He stopped trying to smash the wooden planks with his knife, and returned it to his leather bag with a resigned clink.
Firmly nodding, he took out his charming cutlass from the leather sheath, the blade reflecting the dim light in the Great Tree. He held it tight, feeling the comforting weight of the weapon in his hands.
Positioning himself with feet braced apart, Captain Jack Thunder gave a single swing of the cutlass in a powerful and downward stab motion.
The blade sliced cleanly through the wood with a satisfying thunk.
Aye, this should be a blade worthy of a captain's hand, they've outdone themselves with this work, Jack thought.
He pulled it out of the plank and had another go, every cut going deeper and deeper.
In a deliberate manner, he put away the cutlass, and then, crouching down, he looked closely at the wound he had opened.
