Gastro
Notorious Pirate
Hey, guys! Gassy here. Yeaaaah, the other stories were kind of a fail. I feel as if no one enjoyed them. Even JOTLOTB wasn't very good. That's actually the reason I quit writing the third one. So, since I wanna start fresh, I figured I'd make a remake of JOTLOTB and make it different. Enjoy! (Hopefully more than you did my other tales 
He gasped for breath. His skin was as red as the sunset from all of the blood on it from his stumbling. Still, he breathed heavily. His legs couldn't carry him much farther and if he tried, he would most likely kill himself. Finally, he let up. He stopped, breathing in the air and refreshing his legs while he still could. He looked behind him and saw nothing but the shadow the sun cast upon the desert. He grinned, collapsed on the ground, and started to rest. "Thank the heavens..."
He thanked those heavens a little too early. A mysterious figure's shadow was cast upon the old man's body. The old man, though frail, was very healthy. His skin was barely wrinkled, his bushy white beard was clean, and his hairy arms showed no veins. Unfortunately, he had made himself too recognizable. His dark blue ostrich hat and his brown trousers ultimately defined him as the man responsible for the release of Light: Dartham the Grievous.
Now, Dartham lived up to his nickname very well. Whenever something happened, even if it was happy, he would sob as if someone just died. No one knew why the crazy old man kept crying, but they knew one thing: they wanted to stay away from him. When he wasn't crying, he was mumbling statements about Darkness and Light. People stayed away from him, thinking it absurd that either of those old spirits would return.
The mysterious figure loomed over Dartham carefully, hoping not to awake the man. He reached out his hand slowly and meticulously, then...rested it on the old man's shoulder. Suddenly, Dartham's arm turned black and the dark color started to spread throughout his body. Finally, the dark color reached his head until everything was covered in absolute darkness. The old man's eyes turned blank, with no pupils or any signs of sight.
The mysterious figure walked away, with a dark orb floating in his hand. He crushed the orb and little streams like swaths flowed out of the balled fist. They raced into the air until they all separated and made a black lightning bolt strike near the figure. The figure now looked clear as the bolt made dark light strike around him. He looked like a man out of a nightmare.
He was a hooded man in a black coat with claws extending out of the end of his sleeve. There was a symbol on the front of the coat that had an X with a line struck through the middle. "Three Brightists, twenty to go." He stomped the ground and raised his arms in the air. A whirling dark vortex appeared around him and kept swirling. Finally, it closed in on him and the figure disappeared.
This is to give you guys an idea of the story. The real chapters are gonna be WAY longer.
Prologue
The World of the Caribbean, 1579
He gasped for breath. His skin was as red as the sunset from all of the blood on it from his stumbling. Still, he breathed heavily. His legs couldn't carry him much farther and if he tried, he would most likely kill himself. Finally, he let up. He stopped, breathing in the air and refreshing his legs while he still could. He looked behind him and saw nothing but the shadow the sun cast upon the desert. He grinned, collapsed on the ground, and started to rest. "Thank the heavens..."
He thanked those heavens a little too early. A mysterious figure's shadow was cast upon the old man's body. The old man, though frail, was very healthy. His skin was barely wrinkled, his bushy white beard was clean, and his hairy arms showed no veins. Unfortunately, he had made himself too recognizable. His dark blue ostrich hat and his brown trousers ultimately defined him as the man responsible for the release of Light: Dartham the Grievous.
Now, Dartham lived up to his nickname very well. Whenever something happened, even if it was happy, he would sob as if someone just died. No one knew why the crazy old man kept crying, but they knew one thing: they wanted to stay away from him. When he wasn't crying, he was mumbling statements about Darkness and Light. People stayed away from him, thinking it absurd that either of those old spirits would return.
The mysterious figure loomed over Dartham carefully, hoping not to awake the man. He reached out his hand slowly and meticulously, then...rested it on the old man's shoulder. Suddenly, Dartham's arm turned black and the dark color started to spread throughout his body. Finally, the dark color reached his head until everything was covered in absolute darkness. The old man's eyes turned blank, with no pupils or any signs of sight.
The mysterious figure walked away, with a dark orb floating in his hand. He crushed the orb and little streams like swaths flowed out of the balled fist. They raced into the air until they all separated and made a black lightning bolt strike near the figure. The figure now looked clear as the bolt made dark light strike around him. He looked like a man out of a nightmare.
He was a hooded man in a black coat with claws extending out of the end of his sleeve. There was a symbol on the front of the coat that had an X with a line struck through the middle. "Three Brightists, twenty to go." He stomped the ground and raised his arms in the air. A whirling dark vortex appeared around him and kept swirling. Finally, it closed in on him and the figure disappeared.
This is to give you guys an idea of the story. The real chapters are gonna be WAY longer.
