Task Name: Resolutions and Redtide
Tier: 2
NPC or PC: NPC
Location: Redtide Island (off the coast of Baterilla)
Crew, Team, or Personal: Personal
Description: Under the cover of night Frost attempts to infiltrate the enemy fortress Edwin has holed himself up in. As she will be trying to infiltrate, the less fights she gets into the better, however she will not turn away from a full melee if it is required to get Edwin.
Enemy Details: 15 Tier 1; Revolutionaries
Boss: Edwin Stahl


Boss Name: Edwin Stahl
Tier: 2
Description: Edwin is an aspiring revolutionary and leader of the local chapter of Redtide Island. He is a classical 'ends justify the means' kind of person and has no qualms about seeing his revolution through with psychopathic fervor.
Devil Fruit: N/A
Haki Aura: N/A
Equipment: Executioners axe, dual punch daggers, Whatever his men supply him with
Specs: Weapon Specialist 3, Hand to hand 2


Frost adjusted the three different belts of her newly found 'Revolutionary' gear with some trepidation. It didn't feel right not to wear her usual outfits, she could very easily be taken as one of the enemy like this. That was of course her goal, but she didn't have to like it. Another adjustment to the belts. They were putting up a heroic effort in trying to keep the several sizes too big black clothing attached to her. All the men who they had captured in their ship to ship raid had been rather portly or far too tall. The only exception was the young boy that had lead them here, but he too had been suffering the over sized clothes all the same.

She started to climb. The idea had been fairly sound at the time. Sneak on to the island, seize Edwin, sneak off the island and be home in time for tea. This of course had lasted up until they had gotten a good look at the island. It was in the shape of a crescent moon and arguably just as rocky. The interior of the moon was a well fortified collection of wooden buildings with a very obvious dock surrounded on all sides by watch towers. The other side of the coin was nothing but sheer rock faces. Suffice to say that they couldn't just stroll back into the port with the chum that had only just left as if nothing happened. Thus, she was here, somewhere between slipping one last time and the next available hand hold.

It had been almost amusing to behold the swift change in expressions among the men when they realized they would have to climb. From the very definition of fire and vinegar to suddenly sick and overcome with the pain of wounds and aching bones. So it was that she was the only black speck attempting to ascend the sheer rock face, gambling on luck alone to carry her to the top. The insult to her hopefully nonexistent injury though, happened about three quarters up the rock. A realization, striking like a thunder bolt as is their way suddenly hit home.

"How the hell am I going to get a prisoner down this?!"

She had yelled the comment, but the good world had provided a less metaphorical thunderbolt from it's ever growing storm to conceal her voice in the night. While no doubt a useful gesture, the rain slowed her progress on that last quarter to a vertical crawl that she was all too happy to be rid of, her body collapsing in the mud at the top of the rock face. She took a moment to breathe the air, to let her muscles remember what a world without pain was like. A mere 15 minutes would have to do. Once again she started off, walking briskly into the night, through the husks of long dead foliage ever towards the encampment.

It didn't take her long to find the first watch tower. It was impressive that they had even bothered to put watch towers facing towards a sheer cliff; nobody was that crazy. She approached it slowly, keeping out of sight, expending no less than 20 minutes to clear the gap and enter the watch tower. There she found a single man, his feet up on a counter, passed out in his chair. A bottle lay empty beside the chair like some loyal pet. She could feel herself groan, how she longed to have that 20 minutes back. She could have tied him to the chair, or knocked him out... more... but why bother? The man wouldn't wake till the dawn any way. With a sigh, she left the watch tower and headed further inland.

As she walked, her mind began to wander. She didn't know the terrain on this small island, how would she find Edwin? Would he be the type to spend all his time with his men, or would he seek solitude away from them? Was he the type to demand a massive lodging, or would he have a humble tent? The more she thought, the more she realized she knew nothing of the man. All she knew is what he had already done. He had killed her friend in cold blood, and he had ran away to let his subordinates handle things. Cold and calculating, regretfully it reminded her of someone.

"Halt!"

The voice rang out into the night like a bad omen. She froze stock still, her hand slowing moving it's way deeper into the black robes, seeking the cold comfort of her sword. Steps approached behind her, thumping sounds crushing the dead foliage.

"Yeah you, turn around, real slow like."

Her mind raced for ideas. Could she take him? Silence him in the night. She couldn't kill him, not any more, knocking him out might work, but what if he woke up, then the whole place would be alerted. She did look like one of them, perhaps she should play along? Her body turned at the firm command, not caring whether or not her mind had come up with a different solution.

"You don't look familiar."

The man rubbed the facial hair on his chin as he glared at her with a look of puzzlement. She had to admit he did the 'puzzled' look rather well, as if his entire body was trying to work out the answer. All at once his face brightened like he had just realized the answer.

"Ah, you're one of them new recruits aren'tcha. Wandered off somewhere and got lost before the boat left eh? Go ahead, tell me it ain't so."

It was a taunt, the man was so determined he had the correct answer that he had to tease about it. He probably didn't realize he had just dropped a lifeline at her feet. A lifeline she dove at with the desperation of a dying man.

"Aye sir, I just went out to relieve myself and then couldn't find my way back in the dark."

She had changed her mannerisms ever so slightly so as to lose the marine stiffness she had been trained for. What she didn't realize is that her several day old clothes, ragged with heavy use, combined with mud and the effects of the storm vouched for her revolutionary costume far more than her words. The man laughed at her, quite pleased with himself.

"Ahahah, of course you couldn't. Come on, follow me, we'll see what Edwin wants to do with you."

The man turned and she followed, her mind at near panic. Going to see Edwin sounded great, but being dragged into the middle of the enemy encampment to do so did not sound very conducive to living. She regarded her company without him turning his back. Sure he seemed nice a rough description of the word, but that would all end when she started brandishing her weapon at his boss. Would these revolutionaries stand by their leader without a command structure telling them they had to?

One by one she thought up ideas and dismissed them as impractical. Step by step they came closer to the encampment. She had just finished denying her last method of escape when she was shown into a small wooden shack where a man sat at a desk writing on some papers. He looked up as they approached and wore a kindly smile.

"Come in, come in. What seems to be the matter?"

His voice was rich, cultured and spoke of volumes and perhaps libraries read. The reply from her companion in comparison was that of a serf to a noble.

"Found this little scab lost in the wastes. Must have missed the boat to the training camp."

She wanted to take offense at the word little being used, but she was nearly swimming in the black clothes, so a beggar she must look.

"Ah. Well then. Thank you Gerard, I would have a talk with our little 'scab' then. "

With her former companion leaving at a pace that suggested she was about to get a stern 'talking to' she fought with all her might to keep a smile from her face. She was here, with the man, alone. Now could she defeat him without causing a ruckus, and smuggle his body out of the encampment, find a way to get both of them down the rock face and all without being seen? A single solitary thought rang out in the night.

-This is not a very good plan-

The man seemed to shuffle behind him for a moment before producing a small tea cup and offering it to her.

"Sit, sit down. Have some tea with me. I've been craving a good distraction from all this paper work anyway. Now, what's your name?"

She did as instructed, taking the warm tea with almost greedy eyes. It was so warm, and she was so cold from the night and the rain. She entertained the idea of lying to him for a few moments before replying in truth.

"Frost sir, and thank you sir."

He chuckled loosely, amused by her antics.

"Now now, no need for the Sir, we're all comrades here. Now what was your life like before this? Why did you want to become a revolutionary?"

It would be a hard question to answer. After all she had to fabricate lies on the spot, and she was not a professional at such trickery. Yet, perhaps the truth would suffice. She composed her response and then tried to add as much accent as she thought matched her station.

"When ah was born, my Mum died and my Paa had to work all the time. We never had enough money to keep afloat. So there was no school for me, ah had to work soon as ah was old enough. Then the pirates took my Paa."

She had the good shame to look down at this point, knowing that her eyes would reveal how she actually felt about it.

"No marines came to help that day. I was all alone."

The man nodded sagely, daring to show a sympathetic face that she forced herself not to look at. Fortunately he hadn't noticed the mistakes in accent. His eyes however seemed strangely fixed on the tea cup she held. She had only taken a few sips of it, preferring to hold onto the cup for it's warmth. She looked up, having finally recovered enough fortitude to dare look at the man without striking him down immediately. That's when it all came to a head.

She felt her vision was blurring a bit, a sort of dizziness had taken hold of her. Her mind combined this with the man's intent stare on her tea cup. A glance to his own tea cup, and it all made sense. The cup hadn't even been touched. She got up and backed off a bit from the man, her dizzy steps slamming her back into the closed door. The man advanced around the desk slowly closing the gap between them.

"What? You failed the very first task in being a revolutionary, and expected to go unpunished? The open seas are a dangerous place for a woman, especially a woman alone. "

He shrugged as his smile turned considerably more wicked.

"Besides, it's been a long time, for me And the boys."

His hands, his grin, they spoke volumes for his intentions as he closed with her. What he mistook though, was that her face was not one of despair, but one of incalculable rage. Her sword stabbed deep into the man's side painting itself a bloody red to the sound of his scream. It was by no means fatal, but certainly debilitating as he retreated further back into the wooden building scrambling for his sword.

She could have pressed him, she could have tried to finish him, but instead she turned and booted the door down. She had been merely trying to flee, but it proved the wiser choice as a guard that had been coming to his aid fell down when the door collided with his face. Frost leapt clear over the man's body and continued her run down the planks of wood that they had dared to call a dock. She no longer cared for the mission or the objective, she just wanted to get out. A voice seemed to be ringing in her head, the laughter of Eremes.

A scream filled the night with a voice she had only just heard enough of.

"Get Her! I want her brought to me, Alive!"

With this alert sounded, the entire dock began to awaken with surprising alacrity as people were pouring out of buildings. Most had forgotten proper clothes but had managed to remember their weapons at least. It was not difficult to pick out the target of their new found malice. She had taken off with enough speed to dislodge her lengthy hair from her cowl, and the bright flash of yellow destroyed any attempts at camouflage. As one they closed in on her, but the criss-crossing boards of the wooden shanty town dock kept them funneling in one at a time as they chased her.

A man lunged at her with his spear only to have her dance around it and knock the man in the head with her sword. His body fell from one plank to the other, knocking over two braziers that were illuminating the dock. Another man closed in from behind attempting to slash wildly at her. It took no more than a duck under the blade and a reply to give him second thoughts about continuing the fight with such a bloody wound. She did not stop to fight the men that were gathering, but instead kept running, trying to force her way upwards.

A throwing axe embedded itself in the door just above her head as she reached it. It was a stunning act and she turned just in time to see another one coming her way. She ducked under it, but heard the door opening, a sickly crunch and the feeling of warm blood on her face. There was no time to look at the body, she pushed past that door and up a set of stairs that seemed to be the only way up. She pounded up two sets of stairs and into a three way. A very large group of men were running towards her from one direction, so it left little choice as to where to go.

She ran down this new path until it opened up into the fresh air, revealing that it was in fact an unfinished development. Nothing was before her except a lengthy fall down. A grunt behind her forced her to turn, appraising this new enemy and his weapon. The man charged, keeping his spear aimed at her. Spears were easy, she was used to much faster stabbing weapons. She let the point come close to hitting her before she side stepped it and pulled the spear to increase the man's momentum to an uncontrollable level. The man's arm rang out and caught her as they both tumbled over the edge and downwards.

She hadn't blacked out, but the very large man that broke her fall had in fact. She got up quick as she could, feeling the strain in her muscles from the jarring fall. Three men had managed to catch up with her and surrounded her. The way they were holding their weapons, such loose grips, it made her think they were new. New people were easy to trick. She selected the one on the far left, and lunged in for a thrust. The man immediately stabbed forward with his own sword as she fainted out of her thrust and countered with a slash. The weapon went sailing out of his hand and struck his nearest ally about the face. Frost brought him down with a quick pommel smash and chained into the next opponent before he could recover from the wayward sword.

The last one looked somewhat panicked and fell easily to another feint trick to pommel bludgeoning. His body fell over limply, knocking over the brazier her had been standing near. She took a moment to appraise her surroundings and figure on the best way out of here. Going up seemed to be the only option. High enough to get into the surrounding foliage and then over the cliff back to the stolen boat. The rain had stopped, making her run much easier and the adrenaline from running had pushed the poison through her body swiftly. She selected a route and began to stampede down this new path.

She came to another three way stop, only to find that once again another route had been blocked off completely by rubble. On the other side a man stood, he was a scrawny thing, but someone had clearly given him a shield that filled the corridor. She built up as much speed as she could manage and kicked the shield as hard as she could. Both man and shield tumbled down the stairs. The man went to morpheus, and the shield knocked over another brazier.

She took a moment to appraise her route, taking note that they seemed to be herding her. She had turned at the routes that were impassible, and those were the only routes upwards. She spotted one last route, and gambled on it, heading towards the turn to see a wall of people. Two men broke from the wall and began their attacks on her slashing wildly. She positioned one in front of the other, using the men to block each other. The man immediately before her brought his sword down and she struck his wrist hard with the flat of her blade. His weapon fell out of his hand and cleanly into hers.

Unwilling to be deterred in quite such a fashion she surged forward knocking out the weaponless man and pouncing on the other man with a flurry of slashes. He was ill equipped for such fury and folded when she struck his knee with both blades. She was going to take a moment, to catch her breath, figure out how to attack the wall when the wall had attacked her instead. The entire combination of shields had charged forward leaving her no room to attack or escape. A face pop'ed up over the nearest shield with a grin.

"Night night scab."

Gerard shoved her clean over the edge with his massive shield.

As she fell she tried to maneuver her swords in such a way so that they wouldn't end her life before the ground did. It was a futile gesture, but training had a way of being automatic. Out of the corner of her eye she could have sworn she saw a figure dressed in a ragged black cowl with a skull where his face should be. A heavy impact disrupted her musing as she struck a cloth awning, ripping through it, and then another, and another. Each force torn the air from her lungs and yet her momentum was still substantial. The final straw was a hammock that she fell in to, tearing it's weaker strings from the two places that had been holding it and dropping her unceremoniously to the ground.

She lay there for a moment, wondering how much life would pay her to get up. It wouldn't be enough. Still, the desperation of being without air for so long was beginning to kick in and so she crawled herself up into a sitting position and then a standing position. Spotting a small wooden building so near by, she made for it, closing the door behind her and hiding in it for the moment. Her muscles needed a minute, her lungs needed a lifetime, but she wouldn't dare spend more than a few in here.

Her eyes wandered about the building, figuring it was some sort of storage facility. Kerosene for lamp oil, plenty of rum, some black powder for cannons... Her mind began to think about that last one for a moment. What did they all have in common? They were flammable.

She leaned out of the building, and snatched up the near by brazier, upturning it's contents on the floor of the building. Without any kind of persuasion, the floor boards had begun to catch on fire. They were nothing more than small embers at the moment, but given time, they would grow much larger. Her plan set to working, she stepped out of the building.

Edwin was there, no more than a few meters away, surrounded by five of his best, shouting at them. He was clearly quite mad that she had apparently 'gotten away'. She waited until all of their backs were turned and closed the gap, delivering a questionably lethal blow to the back of one man's head. He fell like a ton of bricks and without missing a beat she attacked the next man in the line with equal ferocity. His one sword had nothing on her two swords, a missed parry and he was out for the count.

She took a second to look around and noticed that the other three had backed off, fencing her in to the dock. Edwin however hadn't moved, he had only drawn what she saw now was a truly monstrous axe.

"You came back, how wonderful. Changed your mind perhaps? I suppose I can be a bit intimidating at first."

He held the axe above him, ready to swing it for all he was worth, that shit eating grin still upon his face. Frost replied with frozen malice.

"I didn't like the idea of you living still."

He chuckled that annoying little laugh and swung at her. The blade seemed to almost gain speed as it moved through the air, and despite how slow it should have been, she barely managed to dodge under it. There was no time to counter attack as another swing was swiftly coming and she had to prepare to dodge under that one as well. He swung overhand as well, bringing the blade down into the wood with a chopping sound. She pounced on him swiftly stabbing and hoping to catch him unbalanced as he removed the axe. He bothered with no such effort, instead releasing the catches on both of his arm mounted katars and countered her thrusts with his own stabs.

Her forward momentum almost carried her right into them before she could dance back and deal with the considerably faster weapons properly. The man would have none of it though and instead pounced through the air at her in something akin to a face forward leap. She took the moment to duck into a roll passing cleanly under him. Places exchanged they pressed into one another again, thrusting brutally. She was winning the exchanges, having more leverage and range to work with. She closed, attempting to land a lucky slash on his exposed chest. The man moved back a hair and grabbed one of his comrades dragging them in front of him like a shield. The new man received a devastating slash across his chest for his loyalty and fell dead before her eyes.

This incited her wrath considerably. To use your own men as cannon fodder for your life, disgusting. Edwin motioned to the other two men roaring at them to attack her. She hadn't thought she had been that pressing to him, but a large red spot was beginning to grow in the bandages attached to his side. The two guards pushed on her, each carrying large cutlasses and swinging them for all they were worth. She backed up until she was near the water, then spun into the man's attack, striking him with both of her weapons to push him into the water. His comrade closed quickly to catch her off guard, but found his weapon deflected upwards and then both pommels slamming into his hand from either side. The blade left his hand, and the cracking of bone suggested he couldn't hold his sword again for some time. Rather than receive judgement from her blade he turned and ran.

Edwin stood there in full disbelief.

"This can't be happening. My whole operation undone by one girl? Impossible. Impossible!"

The man charged her, heedless of the pain and blood from his earlier wound. He stabbed like a man possessed and she matched him blow for blow, each sword stab ringing out against steel. An explosion rocked the dock, and the man turned to look. The chance was golden and she took it. Her boot swung back and then forward with all her might as she canned the man. Both of her blades turned, their pommel's swinging into the man's face from either angle, delivering a crushing knock out hit as fire filled her vision. He went down like a sack of bricks.

Earlier braziers had been knocked over, and ignored, lighting fires that had slowly grown out of control, the black powder storage was alight and an inferno was beginning to consume the lower docks. Everyone that could still stand no longer cared about her, as they struggled to put out fires or run for their lives. It was in this hectic chaos that the stolen boat 'Chum' pulled into harbor with it's most pleased captain.

"We saw the fires Frost, get up here and bring the dead beat."

Newfeld Senior appraised the fires with a grin that most children couldn't match on christmas. The men who killed his son were on fire, and the black heart who had done it was now before his very eyes. He ordered the ship to make for Baterilla with all haste and then turned to Frost and the murderer. She met his eyes with the same level of determination.

"Alright. Now lets get this over with."

He swung his sword high and was about to bring it down on Edwin's head when a sabre blocked him. He looked at the girl.

"What are you doing? This man's going to die, for my boy he will Die."

Her reply came in tones of steel.

"No. He will go to Batrilla in irons, he will stand trial, and he will hang. "

The old man pushed on, his fury beginning to show from the reservoirs of his sorrow.

"The hell he will! He's going to die here. I'm not letting him stand trial, what if he gets away. Would you have my sons murderer go scot-free?"

Normally his rage could quiet even an admiral, but this girl didn't back down in the slightest bit.

"He will hang. That is the justice your son so proudly preached, that is the justice your son so proudly lived for, and I will see that justice done. At any cost."

She delivered the last line with such a finality that even the old man pulled back. His senses were telling him that this girl had gone through some terrible things to arrive at this thought. Slowly he sheathed his sword, his rage cowed. She was right, this isn't what he would have wanted, this wasn't 'his justice'. He closed his age old eyes, muttering under his breath. 'Damn it all'.

The tension released, Frost felt her knees going weaker and weaker. She sheathed her sword and let oblivion come. She was sound asleep before she hit the floor.

[End;End]