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ManaSo, there’s a funny happening: Bucket had just finished up helping out a young marine biologist with feeding the fish in that special no-fishing lake and, as he was coming back to actually get a proper meal that he could enjoy after spending days starving, he overhears a few merchants whining about some small-time pirates that had stolen their riches. And shit, they really sounded upset, going by the amount of curse-words that they continued to spout willy-nilly. And while he wasn’t the type to want to get himself into trouble right away without even eating, thinking of taking down those criminals while also taking money away from these profiteering sacks of elitist shit also sounded right fuckin’ proper nice.
So what could he ever do but get up, use that giant body that the cold forged and talk to the men, staring them down with that ever unsettling, emoting bucket head and give them a most simple offer: “Pay me and I’ll take down that racket!”, nothing more, nothing less. SPECIFICALLY nothing more, like mentioning giving them back the loot. Yes, it was a mean technique he learned when he served that assclown of a priest, but even the worst monsters always have something useful to teach. Simple manipulation of the desperate was in his repertoire.
To say it worked would just be an understatement. It was like they were looking at a saint, even if he looked creepy. A saint that would go risk his own neck to get them their stuff for what they thought would be paltry payment of the overinflated currency. Oh, they were quite happy indeed, they accepted immediately, wrote up a contract in record time and gave it to Bucket. Bucket waved it off, assuring the men that he trusted their integrity - and besides, he didn’t know how to read or write. That last part left them frozen in confusion. Bucket didn’t elaborate at all and, instead, just left.
The docks have various warehouses that belong to a whole bunch of different men and women and the instructions he got was to go to one of the more run-down, tiny warehouses that those shitty pirates liked to hide away with their loot. A simple enough trip, one that he very quickly completed. There was really nobody that was guarding the entrance so they were either small in scale or sloppy. Seeing how run down this place was and the value that he was offered by the merchants, he was betting on both.
Sailors.. are superstitious by the way. Did you know that? Did you know that they’re superstitious? Don’t lie. I bet you didn’t know. You fucking idiot. You moron. You no-knowledge moron bozo. Yes, they’re really superstitious and, if anything outside of the normal happens, the less experienced will go into a panic and think it’s some divine retribution shit.
So, putting on his scariest face that he practiced during his time as the enforcer for that priest, now very much augmented by his uncanny face, Bucket charged straight inside of that warehouse, causing as much of a violent ruckus as he could. As he was expecting (and hoping), the chaos he caused was quite the big one, many of them screaming out random names that he assumed were sea demons. Either way, they ran away. Those that didn’t got their bones rearranged by the heavy fists of an angry giant man.
With a simple mission completed, Bucket saw the loot and, finding it suitably easy to sell, stashed it away with his things and returned to the merchants with one of the fucked up pirates. Avoiding their questions about the stuff they sold, simply saying that “It wasn’t there”, he dropped the pirate, told them to question the poor fool about the loot, took his payment and left before the pirate could talk and tell the whole truth.
All in all.. sucks to suck, fuckers. Say goodbye to your merchandise.
So what could he ever do but get up, use that giant body that the cold forged and talk to the men, staring them down with that ever unsettling, emoting bucket head and give them a most simple offer: “Pay me and I’ll take down that racket!”, nothing more, nothing less. SPECIFICALLY nothing more, like mentioning giving them back the loot. Yes, it was a mean technique he learned when he served that assclown of a priest, but even the worst monsters always have something useful to teach. Simple manipulation of the desperate was in his repertoire.
To say it worked would just be an understatement. It was like they were looking at a saint, even if he looked creepy. A saint that would go risk his own neck to get them their stuff for what they thought would be paltry payment of the overinflated currency. Oh, they were quite happy indeed, they accepted immediately, wrote up a contract in record time and gave it to Bucket. Bucket waved it off, assuring the men that he trusted their integrity - and besides, he didn’t know how to read or write. That last part left them frozen in confusion. Bucket didn’t elaborate at all and, instead, just left.
The docks have various warehouses that belong to a whole bunch of different men and women and the instructions he got was to go to one of the more run-down, tiny warehouses that those shitty pirates liked to hide away with their loot. A simple enough trip, one that he very quickly completed. There was really nobody that was guarding the entrance so they were either small in scale or sloppy. Seeing how run down this place was and the value that he was offered by the merchants, he was betting on both.
Sailors.. are superstitious by the way. Did you know that? Did you know that they’re superstitious? Don’t lie. I bet you didn’t know. You fucking idiot. You moron. You no-knowledge moron bozo. Yes, they’re really superstitious and, if anything outside of the normal happens, the less experienced will go into a panic and think it’s some divine retribution shit.
So, putting on his scariest face that he practiced during his time as the enforcer for that priest, now very much augmented by his uncanny face, Bucket charged straight inside of that warehouse, causing as much of a violent ruckus as he could. As he was expecting (and hoping), the chaos he caused was quite the big one, many of them screaming out random names that he assumed were sea demons. Either way, they ran away. Those that didn’t got their bones rearranged by the heavy fists of an angry giant man.
With a simple mission completed, Bucket saw the loot and, finding it suitably easy to sell, stashed it away with his things and returned to the merchants with one of the fucked up pirates. Avoiding their questions about the stuff they sold, simply saying that “It wasn’t there”, he dropped the pirate, told them to question the poor fool about the loot, took his payment and left before the pirate could talk and tell the whole truth.
All in all.. sucks to suck, fuckers. Say goodbye to your merchandise.
