Atop Reverse Mountain
"Spy on them, ay? They aren't THAT strong, tai yaaa..." Skoll tilts his head slightly towards Malcolm as he speaks.
"To be young and foolish...to have no regard for the subtle beauties in nature...to only crave excitement and the unknown..." Skoll looks out over the Sea of clouds in front of him.
"Though I suppose if I still had my sight, I imagine it would be quite the understatement to call the scene before us a 'subtle' beauty..."
Skoll looks towards Malcolm.
"With that said, there is something I need to confirm for myself. I'll be heading down the mountain now. You're welcome to join me, if you would like."
Skoll grabs Tartarus' hilt with both hands, and takes a deep inhale followed by a powerful exhale. After a moment of quiet, Skoll inhales again violently. Using the strength of his legs to jump upwards, as well as the strength of his arms to pull as hard on Tartarus as he could, the 60 Meter Giant launches himself up into the air, ripping Tartarus from the mountainside as he does so. Skoll spins his body so that his back was facing the downtream, before falling downwards and landing back-first into the downstream, sending water exploding outwards in all directions and shaking the peak of the mountain. Skoll begins to descend rapidly down reverse mountain, as if he were riding a waterslide. He grips Tartarus in both hands and flexes every muscle in his body as adrenaline shoots throughout his body. As Skoll picks up speed, a wild smile spreads over his face, and he bellows out with exhileration.
Malcolm shook his head slightly, mirth gracing his aged face at the sight of Skoll's energetic antics.
"Well, at least Kyria and Skoll should be present if any misfortune were to rear it's grotesque head at our Captain. It doth appear as if I can take mine time."
Malcolm set off at a leisurely walking pace, staff in hand as the wind ruffled his crimson long sleeved shirt.
As he walked, Malcolm remembered a song from his fleeting time in Grondilier. Feeling a tune upon his lips, the elderly mercenary quietly sung as his jet black, knee high boots guided him down the mountainside.
"Yon's my privateer,
See how trim she lies,
To every man a lucky hand,
And every man a prize,
I live to ride the ocean,
The mighty world around,
To take a little plunder
And to hear the cannon sound
To lay with pretty women,
To drink Madeira wiiiiiine,
To hear the rollers thunder
On a shore that isn't mine
Privateering we will go,
Privateering, yo ho ho ho.
Privateering we will go,
Yo ho ho, yo ho ho."
As he got into the flow the song, Malcolm picked up speed. Using his great strength, the tuneful geriatric launched himself down the mountainside in great dozen meter long leaps, practically hopping his way down the slope.
What started with him humming and muttering the lyrics under his breath quickly turned into full blown mirthful singing that could be heard from afar. As he reached the bottom of the mountain, where the slope of the great munro levelled out to meet the waters of the Grand Line, Malcolm reached the last verse of the song.
"Grondilier needs her privateers,
Each time she goes to war.
Death to all her enemies,
Though prizes matter more.
Come with me to Brackendia,
We'll ply there up and down.
Not quite exactly
In the service of the Crown.
To lay with pretty women,
To drink Madeira wiiiiiine.
To hear the rollers thunder
On a shore that isn't mine
Privateering we will go,
Privateering, yo ho ho ho.
Privateering we will go,
Yo ho ho, yo ho ho."