A song of the Fish in the Sea [Open]

[Zahhak Al-Bahar]

Zahhak lifted the bottle of murky liquid to his lips for a healthy drought of it. A powerful burning ran down his throat as he drank the alcoholic fluid. It's powerful taste belittled by it's blackberry look. The black Rum was a particular favorite of his, evident by the half empty state the bottle was in. The rocking of the barrel crow's nest did little to unsettle him as he had drunken from the bottle; back propped against the wooden bowl of sorts he was in while his lifted leg with foot pressed firmly to the other side kept him safely in place. The shirtless male's body even leaned over the back edge of it a bit as he stretched out before looking back to the seas around them. The crashing waves and slightly dark storm clouds around them were enough to tell him that they were in for one hell of a squall.

Beneath him on the main deck a few busy bodies went about double checking inventory upon the trade ship and running about jotting things down before the storms came in. Others were shifting crates down below deck or securing ones too large to budge. A grin crept onto his lips as he heard the rolling rumble of thunder crashing about his head. Storms were, in his opinion, by far one of the greatest experiences upon the high seas. Then again he wasn't as..fragile..as humans. He was able to handle the raw unbridled fury of the ocean in all it's beauty. Waves started to crash against the sides of the ship a bit more as a fierce wind lurched the entire mast from it's sudden gust. The trade ship surged forwards beyond hull speed as the crew was caught unawares. Zahhak heard the groan and tug of the wood, gazing down quickly for a moment and raising his foot against the wooden sides of the barrel further as he braced himself. Dangerous winds could flip a ship or dip the front too far with the sail open too much; or even break the mast. The shouting bellow reached his ears as he saw them starting to pull the Sails in. That was good, because he had no interest of jumping ship just yet after all...he had a job to do.

Zahhak had enlisted in serving as a body guard of sorts to the trade ship. Everyone knew the Western isles was riddled with pirates. He wasn't the only one, there had been a fair bit but the trade ship was carrying a shipment of spices and sugar within it for delivery. A truly valuable amount at that given the number of crates. They were getting decent gold to do it at that. The sound of glass clinking made him look down as he saw the two empty bottles from earlier in the day rolling about. He leaned down and replaced his good bottle with one of the empty ones; snagging the other in his other hand and grinned as he stood up only to lob the two in the direction of the wind. They whistled briefly from the open tops only to vanish into the slowly angering waves that tossed about.

However as he looked into the distance he noticed a ship approaching. Black sails? The grin on his face grew wider as he felt a small rise in adrenaline while he gripped the edge of the barrel to make sure. Yup! It was pirates. Zahhak lowered his head and cupped his hands around his mouth as he shouted downward to make sure the sods knew.

"Pirates! Port side coming fast!"

There was no way he was missing out on this opportunity! Leaving his bottle there for the return, he vaulted over the barrel and fell into a short lived free fall only to firmly grab the rope like net that lead down. The wind blew roughly and caused the net to sway, but his weight was enough to keep it weighted down at the top while he began to make his way down in short drops; grabbing segments with his forearms and repeating it. By now people aboard the ship were hurrying about in a frenzy as the raiding ship came into sight. A few armored men had run up with spears and shields, and some hired hands unsheathing their blades as they turned to face the pirate ship. Zahhak shouted loudly as he landed with a solid thud on the ground, muscled figure slick now from the rain and looking more like a pirate than a body guard with his bells jingling at his hip as he moved. "Steel yourselves you mangy bastards! "

He wasn't in charge, by any means. He was simply excited and knew a bit of ruckus got the blood boiling. Doing a slight bounce in place he pumped his fists into the air as if punching. He fought bare handed, so he didn't unsheathe a blade, but loosened his muscles. The pirates were almost close enough to the point where they'd be able to see one another on deck. The storm battered away as waves crashed and rocked the ship. Zahhak stomped one foot onto the side of the boat and with the other arm grabbed firmly the net above him that lead to the crows nest; leaning off the ship and grinning savagely. He was ready for a good fight.

[Jabal]

In the hull of the ship slumbered a beast of a man, clad half in red bearing hair the color of stone and skin the color of sand. He moved barely a muscle, moved nary an inch. Like a statue he sat, his legs crossed, his arms extended, his wrists resting upon his knees, being borne silently across the ocean. His jacket was wrapped around his waist, exposing the rock-like shapes of his massive muscular bulk, and if not for the massive, ropey scar that crossed over the peaks and valleys of his chest, he would have looked a perfect specimen of a man. He looked larger than life, greater than the average man; the ancient hero that time had forgotten. And yet if time had not, history would consider but a villain.

Perhaps slumber was the wrong word. Jabal was “meditating”, or at least he was attempting to do so to the best of his ability. It was a difficult task. The dragon clan leader, or “king” as he would likely be referred to in human terms, had never been much of a meditator. Not many earth dragons were. And considering all the slumbering he had been doing over the past millennium the last thing he wanted to do was sit quietly and play around with his thoughts. But the Mountain’s disinterest in spiritual practice was far overshadowed by his ever increasing desire to free himself from this squishy human form, and the only lead he had on making that so required it. So there he sat, his eyes closed and his breathing slowed.

A soft growl escaped the man’s lips as crew member came stepping around him with a ledger in hand, taking note of the ship’s cargo stores. He’d been down here for a week in a dark corner of the hold, locked in his head, and had done little more than cough or sneeze for the duration of them, but nothing was happening. A week! It wasn’t an incredible length of time when one had slept over a thousand and lived over two, yet it still felt like wasted time. And now he was hungry as well. Meditation. What utter garbage.

Ugh. The Mountain didn't even want to be on this rinky dink little wooden boat. It was cramped, rickety, unsteady, and the musty humidity of the boat made his skin feel clammy and itchy. The ocean was no place for an earth dragon. He thrived on solid land. But he wanted to get to the Western Isles. From what he had gathered, the lawless islands were still wild and relatively unconquered by humans, so he thought that perhaps there he would be able to find some traces of now ancient dragon civilization, or if he was lucky, maybe even a reclusive dragon. Anything to help him with this damn dragonstone puzzle he was trying to solve.

Jabal’s internal frustrations were interrupted by shouting and clattering from the above decks. The dragon turned his head upwards towards the noise. What was going on? In his trance-like state he’d heard something about a storm, but these shouts didn’t sound like men preparing to face the weather, they sounded more like men preparing for war. He knew the sound well, for it was one he’d heard many times. So with a long, slow groan the dragon rose to his feet, his muscles stretching out after a long period of non-use like dry bowstrings. Jabal was loathe to involve himself in petty human squabbling, but if this trade ship got ransacked, he figured it would be a long swim back to the coast. And he wasn’t the best swimmer.

[Locke]

As the wind began to pick up, Locke once again shook his head and cursed his decision to work for passage to the Isles on a merchant vessel. It wasn't sleek and fast, and it was a prime target for pirates. What a smart place for a dragon of the earth to be... Back on a boat. The last experience he had with boats lead to him being swept overboard and ending up in the Isles almost entirely by accident. And to make matters worse, he'd lost Kyle. What an awful time.

It was precisely that last part that had driven Locke to board another ship. He was searching for Kyle, his archer friend who had also been washed away. Hopefully, he wasn't dead. But there was no way to know, and so Locke had decided to come and look for Kyle. In hindsight, that was a foolish decision. But it had been a while since Locke had made a friend, and Kyle was a nice human. An exception. He was, of course, a little odd, but what could one expect from imperfect creatures? Not much.

Locke had offered his services to the boat, and, as a hired sailor, had gotten free passage. It hadn't been terrible, but Locke liked the sands of Nabata a lot better than the waves of the ocean. Terra firma was nice.

And now, back to the present...

There was a yell from the strange man who was always up in the basket on top of the mast. It completely befuddled Locke as to why he would stay up there with a storm coming in - what if he were hit by lightning? But that was a moot point now - it appeared that there was more immediate danger.

Pirates. The scourge of the high seas. A bunch of musclemen who had sacrificed brains for brawn. They were one of the extreme breeds of humans, Locke had noticed. There were the ones who were frail and sickly, but almost as intelligent as a teenage dragon, who waved their hands and cast their magic spells like they were some sort of hot stuff. Then there were the ones who were as intelligent as a boulder, but nearly as well-muscled as a teenage dragon. Those ones swung big pieces of metal and tried to bash each other's skulls in as if they were some sort of hot stuff.

Either way, humans were so interesting to observe. Their behavior patterns were beautifully illogical.

"Pirates, hmm? I can handle pirates."

A man had thrust an axe into Locke's hands, and the manakete looked at it, one eyebrow raised as if he were viewing some sort of ancient curiosity. With a small chuckle, the green-haired 'man' tossed it aside. Another gave him a sword. Locke laughed openly, pinching it between two fingers and swinging it like a conductor's baton.

"Ehehe. What fun!"

Locke dropped the weapons. He needed no human iron. His fists and the power of his veiled form would be enough to defeat those who dared attack him. Honestly, he didn't care who won - all he wanted was to get to the damned Isles. Was that too much to ask?

[Hugo]

Captain Jared of the Sea Nimbus smirked as he began organizing his crew to prepare for the raid. The veteran pirate wanted this to be the last of the ships they raided before the storm settled in and delivered it's full fury upon the pirate crew. But the storm had come in far quicker then he had anticipated so he was forced to work quickly. From up top the crows nest he orded his nephew Hugo to begin taking those on watch.

With one firm tug of his bow Hugo fired an arrow that silenced the man ringing the bells. It was too little too late, the people on the ship were already scrambling trying to ready and organize themselves. That did not stop Hugo from launching a few more arrows and picking off a few other unlucky souls.

The pirate ship used the angle of the churning waves to catch up with the merchant ship. It would only be a few more moments before they could swing across and board the hapless merchant vessel. Boarding the merchant ship with actual boards would be too difficult in the unpredictable surf. The winds further pushed the pirate ship closer and closer to the merchant ship.

Hugo began his decent down from the crows nest onto one of the ship's mast. He was eagar to board and pillage. But he knew he had to be cautious about it too. Raiding a merchant ship was nothing new to him. He had done this sort of work a thousand times before. But even he knew that simply because one has done something a thousand times does not mean it will go well on the one thousand and first time. He would not board until he was given the command from his Uncle. With a swing rope in hand he crouched down bracing himself for the right moment to swing.

NOW!

Hugo and several crew men grabbed their ropes and swung across the gap of sea water that divided the two ships. Hugo let go of his rope and landed on the merchant ship's deck.

"Alright boys! You know the drill! Cut em down!" The man yelled.

[Orcleous]

"Alright time to go earn my coin", spoke Orcleous as he grabbed one of the ropes off the ship. The young mercenary was not one for banditry, but the pay out for this job was far too high for him to simply ignore. Orcleous was a man of the coin and recently he had spent a lot of his savings on a personal matter. Now Orcleous was looking to build back up his retirement plan and needed to regain coin fast. Missions he would not usually take he was now taking. Jobs that were to low for him before were now just up his alley. Before hand Orcleous would not take up a tour on a pirate ship, but now it was fair game.

"Alright lets see what the sailors of the Western Isles can do", spoke Orcleous as he grabbed onto the rope and swung over to the enemy ship. Bravely and foolishly Orcleous swung over early. The Hero nearly missed the ship entirely, but with a flair of drama and a ego the size of a mountain Orcleous was the first to land on the enemy vessel and attract the attention of everyone on the ship. "Show time", spoke Orcleous as he pulled his iron sword out of the sheath connected to his shield. The first man arrived to assault him only a moment later. The man swung with an axe, wide, fearsome, and with the full weight of his body behind it. Orcleous, now a skilled hero of the battlefields, counted the blow in a unexpected manner. Instead of dodging, rolling, or even redirecting the attack Orcleous took it head on. The Hero pressed forward with his shield knocking the man's axe back toward himself. In the small opening created Orcleous stabbed his iron sword forward piercing the man's stomach and ripping it out of the right side of his body. The sailor feel to the deck almost immediately. As the man's body fell so did the raging pirates. Each one landed on the deck of the ship and began to assault the sailors. The battle began as lighting ripped through the heavens.

[Cefia]

Cefia needed a drink, she desperately needed one at that. However it would be unprofessional of her to be drinking on the job, especially the ones she had to deal with now. Working with balancing ledgers was a seemingly simple task made all the more difficult by a number of factors. Whoever had worked with it in the past had scribbled all over with chicken scratch. She had spent much of the first day decoding just the text and her eyes felt like they were pricked with a needle.

She wished she could have gotten the job as a bodyguard or sailor, but no, she had to have such great experience working with merchants. Plus they seemed extremely desperate for help and after looking through all the papers, she understood why. Good, experienced, and literate help seemed difficult to find nowadays. She wasn't assigned to just working on financials, she had to sort through their customs and make sure that what they had was all agreed upon. Sure there was a little bit of room for error, but not much with all things considered. Whoever was in charge wanted assurance that their investments were what they paid for. Who can blame them from the past records?

The worst part of it all was the damn contract though. She more or less got to name her price, but there were a few requirements. She wasn't signing on as a lowly manual laborer and thus required some codes to follow. The worst of said codes was the damn dress. She tugged at the restraining clothes, practically ready to tear it apart in aggravation. Yet her hand was tempered. At the very least she got to keep her axes, put away, in the back, and even then she had to fight tooth and nail for it. She felt horribly unarmed, but at least she knew she could at least break some bones with her knuckle dusters when time called for it.

"Alright, so there might be some trouble going through with the duke, but we do have a certain charter back a few years," she muttered to herself, sorting through the paper in the desk.

"Why does no one have any idea how 5000 gold could be lost in just one page?" she practically shouted as she slammed her fist down in frustration. The poor helper that was assigned simply looked at her with wide eyes. She had to once again place the monocle back over her eye.

"There isn't supposed to be any money missing," she stated plainly. This ship had extremely dubious records and perhaps a few illegal trades, but the mess here was simply incompetence and carelessness. Thinking that staying in this stuffy records room wasn't going to help, she went on deck to get some fresh air. It'll be a bit before she could enjoy it as it seemed a storm was brewing. As soon as she walked on deck, there seemed to alert for pirates.

"Oh what a wonderful day," she stated, picking up her dress and rushing to the back of her room where she had hidden her weapons. She meant every word of it... Anything to get over the headache that was supposed to be her job. Just one kill would be enough to alleviate the stress, well a couple would do wonders.

[Zahhak Al-Bahar]

As the boat approached, Zahhak saw a few stray arrows whip past through stormy winds and crash into a few unlucky guards. Some skirted off shields or armor. Others found their marks. One however pierced the rope which was being used to ring the alarm bell. The ringing quickly faded from the sound of the soon to be battle. The water dragon turned to gaze at the fast gaining ship with a wicked grin, feeling his blood begin to boil in anticipation. Leaning over the ship a bit he kicked himself upwards from the wooden railing so he was standing atop it and gripping at the rope support net to keep from falling off. Muscles twitched as he briefly ran through his entire body flexing each one. Any good weapon needed to be tended. Blades sharpened, bow strings waxed or changed..and muscles stretched and worked. Rain now started to hammer down furiously, angry fat droplets assailing as if small bolts of hail. Winds pounded and shook the wooden constructs as angry waves rose and crashed against them hard enough to make wood groan. The boats rocked; but neither moved with sails retracted.

As the pirates made to swing over Zahhak mentally tapped into his true strength. Upon the necklace over his chest a small brilliant gemstone within it began to pulse with life's greatest essence. No human would have been able to detect it though, not such small signatures. Zahhak's eyes changed, circular pupils becoming slit like and his brown hair taking an ever so slight change as tufts of grey dotted the mane. To anyone else it would have been similar to an middle-aged male developing white hairs. His twin canines at the front of his upper jaw also transformed into a superior tip, further spiked and slightly elongated by small fractions of an inch. In exchange? He felt great.

Muscles rejoiced to feel some of their true power washing through the body as the male let out a bellowing shout. Most of the men ready to repel the pirates shouted or swore..but Zahhak shouted in his native tongue. One humans had long since forgotten or simply couldn't comprehend, and to them it was always some gibberish they assumed he'd picked up from a barbarian tribe or some rubbish.

"وسوف يستحم في البحر في دمك !
"
(I will fill sea with your blood! )

He launched into the air from the railing. A feat most would have attributed to the pirate swinging by too low instead, but in reality he had jumped a few feet higher than any average human could have. As he moved into the air he snaked an arm around the incoming pirate while twisting his body and intercepting the heavier man's momentum. He was able to latch against the man from behind in a single swift move. As the pirate released the rope and swore in shock Zahhak hissed with exhilaration. One arm snaked around the man's neck, while locking his shoulder down as the other one angled to the man's side. Zahhak adjusted his weight as gravity embraced the two and sent them to the deck of the ship. Instead of landing on the man he braced himself and drove the entire force of his muscled body into the man upon the wooden deck. Planks groaned and splintered for an inch from the force as the Water Dragon constricted the struggling pirate's neck only for the muffled sound of cracking bones to split the man's grunts into absolute silence. The raging storm engulfed that sound however and when the brown haired male rose he saw a defender fall. They still had a fair handful of men ready to fight. A little under fifteen it seemed, including the few who had just shown up. However his gaze was upon the dark skinned male who had boarded their ship.

A man wielding a blade with a shield upon his arm had already slayed one. The Dragon gazed to him before another pirate shouted violently and rushed at the water dragon. Power still coursing through his veins, he hissed again in feral excitement as he dropped downwards, hands swiftly assailing him in two deceptively devastating jabs to the rib cage. Bones broke and the man howled before he shifted his weight and attempted to bring his ax down upon the smaller male. In the back of his head a single thought echoed.

"What a glorious day to be alive!"

[Jabal]

Jabal kicked open the door to the upper deck with an angry shout, only to be greeted by the cold salty wetness of a wall of torrential sea rain. Fanastic. A seastorm. To the starboard side of the boat he could see another ship not more than a few yards away, from which dirty, rough looking humans were throwing themselves onto the deck of the merchant vessel he was currently standing on. All the humans, both those on the pirate ship and those on defense, were howling and shouting and waving their arms about, and more than a few had already come to blows with each other. It was like watching dogs fight over a bone, and Jabal was annoyed that he was caught in between. So the dragon growled, cracking his neck and tightening his fists. He could care less about the fate of the other passengers on this boat, but he wasn’t about to let a bunch of flea-ridden humans sink the transport of the Mountain!

The dragon’s heart began racing, not from fear, but from anticipation. The last time he’d walked onto a battlefield beneath the dark clouds of omen, he had woken up over a thousand years later. Today would not be the same. His entire body coursed with the adrenaline-thick blood he’d need to get these damned pirates off of his boat. He didn’t bother drawing on his draconic power. He knew doing so would do little more than exhaust him, but it mattered not, for he knew he was more than a match for these dingy sea bandits even in this human form. The earth dragons of the Musenen Jabal had nurtured an ancient and proud tradition of martial combat, one that had brought his clan to rule over a massive swathe of western Elibe, and one didn’t rule over a nation of dragons without knowing how to handle oneself in a fight.

After stepping out into the rain it didn't take long before the massive dragonman was assaulted by a pirate who charged at him, a cutlass held high over his head. He roared like a man possessed by the spirit of whatever golden god he worshipped. Jabal just sneered. Who was this man who ran at him with nothing but that flimsy piece of iron? Was he foolishly brave or just stupidly foolish? It mattered not. Either way he would die.

The Mountain swung out one of his cedar-like arms and seized the pirate by the throat. This immediately elicited a panicked response from the human, who began flailing about and waving his weapon wildly. Jabal grimaced in pain as he felt the slippery bite of a poorly aimed sword slice into his shoulder, and out of little more than reflex the dragon twisted his hips around and slammed human into the wooden deck. The impact threw the pirate's sword from his hand, and before the downed man could even realize what had just happened to him Jabal had stomped down hard onto his neck, collapsing his windpipe and crushing his cervical vertebrae. The pirate could only gag helplessly, paralyzed, as his throat filled with blood. Jabal cringed, though not at the sight of his victim. He kept forgetting how soft this human body was. Even he’d have to be careful not to get cut up in this form.

[Locke]

OOC: Locke challenges Orcleous.

"Here they come... Time to fight!"

The manakete raised his hands, palms open, as a pirate raced forward, swinging two axes like wheels. It was an easy matter for the Earth manakete to duck to the left and push the man over the railing, watching him fall into the sea below. He wouldn't be coming back up anytime soon.

Then the Nabatan dragon saw a man in armor, with sword and shield, who had just cleanly defeated one of the ship's sailors. It was a challenge and a calling, and Locke roared his response to the sky in dragontongue.

"Feel the might of the Guardian!"

Locke charged across the deck, leaping over a fallen pirate and landing with his fists tightened and his gaze set. Without further hesitation, he howled out one more challenge to the armored man in the language of humans, hoping to rile his foe into a rage that would expose a weakness.

"You! Dark one! I am Locke of Nabata... And I challenge you! Man to man, one on one... You may use whatever weapons you wish. I will rely on my fists and my abilities to defeat you. I hope you can swim, armored one... For I will send you into the sea!"

As one other pirate rushed Locke from behind, trying to catch the manakete off guard, the green-haired Nabatan demonstrated his skill for the swordsman he had challenged. The yell of another crew member alerted Locke, and he turned to see a sword coming down from the sky and a haughty pirate leering with a look devoid of fear - or any sort of intellectual activity, for that matter.

Locke grabbed the man's wrist, using a bit of his draconic strength, and then dropped to the deck, propping one foot on the man's hip and falling backwards, then pushing with his legs to send the pirate hurtling towards the red-clad swordsman.

"Fight me! I will take you on!"

[Hugo]

Hugo looked on at his crew he frowned lightly at the new guy who almost missed the boat entirely in the swing. The kid had a talent for combat, Hugo gave him that much. But he was not a sailor. The axe he sported was impressive and he knew how to use it. That was one of the reasons the Captain brought him aboard. Hugo shook his head. He needed to get back in the game. He cut down another merchant before running up to higher ground. Once again pulling out his trusty bow and arrow and feathering people left and right. Two people caught his eye. A large red clothed man who emerged from the galley below. Who had crushed the neck of one of his crew men. Such a large and imposing figure Hugo assumed he had to be one of the hired guards. If not the leader of the guards. Such a shame, If he wasn’t tasked with killing everyone he probably would have asked the man to join the crew. Hugo was impressed with the man’s strength and knew that that man in red needed to die or be incapacitated so the mission can succeed. He used a series of hand signals to get the captains attention. Captain Jared gave a few signals in response.

A swordsman approached Hugo. This man was very skilled with his blade and one of the few members of the group whom had earned high ranks among the pirate crew.

“See if you can distract or cripple the big guy. But be careful he’s strong as a bull. Do not take any risks. He doesn’t appear to be very mobile out on the ship. Use it to your advantage. Try to lure him overboard.” The swordsman nodded and went ahead. Gods speed Lenny. He returned his attention back to the battle. The other person he noticed was a young man who appeared to be a seasoned fighter at sea. Hugo had watched his movements and was interested. Yet another fine example of a potential pirate that he would have to see killed. Damn.

“Hurry it up lads!” He shouted. A small batch of pirates managed to sneak down into the cargo hold looking for the treasury. Rain and sea water beat down upon them in a cold torrent. We do not need to be out here once the full wrath of the storm hits. Hugo’s eyes narrowed. For some reason a green haired man and the brown haired one whom he had already noted were trying to challenge the dark skinned one of his crew. Two against one would lead to his sea-legless death. And we need him and his talent. He frowned, and readied an arrow.

His target was the brown haired, shirtless one. He fired off two arrows hoping to catch his attention. The winds were making it difficult for him to hit his mark. But he was close. Come on, Boy! Approach me!

[Orcleous]

As Orcleous cut down his first target Chaos enveloped the deck of the ship. It was strange, trying to fight on a moving platform. Orcleous had adapted kind of well, but he was no where near able to fight with the same skill he had on land. With a quick jerk of his blade Orcleous cleared the blood from his sword and prepared to move to another target. It was then that he heard a voice shouting in his direction. It seemed that one of the passangers on the ship wanted to take him on. The man was, weaponless, a insult to Orcleous sword. What in the world made him think he could take Orcleous on without a blade at his side. It was then that the man tossed one of the pirates toward him and revealed his devastating strength. The Hero was impressed and with a quick move to the side Orcleous was able to dodge the incoming body.

"So a martial artist", spoke Orcleous aloud. His voice rang over the storm as he intended for the man to hear him. "I understand you take pride in your fist, but you best curl up in a corner and prey to survive this day. A man with a blade outmatches a empty handed fool any day", spoke Orcleous as he shifted his stance. The waves rocked the ship under his feet making his defensive stances useless. He was starting to understand why those pirates he use to face did not depend much on certain stances. There were practically useless out at sea.

With bad footing and a rocking ship Orcleous knew he would not be able to defend himself well. Sure he was confident in his ability to win and the advantage of having a weapon, but. The guy without a weapon was strong. He demonstrated that when he tossed the lad toward him. If Orcleous slipped up because of a rocking wave or made a mistake because of his modified stance. The battle could quickly turn against him in favor of his opponent. Rather than wait till that happen Orcleous decided to go on the offensive. Suddenly and without any warning Orcleous shot across the deck of the ship. He rushed passed a few sailors and pirates alike and moved in to strike with his sword. His iron arming sword had a point that was not only useful for slashing, but also stabbing attacks. Starting off the fight Orcleous lunged forward and attacked with a straight. He chose that move specifically if the enemy was to try to dodge to his left or his right. Either way Orcleous could simply turn his hand and slash at his opponent, and unlike the fool from before Orcleous attacked longer than the length of the man's arm. Even if he was skilled at throws and counters he would not be able to get his risk with the thrust Orcleous was using.

[Jabal]

Silently cursing his fate, Jabal removed his foot from the neck of the downed pirate that had been stupid enough to try and run him down. As he looked down at the man, he could see a pair of eyes that still twiched with life, that stared at him with a piteous mix of fear and loathing. Humans were disgustingly frail creatures. A brief pang of mercy jumped through Jabal as he considered ending the man's suffering. It would only take swift kick to the temple, but the dragon didn't imagine the man would survive for more than another than another minute or two, so the human could take that time to reflect on whatever mistakes he'd made in life that had led him up to this point. Maybe then he would be recieved by Io with something more than outright scorn.

As lightning cracked through the clouds above, Jabal looked up from his dying victim to see another swordfighter approaching him, his weapon drawn. The dragon had always thought little of human martial arts and human weapons. They were tools of compensation, born of weakness, and thus no use to him. He had never bothered learning the art as some of his kin had, but he had stepped over the corpses of enough swordsman to know on sight that this man was different from the one lying broken at his feet. His movements were deliberate and careful, and his body was angled away from Jabal, behind is blade rather than beneath it, so that none of his weakest points were directly exposed.

The Mountain grinned pridefully, his glistening ivory teeth standing out from the rest of his dripping wet face. This man would not experience the true fear that came from fighting a king of dragons, but at least he respected how quickly Jabal had killed one of his comrades. True form or no, this dragon had been fighting battles long before this swordsman's forebearers, or even his forebearers' forbearers, were even squirming about in their mothers' wombs.
"So when did they start hiring ogres to protect merchant ships?" came the swordsman's voice, shouting over the wind and thunder. He did his best to keep his tone casual, but Jabal could smell his fear. His legs shook, and not just from the movement of the boat. Unlike the last man that that had rushed him, this man did not expect an easy fight. Good.
"I imagine it was when rodents began attacking them," Jabal replied in his thick, draconic accent as he straightened up to his full height. He towered over the swordsman, but the swordsman did not back down.
"You don't have a weapon," he said, taking a small step forward, lowering his sword just so that its point was aimed at Jabal's heart. "S-so how about you just back off and I won't have to cut you up?" The dragon shook his head.

Jabal made the first move, falling upon the swordsman like a boulder. Predictably the pirate responded by aiming a two-handed thrust at the giant dragonman's heart. Obvious. The Mountain swung inwards, slapping the sword towards the deck, and quickly followed up with a hammerfist to man's forehead. But before fist could connect with human skull the boat shook violently, buffeted by waves, causing Jabal to lose his footing. His fist swung harmlessly through the air next to the pirate who was quick to take advantage of the opening. As his massive assailant stumbled to the right he swung his sword upwards, catching Jabal in the chest and tearing through his jacket, leaving a nasty gash across his breast. The dragon gnashed his teeth, infuriated that he had been tagged not once, but twice, by yet another human. But he wasted no time wailing about it. He grabbed the pirate's swordarm and twisted hard. The swordsman let out a sharp cry of pain as he was forcefully disarmed, then let out another as the Mountain punched him hard in the face. Jabal could feel the human's nose crack against his fist. Blood for blood.

The pirate stumbled back into the mast, leaving him wide open to a follow up attack, but Jabal's pursuit was halted by another rock of the boat as he was forced to focus on maintaining his own footing. This gave the pirate enough time to draw his sidearm, a shorter cutlass he kept sheathed below his longsword. The dragon swore under his breath. He'd fought many battles, but none of them had ever taken place on a damned boat!

[Cefia]

Chaos! Absolute chaos! Cefia swore on her horrible luck, but was still thankful for the reprieve from those damn numbers. These dresses were the most inconvenient thing ever invented. If not for the training she got wearing them, she would have fell over on her face by now. They couldn't have given her a less frilly and layered one could they? It was bad enough that she was wolf whistled so often in the beginning, but this was a life and death situation. Where were the bodyguards they had hired?

She could feel the rage of the storm above deck building and didn't want to stand on deck any longer than she had to. Of course as she was about to reach her room, one of the pirates had managed to get in her path. If she dropped the dress in her hands, than she would more likely to trip over run. Improvising on the spot, she ran up before he spotted her and kicked him in the back. He fell over onto his knees and before he knew it, found a kick straight into his head. She stomped the man a few times to make sure he wasn't going to get up any time soon before getting into her workplace.

Inside, the papers were all a mess and it seemed as though some of the ink had spilled as well. By the sound of things, dress code was the least of her worries. As she made her way to the axes, she tore away at the layers of the dresses. Strapping her harnesses and the like, she began to make her way up deck, especially in hopes that people were paying attention to the sails. The last she thing she wanted was to shipwreck in the middle of the fight.

[Zahhak Al-Bahar]

Rain battered down now in literal currents. Like sheets that layered themselves out evenly, wind contributing to the liquid droplets that came down with intense force. The boats rocked to the crashing of ocean waves and groans of wooden planks in protest of the shifting forces. The decks rose and fell upon either side and at times combatants had to cease fighting to reaffirm grips or stability. Every moment, every one bathed in glorious perfection. THIS was the atmosphere he'd been craving. Zahhak felt his heart hammer within his chest, adrenaline coursing through his veins as if blood and fueling the wicked smile upon his lips as he ducked backwards to effortlessly dodge the injured pirates ax swing. While obviously toying with the injured man that swore to the brown haired fighter; it was lost in the solid thud of an arrow bedding it's self within the center of the wooden mast near Zahhak.

A second one skirted the wet wood and flew off into the sea. Brown hair, matted to the sides of his jaw sent out water like a dog shaking himself dry as the male turned to see the source of the twin projectiles. A larger man, older looking; large bow in hand. Yup, that was likely the source. Snake like amber eyes turned to the wounded pirate who had been gripping onto the ropes of the net tethered to the mast for support. Likely he'd fallen in his weakened state or stumbled while Zahhak traced the arrows. At this point he was a pitiful sight. Letting his grin flash dangerously, as draconic fangs visible to the man exclusively he saw the brief glint of confusion flicker in his gaze. In a burst of speed the shirtless male slid downwards quickly only to spin his leg and kick out the mans legs. He pivoted and lifted to reach out and grab the falling pirate while he descended; slamming him down firmly and quickly darting as if to kneel aside his fallen figure.

In that brief moment, Zahhak delivered six swift devastating blows. Two punches to the abdomen that crippled the rest of his rib-cage, starting with left side and the right blow following moments after. Then as the right blow landed his left struck at the man's upper torso above his heart; hitting it with serious concussive force while he matched this blow as well with one on the right. The man's body was just registering the first two blows, his shout of pain cut off as Zahhak followed up with a serious combo of blows to his throat and jaw.

He'd no reason to observe this man's reaction however. He knew the man was doomed by the way in which he'd hit him. His body would suffer catastrophic failure and lose it's ability to properly breath. With that loose end tied up...

Despite the rapid speed at which he'd executed the pirate, Zahhak already had a new target. The arrow slinger. Unlike the merchant guards(or most of them) and even some of the pirates, Zahhak's body moved in a way that accounted for the rocking of the boat. Naturally leaning to the right when the ship dipped left and even adjusting himself mid rock. A true testament to his experience on the seas. Zahhak leapt up the stairs, before vaulting partially onto the wooden railing near the stairs that blocked falling to the upper deck from the risen rear segment of the ship. Crouched upon it with tucked knees he gazed at the man. The smile still wide and akin to a cruel grin on his visage all the while; he spoke with a tone obviously near exhilaration.

"Tell me, will you die slower than the others?"

[Locke]

"So a martial artist."

Ah, the man spoke... Good.

"I understand you take pride in your fist, but you best curl up in a corner and prey to survive this day. A man with a blade outmatches a empty handed fool any day."

What a cute sentiment. Only one who was arrogant would underestimate his opponent and make such sweeping generalizations. That was his only downfall, for Locke was respectful of the man's skill with his blade.

"I shall not bow to you. I shall not run. We shall do battle!"

The manakete raised his voice into a vicious scream, a battle cry of his heritage spoken in dragontongue, which would hopefully frighten the man.

"I am the Guardian of the Sanctuary!"

With that, Locke narrowed his eyes and allowed himself to sway with the boat. It was helpful that he had been on ships before; while he wasn't as comfortable as the seasoned sailors, he was not worried about falling overboard or tumbling with the rocking of the ship.

Then the man charged. As he rushed forward and stabbed, the Earth manakete quickly analyzed the situation. To stand still would be foolish. To move to the side would open another avenue for attack. So there were three options - forward, backwards, or up.

Locke chose forward.

The manakete also rushed towards the swordsman, and at the last minute, dropped to the deck, sliding on the wet wood with his feet pointed forward and his arms tight to his body. As he slid under Orcleous, Locke immediately scrambled to his feet and leaped towards the swordsman's back, aiming a vicious flying kick at his neck area in an attempt to ground the man, or, if he was lucky, break his spine. Although the man would likely react and move to another stance, Locke doubted he'd fully dodge the attack. If he did, the manakete would have sorely underestimated his speed and skill.