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Post by Vanitypirate on Feb 1, 2018 16:38:33 GMT -8
With a whimsy renewed from the discovery of Beansprout, Tilly gave the crab a cheeky wave goodbye and watched it spirit the single coin away.
A fair price, she supposed; the crab had found the poor first, after all.
Tilly slipped the satchel onto her shoulder again and looked around her for more precious loot...
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Post by Bloodtrailkiller on Feb 1, 2018 16:57:53 GMT -8
/Flotsam Beach/
/Tilly/
The local 30 foot zone from Blood and Courcy was a rather thoroughly plucked clean by a certain blonde and hatted individual, and spying for anything she hadn't seen atop the little pile of rubbish she'd first found was proving difficult.
But! About ten feet from the boardwalk itself, was a locked chest. Immediately the wood was familiar; the signature red-white wood grain of the first crate she'd found was making the boards of this new chest. Of course, it was more reinforced with steel.
It was nothing spectacular, but the woodwork definitely marked it out as something particularly special.
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Post by Vanitypirate on Feb 1, 2018 17:01:50 GMT -8
It was a dream come true, this beach. She reckoned she could make a fine living simply mudlarking about on the shore.
With a happy spring in her step, Tilly approached the familiar crate.
She supposed she could try her lockpicks, first; it'd be good practice.
One Tilly closed the distance between herself and the crate, she would give it a gentle nudge with her boot to try and guess what was inside...
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Post by Bloodtrailkiller on Feb 1, 2018 17:05:00 GMT -8
/Flotsam Beach/
/Tilly/
Nudging the chest, gave a soft 'shhh' sound; a sound familiar only because of a certain red-cloaked individual's proud striding. It was silk brushing against silk, with metal too, being jostled a bit with a soft clicking noise.
The chest was very heavy and bits of sea-weed hung from its hinges. The steel, up close, looked to be gilded with touches of bronze. The two metals combined into a beautiful gradient that made it look like the steel was still just a touch hot. Of course, it was an illusion, but the forgesmanship was definitely admirable.
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Post by Vanitypirate on Feb 1, 2018 17:38:16 GMT -8
Silk was a good sign: it was pricey stuff.
Tilly broke into a smile at the image of her returning to her lovely silk-clad fiancee, bearing a silk cloak to rival his own.
In the meantime, though, she slipped two needle-like, hooked apparatuses out from her pockets, and fit them into the keyhole after brushing some of the seaweed aside, pressing her ear up against it and listening...
She attempted to pick the lock, though it certainly would have been easier to smash the thing open.
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Post by Bloodtrailkiller on Feb 1, 2018 17:41:25 GMT -8
/Flotsam Beach/
/Tilly/
Picking the lock was almost laughably easy. Of course, it took a little to get back into the flow of things, and for a moment; as the lock gave a sharp, almost metal snapping sound, she worried one of the picks might've broke.
But, as she pulled out the picks, the lock fell away, and the lid of the chest sprang a bit; opening just a hair before something held it fast from popping wholly open.
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Post by Vanitypirate on Feb 1, 2018 17:55:40 GMT -8
Tilly quirked her head at the chest, frowning. The lock unclasped easily, but it still hadn't opened...
She scooted away from it, rising, poised to run away if it turned into a trap after all; it was much more dangerous, now, without a dedicated healer.
Rubbing her chin, in hindsight she supposed it would have been wise to ask Grace to join her.
She found a suitable poking stick, three or four feet in length, and stood well enough away from the chest.
She gave the gap in the lid a firm poke, and prepared to flee...
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Post by Bloodtrailkiller on Feb 1, 2018 18:01:06 GMT -8
/Flotsam Beach/
/Tilly/
The stick immediately hit something metal, and the lid rose a little as the stick, intentional or not, made it rise to a half-inch opening. Still, nothing triggered, but there was a definite second click.
Unfortunately, there wasn't enough force, 3 to 4 feet back from the stick to really shove it into the chest.
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Post by Vanitypirate on Feb 1, 2018 18:05:16 GMT -8
She wanted to get closer to jab the thing with more gusto and provoke some reaction, or better yet, solve the mechanism itself, but she certainly didn't fancy any steam-burns or explosions.
She sighed.
"Any ideas, Beansprout?" Tilly asked hopefully, as though it could assist with the mechanism as the blade did with the emeralds.
She scooted forward a few inches and gave it another poke, praying the loot inside (and herself) wouldn't be destroyed.
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Post by Bloodtrailkiller on Feb 1, 2018 18:12:28 GMT -8
/Flotsam Beach/
/Tilly/
Beansprout's vines stretched out and drooped as she asked, there was a moment of intensive thought then... The vines stretched out again; eagerly writhing its pommel tendrils out.
There was an uncomfortably blind enthusiasm in going after whatever was in the dark.
The stick, with a bit more strength behind the poke, caused another click and a worrying hiss; like a kettle steaming on a stove, began to escape out the back of the chest; sending a jet of white mist into the already damp air.
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Post by Vanitypirate on Feb 1, 2018 18:17:34 GMT -8
"Of course!" Tilly lamented output in a bout of frustration, almost heartbroken to see the destruction of potential silks.
Regardless, she ceased her wanton poking and bounded away, seeking cover behind any meaningful debris she could find.
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Post by Bloodtrailkiller on Feb 1, 2018 18:25:25 GMT -8
/Flotsam Beach/
/Tilly/
The Chest hissed violently, and even Beansprout seemed to tuck in in response as she dove into a surprisingly deep hole; a veritable foxhole in the flotsam. Not enough to really hamper her movement, but enough to provide such cover that any detonation would prove utterly harmless.
She would stare at the menagerie of twigs and dried moss and seaweed bound together, for awhile. There was a particularly pretty stone amidst the grey sand, a sandy red river stone about the size of her palm. It was relatively useless, but it was pretty.
An albino crab also made itself known, skittering past the toe of her boot; bigger than the coin-crab, being about half the size of Tilly's palm.
The Chest still hissed after several long moments, then seconds... minutes... Five minutes would pass and the hissing noise seemed to be slowing.
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Post by Vanitypirate on Feb 1, 2018 18:43:53 GMT -8
Tilly glared sourly at the chest from behind her post, though she found her attention drifting as her eyes following the pretty rocks, and then the friendly crab down at her foot.
"Ah, hello there." She whispered to the little, pale thing, before her attention snapped back to the hissing crate at hand.
She squinted at it and made to crawl closer to it, while still managing a safe distance...
And she waited, momentarily, eyeing it, before she lifted her pickaxe and rose it in the air.
Quietly, weighing it, feeling for the breeze, relaxing...
And then she chucked the pickaxe at the chest.
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Post by Bloodtrailkiller on Feb 1, 2018 18:47:43 GMT -8
/Flotsam Beach/
/Tilly/
With a sharp cringe, Beansprout prepared for the worst as the Pickax flew through the air. It wasn't the most perfect arc, and for a moment, it looked like the handle would smack into the chest before the metal tooth clove into the chest lid which suddenly pulled it back and open as though it were exclaiming out in pain.
The steam machination hidden behind the lid was revealed, and it looked and apparently was very heavy; as the chest leaned back and, for a moment, looked like it was going to topple over before it thudded back onto the ground.
Immediately, there was a shiny glimmer just kissing the sun past the chest's lip.
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Post by Vanitypirate on Feb 1, 2018 18:53:05 GMT -8
"You doubt me, Beansprout." Tilly broke into a grin and gave the vine-y dagger a pleasant pat as she crawled out of the hole.
Still wary, though; she approached it shoulder first, ready to flee at a moments notice as she got closer.
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