few moments it would seem that both parties of pursuers had lost the trail, and without someone to focus on their attention soon turned on each other, as they argued and jostled one another for getting in the way. But they didn't need to wait long to identify their charge once more, as a voice loudly asserted itself from the elevated heights of a nearby public speaking platform.
"My name is Zufar el Hassan, and you'd all do well to remember my name." The man in the turban called out from his elevated position, pacing towards the side as he randomly pointed to someone in the crowd. "For I am the Captain of the Magnificent Liberator! Pirate Prince of Velvet Fleet! And the bane of every slaver in the known world! But more importantly to all here: I am a man with a massive bounty on his head, one that can make anyone of you extremely rich...that is...IF you manage to take my head."
Such information was normally something that most people would have liked to keep to themselves, but instead this Zufar fellow was basically announcing such a fact to the entirety of the town. What was the reason? Perhaps the said captain had gone a bit mad to the head. Though whatever the reason, his little announcement certainly elicited a wave of murmurs from the town folk.
"So who here would like to try their luck at the grand prize?" Practically smiling, Zufar began to halt in place, gesturing with both hands as if practically inviting those present to try and capture him. "But be warned; there is a reason why the bounty on my head is so high, and a even bigger reason why it's been there for so long, not to mention the competition."
Said competition was making their way towards the crowed with weapons draw, as more and more armed individuals began appearing around the town square, attempting to push their way into the crowed and towards the front.
"Ah! I see some more bold souls are stepping forward!" Zufar called out with a laugh, gesturing in the direction of the men attempting to close in on their charge, their weapons already drawn in an attempt ward the crowded out of their. "And who else here has the stomach to partake this little game of ours?"
There was now a choice for all those present: Get involved with chasing this man and fighting the competition...or... join the madness and help him evade the competition.
(OOC: Hopefully, we can make this a bit more lighthearted then it seems! With some tom-and-jerry slapstick involved 
Dm me if there are questions )
Dm me if there are questions )