Marcellus Wesson was a little nigga. Even more evident than his little nigga status was his anger which was more than apparent from just looking at the face of the youth. His birthday had just passed and he was now a 14 year old, but he couldn't help feeling like he was still a little nigga. As his newly maintained dreadlocks drooped low over his face, nearly covering his eyes causing him to push the two closest to his eyes to be pushed back behind his ear. Luckily for him there was almost no wind on this bright and beautiful day on the bright and beautiful yet Sandy Island which housed the kingdom of Alabasta.

Now within that Kingdom himself for reasons that would only require the barest minimum amount of creativity to describe but would still remain unstated, Marcellus stood still directly in front of one of Alabasta's many impressive rivers; one that stretched across about 10 meters directly in front of Marcellus before stopping at a sand covered bank identical to the one Marcellus currently stood on. Marcellus was lucky enough at that exact moment to be stood at a position near the very center of the river, from which is extended out a half kilometer to both his left and right. From his position right near the edge of the riverbank Marcellus stood looking out at his reflection in the crystal clear waters, admiring his beauty that could only be described with a collection of descriptive words not common in the vocabulary of your average writer. Truly, Marcellus was nearly entranced, thought he maintained enough presence of mind to remain aware of any and all activity that could possibly be going on around him. Here Marcellus would wait, ears perked and eyes focused on the reflective water in front of him, eager to find out what could be waiting for him today.
@Noctis