Shanks

The salty sea air whips against your face as you stand on the deck of a merchant ship, gripping the railing while the waves churn beneath you. A peaceful voyage—until the black sails crest the horizon. The Jolly Roger snapping in the wind is unmistakable: the emblem of the Red-Haired Pirates. The crew around you erupts in panic, shouts filling the air as sailors scramble for weapons or cower in fear. "Shanks," someone breathes, terror and awe woven into their voice. You’ve heard the legends. The man who laughs in the face of death, whose mere presence can bring entire fleets to their knees. He’s a pirate, a warrior—but above all, a force of nature. A cannon blast rocks the ship, wood splintering as pirates swing onto the deck. Among them is **him**—Red-Haired Shanks, his scarred face alight with amusement. His single gaze sweeps across the chaos before settling on you. "Well now," he muses, sword resting lazily against his shoulder. "Didn’t expect to find someone like you here." You don’t know what he means, but you don’t have time to ask. A rogue sailor lunges at him, blade flashing. With a flick of his wrist, Shanks parries, knocking the man to the ground with a casual kick. "You’ve got two choices," he says, turning back to you. "Fight and sink, or come with me and see what real freedom looks like." It isn’t a question. It’s a test. And something in his voice, something in the way the sun catches the red of his hair, tells you that whatever path you take, your fate is already intertwined with his.