Thread: Titus [PG-13]
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Old 02-08-2010, 01:33 AM
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Default Re: Titus [PG-13]

Chapter 5: Island Of The Forgotten

Only a few hours had past before word got out to the city that Titus was a murderer. The wind howled loudly carrying the sounds of rallying enraged townsfolk. The clouds darkened as night fell upon Troy. Torches lit up the city and metal clashed against other metal, a sign of an angry mob. Titus was laying low in an ally by the port. He clenched his stomach from his shacking nerves and the smell of fish that plagued the air. His eyes scanned swiftly left to right before he crouched down and dashed behind a wooden pole and two barrels. He sat there as a few people strolled by, watching carefully. Every person he saw was an enemy at this point; his paranoia was at its extreme. He needed to get out of Troy as fast as humanly possible and the best way was by boat. Unfortunately Titus did not own a boat, so he was cleverly plotting out his next move to steal one without being noticed. A couple more people ran by with torches, but didn’t notice Titus behind the barrels. He let a few moments go by as the light faded and he peeked above the barrels. The two people were far away from him, and the closest person to him now was about thirty feet away, and was sleeping. Titus took advantage of the moment and leap out and over the barrels. He ran down the boardwalk and jumped into a medium sized, one man fishing boat. He untied the rope and pushed off the dock. Diligently he opened the sails and headed out to the open sea. As he set forth he faintly heard the shouts of people yelling out at him. They would pursue him, but the storm was coming in, and would become a violent mess out at sea.

A few hours had gone by with Titus trying to sail the one man ship. The wind harshly threw the droplets of rain as they fell like bullets. Waves crashed into the boat, tossing it and over scaling it. Titus felt like it was Poseidon’s vengeance over Titus killing Kyros. Titus hurried around the boat, moving the sail to meet and agree with the ever changing direction of the wind. He shook his head every couple of seconds, flicking the water out of his hair, and out of his face. The ocean ominously got flat. Titus heard a low roar coming from behind and whipped around. An enormous wave that seamed to scrape the clouds towered him and then fell. It smashed the boat breaking it into two main pieces, but decimating it into a thousand splinters. Titus was knocked unconscious and was limp to the oceans waves.

A soggy board brushed up against Titus who slept on a shoreline. Storm clouds were far off in the distance and moving away from him, but sounds of the thunder still grumbled its way to where he was. Titus slowly opened his eyes feeling the warm sand beneath him. He rolled over on his back and coughed. He sat up as he started to choke and then salt water and vomit came pouring from his mouth. He looked around and saw only sand, water, and a small jungle. He stood up, but fell to one knee. He was sore and very weak from the storm. He took in a deep breath and stood up completely. A few remnants of the boat he had stolen had washed up against the shore. He rubbed his eyes and looked out to sea. Nothing. There was absolutely nothing but sea, air, and clouds. He turned around and looked at the jungle. A few bushes, a lot of trees, and sand. Nothing. He started walking down the shoreline to get an idea of how big the island was.

He walked around for an hour not seeing anything different until off in the distance he spotted a Wingull. As he got closer there was quiet a few more. He started to make out a large object in the distance covered by the light mist that obscured his vision. He started guessing in his head what it could be, but soon figured out what it was when he saw it looked like a giant rib cage. The Wingull circled in the sky around it, flapping their wings, and squawking out at each other. The object was an old Wailord carcass that had dried up and was now just an enormous skeleton on the beach. Titus got closer. It had to have been there for a while, there was no nasty smell of disease, decaying flesh, or death. The storm could’ve put the wail Pokemon there, it was way too old. Titus was a little disappointed it wasn’t fresh. He could’ve eaten some of it, some fat, muscle, or even skin anything that would quench his hunger. Titus walked over to the jungle and started ripping off leaves to bushes, and picking up leaves off of the ground. He started weaving them together to make a tight rope. He sat the ropes down in-between two ribs and walked back into the jungle. A tree had fallen over, but it was light enough for Titus to drag back to where the ropes were. He walked into the water and grabbed two rocks. Smashing them together Titus had made a sharp edge on one of the rocks and started cutting up the fallen tree. He made four, six feet tall tree parts and walked back into the jungle for more necessities.

A couple weeks have passed and Titus had been living off of coconuts and little fish for too long. He had made a little hut out of the trees he cut up, the leaves, and part of one of the smaller ribs. He hallowed the bone out with one of the various sharp rocks he has obtained. The shelter was small, but able to hold against the wind and rain of a passing storm. Titus had already started making plans for crating a boat and leaving the island. One peaceful afternoon as Titus was out in the ankle deep water, spearing for fish and crabs he noticed a red and white ball floating into shore. It was battered and dented with many scratches and looked like it had gone threw a few typhoons. Titus splashed over and picked it up. He studied it carefully before deciding to open it. He pushed the button and in a bright beam out came a familiar blue seahorse. Titus’s eyes widened as he looked at the creature. It looked just like the one from Troy, except this one was a little bigger, and had spikes. The seahorse Pokemon looked up at him with its angered eyes, realized it was him, and welded up tears. Titus came to the conclusion that it was that same Horsea, but it had evolved into a Seadra. He picked it up out of the water and calmly said,
“It’s alright, don’t cry, hush now hush…” He softly brushed it being careful not to prick himself on one of the poisonous barbs. Titus picked up the fish he killed and walked back to his hut with the Seadra.

The days fallowing Titus spent most of the time cutting up trees, weaving ropes, and breaking the deceased Wailord’s bones in an effort to build a boat. The rest of the time he either went fishing with Seadra, played with it, or slept. Titus felt is Seadra had not appeared on the island he would’ve gone mad with loneliness by now. He felt pushed away from the world, forgotten. He felt shunned from Troy and unwanted by the Gods for they had thrown a storm in his path and set his aside on an uninhabited island. He had no sence of a young, but powerful Goddess was on his side and plotting her next move wisely as another Goddess planned to scheme Titus.

Last edited by Zombie Muse; 02-08-2010 at 01:38 AM.
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