- Joined
- Aug 2, 2018
- Messages
- 182
- Awards
- 10
- Essence
- €42,940
- Coin
- ₡24,700
- Tokens
- 20
- World
- Inverxe
- Profile
- Click Here
- Faction
- Spirits of Vengeance
The ground beneath Arthur’s boots was soft with loam and dead leaves, his movements nearly silent in the yawning gloom of dusk. Darkness swelled beneath the trees as the jungle gradually faded into the eerie stillness of night, the mist-filled hollow he’d been traveling through quite peacefully during the daylight hours abruptly made treacherous.
Every tangled root and jutting stone threatened to topple him— could’ve very well sent him sprawling down into steep glens cluttered with sharp rocks and unseen predators. Arthur was rather glad for his lantern, then, and lit it to stave off the creeping shadows.
The former outlaw walked with a steady purpose, the lantern clutched in his grip swaying its gentle light across the creeping lengths of vines and the rugged trunks of trees, occasionally reflecting the rounded, beady eyes of birds nestled in their nighttime perches. Distant roars and howls came from far off, ghoulish enough to raise the hairs on the back of his neck, though he weren’t sure if it was the sound of something getting ate or some other critter doing the eating. Yet, Arthur did not waver in his steps, only eying the dense vegetation around him with a healthy measure of distrust.
He’d set out at daylight from the university campus, the details of a bounty written on a tattered scrap of paper now securely tucked into his back pocket. A man, they’d said, by the name of Caustic. Called himself a doctor, and maybe he really was, though Arthur didn’t reckon so. The things he’d been told this feller had done… it was enough to chill the blood in damn near anybody’s veins, that was for certain.
Arthur paused, the lantern’s golden glow casting across the wavering strands of a massive spider’s web. He squinted through the curtain of leaves and towering tree trunks obscuring his view, one hand falling to the gun resting at his hip.
There, through the trees, was a light. Not just any light, neither— no, this light coalesced in a small ember of burning orange, sputtering in stubborn bursts against the darkness that threatened to swallow it whole. A campfire.
A frown ticked at the corner of Arthur’s mouth. The inviting flicker in the dark seemed far too wonderful to his exhausted body, the promise of warmth, food, and company drawing him in like a moth to a flame. Despite how he longed for the comfort of a fire, Arthur hung back, carefully judging the distance between himself and the far off glow. It was about twenty yards out, far enough that only the faintest hint of smoke was carried by the breeze.
Arthur considered. It was possible that whoever’d built the fire had already spotted his lantern weaving between the trees, though he couldn’t be certain of it. Regardless of if they were friendly or not, though, if they had seen his light, they were likely waiting with some kind of deadly weapon in hand. No one worth their salt ever walked these woods unarmed; it’d be tantamount to suicide. If he was gonna walk up on them, he’d need to make a racket on his approach— make it clear that he weren’t a threat.
Only question was whether they was a threat. That thought sat heavy in Arthur’s mind even as he began to creep forward, lantern extinguished and hanging from his belt loop.
He stopped at the edge of the firelight’s reach, tucked himself behind a boulder wrapped up in tree roots and peered around the edge. It took his vision a moment to adjust after stumbling around the near total darkness for so long, but eventually his gaze sharpened, eyes alighting on a figure seated beside the crackling flames, the hulking shadow of an ancient ruin towering behind.
Hunched beside the fire was an older man, dressed in an odd kind of… smock-looking getup, colored almost like scales. His long brown hair was pushed back from his forehead, baring pale skin pocked with age, though Arthur couldn’t quite make out the rest of his face in the guttering firelight. Almost as if by unstoppable force, Arthur’s gaze was drawn to the man’s hands, which were fast at work spooning a helping of beans out of a can and… directly into his mouth.
Arthur nodded, satisfied. He was something of a bean man himself, and that right there was definitely the way to do it. Nothin’ better than a helping of cold beans straight out of the can, no sir.
Being sure to give a nearby tree branch a good rustling, Arthur strolled out into the small clearing. His gaze flicked around, taking in the surrounding ruin, the crumbling piles of stone laden over with, strangely, a bunch of dead vines and shriveled leaves, before focusing again on the old feller seated beside the fire.
“Hey there mister,” Arthur greeted, tipping his hat. “You mind if I rest here awhile?”
Every tangled root and jutting stone threatened to topple him— could’ve very well sent him sprawling down into steep glens cluttered with sharp rocks and unseen predators. Arthur was rather glad for his lantern, then, and lit it to stave off the creeping shadows.
The former outlaw walked with a steady purpose, the lantern clutched in his grip swaying its gentle light across the creeping lengths of vines and the rugged trunks of trees, occasionally reflecting the rounded, beady eyes of birds nestled in their nighttime perches. Distant roars and howls came from far off, ghoulish enough to raise the hairs on the back of his neck, though he weren’t sure if it was the sound of something getting ate or some other critter doing the eating. Yet, Arthur did not waver in his steps, only eying the dense vegetation around him with a healthy measure of distrust.
He’d set out at daylight from the university campus, the details of a bounty written on a tattered scrap of paper now securely tucked into his back pocket. A man, they’d said, by the name of Caustic. Called himself a doctor, and maybe he really was, though Arthur didn’t reckon so. The things he’d been told this feller had done… it was enough to chill the blood in damn near anybody’s veins, that was for certain.
Arthur paused, the lantern’s golden glow casting across the wavering strands of a massive spider’s web. He squinted through the curtain of leaves and towering tree trunks obscuring his view, one hand falling to the gun resting at his hip.
There, through the trees, was a light. Not just any light, neither— no, this light coalesced in a small ember of burning orange, sputtering in stubborn bursts against the darkness that threatened to swallow it whole. A campfire.
A frown ticked at the corner of Arthur’s mouth. The inviting flicker in the dark seemed far too wonderful to his exhausted body, the promise of warmth, food, and company drawing him in like a moth to a flame. Despite how he longed for the comfort of a fire, Arthur hung back, carefully judging the distance between himself and the far off glow. It was about twenty yards out, far enough that only the faintest hint of smoke was carried by the breeze.
Arthur considered. It was possible that whoever’d built the fire had already spotted his lantern weaving between the trees, though he couldn’t be certain of it. Regardless of if they were friendly or not, though, if they had seen his light, they were likely waiting with some kind of deadly weapon in hand. No one worth their salt ever walked these woods unarmed; it’d be tantamount to suicide. If he was gonna walk up on them, he’d need to make a racket on his approach— make it clear that he weren’t a threat.
Only question was whether they was a threat. That thought sat heavy in Arthur’s mind even as he began to creep forward, lantern extinguished and hanging from his belt loop.
He stopped at the edge of the firelight’s reach, tucked himself behind a boulder wrapped up in tree roots and peered around the edge. It took his vision a moment to adjust after stumbling around the near total darkness for so long, but eventually his gaze sharpened, eyes alighting on a figure seated beside the crackling flames, the hulking shadow of an ancient ruin towering behind.
Hunched beside the fire was an older man, dressed in an odd kind of… smock-looking getup, colored almost like scales. His long brown hair was pushed back from his forehead, baring pale skin pocked with age, though Arthur couldn’t quite make out the rest of his face in the guttering firelight. Almost as if by unstoppable force, Arthur’s gaze was drawn to the man’s hands, which were fast at work spooning a helping of beans out of a can and… directly into his mouth.
Arthur nodded, satisfied. He was something of a bean man himself, and that right there was definitely the way to do it. Nothin’ better than a helping of cold beans straight out of the can, no sir.
Being sure to give a nearby tree branch a good rustling, Arthur strolled out into the small clearing. His gaze flicked around, taking in the surrounding ruin, the crumbling piles of stone laden over with, strangely, a bunch of dead vines and shriveled leaves, before focusing again on the old feller seated beside the fire.
“Hey there mister,” Arthur greeted, tipping his hat. “You mind if I rest here awhile?”
Fight intro post, shouldn't be counted towards the total. Sorry it's so... lengthy.
Participants: Dr. Caustic and Arthur Morgan
Reason: Caustic be killin’ trees/people or something on Kraw and Arthur don’t like that, no sir.
Rules: 3 posts each, 800 words cap per post, deadline: 72 hours
Judge: Wyatt
Setting: Kraw