Post by Smiley on Feb 5, 2020 8:42:18 GMT -5
The monster had been doing his rounds of the sea, just like all other days. Nothing, apparently, could ever hope to escape him if they entered his sights, as no ship could seem to outpace or outmaneuver him and, bit by bit, holes would appear on the bottom, continuously flooding the ship with more and more seawater.
Eventually, as things would go, the unprepared ship would start sinking and the poor, foolish humans on board, not adept at fighting while swimming, became incredibly easy pickings for the blindingly fast monster.
The "strong" ones who'd try and stand up to the monster would soon meet meet Davy Jones face to face, even if he always spared them once they reached an inch of their life, while the weaker ones that did their best to flee were, invariably, ignored. What wasn't ignored was whatever loot had started to sink with the ship, be it food, money, weapons and whatever else could be considered to have value.
This time, a small vessel with its escort was targeted from below, being made to sink relatively quickly and, before anyone could react appropriately, the monster had made away with its treasure:
A large full set of ceremonial armor, meant for a ceremony of sorts of a kingdom's newest head knight - it'd be the center piece, the sign of the man's greatness and accomplishments.
Now, it belonged to the monster.
Bucket - the Pearly Nautilus fishman, who couldn't be happier that the armor actually fit him, even if with a bit of difficulty around the torso. "I founds me a sick-ass treasure! This will sell for good money..~" The man muttered to himself, trying out the armor with a huge smile to his weirdly shaped face, taking a good deal of time just to put it on.
Did you know that a knight's armor, even if ceremonial, takes a stupid amount of time to actually put on?
At least it looked cool and the gaps on the back plates still allowed him to jet around - and jet around he did, straight to the closest isle of Loguetown, one friendlier to outlaws like him, where he could sell his armor, not for its combat value, but to some savvy, shady dude that might know the sheer value in the precious metals that went into making the piece.
Though, today, since Bucket had a slight paranoia over going the same routes every time, taking his small bounty of seven and a half million (and one) beris a bit too seriously, he started walking through a lonelier side of Loguetown, through one of its many roads, wondering if he'd see something different here.
Eventually, as things would go, the unprepared ship would start sinking and the poor, foolish humans on board, not adept at fighting while swimming, became incredibly easy pickings for the blindingly fast monster.
The "strong" ones who'd try and stand up to the monster would soon meet meet Davy Jones face to face, even if he always spared them once they reached an inch of their life, while the weaker ones that did their best to flee were, invariably, ignored. What wasn't ignored was whatever loot had started to sink with the ship, be it food, money, weapons and whatever else could be considered to have value.
This time, a small vessel with its escort was targeted from below, being made to sink relatively quickly and, before anyone could react appropriately, the monster had made away with its treasure:
A large full set of ceremonial armor, meant for a ceremony of sorts of a kingdom's newest head knight - it'd be the center piece, the sign of the man's greatness and accomplishments.
Now, it belonged to the monster.
Bucket - the Pearly Nautilus fishman, who couldn't be happier that the armor actually fit him, even if with a bit of difficulty around the torso. "I founds me a sick-ass treasure! This will sell for good money..~" The man muttered to himself, trying out the armor with a huge smile to his weirdly shaped face, taking a good deal of time just to put it on.
Did you know that a knight's armor, even if ceremonial, takes a stupid amount of time to actually put on?
At least it looked cool and the gaps on the back plates still allowed him to jet around - and jet around he did, straight to the closest isle of Loguetown, one friendlier to outlaws like him, where he could sell his armor, not for its combat value, but to some savvy, shady dude that might know the sheer value in the precious metals that went into making the piece.
Though, today, since Bucket had a slight paranoia over going the same routes every time, taking his small bounty of seven and a half million (and one) beris a bit too seriously, he started walking through a lonelier side of Loguetown, through one of its many roads, wondering if he'd see something different here.