Post by koldraiyned309 on Dec 15, 2020 19:27:05 GMT -5
Thraydrell really, really hated sunlight some days. There were many things he hated about the Funkyard, ranging from the intense fumes that seemed to linger from every crevice to the never-ending flow of people rudely brushing by as they came to and fro, but to Thraydrell's sensitive eyes, the broad daylight was what did it for him. He pulled his hood down over his head as far down as he could, and held a hand over his face as he continued forward.
The junkyard city was not his favorite place in the world, but it contained secrets within its endless sea of trash. If he was lucky, he would find a directions to one of the greatest secrets of the Pirate Era. His goal was the central of the three great junk mountains that dominated the landscape of the mountains. If his contact was correct, a man would be waiting for him there that could point him in the direction of the Road Poneglyphs, the ancient carvings that would unlock the key to the hidden history of the world. For a treasure like that, he would go anywhere he had to.
I need to get some elevation. I can't keep wandering around like this forever. He thought to himself as he looked around.
The "mountains" were visible enough, but the correct path to them was obscured through the endless mass of bodies all around him. He looked around to see if there was anything in his vicinity that could serve as a vantage point. He briefly considered climbing on top of one of the many storefronts that surrounded him but thought better of it; he didn't think the owners would take kindly to a random stranger standing on their place of business. He scanned the area until he found what he was looking for: an old wooden pole standing in front of an alley. It was at least 40 feet tall and would give him a view of the entire surrounding area. Most men wouldn't be able to scale the pole, but Thraydrell spent his whole life climbing up near-unclimbable surfaces. It would be literal child's play to him.
He walked over to the pole and looked at the various grooves, cuts, and remnants of nails driven into the post, and used them as the holds necessary to make his way up. They may as well have been the rungs of a ladder. Within seconds he had made it to the top and briefly got a glimpse of the path that he needed to travel. A pathway, composed of half natural earth and half metal tiles, led out of the current marketplace to the Northwest. The sun's unforgiving glare wouldn't allow him to see much of what was on that path, but he had saw enough.
He decided to go back down the faster way, and jumped down. Had he been paying attention to what was beneath him, he would have noticed the muscular, unfriendly pirate underneath him and would have avoided jumping on him. He would have announce his descent, or picked another way entirely.
He was not paying attention, and he did land on him.
Thraydrell landed initially on the man's shoulder, the force of said landing sending both men tumbling to the ground
"Ungh, my head. Sorry bout that, fella. Didn't see you." Throwing his hood back over his head, Thraydrell once again fixed his eyes to the ground, hoping to avoid the harsh light when he noticed that some of the light was now replaced by shadow and a pair of meaty feet in ill fitting sandals.
He looked up and noticed the victim of his "crash-and-dash" glaring at him, cracking his knuckles and looking down on him. The muscle man looked Thraydrell up and down before grinning.
"Round these parts, there's a fee for things like that."
"I'm not familiar with that custom. I am familiar with hunting big and hairy animals." The archer pulled out his trademark bladed bow, the razor sharp blade on the front of the steel weapon being an unspoken threat in itself. "Let me know if you're down for a cultural exchange anytime soon."
Thraydrell didn't want to actually engage in any violence. Least of all in a crowded place like the market; the more ruckus he caused, the higher the chance of gaining the attention of anyone that could actually cause him problems in his search. Still, he knew from experience that some people can't tell the difference between a spared life and a scared target.
The large man's expression seemed to glow red with anger, and he decided to swing instead of respond. Thraydrell deftly used the bow to block the punch to the right, allowing his opponent to cut his own hand open on the bow's blade at the same time. Muscle man's roar of pain alerted the entire market place, which is exactly what Thraydrell did not want to happen but it couldn't be helped.
I need to get away from these people and finish this quickly! The archer began to powerwalk away from his wailing opponent as fast as he could, walking toward the crowd hoping to disappear into the crowd before the muscle man could recover from his wound. The bystanders all looked with varying expressions from amusement to horror, depending on their personal outlook on life. He shoved his way past them, not stopping to entertain any other would be aggressors. All that mattered was the information, anything else was irrelevant.
"WHERE IS HE?!" the angry muscle man yelled, "I'll kill him!"
While Thraydrell was slightly frustrated to see the sea of fingers pointing at him, he wasn't suprised. Why not keep the day's entertainment going, right? Giving up on a peaceful solution to his problem, he slid an arrow down from his quiver to the bowstring. Pinching the arrow with his fingertips, he inhaled as he drew back the arrow.
This won't kill you, idiot, but you'll feel like you're dying. You're about 10 yards away from me, give or take a few. The Sniper's Draw and your right knee cap should do.
Pulling back the bow to its full yield, he let the man take a few more steps before releasing the bow. The arrow seemed to whistle through the air before slamming into it's new home of the brute's right knee, sending him toppling over as if his legs hit a wall while running. The people in the crowds, while enthralled by the conflict between the men, suddenly got very disinterested now that one of them was howling in pain on the ground, and the other one was quickly putting distance between himself and the scene of the attack.
Hopefully that guy doesn't have any angry friends around here. Now back to the trail. Thraydrell mused silently as he placed his bow back into the sling on his back and continued his trek towards the junk mountains, and hopefully, towards the true history.
The junkyard city was not his favorite place in the world, but it contained secrets within its endless sea of trash. If he was lucky, he would find a directions to one of the greatest secrets of the Pirate Era. His goal was the central of the three great junk mountains that dominated the landscape of the mountains. If his contact was correct, a man would be waiting for him there that could point him in the direction of the Road Poneglyphs, the ancient carvings that would unlock the key to the hidden history of the world. For a treasure like that, he would go anywhere he had to.
I need to get some elevation. I can't keep wandering around like this forever. He thought to himself as he looked around.
The "mountains" were visible enough, but the correct path to them was obscured through the endless mass of bodies all around him. He looked around to see if there was anything in his vicinity that could serve as a vantage point. He briefly considered climbing on top of one of the many storefronts that surrounded him but thought better of it; he didn't think the owners would take kindly to a random stranger standing on their place of business. He scanned the area until he found what he was looking for: an old wooden pole standing in front of an alley. It was at least 40 feet tall and would give him a view of the entire surrounding area. Most men wouldn't be able to scale the pole, but Thraydrell spent his whole life climbing up near-unclimbable surfaces. It would be literal child's play to him.
He walked over to the pole and looked at the various grooves, cuts, and remnants of nails driven into the post, and used them as the holds necessary to make his way up. They may as well have been the rungs of a ladder. Within seconds he had made it to the top and briefly got a glimpse of the path that he needed to travel. A pathway, composed of half natural earth and half metal tiles, led out of the current marketplace to the Northwest. The sun's unforgiving glare wouldn't allow him to see much of what was on that path, but he had saw enough.
He decided to go back down the faster way, and jumped down. Had he been paying attention to what was beneath him, he would have noticed the muscular, unfriendly pirate underneath him and would have avoided jumping on him. He would have announce his descent, or picked another way entirely.
He was not paying attention, and he did land on him.
Thraydrell landed initially on the man's shoulder, the force of said landing sending both men tumbling to the ground
"Ungh, my head. Sorry bout that, fella. Didn't see you." Throwing his hood back over his head, Thraydrell once again fixed his eyes to the ground, hoping to avoid the harsh light when he noticed that some of the light was now replaced by shadow and a pair of meaty feet in ill fitting sandals.
He looked up and noticed the victim of his "crash-and-dash" glaring at him, cracking his knuckles and looking down on him. The muscle man looked Thraydrell up and down before grinning.
"Round these parts, there's a fee for things like that."
"I'm not familiar with that custom. I am familiar with hunting big and hairy animals." The archer pulled out his trademark bladed bow, the razor sharp blade on the front of the steel weapon being an unspoken threat in itself. "Let me know if you're down for a cultural exchange anytime soon."
Thraydrell didn't want to actually engage in any violence. Least of all in a crowded place like the market; the more ruckus he caused, the higher the chance of gaining the attention of anyone that could actually cause him problems in his search. Still, he knew from experience that some people can't tell the difference between a spared life and a scared target.
The large man's expression seemed to glow red with anger, and he decided to swing instead of respond. Thraydrell deftly used the bow to block the punch to the right, allowing his opponent to cut his own hand open on the bow's blade at the same time. Muscle man's roar of pain alerted the entire market place, which is exactly what Thraydrell did not want to happen but it couldn't be helped.
I need to get away from these people and finish this quickly! The archer began to powerwalk away from his wailing opponent as fast as he could, walking toward the crowd hoping to disappear into the crowd before the muscle man could recover from his wound. The bystanders all looked with varying expressions from amusement to horror, depending on their personal outlook on life. He shoved his way past them, not stopping to entertain any other would be aggressors. All that mattered was the information, anything else was irrelevant.
"WHERE IS HE?!" the angry muscle man yelled, "I'll kill him!"
While Thraydrell was slightly frustrated to see the sea of fingers pointing at him, he wasn't suprised. Why not keep the day's entertainment going, right? Giving up on a peaceful solution to his problem, he slid an arrow down from his quiver to the bowstring. Pinching the arrow with his fingertips, he inhaled as he drew back the arrow.
This won't kill you, idiot, but you'll feel like you're dying. You're about 10 yards away from me, give or take a few. The Sniper's Draw and your right knee cap should do.
Pulling back the bow to its full yield, he let the man take a few more steps before releasing the bow. The arrow seemed to whistle through the air before slamming into it's new home of the brute's right knee, sending him toppling over as if his legs hit a wall while running. The people in the crowds, while enthralled by the conflict between the men, suddenly got very disinterested now that one of them was howling in pain on the ground, and the other one was quickly putting distance between himself and the scene of the attack.
Hopefully that guy doesn't have any angry friends around here. Now back to the trail. Thraydrell mused silently as he placed his bow back into the sling on his back and continued his trek towards the junk mountains, and hopefully, towards the true history.