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7/1/2025, 7:14:42 PM
A rough-looking pirate from a rival crew, bloodied and tied to a chair with seastone shackles, squirms under the cold, sharp gaze of Millet Pine—a sticky, cold Roger Pirate with a twisted grin and a toolkit of sinister-looking implements laid out on a crate beside him.
Pine cracks his knuckles and picks up a red-hot iron branding rod.
Millet Pine (cheerfully):
“Now, I’m not here to kill ya… I just want to hear how your captain got that map. Every time you lie, I pick a new body part to decorate!”
The captive pirate spits blood and curses.
Captive Pirate:
“You Roger dogs ain’t getting a damn word outta me—AGHHHH!”
He screams as the iron sizzles into his thigh. Smoke rises. Pine hums a sea shanty.
Just then, Gol D. Roger himself bursts through the door, laughing hysterically, holding a giant roast turkey leg in one hand and slapping his thigh with the other.
Gol D. Roger (roaring):
“BAHAHAHA! Pine, you always know how to get ‘em talking! That scream had rhythm! Sounded like a choir of sea kings mating!”
Millet Pine (grinning):
“Captain, you want a turn? I’ve got room on his back for your initials!”
Roger (mock thoughtful):
“Hmmm… tempting! But let’s not overcook him just yet—I want him conscious when I tell him we already stole the map back!”
Captive Pirate (groaning):
“What…?!”
Roger (grinning wildly):
“YEP! Yours was just the decoy. But thanks for the entertainment!”
He pats Pine on the shoulder and takes a bite of the turkey, humming as he walks out, leaving Pine whistling and reaching for a hooked tool.
Pine cracks his knuckles and picks up a red-hot iron branding rod.
Millet Pine (cheerfully):
“Now, I’m not here to kill ya… I just want to hear how your captain got that map. Every time you lie, I pick a new body part to decorate!”
The captive pirate spits blood and curses.
Captive Pirate:
“You Roger dogs ain’t getting a damn word outta me—AGHHHH!”
He screams as the iron sizzles into his thigh. Smoke rises. Pine hums a sea shanty.
Just then, Gol D. Roger himself bursts through the door, laughing hysterically, holding a giant roast turkey leg in one hand and slapping his thigh with the other.
Gol D. Roger (roaring):
“BAHAHAHA! Pine, you always know how to get ‘em talking! That scream had rhythm! Sounded like a choir of sea kings mating!”
Millet Pine (grinning):
“Captain, you want a turn? I’ve got room on his back for your initials!”
Roger (mock thoughtful):
“Hmmm… tempting! But let’s not overcook him just yet—I want him conscious when I tell him we already stole the map back!”
Captive Pirate (groaning):
“What…?!”
Roger (grinning wildly):
“YEP! Yours was just the decoy. But thanks for the entertainment!”
He pats Pine on the shoulder and takes a bite of the turkey, humming as he walks out, leaving Pine whistling and reaching for a hooked tool.
7/1/2025, 5:38:06 PM
A rough-looking pirate from a rival crew, bloodied and tied to a chair with seastone shackles, squirms under the cold, sharp gaze of Millet Pine—a sticky, cold Roger Pirate with a twisted grin and a toolkit of sinister-looking implements laid out on a crate beside him.
Pine cracks his knuckles and picks up a red-hot iron branding rod.
Millet Pine (cheerfully):
“Now, I’m not here to kill ya… I just want to hear how your captain got that map. Every time you lie, I pick a new body part to decorate!”
The captive pirate spits blood and curses.
Captive Pirate:
“You Roger dogs ain’t getting a damn word outta me—AGHHHH!”
He screams as the iron sizzles into his thigh. Smoke rises. Pine hums a sea shanty.
Just then, Gol D. Roger himself bursts through the door, laughing hysterically, holding a giant roast turkey leg in one hand and slapping his thigh with the other.
Gol D. Roger (roaring):
“BAHAHAHA! Pine, you always know how to get ‘em talking! That scream had rhythm! Sounded like a choir of sea kings mating!”
Millet Pine (grinning):
“Captain, you want a turn? I’ve got room on his back for your initials!”
Roger (mock thoughtful):
“Hmmm… tempting! But let’s not overcook him just yet—I want him conscious when I tell him we already stole the map back!”
Captive Pirate (groaning):
“What…?!”
Roger (grinning wildly):
“YEP! Yours was just the decoy. But thanks for the entertainment!”
He pats Pine on the shoulder and takes a bite of the turkey, humming as he walks out, leaving Pine whistling and reaching for a hooked tool.
Pine cracks his knuckles and picks up a red-hot iron branding rod.
Millet Pine (cheerfully):
“Now, I’m not here to kill ya… I just want to hear how your captain got that map. Every time you lie, I pick a new body part to decorate!”
The captive pirate spits blood and curses.
Captive Pirate:
“You Roger dogs ain’t getting a damn word outta me—AGHHHH!”
He screams as the iron sizzles into his thigh. Smoke rises. Pine hums a sea shanty.
Just then, Gol D. Roger himself bursts through the door, laughing hysterically, holding a giant roast turkey leg in one hand and slapping his thigh with the other.
Gol D. Roger (roaring):
“BAHAHAHA! Pine, you always know how to get ‘em talking! That scream had rhythm! Sounded like a choir of sea kings mating!”
Millet Pine (grinning):
“Captain, you want a turn? I’ve got room on his back for your initials!”
Roger (mock thoughtful):
“Hmmm… tempting! But let’s not overcook him just yet—I want him conscious when I tell him we already stole the map back!”
Captive Pirate (groaning):
“What…?!”
Roger (grinning wildly):
“YEP! Yours was just the decoy. But thanks for the entertainment!”
He pats Pine on the shoulder and takes a bite of the turkey, humming as he walks out, leaving Pine whistling and reaching for a hooked tool.
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