Post by Vio on Nov 6, 2020 4:22:47 GMT -5
Johnathan #8
“Bloody fool,” Anstis Johnathan growled as ivory weapon and armour alike shattered and crumbled like dust. He had seen this before — the bravado of many a rookie or overconfident pirate challenging somebody well out of their league. The results were almost always the same, even if the modus operandi was different. They would be felled. By blade, pistol, flame, sea; a whole slew of potential methods to which the petty had met their demise. If anything, Marshall was lucky they were not at sea.
John again watched, waited; one minute, two.
“Good riddance, whelp,” the Morganeer spat, finally turning away from Marshall’s fallen form only when the last pieces of that bleached shell had crumbled away. He could hardly have been branded an impatient man, Johnathan. With a flick of his blade, he threw off some of the blood that stained its edge before securing it over his shoulder again, mostly confident that the upstart wouldn’t be standing. With a moment to observe his surroundings, he regained his bearings.
Stone faces gaze six ways, he recited mentally, eyes lingering upon the basalt pillars that Marshall’s body had previously been flung into during their brutal exchange. Sure enough, save the fact that some were cracked and missing pieces, their arrangement certainly fit the bill. Deciding that the islet probably wasn’t big enough — nor the creator of this damned riddle smart enough — for an additional ploy, he began his march northbound.
Fifty paces meant more or less thirty, still none too far from the battleground, but now within a slightly more open clearing where the sun’s rays truly pierced the lush canopy. The forest floor was damp, emanating that earthy scent, and what greenery worked to compete for the sunlight spared by the trees seemed distorted. From his position as he broke the treeline, it almost seemed as if starved and legless men were clawing for a single piece of bread.
“That’s not right,” he grimaced, still hobbling along somewhat thanks to his injury. Something about the earth in the clearing’s centre spoke to him — something about the way the undergrowth had gnarled and curled. Easing himself into a lowered stance, the grizzled veteran grasped and pulled at bracken and stem, incredible might easily uprooting the greenery as he tossed it aside. “No…,” Anstis growled angrily, both hands now ripping away at nature and the fertile ground beneath until he had formed a small hole maybe a foot deep…Clunk…{Post Synopsis:—}
Johnathan waits to see if Marshall moves at all, then leaves him be, heading off to the apparent location of the treasure. While digging up the earth, Johnathan’s hands find something wooden.{——}
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NOTE: ——
Anstis Johnathan | #65000b
Marshall Marrow | #eeeeee