Ghosts at Sancta Teresa

Setting the Stage
Sancta Teresa used to be a land of wonder, a large summer island with lush green fields and a bustling and active city filled with good people and protected by the marines from the looming threat of pirates. For years they had been safe from the terrors that roamed the seas but alas their fortune was not to last for six months ago a particularly vile group of brigands that called themselves the Ghost Pirates had stepped ashore and the local populace found that their lives were changed for the worst.

For while the Marines took up arms against the pirates, their sheer numbers and in particular the power of the Eight Ghasts and the Captain himself, Tom Glynn soon overwhelmed the marines and the once proud protectors of justice were publically humiliated, tortured and debased before being chained to poles on the cities outskirts for the sport of the crows as they died from starvation. Now anarchy ruled in Sancta Teresa and the once wealthy people had begun to fall into poverty as the Ghosts leeched resources from the cities population in the form of monthly taxes. Those who could not pay were seized and taken away, never to be seen again as they were sold to slavers and sent aboard ships to Sabaody.

Tom paid no heed to the plights of the people, truthfully he did not care much about the island as a whole beyond as a means to line his own pockets and forcing local shipwrights to work for him. Once they had exhausted everything they could out of Sancta Teresa they would move on and continue their efforts elsewhere, it did not matter to Glynn how many suffered for his ambitions for to ruin others for his betterment was to him his birthright.

His thugs now stalked the streets both day and night, punishing dissidents brutally and publicly even as they coerced food, lodging and drink from the populace, employing threats and violence to ensure compliance in whatever or whomever they fancied. Meanwhile, the Ghasts and the Captain himself lived lives of luxury on the backs of the people, and had in a twisted mockery of justice claimed the old marine headquarters as their primary base of operations, for the marine base overlooked much of the city proper and was guarded by strong walls. Their residences were stolen from rich citizens who had been tossed out onto the streets, although much of their time was spent outside in the city to make their presence known and maintain this rule of terror for as long as they needed to.

Cray F. Kingsley was every bit as much of a Thug as the average member of the Ghost Pirates, but although he was in a subordinate position now he had once been the Captain of his own crew, the memorable if short-lived Crabby Pirates and dreams of past glories tormented the fighter daily. At present, he was enjoying a massive keg of ale in the local tavern alongside fellow members of the Ugly Betty, the weakest vessel in the Ghost Pirates' fleet.

Kingsley was a man of simply massive girth and for that reason, he required two seats to sit properly while he demanded the bartender pour him more and more to drink, as well as fill the cups of his men to the proprietors' great chagrin.

Laveau Marianne loved her job. Not only was she one of the Ghasts that had earned a spot upon the crew's headliner ship, the Black Maiden, but her occupation as a doctor gave her ample opportunity to swindle and cheat the average folk to her leisure. Case in point, whenever the Ghost Pirates landed on an island they would commandeer it and leave the residents in squalor. She would play the part of the benevolent benefactor, treating their wounds and ailments while robbing them blind of all their prized possessions in the process.

She had set up shop in one of the downtown districts. She guessed it had been a bazaar at one point, but now it was nothing more than a cesspool. People had set up tents and makeshift homes due to being displaced from their own. Marianne had taken over what was once a jewelery store for her work. Of course her crew had cleared it out. She had goons stationed at her door, to keep the rabble away. She liked her little "clinic", though she didn't stay for too long. No, at the end of the day she would ascend to the manor she had taken as her own for a long night of rest and relaxation.

For now she put on her most convincingly sad expression, though she wanted to roll her eyes at the simpering woman before her "P-please, my son is sick...I can't afford your fee and at this rate he'll...h-he'll..." She burst into tears and fell to her knees, her forehead coming to rest upon the ground at Marianne's feet. This gave the woman a chance to roll her eyes in disgust, wanting nothing more than to kick the cow away but holding her composure.

"I know," She said in a voice filled with fake sympathy, pretending to choke back tears "But this power of mines...It is dangerous. I dare not use it without proper compensation. I risk my life each time I call upon the power, you see..." Lies, all of it, but the woman didn't need to know that "I do pray your son be well...or that you raise the proper funds before he meets such a sad end." With a dramatic sob she moved away, subtly motioning for one of her thugs to escort the woman out.

Marianne listened to the fading sobs and sank into her chair. It was more like a throne of pillows, truly, but still. She reached up to massage her neck and groaned "If I didn't like seeing the despair on their faces and hearing the dread in their voices I would ask double what I do from Tom..." She sighed and contemplated going home early instead of trying to irk out some more valuables from these people. Decisions, decisions.

Gathering Information
It had been a week since he emerged from before the gates of hell. And although it hurt to breath at first, now he started to feel back to his former glory. Hell, his crew noted that the young commander seemed stronger than before. Not only that, the future revolutionary leader finally got his first bounty! During a pitstop at the last island, he was met with a standing ovation of cheers and congratulations. For the Drawn Sword became one of the most wanted groups in Paradise with a bounty that doubled most other pirates. Although he'd almost died after that little spat, Sayyid regretted none of his decisions. Surely they would be ready to join him in the New World soon enough.

Plus! The Drawn Sword Division managed to procure weapons for those tricky devil fruit users. Although they wanted all seven crates to spread out among the crew, Zarqa's quick thinking made it possible to leave with nine weapons! Not only a major strike to the Marines of Paradise but also a great advantage to the Drawn Sword's warriors. Sayyid, of course, claimed his favored weapon. A pair of gauntlets which had Seastone weaved onto their outer layers, a weapon he named Bahamut, after the shanty of the mighty God of Thunder who watched over the North Blue Seas. Zarqa chose a pair of daggers whose cutting edge and tip was covered in Seastone. And the newly christened Third Corpse, Lowkey, obtained a special package of Seastone bullets as well as a special weapon she kept hidden.

With such a calm week behind them, Sayyid began planning the next major strategy against the marines of the Grand Line. But chatter had caught his attention at the previous stop in the Revolutionary Network. And as the waves pushed and pull, he began to remember their conversations

"Sancta Teresa." The older woman spoke in-between her inhales. Smoke danced between the young commander and the seasoned veteran. "Despite being between this stop and the next, the Revolutionary Army has never been able to truly set up a base there. We've been forced to choose a different path when traversing the Grand Line."

Sayyid sipped his cranberry drink. "I don't mind starting with the Marines again. I've been gone for far too long."

"Calm down young one. This is the recklessness that lead to the tragedy that Checroft is suffering."

Sayyid stared at his drink. Awakening to the news that Checroft was now suffering because of his impulsiveness...he would've rather died! And the mention of that island pulled at his heart. Sayyid swore to control that explosiveness in his stomach. Ambition was important, but intelligence is what keep ambition from consuming a person. And so, Sayyid looked up with understanding eyes as he nodded.

"Although your actions have lead to the Revolutionary Army gaining an entrance to Checroft, it will never return to the prosperity that it once existed in. Let that be a lesson on why you should always think twice in your actions. I mean, tou were lucky in your fight against Captain Zheng, but that almost cost you your life."

"Yes Ma'am." He hated to be scolded. But she was right about everything. And that massive scar on his chest became a symbol or a reminder that sometimes a few seconds of thought could save a life.

"But I'm telling you this because your hardheadedness is refreshing. It represents the ambition and desire to succeeded needed to save this world." She exhaled a massive cloud of smoke. "Use it on the next island. People have reached out to us, they need our help."

"Against the World Government?"

"No. Pirates. The Ghost Pirates have taken that island hostage after massacring the marines in charge of the island."

"Really?" Sayyid scoffed. "That's light work."

"See! What'd I just say?!" She rubbed her temples. "These are no ordinary pirates." She got up and pulled out three Wanted Posters before laying them before the revolutionary. "You've recently established your bounty in Paradise, right?" Sayyid was first. Followed by a purple haired fellow. And at the end was the man he met in that bar. But when she turned the papers to face Sayyid, he realized just what she was trying to say. "Congratulations on becoming the Third Most Wanted Criminal in Paradise."

"But..." Those words were a shock. Both a blessing and a curse. "This is Glynn Tom, captain of the Ghost Pirates and the Second Most Wanted Criminal in Paradise."

Sayyid eyed the poster closely. To think this finely dressed man could hold such a title? There wasn't even a speck of dirt on his shirt! The revolutionary nodded. "I could probably to kill him." He lifted his drink up once more, the silver gauntlets on his wrist shining brightly in the bar's light as he drank his juice nervously.

"I doubt you could even with your new weapons. You're still green on the seas. This man has sailed with the most vile criminals." She smiled. "But that doesn't mean you should run away with your tail between your legs. The Revolutionary Army's purpose is to inspire not to conquer. We aren't an army of conquest but one of hope. If that island sees you fighting, they'll rally behind you."

"But we won't be able to fight against everyone. Even with Lowkey with us." Sayyid thought to his new partner. A woman of phenomenal power. But even she lacked the needs to take out an entire island.

"You don't have to. You just have to inspire the people. I'm sure that old base has enough weapons needed for a proper uprising. Find out where they're keeping them and you have yourself a little militia."

Sayyid smiled.

"See, this is what proper planning and strategy looks like."

---

Yeah. Sayyid had a lot to learn before he could be considered a proper Revolutionary Division Commander. And as the ship sailed through the sea, he formulated numerous plans to locate and access the weapons.

Sayyid jumped, shocked by her sudden presence. He turned to see Lowkey standing side by side. He looked to Lowkey and smiled. "I hope you're ready for your first mission as a revolutionary." Lowkey smiled. She wore her signature black outfit with her favored musket on her back. Her pale face was complimented by blue eyeshadow and raven hair that hung loosely behind her. The assassin nodded. What's the hardest part of this task?

"Remaining positive in front of people who've suffered. Who've lost so much." The commander answered.

I don't think I have any weapons for that Lowkey tilted her head with a gentle smile.

"Compassion and empathy are all you need."

Lowkey nodded. She started to feel the connection forming between herself and the crew. And more importantly, she began to understand herself. ''We're getting close. What's the plan, Commander?''

"When we land, the three of us will split up and search the island for answers. We'll take the Baby Den Den Mushi watches to keep tabs on each other."

I suggest we focus on gathering information before actually acting-

"Watch out Zarqa!" Sayyid interrupted. Zarqa, who just appeared from her cabin and was about to take a step forward, jumped and slipped over a wrapper as she landed. Her body tumbling well below the ship and onto the bottom as if the ship was liquid. Seconds later, she swam through the floor and emerged from the deck. Standing on it once more.

"Thank you for saving my life, Commander." She said with a bow.

You would've never fell, Lowkey's eyes widened as she pointed to Zarqa fiercely. Her hair almost standing. if not for Sayyid screaming and you jumping! She sighed. Oh yeah you're blind.

This crew is helpless!

The island was just as the old veteran said it would be. Quiet. Sketchy. Eyes following every step made. Sayyid worried about the other two, especially Zarqa. But he knew that the Lavender Spirit wouldn't traverse this place so freely. I have to focus on getting information on Captain Glyn. He clenched his iron fist tightly. Calm down.

He walked towards a bar. That's where all troublemakers tend to gather. And there they were. Men waving weapons far too advance for their understanding with scared women in chains sitting on their lap. It sickened him. He wasn't some chivalrous bastard who put woman on the pedestal. He had his fair share of brawls after all. But no one deserved to be reduced to an object used for sexual gratification. At least not without their consent. Sayyid grilled the men as he walked towards the bar. Maybe one of them might have some answers.

"I'll take a cranberry." His go to drink. Sayyid sat still, awaiting to overhear something..anything of value. He needed to find out as much as he could about this island.

Longdagger Daggerman was one of the men who had a girl on his lap, but unlike his fellow lowlives he didn't seem all that interested in enjoying her, he'd had difficulties appreciating women ever since his fateful battle with Phim D. Sera. She was perfect in his eyes.. that she had defeated him only made him burn for the chance to claim her as his own, a burning infatuation that mixed with the black depravity of the loathsome criminal. He would train and get stronger so that one day she could be brought low and he might have his own chained little angel, his alone, his forever.

His beady eyes bored deep into the girl on his lap as he reached into his vest and pulled out a rolled-up piece of parchment neatly tucked and held within a tube. It was a wanted poster of the woman of the White Feather, kept in pristine condition as a show of what in Daggerman's mind would constitute love and devotion. It had become a habit of his whenever he was presented with a woman, Longdagger examined each of them in turn to find someone who could be made to look like Sera, but thus far none had succeeded in this venture for none of them could ever measure up to the greatly exaggerated vision of her in his mind.

Invariably they all failed to live up to his inspection and whenever he felt cheated out of this experience, Longdagger's minuscule brain drove the wretched man to acts of gruesome violence. This time too, he had failed to find enough similarities to satisfy him, and so his long fingers tightened around the girl's throat as his voice trembled with raw fury and disappointment.

"You awe a bwunette, my Sewa does not have bwown haiw!" Longdagger's face turning white with rage as he screeched at his subordinates, "I told you to bwing me a giwl who looks like Sewa! How dawe you fail me!"

Meanwhile the woman still on his lap became more and more agitated, tears streaming down her eyes as she sobbed uncontrollably and so Longdagger's eyes snapped back to her as he screamed, "SHUT UP!". There was a sudden glint of metal and then a fountain of blood from the stunned woman's gaping throat as the Ghast had momentarily used the powers of his Dosu Dosu no Mi to manifest two knives that had carved open the entire area below her mouth. With a scream of rage, he smacked the corpse aside as it struck the floor of the Tavern with a wet squelch and splattered blood throughout the entire room, stepping over her brutalized corpse to scream at his subordinates.

"Leave youw whowes and fetch me a woman like HEW!" Daggerman literally shoved the wanted poster into each of the thugs' faces as he commanded them to abandon the young women that were now overwhelmed with fear, shielding their eyes from the gore. The barkeeper at the tavern looked mortified as well as most of his customers left in a terrible hurry, but he had learned that to publically speak out against any of the Ghosts and in PARTICULAR, a GHAST, would do nothing but invite ruin and misery.

Some of the goons remained behind, but most of them fled out the door to search the city for anyone who might if only superficially resemble Phim D. Sera.

Sayyid wanted to unleash the innee demon within fighting the urge to immediately flip out and trash the tavern. A prime example of why the Revolutionary Army hated piracy. Although fellow enemies of the World Government, pirates were selfish scum who wanted nothing more than to rape and pillage. To destroy and unleash their selfish wrath upon those weaker than them. And by using the oppression of the people as a tool, pirates could win the support of those unable to defend themselves. But forcing people to choose between the lesser of two evils is still forcing people to choose evil. He downed his cranberry drink and stood up.

Consequences.

That word resonated in his mind. Information gathering was the purpose of this visit. However, seeing the lifeless corpse of someone's daughter laying there on the ground, violated and staining the fine craftsmanship of this bar's mahagony floor. She was someone's sister or even someone's mother. He thought back to the mother he never knew and pained at the thought of someone having to experience his suffering. The revolutionary approached the body and bent over, closing her eyes and performing a short prayer.

He solemnly stood up with a stoic face. Consequences be damned! He would not let this monster harm anymore women. "You pirates make me sick!" Sayyid growled to Longdagger, meeting his eyes with a venomous snarl. With a step forward, he launched a devastating right towards Longdagger's creepy face.

At a glance, Longdagger might look the part of a pitiful lowlife who only posed a threat to the weakest and most destitute members of society, and on some level that was true, for Longdagger had a strong preference for bullying those weaker than himself, taking his time to kill them slowly so as to revel in his own strength. But despite his unseemly appearance, the thin man was still a Ghast and formerly part of a family of assassins in the West Blue, and so he reacted with keen instincts as soon as Sayyid stepped forwards to commandeer his attention and punish him for his vile behaviour.

Daggerman was like a black blur as he ducked low underneath the offending arm just as it approached, with the air force generated rippling through his long hair dramatically. But this was not merely an evasive manoeuvre for up from Daggerman's shoulder shot a long and powerful dagger that attempted to slice open the tendons, veins, flesh and muscles on the underarm of his adversary as the Ghast passed underneath in his evasive action.

But this was only a preliminary action to the main course, for as a former assassin Daggerman knew that anger was an exceptionally potent tool for it invited enemies to make rash decisions, and those were just the kind that made being a professional murderer all the easier. His actual attack had not yet truly begun. Longdagger launched his second attack just as the first one ended and manifested it in a sudden flourish as five daggers that had inexplicably appeared in his hands through sleights of hand were hurled at Sayyid's abdomen with significant force at ranges that were just barely shy of point blank!

More impressive still though was how this otherwise strenuous movement appeared to cost him little, for Daggerman was an extraordinary acrobat, and the cadence of his actions were not disturbed by his sudden attack like one might expect. Instead, he seemed to flow from offence to evasion like verses of flowing poetry. With another surge of mobility, the wicked man somersaulted above a nearby dinner table and assumed an offensive stance a when he landed just couple feet away by the door.