03-18-2022, 08:44 PM
//tw for some gore (not discussed in explicit detail)
The desert was scorching hot and bright.
The morning sun beat upon his body as it climbed into the sky, bringing light upon the earth and illuminating even the darkest of nooks and crannies amongst the mountainous dunes. The maroon spatters of now-dried blood decorating his obsidian black paws was far more visible in the light — a reminder of his last bounty, along with the waterskin made of goat's skin that was slung over his shoulder and onto his side as he marched onward.
Blackjack's most recent hunt had taken him to this unforgiving place. He had been summoned by a cave-dwelling lone coyote on the outskirts of the desert that demanded an old friend-turned-enemy's head — a story he had heard many times now from a diverse variety of tongues. There were many that were pushed to their limit by some unfortunate soul, enough to call upon an outside force to intervene. In all honesty, with some of the stories he had been hearing, he couldn't entirely blame them. And even if he did blame them, it's not like he had any place to judge them for it. He was not the judge nor the jury, only the executioner.
The loner had promised him "vital tools for the desert" if he would succeed in his hunt. Though Blackjack was unsure as to how often he would frequent the vast expanses of sand and heat, he accepted the offer regardless, for he felt that it was better to be prepared than to refuse and suffer the consequences of one's false assumptions later. The horned jaguar departed from the loner's cave at dusk, when the sun began to melt away and offer temporary relief from its blazing wrath. He would walk in the direction he was pointed to for a while, for the loner had informed him that his enemy resided some distance across the desert, yet close enough to warrant worry of attack.
After some time navigating through the desert, Blackjack called upon the abilities of his dear friend. "Oscuro, búsquelos." Find them. The jet-black raven croaked briefly to him in response before taking to the skies, venturing out on his quest as Blackjack waited for him to return. Oscuro dived amongst the dunes and disappeared for a moment, only to resurface minutes later in the skies, cawing loud enough for the reclined Blackjack to notice him. The jaguar rose to his paws, watching his familiar circle an area just below the dune before him, and scaled the dune, looking down and just barely making out an obscured cave entrance. He whistled, and the raven returned to his side once more. "Buen trabajo," he whispered to the bird. Good work.
He inched forward, his paws prickling with excitement as he approached the cave in silence. At the cave's entrance, he found no one inside. Cautiously he looked around, his nose crinkling at the overwhelming smell of the herbs and spices resting in various baskets around the cave, and began to walk in. He heard not a single sound.
The silence was broken when he heard a sharp cry from the corner of the cave and turned to see a cheetah lunging towards him, a gleaming sword dangling from their jaws. Blackjack rolled out of the way and rammed into the cheetah as they passed, knocking the feline over with his sturdy horns. His eyes rested on the blade, carefully maneuvering to avoid its range and the risk of getting sliced or, even worse, getting his throat slit. He waited for the most opportune moment to strike and seized it, slamming his horns against the feline's head and knocking the sword from their grasp. Blackjack took hold of the sword himself and acted quickly, digging the blade into the cheetah's neck and twisting it before pulling it out, watching waves upon waves of blood erupt from the incision, spilling onto the cave floor and into the baskets of intoxicating herbs. The jaguar pulled back, watching the life ebb from his target. It was either his throat or mine, he thought.
He repeated the thought to his client when he returned to the loner's cave by dawn, rolling the cheetah's decapitated head towards the coyote when he arrived. Clearly he had put the other feline's sword to good use.
"AGH! What the hell is that?! You're dirtying up the place! You want your payment or not, you dick?!" the coyote shouted, lashing his tail angrily.
Twitching his ear in annoyance, Blackjack delivered a firm smack across the coyote's muzzle with the back of a blood-stained paw. "You said you wanted his head," he snarled. "Now you will pay me unless you want me to take yours as well."
The coyote spat on the floor next to him, glaring at the jaguar but ultimately complying. He walked over to the corner of the cave and retrieved a waterskin, tossing it towards Blackjack. "It's made of goat's skin. Real resilient stuff. Fill it by the little oasis just outside the cave — it's the purest water, maybe the only water, you'll be finding in this desert for miles. You best ration it well."
Blackjack nodded in thanks and slung the waterskin over his shoulder. As he turned to leave, the coyote spoke again.
"Another thing, Mr. Venturo. There's a...place for people like you 'round here. You familiar with The Pitt?" Blackjack nodded again.
"I am. But I work alone," Blackjack said.
"The Pitt's a very independent place," the coyote replied. "Too rough for my taste, but maybe up your alley. I don't know how long you'll be in the desert, but if you need shelter, they've got plenty. If you, y'know, survive getting in there in the place. You'll know you're there. It's very...distinct."
"I'll see to it," Blackjack remarked before trotting out of the cave, Oscuro landing upon his back and riding along.
You'll know when you're there, the loner had said. Now, with the jaguar facing a wall of stakes with decapitated heads upon them, the words rang in his mind once more. He wasn't particularly intimidated by the wall — for fuck's sake, he had just done the same to some stranger the night before — but rather intrigued by the idea that he had been this close to The Pitt without even realizing it.
Would venturing further into their domain be worth the curiosity he felt now? Normally he would be opposed to taking up arms with a group, but at this moment his paws were undeniably weary and aching from the walking, and his waterskin was already close to depleted. He needed to rest soon, and the desert was more or less impossible to do so in.
"¿Qué te parece?" he said to Oscuro, glancing down at the raven beside him. What do you think? The raven croaked in what Blackjack perceived as a tired manner.
"Yo también," Blackjack replied with a ghost of a smile. Me too. Maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea to investigate The Pitt.
The desert was scorching hot and bright.
The morning sun beat upon his body as it climbed into the sky, bringing light upon the earth and illuminating even the darkest of nooks and crannies amongst the mountainous dunes. The maroon spatters of now-dried blood decorating his obsidian black paws was far more visible in the light — a reminder of his last bounty, along with the waterskin made of goat's skin that was slung over his shoulder and onto his side as he marched onward.
Blackjack's most recent hunt had taken him to this unforgiving place. He had been summoned by a cave-dwelling lone coyote on the outskirts of the desert that demanded an old friend-turned-enemy's head — a story he had heard many times now from a diverse variety of tongues. There were many that were pushed to their limit by some unfortunate soul, enough to call upon an outside force to intervene. In all honesty, with some of the stories he had been hearing, he couldn't entirely blame them. And even if he did blame them, it's not like he had any place to judge them for it. He was not the judge nor the jury, only the executioner.
The loner had promised him "vital tools for the desert" if he would succeed in his hunt. Though Blackjack was unsure as to how often he would frequent the vast expanses of sand and heat, he accepted the offer regardless, for he felt that it was better to be prepared than to refuse and suffer the consequences of one's false assumptions later. The horned jaguar departed from the loner's cave at dusk, when the sun began to melt away and offer temporary relief from its blazing wrath. He would walk in the direction he was pointed to for a while, for the loner had informed him that his enemy resided some distance across the desert, yet close enough to warrant worry of attack.
After some time navigating through the desert, Blackjack called upon the abilities of his dear friend. "Oscuro, búsquelos." Find them. The jet-black raven croaked briefly to him in response before taking to the skies, venturing out on his quest as Blackjack waited for him to return. Oscuro dived amongst the dunes and disappeared for a moment, only to resurface minutes later in the skies, cawing loud enough for the reclined Blackjack to notice him. The jaguar rose to his paws, watching his familiar circle an area just below the dune before him, and scaled the dune, looking down and just barely making out an obscured cave entrance. He whistled, and the raven returned to his side once more. "Buen trabajo," he whispered to the bird. Good work.
He inched forward, his paws prickling with excitement as he approached the cave in silence. At the cave's entrance, he found no one inside. Cautiously he looked around, his nose crinkling at the overwhelming smell of the herbs and spices resting in various baskets around the cave, and began to walk in. He heard not a single sound.
The silence was broken when he heard a sharp cry from the corner of the cave and turned to see a cheetah lunging towards him, a gleaming sword dangling from their jaws. Blackjack rolled out of the way and rammed into the cheetah as they passed, knocking the feline over with his sturdy horns. His eyes rested on the blade, carefully maneuvering to avoid its range and the risk of getting sliced or, even worse, getting his throat slit. He waited for the most opportune moment to strike and seized it, slamming his horns against the feline's head and knocking the sword from their grasp. Blackjack took hold of the sword himself and acted quickly, digging the blade into the cheetah's neck and twisting it before pulling it out, watching waves upon waves of blood erupt from the incision, spilling onto the cave floor and into the baskets of intoxicating herbs. The jaguar pulled back, watching the life ebb from his target. It was either his throat or mine, he thought.
He repeated the thought to his client when he returned to the loner's cave by dawn, rolling the cheetah's decapitated head towards the coyote when he arrived. Clearly he had put the other feline's sword to good use.
"AGH! What the hell is that?! You're dirtying up the place! You want your payment or not, you dick?!" the coyote shouted, lashing his tail angrily.
Twitching his ear in annoyance, Blackjack delivered a firm smack across the coyote's muzzle with the back of a blood-stained paw. "You said you wanted his head," he snarled. "Now you will pay me unless you want me to take yours as well."
The coyote spat on the floor next to him, glaring at the jaguar but ultimately complying. He walked over to the corner of the cave and retrieved a waterskin, tossing it towards Blackjack. "It's made of goat's skin. Real resilient stuff. Fill it by the little oasis just outside the cave — it's the purest water, maybe the only water, you'll be finding in this desert for miles. You best ration it well."
Blackjack nodded in thanks and slung the waterskin over his shoulder. As he turned to leave, the coyote spoke again.
"Another thing, Mr. Venturo. There's a...place for people like you 'round here. You familiar with The Pitt?" Blackjack nodded again.
"I am. But I work alone," Blackjack said.
"The Pitt's a very independent place," the coyote replied. "Too rough for my taste, but maybe up your alley. I don't know how long you'll be in the desert, but if you need shelter, they've got plenty. If you, y'know, survive getting in there in the place. You'll know you're there. It's very...distinct."
"I'll see to it," Blackjack remarked before trotting out of the cave, Oscuro landing upon his back and riding along.
You'll know when you're there, the loner had said. Now, with the jaguar facing a wall of stakes with decapitated heads upon them, the words rang in his mind once more. He wasn't particularly intimidated by the wall — for fuck's sake, he had just done the same to some stranger the night before — but rather intrigued by the idea that he had been this close to The Pitt without even realizing it.
Would venturing further into their domain be worth the curiosity he felt now? Normally he would be opposed to taking up arms with a group, but at this moment his paws were undeniably weary and aching from the walking, and his waterskin was already close to depleted. He needed to rest soon, and the desert was more or less impossible to do so in.
"¿Qué te parece?" he said to Oscuro, glancing down at the raven beside him. What do you think? The raven croaked in what Blackjack perceived as a tired manner.
"Yo también," Blackjack replied with a ghost of a smile. Me too. Maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea to investigate The Pitt.
[glow=#f4c430,2,300]how to rob men blind[/glow] — ♠
![[Image: 800fde61ce608e37c9c2bf58571312bb.jpg]](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/80/0f/de/800fde61ce608e37c9c2bf58571312bb.jpg)
