Sword Zen


 * As those who walk the path the sword are want to do
 * We wage war against each other
 * Sharpening our skills and making keen our blades


 * But it has been many years since last we met
 * Since we danced to the song of blood and steel
 * Wading into every battle


 * Once you walked a path of solitude
 * Driven to contend against the might of nature
 * As is your calling


 * I heard of your defeat
 * Though the winds of change that blow across the lands
 * Now you stand as one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea


 * But I hear whats inside you:
 * The deafening screams of your shattered blade
 * The raging fury towards your humiliating defeat


 * But you may rejoice oh brother mine
 * For I will guide you towards the true path
 * As you once did for me . . .


 *  An unsigned letter addressed only to the painting of a black sword

The Broken Blade
The sprawling mangrove forests of the Saobaody Archipelago are a truly a sight to behold. Each of its tree's the size of a small island, with trunks jutting upward from ocean depths. It is the last vestige of paradise and serves as the bridge between the old world and the new. Since the reign of the Pirate King Luffy, it has seen surprisingly little change. Nobles come and go as they please, slavers abduct any poor unsuspecting wench or bastard, selling them off to the highest bidder and piracy runs rampant across the board. In other words, it was just another peaceful day for the denizens of Saobaody.

Deep on the outskirts of its many islands, past the bubbling towers and cheerful screams of those enjoying its illustrious amusement park, was a tavern. It like many of its sister establishments catered to an assortment of needs, serving drinks that would burn a hole in your gullet, entertainment for your hearing pleasure, and entertainment for just your pleasure. The raucous laughter of drunkards telling tall tales, the (forced) giggles of the women serving them, and the atomsphere of utter hopeless and degradation was but one of many its simple charms.

At least that's what Redgrave S. Zelgadis thought as he stepped through its entry door. The thick stench of sweat, sex and booze filled his nostrils along with the faint but pleasant bubbly aroma that was unique to the island. He had come here partly for business, mostly for pleasure, and certainly to meet an old friend. Letting his gaze sweep across the tavern he took a moment to do his routine check of notable threats, exits and entries, and a guesstimate as to how many he could kill and still be served a halfway decent drink.

The answer to that question is fifteen for those curious to know. In mere moments his spied the one man he had come to see, and the sight before him was not at all what he expected.