First Person: [The train station was silent as the vehicle sits there, waiting for its lone passenger to disembark. Within, there is a bit of erratic movement, but nothing for several seconds. Suddenly, there is a massive smashing sound as a figure crashes through the glass and metal doors, sending shards and shrapnel all through the terminal. The figure at first hardly seems a man, all wild red hair and tribal tattoos, and when he lands upon the cool concrete, he peers through matted strands of red with wild, primitive eyes, crouched not unlike a tiger ready to spring. He’s seething, his hands gripping a long spear that has seen exceptional use, and growls lowly before he finally speaks. While most people are alarmed upon their initial arrival in the city, this man is furious beyond reason, and begins to shout]
Show yourself, coward! [His voice is bellowing and rough] You will pay for this! Pray that your gods have mercy, because you will receive none from me!
Third Person: Rage. Defiance. Pride and duty. These were the things that flashed through the warrior’s mind in the seconds after he broke free of his glass and metal prison. Gripping his trusted spear, he crouched on the ground, eyes narrowed. A mass of rich crimson hair, long and thick, curved down the length of his back and ended just where his feet were planted on the ground. Unlike many of the other arrivals to the train station, he wore only primitive leather pants and a sash of tropical fronds about his waist. His tanned skin was adorned with intricate tattoos; there was hardly a part of his body that was not covered, but perhaps the most striking feature of this man was the pair of delicate feathered wings, just visible behind the mane of hair.
He narrowed his dark eyes, refusing to panic in light of this new development. Where were his warriors? Where were those winged invaders with their wretched bows, trying to take his precious island? Were they responsible? Their leader had claimed to be God, but he appeared nothing more than a wretched man, an outsider! Inhaling in a dangerous sort of way, he let out a loud shout, defying whoever was responsible.
“Show yourself, coward! You will pay for this! Pray that your gods have mercy, because you will receive none from me!” His bellowing voice echoed off of the austere walls, but he received no reply but the silence. Bristling at the audacity of someone to spirit him away and not face him, he let out a violent shout and swung his spear wide, knocking aside the benches that sat there and shattering them into splinters. Robbed of his battle, his homeland stolen from him, cheated of a warrior’s death, and now brought here by cowardly unseen assailants…They WILL be punished, Calgara would be sure of it.
Re: [CANON] The Great Warrior Calgara || One Piece || No Reserve || 3 of 3]
Show yourself, coward! [His voice is bellowing and rough] You will pay for this! Pray that your gods have mercy, because you will receive none from me!
Third Person: Rage. Defiance. Pride and duty. These were the things that flashed through the warrior’s mind in the seconds after he broke free of his glass and metal prison. Gripping his trusted spear, he crouched on the ground, eyes narrowed. A mass of rich crimson hair, long and thick, curved down the length of his back and ended just where his feet were planted on the ground. Unlike many of the other arrivals to the train station, he wore only primitive leather pants and a sash of tropical fronds about his waist. His tanned skin was adorned with intricate tattoos; there was hardly a part of his body that was not covered, but perhaps the most striking feature of this man was the pair of delicate feathered wings, just visible behind the mane of hair.
He narrowed his dark eyes, refusing to panic in light of this new development. Where were his warriors? Where were those winged invaders with their wretched bows, trying to take his precious island? Were they responsible? Their leader had claimed to be God, but he appeared nothing more than a wretched man, an outsider! Inhaling in a dangerous sort of way, he let out a loud shout, defying whoever was responsible.
“Show yourself, coward! You will pay for this! Pray that your gods have mercy, because you will receive none from me!” His bellowing voice echoed off of the austere walls, but he received no reply but the silence. Bristling at the audacity of someone to spirit him away and not face him, he let out a violent shout and swung his spear wide, knocking aside the benches that sat there and shattering them into splinters. Robbed of his battle, his homeland stolen from him, cheated of a warrior’s death, and now brought here by cowardly unseen assailants…They WILL be punished, Calgara would be sure of it.