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Post by Bloodtrailkiller on Jan 31, 2018 18:00:51 GMT -8
/Flotsam Beach/
/Tilly/
Beansprout's vines reached out and clung to the crate's edge ineffectually, feeling the area as it was pulled around, before it felt the vines and; as it felt the other vines, dug its own into it in a rather morbid fashion. Albeit, the follow up was only a touch more grim, as the vines that were holding the Crate's emeralds began to rapidly wither and die. Turning a pale hue, the Emerald's in the Crate seemed to grow loose and limp in their sockets.
Removing them would still be a touch difficult, though they now rattled in their sheathes.
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Post by Vanitypirate on Jan 31, 2018 18:07:08 GMT -8
"Good heavens, Beansprout." Tilly gasped, watching the color fade from the vines with equal parts awe and horror.
Her little Beansprout was already growing up.
She paused, shrugged, and then made to jimmy, with Beansprout's help, the emeralds out from their places.
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Post by Bloodtrailkiller on Jan 31, 2018 18:22:44 GMT -8
/Flotsam Beach/
/Tilly/
Given some time, she managed to work out six Emerald's roughly the size of both of Tilly's thumbs stuck together. The remaining 18 Emerald's remained stubbornly in their sockets, glimmering enticingly.
She could try and jimmy the remaining Emerald's out, but there was no doubting that the process would take her plenty more effort and time that would drain from the time she could place in finding more loot.
Beansprout remained stalwart and steadfast in its actions; a solemn acceptance of the fear and praise. It had to be done.
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Post by Vanitypirate on Jan 31, 2018 18:39:56 GMT -8
"Good Beansprout." Tilly whispered to the knife, giving it an appreciative pat on the flat of its blade before returning it to its sheath atop her hat, nestled into the band.
Standing, she eyed up the box, and thought it more transportable if it were in many pieces.
So she readied her pickaxe again, and planted a foot atop the box. With a hand practiced at smashing open boxes, to put it most politely, she swung the pickaxe into the jade box...
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Post by Bloodtrailkiller on Jan 31, 2018 18:43:15 GMT -8
/Flotsam Beach/
/Tilly/
With a sound mixed between breaking glass and stone, the Jade immediately cracked and scattered across into the greenery around her; some of the smaller pieces lost, but a few large chunks would be findeable. The sound itself echoed across the water and over the beachland.
Though, only one board had been broken, and Tilly's pickax had only punched a fist-sized hole into the board. The Jade itself still held tight to the steel frame like glass to a broken window.
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Post by Vanitypirate on Jan 31, 2018 18:51:37 GMT -8
Tilly knelt and greedily swept up the jade pieces, as much as she reasonable could, stowing away some of the smaller bits and the emeralds in her coat pockets. The more sizeable chunks were safely brought into her satchel, though clear on the opposite side of the potions, divided by the dusty cloak.
She made a mental promise to return to the jade box later, presuming the return journey would go pleasantly. She already had much to carry...
Straightening up, she squinted and scoured the beach for other loot. Finding the same, gray crates as before, she made to approach the closest one.
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Post by Bloodtrailkiller on Jan 31, 2018 18:56:22 GMT -8
/Flotsam Beach/
/Tilly/
Already, as Tilly approached the grey crate, she'd spy the signature Darkest seal burned into the corner of it and a red, blue, violet ribbon sticking out from that same corner. Muddied, sodden, and slightly torn. Barnacles already started to form at one corner, and it was a stark reminder of the grim atmosphere the Darkest Estate bore.
It was utterly bland, ash wood, no doubt made from this land's lumber.
There were a few nails holding it tight together, and the lid especially so; though already a few of the nails were slipping out. Lifting the lid would be easy, avoiding splinters would be another matter entirely.
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Post by Vanitypirate on Jan 31, 2018 19:06:20 GMT -8
It was another reminder of where she actually was: the estate, grim and drab and plain. It was more jarring when she wasn't fidgeting with the brilliantly verdant box.
There was no reason it couldn't contain equally as valuable goodies, however,
She gave it another nudge with her boot, listening...
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Post by Bloodtrailkiller on Jan 31, 2018 19:10:00 GMT -8
/Flotsam Beach/
/Tilly/
The crate was a bit heavy, and something heavy, made of stone, rolled in something like hay before it collided with the other side of the crate and; slowly, the crate leaned over and fell on its side in an utterly defeated manner.
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Post by Vanitypirate on Jan 31, 2018 19:14:05 GMT -8
Tilly uttered a quiet 'Oh, dear' as the crate tipped over, but then, with a shrug, moved to the opposite side.
With a foot planted on it to steady the crate, she stuck the tip of the pickaxe between the lid and the rest of the crate and made to pry it open as she had done to the other two crates.
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Post by Bloodtrailkiller on Jan 31, 2018 19:17:57 GMT -8
/Flotsam Beach/
/Tilly/
With a wet and almost grotesque noise, the wood peeled away where Tilly's pickax dug in, and the lid fell away to reveal its guts; spilling out was a scattering of grey and yellow moldy hay, with a singular marble bust about the size of Tilly's fist looking up and at her. Half buried in the sand already, some prominent noble must have paid a pretty penny to have it returned to them.
A parchment, rolled up and bound in the Darkest Seal was sodden but doggedly bound to the neck of the marble bust.
A few sea-fleas bounced out to boot, along with a rather sizeable crab. A wonder how it got in in the first place.
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Post by Vanitypirate on Jan 31, 2018 19:30:40 GMT -8
The stench and noise caught Tilly by surprise, and she recoiled back a touch in disgust, hooking her arm to cover her mouth and nose in the crook of her elbow. Her gut lurched, and she forcibly steadied her breath until it calmed.
Beansprout was the only other one to witness her sickly response, which she was grateful for.
She suspected it was a non-judgemental creature.
With a little sigh, she hefted up the bust and attached parchment, nudging the rotting hay with her boot to sift for more valuables, aside from the crab.
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Post by Bloodtrailkiller on Jan 31, 2018 19:33:34 GMT -8
/Flotsam Beach/
/Tilly/
Her stirring only roused the ire of more sea-fleas; their grey thimble sized horde swiftly bounced out and around Tilly's boot with a both ravenous but scared ferocity to them.
For a moment, the toe of her boot was readily covered by a writhing mass of grey-pinkish bodies before they all scattered to the flotsam around her. A few lingered and would need to be brushed off, as they more aggressively wound up and around her high boots, looking for meat.
Beansprout writhed a bit uncomfortably on her hat.
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Post by Vanitypirate on Jan 31, 2018 19:40:02 GMT -8
That was a mistake.
In alarm, Tilly made to tip the crate over again with her boot, in much the same way it had tipped over on its side. But this time, however, the open mouth of it would be facing down on the ground.
And then she held onto her hat, palming Beansprout to ensure it stayed in place, and bounced well away from the festering crate.
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Post by Bloodtrailkiller on Jan 31, 2018 19:46:55 GMT -8
/Flotsam Beach/
/Tilly/
Moving her boot closer to the crate, even to move it, still disturbed what seemed to be even more sea fleas that skittered out and onto her boot again. As the previous sea-fleas began finding their way to the lip of her boots, and some hopped to the hems of her sleeves; they were struggling to find tender flesh, but there was a definite and worryingly quick escalation.
The toes of Tilly's boots held a definite white covering of sea-fleas, while a scattering of them were hopping their way across her boot line and cuffs.
Thankfully, her dexterous hop sent most of them scattering into the air, though there were still about twenty odd sea-fleas hopping about her person. Her hop was thankfully light-stepped and her agility kept her on her feet amidst the scattering of flotsam; easily bouncing from one board to the next t'ill she was flat on her feet.
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