Post by blythe on Oct 6, 2010 14:27:38 GMT -6
PercivalVizharen
Percival swung his legs over the high rail of the starboard side of his ship. He free fell to the small boat below and landed without so much as bending his knee. The sound it made was ruffled against the splashing water and rumbling thunder. It was in the late night when they arrived, and Mosby had taken the fleet further west leaving a smaller fleet with Percival. A thick, unending cloud of mist and fog lingered between his fleet and Ireland, likely the product of the storm. He stepped sideways, weathering the lofty shake of the small boat with uncanny balance in order to let Blythe settle in with him. "Proceed with our plans, ready the men and wait for the fires." He uttered up to his first mate. Percival didn't look toward the man, no, his dark eyes stared blankly out into the fog. Dressed in black slacks and high black leather boots, he appeared to be the feared pirate from a decade ago. A loose fitting black shirt was accompanied with a litany of belts that crossed his chest and back with various pouches. He had a single pistol nestled by a blackened sword at his hip, which sagged stylishly to provide good footwork. He glanced back to see if Blythe was in, his long dark hair unsettling in the wind.
The Bean Shidh
Blythe had waited and watched from the rail above as Talon lept down into the smaller boat. That earth-sodden cloak whipped around her small form wildly with the wind and unkempt, red locks did much the same. It gave her a look that lived up to the name of The Banshee. One gloved hand rose to a line nearby which was then gripped in order to assist the woman in climbing up onto the rail. Striking and unsettled blues glanced toward the first mate briefly before the Banshee loosed the line and soon was dropping down into the boat behind Percival. She landed much more lightly than he had and with more finesse, though she made no ceremony about the action. Blythe was garbed as she typically was, earth-toned britches and tunic, her hooded cloak and soft-soled boots. Rapier and long knife sat in their place on each hip, and a single pistol completed the ensemble. When Talon glanced back to see if she had joined him, Blythe's eyes met his own and she gave one nod of her head before settling in.
PercivalVizharen
Cass had slid down the ladder to land behind Percival, and St. Lazarus settled behind Blythe. Both boats cast off unceremoniously. Cass and Percival's boat took the lead, their team of men rowing silently as the ship lightly rocked with the large waves. Cass had taken a prone position at the bow, his eyes settled behind the sight of his trusty rifle. Percival stood above him with his foot propped up on a thwart. He extended a telescopic scope to look ahead, much like the stereotypical pirate might, but he wasn't looking for enemy ships; he was looking for lights through the fog. He glanced back, pointing in an off-hand direction and his men silently obeyed. Maybe a hour passed before they struck a rocky shoreline. Percival stepped off the boat and waded in through the calf high water. Cass followed, but led the men on their boat away. Percival turned, awaiting Blythe before continuing. His expression was blank, but a fire burned brightly in his eyes as he stood patiently. Up above, lightning flashed and thunder rumbled, threatening of rain.
The Bean Shidh
That hour that passed had done so with nothing but silence and vigilance from the Banshee. Those wild, blue eyes drifted from Cassus to Percival and even back to Lazarus now and then, but not a word was spoken from the woman. This was not unusual in the least, however; she oftentimes did not speak at all when there was a task lain before them. As the shoreline was presented before them, Blythe rose from where she had seated herself. The water was cold but it did much to assist in focusing the woman's mind on the mission. A nod was given to Cass before he headed off, and the Scottish Banshee was soon closing the distance between herself and the man to whom she had sworn her oath of loyalty. Upon reaching the Talon's side, those gloved hands rose and pulled the mud-caked hood of her cloak up to cover the striking red of her hair. There was no need to give anyone a target so vivid if it could be avoided.
PercivalVizharen: When Blythe was next to him, Percival stepped off. From his boat, he'd taken a large pair of coiled rope. He draped it over his shoulder and glanced back before jogging ahead. It appeared he was heading toward a large ridgeline. It
PercivalVizharen: was accessible by a steep grass hill that led up and disappeared in the fog. Without hesitation, or any sign of weakness, Percival ran up the hill and along the ridgeline. He kept silent as he looked for something in particular.
PercivalVizharen: When he found that something, he let Blythe in on his secret by pointing to a looming ship piercing the fog. "There, ya' see it. Happy days. That is our way in! I could not have planned this better myself; oh wait.. heh." He turned
PercivalVizharen: from her to look behind them. A tree? Perfect. The rope slumped on the ground and Percival drew a piece from the center of the coil and took off to tie it around the tree. It took him mere moments, then he returned to look
PercivalVizharen: over the ridge again. "Death from above, my sweet Banshee." Looking back to her she could see a small grin forming over his thin lips just before he pushed the rope right off the edge of the ridge. The rope fell and eventually
PercivalVizharen: slapped the main deck of the ship passing below. Percival pulled something from the small of his back and twisted it together with a loud clamp. Something made a locking sound and a pair of arms popped out at what could be percieved
PercivalVizharen: as the head of the object. It was a crossbow, and he locked the bolts in place from a cartridge loaded from the bottom. Reaching down, he collected the rope and peered down before leaping off without another word. His feet struck
PercivalVizharen: the uneven surface of the rock as he ran descended down the rope. He wrapped his boots around the rope to control his descent, and used one arm to hold the crossbow out. It was a unique make with an extended butt-stock the rested against his shoulder. A complicated trigger mechanism made the weapon fire and reload itself automatically, a feat that would make guardsmen drool for this weapon. As he crested below the arch of the cavern, the man controlling the English ship glanced up in time to see Percival taking careful aim. An arrow cut through the air as thunder rumbled above, planting itself right between the man's eyes and dropping him back. Percival landed in the crows nest, on the sentry's back to wrestle him into submission and prevent the call to arms.
The Bean Shidh
As if spiritually linked to the man, Blythe followed without question, hesitation or protest. There were no others the woman would follow as Blythe served Percival. Cresting the ridge, she paused at his side and looked out toward the ship which loomed in the fog over the water. Piercing eyes took on an odd, excited light, but she didn't return her gaze to his features until he spoke of the plan. His words gained a mere smirk from the silent woman. Blythe would watch the man affix the rope to the tree but she would not move from where she had taken her stand on the ridge. Again he spoke, and again she turned her attention to his face as she always did. This time, though, his grin stoked the growing madness within her gaze. In a rare moment, pale lips quirked their own grin before the Banshee nodded her head a single beat. His attention on the crossbow did not gain a glance from her; Blythe was already looking back down upon the nearing ship and sorting through her own coming actions. Even when the Talon took his leap and began his descent, the redheaded woman never seemed to notice. When Percival had closed half the distance between the top of the ridge and the ship below, Blythe took her turn on the rope. Her weapons were not yet drawn and wouldn't be until she came to land. Movement of the ship had drawn her landing zone a small distance from Percy's own, and the woman negotiated the wooden mast expertly, her form somewhat hidden by the canvas of the sails that were either filled with the wind or collapsed and not in use currently. Regardless, that small frame became smaller as Blythe loosed her hold on the repel rope and crouched with a wide stance there on the crossbeam of the mast, her gaze cast downward but her peripheral vision ever attentive to the movements of the Talon.
PercivalVizharen
Percival snapped the man's neck with a subtle, slow twist; admiring the last struggle before the man's life was robbed of him. Percival swung himself over the bucket and began his descent to the deck. He was slow, methodical, as if every action was thought out before he acted. His crossbow bounced along his back. Percival had a goal, and it'd cause a lot of harm to this perfectly fine ship. As Percival made it to the deck, a few deck hands were checking lines, unaware of things amiss. When the trio turned to see Percival heading to the helm, confusion came. Percival outright ignored them, making his way up as if nothing was wrong and everything was right as rain.
The Bean Shidh
Their distraction would be their undoing. As Percival dedecended, Blythe crept along the crossbeam until she came to one of the lines that extended from the tip of the mast all the way down to the deck below. Drawing her rapier soundlessly, the woman gripped the top of the lines with one gloved hand then swung herself fearlessly from where she had crouched moments before. Rope smoked against the thick leather of her glove with the rapid fall. Two of the men would be treated to the heels of her boots as she barrelled into them. The third would never know what hit him; the point of that well-tended blade would pierce into his neck and sever his spinal chord right at the base of the skull. The price the woman paid was not having a steady footing when she landed. As such, Blythe released the rope and hit the deck, using the two kicked bodies to soften her landing a great deal.
PercivalVizharen
Percival whistled to himself as he pushed the arrow-stricken body from the helm and into the water. His tune was a precarious one, without a care in the world. He gripped the wheel with gloved hands and gently steered the ship into the cavern as the scene unfolded below. He gently nodded his head, glancing high and low, watching for torches, sentries, and a port.
The Bean Shidh
Blythe got to her feet after rolling from atop the bodies and onto the deck proper. Gloved hands brushed themselves together as if to remove the dust from them, her silent steps leading her over to the downed men. Her rapier was removed from where it had lodged in the one deck hand. Its tip was then plunged idly through the lungs of the other two men. If they hadn't been killed by the kick, they would die of lack of oxygen. As casually as could be, Blythe then turned and scanned the deck as she strode toward where Percival had come to his current task.
PercivalVizharen
"Would y' kindly hold this for me?" He patted the wheel while waiting for her to step up. His voice was calm, as if this was an every day thing for him. Once she had the wheel, he slid down the ladder and turned his attention to the sails. The wind was favorable, but they needed more speed. Percival began to exercise his knowledge of boats and sails, implementing all the sails to give them speed. It also obscured the deck from view, and gave them opaque cover to manuever. Once the sails were tied off, Percival turned toward the series of hatches that lined the deck. Slightly irritated there were so many, he frowned. A flamboyant gesture was made in reaching for the pommel of his sword, and he withdrew it with a wide swing and gait. The tip of his blade slid under the iron ring used to hold a lantern up. He hoisted it over, kicked the hatch open, and let the lantern slide below. He did this with each hatch, then slid the fat-dead bodies of the late deck hands on top of the hatches to pin them down. Satisfied with his work, he slid his sword back home and made his way back to Blythe. "They make this too easy, I tell ya."
The Bean Shidh
"Aye." That rasp of voice was given briefly as Blythe sheathed her rapier and moved up beside Percival only to let gloved fingers curl around the wheel of the helm. Free hand rose to pull the hood of her cloak back up over the strands of shocking red that capped her lovely head. The Banshee continued to hold the course as Percival continued with his new task. The only hint against the casual and rather calm appearence of the woman and her actions was the maddened light that made those blue eyes bright. There was a bloodlust in the woman that surged to the surface so easily in situations such as this. A soundless chuckle shook the shoulders of the small woman as Talon made his way back to the helm. No words were offered to his comment about how easily it had been for them to take over the ship, but her gaze did swivel toward him in order to gift him with the rare glimpse of her smile. Indeed, it was too easy when this group of riffraff were tasked with something, but that was only natural when so many experts were in one location.
Spectre of Faith:
Cassus settled in high above the others, eyes scanning their surroundings. The buttstock of his long gun helf firmly against his shoulder, with a few other rifles and pistols at the ready. Silent prayers were said for those he would send into the great here after. A calming breath was pulled into his lungs as his head lowered to the polished wood of his long gun, waiting for his first target.
PercivalVizharen
Ahead, orange light wavered along the walls of the deep cavern. The voices of men preparing for a midnight dock apparent. This was their supply ship, an all too needed supply ship. Percival lightly touched the wheel and looked to Blythe, nodding silently. This was his moment to shine. "Brace yourselves, my friends. This will get bumpy.." The wheel was cast into one direction and caught moments later. Everyone on the main deck, or above it could see the port ahead, supported by wooden anchor poles which held up a small city. It continued back into the cavern until the rock curved down to meet water, creating an effective dead end. Water parted as the speeding ship made its way toward the dock. A guardsman spotted the vessel first, and noticed the full sails and odd approach. He stood up from his chair to stair a moment, as if his eyes decieved him!
The Bean Shidh
Blythe watched ahead of them until she spotted the movement of Percival looking toward her. Eyes rose, his nod was noted and returned, and the wheel was relinquished to his care. Immediately, Blythe lept from the helm to the deck and braced herself against the inner-deck railing. A firm grip was taken with both hands as eyes turned forward again to watch as the dead end began to approach in what seemed to be a more rapid manner. Her heart raced within her chest, but it was not from fright. Indeed, the glaze of insanity within her eyes proved that there was nothing but pure excitement that quickened her blood in those moments!
A Merc For God
"May the Lord guide our strokes upon this canvas; and to him we will each gift a masterpiece of sin, a symbol for all to see the error of their ways.." He called out, making the cross sign over his dark attire. St. Laz was bulky, in his religious coat. In one hand he held a thick stick used for walking and whacking. Across his back, the holy weapons used to relinquish those who sin. He remained vigilant, standing in the middle of the deck unafraid of what fate might bring him. "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.." He held his ground; for now.
Spectre of Faith:
Cass smiled, pulling the hammer back, sighting in on the docks ahead. His finger poised at the ready. A silent chuckle at Lazarus' words. The fun was about to begin.
PercivalVizharen
"SOUND THE ALARM! ENEMY SHIP!!!" The guard screamed, running back from the impending tool of doom. "TO ARMS! TO ARMS!" -- Percival laughed maniacally from the helm as he took a weighted stance. "Here..we go...!" CRACK! The ship plowed into the first dock, sending the wood in parting ways and brilliant splashes of water! Men yelled, and shots rang out in the cavern echoing loud. Bits of wood tapered off and bent from the strain, but the momentum failed to cease. The ship pushed forward, sailing right into the cavern port square. Here, it was halted abruptly, and Percival was nearly thrown from his stance. He recovered and looked over the wall surrounding the helm; English soldiers came out of the sea stained huts half clothed and armed with swords. Most looked dazed or confused, but all were certain their new neighbor [the ship] was the cuplrit for this early morning drill. They gathered on the dock around the bow of the ship, pondering a way to get in. Percival did not wait to engage. Having height and cover as an advantage, he used it when he put his crossbow to good use. The first strike was on an unlikely woman coming out to drag her husband back, begging him to remain or else he might be killed. Ironic. Percival watched his kill go down from behind the sight, and he smirked. "Oops.. that should proper piss them off. Happy days!"
The Bean Shidh
"That's it, priest! Recite your spells to ease the moment!." German flowed easily from the woman's lips and were carried upon a brief shriek of maddened laughter. Her grip tightened as the hull of the ship began its destruction and it was the only thing that kept that small woman on her feet when they suddenly came to their bone-jarring halt. "Come, my friend. Send souls skyward while I bathe in the blood of the wicked!'" A truly insane grin was sent toward Lazarus before Blythe drew her rapier in one hand and her pistol in the other. With unmatched finesse, Blythe lept atop secured cargo and bolted toward the rail of the ship. Without a thought, the woman jumped into the confused masses who were gathering, her blade immediately in motion to cut down the armed men with swift flicks of the blade toward their throats and juggulars.
A Merc For God
When the ship struck, St. Laz was sent to the deck in a brilliant failed display of strength. When he righted himself, he was thrown against the deck again to only further illustrate his failure to stay on his own two feet. He managed to get to a kneeling position and lower his head. "My Lord, your lesson is quite clear. I shall remain humble in completing your orders. I am human, not angel thus grace is not upon me." Effortlessly, the aging man lifted himself back to his feet without so much as a groan. Following Blythe blindly, he vaulted over the edge to land on the docks six feet below. He watched as the Banshee sprung to action ahead of him, twisting and twirling in such beautiful fluidity. Admirable.-- The twisted priest followed suit, though less agile than his counter part. His first target was a man rushing for the Banshee's back side. His goal was denied by the blunt strike of a thick stave, and his body sent to the deck with a brilliant display of martial strength. Where he might have recovered, Laz denied him by slamming the length of his bludgeoning tool across his bare chest forcing the bone to favor the shape! St. Laz stepped near the body, saying a prayer aloud while disarming another combatant.
Spectre of Faith:
Cass smiled at the incoming fire. As soon as the ship came to a stop he took aim at the first shooter he saw. "Peace be with you..." His shot placement was perfect, dropping the man with a clean head shot. The long gun was quickly reloaded, and a second round fired, ending the life of another man. His attention went to his advancing companions as he pulled a fresh rifle to his shoulder and took aim and squeezed the trigger, turning the mans head into a fine red mist. More reloads of his long gun and more soldiers fell. Cass took aim as several lead balls slammed into the cover in front of him, showering him in wood splinters.
PercivalVizharen
Percival took his time to descend from the top of the helm to the main deck. He was actually yawning as he traversed the length of the deck and stood at the bow of the ship. Thirteen soldiers had gathered around the front of their ship, and between all four of them, two still remained. Both died tired as arrows pushed out of their foreheads and their bodies lost all function and fell dead. Percival tossed the empty crossbow against his side and shrugged it to his back. Slightly annoyed with the progress of the fire below. He motioned to Lazarus. "Is it burning.. down there?" He pointed at the breach below the main deck. He couldn't see. The likelihood these people carried on conversation during combat was always high. "I can not hear ya' mate, SPEAK UP! WHAT!? IS IT BURN.. y'know what? Christ." Percival turned and looked up. "CASS! THIS IS GOING TO BLOW! FIND A NEW SPOT!" Percival vaulted over the edge of the railing and landed down below, on the deck. He turned to peer into the breach to see for himself. He had to pull his face back the heat was so intense. "Yes!" -- Turning back to the others. "Alright, the signal is sent.. begin our attack!"
The Bean Shidh
When the final man fell beneath the blade of the redheaded Banshee, Blythe stood there with the rapier still raised and held her end stance for the moment as she listened to the voice of the Talon. Of all things to do, Blythe laughed at the exchange. Never did she look away from the carnage they had wrought for there would surely be an alarm moving through the city that would send more their way at any moment. "One day he will come to terms with the fact that you do not understand a word he speaks." Still German given to the man nearest her, the man who infuriated her beyond words but for whom she would gladly give her life to save. At the call of advance, Blythe was in motion in a blur of mud-caked cloak and unkempt red hair. The bloodlust was in full surge, and she would seek to feed it as quickly as possible.
Percival swung his legs over the high rail of the starboard side of his ship. He free fell to the small boat below and landed without so much as bending his knee. The sound it made was ruffled against the splashing water and rumbling thunder. It was in the late night when they arrived, and Mosby had taken the fleet further west leaving a smaller fleet with Percival. A thick, unending cloud of mist and fog lingered between his fleet and Ireland, likely the product of the storm. He stepped sideways, weathering the lofty shake of the small boat with uncanny balance in order to let Blythe settle in with him. "Proceed with our plans, ready the men and wait for the fires." He uttered up to his first mate. Percival didn't look toward the man, no, his dark eyes stared blankly out into the fog. Dressed in black slacks and high black leather boots, he appeared to be the feared pirate from a decade ago. A loose fitting black shirt was accompanied with a litany of belts that crossed his chest and back with various pouches. He had a single pistol nestled by a blackened sword at his hip, which sagged stylishly to provide good footwork. He glanced back to see if Blythe was in, his long dark hair unsettling in the wind.
The Bean Shidh
Blythe had waited and watched from the rail above as Talon lept down into the smaller boat. That earth-sodden cloak whipped around her small form wildly with the wind and unkempt, red locks did much the same. It gave her a look that lived up to the name of The Banshee. One gloved hand rose to a line nearby which was then gripped in order to assist the woman in climbing up onto the rail. Striking and unsettled blues glanced toward the first mate briefly before the Banshee loosed the line and soon was dropping down into the boat behind Percival. She landed much more lightly than he had and with more finesse, though she made no ceremony about the action. Blythe was garbed as she typically was, earth-toned britches and tunic, her hooded cloak and soft-soled boots. Rapier and long knife sat in their place on each hip, and a single pistol completed the ensemble. When Talon glanced back to see if she had joined him, Blythe's eyes met his own and she gave one nod of her head before settling in.
PercivalVizharen
Cass had slid down the ladder to land behind Percival, and St. Lazarus settled behind Blythe. Both boats cast off unceremoniously. Cass and Percival's boat took the lead, their team of men rowing silently as the ship lightly rocked with the large waves. Cass had taken a prone position at the bow, his eyes settled behind the sight of his trusty rifle. Percival stood above him with his foot propped up on a thwart. He extended a telescopic scope to look ahead, much like the stereotypical pirate might, but he wasn't looking for enemy ships; he was looking for lights through the fog. He glanced back, pointing in an off-hand direction and his men silently obeyed. Maybe a hour passed before they struck a rocky shoreline. Percival stepped off the boat and waded in through the calf high water. Cass followed, but led the men on their boat away. Percival turned, awaiting Blythe before continuing. His expression was blank, but a fire burned brightly in his eyes as he stood patiently. Up above, lightning flashed and thunder rumbled, threatening of rain.
The Bean Shidh
That hour that passed had done so with nothing but silence and vigilance from the Banshee. Those wild, blue eyes drifted from Cassus to Percival and even back to Lazarus now and then, but not a word was spoken from the woman. This was not unusual in the least, however; she oftentimes did not speak at all when there was a task lain before them. As the shoreline was presented before them, Blythe rose from where she had seated herself. The water was cold but it did much to assist in focusing the woman's mind on the mission. A nod was given to Cass before he headed off, and the Scottish Banshee was soon closing the distance between herself and the man to whom she had sworn her oath of loyalty. Upon reaching the Talon's side, those gloved hands rose and pulled the mud-caked hood of her cloak up to cover the striking red of her hair. There was no need to give anyone a target so vivid if it could be avoided.
PercivalVizharen: When Blythe was next to him, Percival stepped off. From his boat, he'd taken a large pair of coiled rope. He draped it over his shoulder and glanced back before jogging ahead. It appeared he was heading toward a large ridgeline. It
PercivalVizharen: was accessible by a steep grass hill that led up and disappeared in the fog. Without hesitation, or any sign of weakness, Percival ran up the hill and along the ridgeline. He kept silent as he looked for something in particular.
PercivalVizharen: When he found that something, he let Blythe in on his secret by pointing to a looming ship piercing the fog. "There, ya' see it. Happy days. That is our way in! I could not have planned this better myself; oh wait.. heh." He turned
PercivalVizharen: from her to look behind them. A tree? Perfect. The rope slumped on the ground and Percival drew a piece from the center of the coil and took off to tie it around the tree. It took him mere moments, then he returned to look
PercivalVizharen: over the ridge again. "Death from above, my sweet Banshee." Looking back to her she could see a small grin forming over his thin lips just before he pushed the rope right off the edge of the ridge. The rope fell and eventually
PercivalVizharen: slapped the main deck of the ship passing below. Percival pulled something from the small of his back and twisted it together with a loud clamp. Something made a locking sound and a pair of arms popped out at what could be percieved
PercivalVizharen: as the head of the object. It was a crossbow, and he locked the bolts in place from a cartridge loaded from the bottom. Reaching down, he collected the rope and peered down before leaping off without another word. His feet struck
PercivalVizharen: the uneven surface of the rock as he ran descended down the rope. He wrapped his boots around the rope to control his descent, and used one arm to hold the crossbow out. It was a unique make with an extended butt-stock the rested against his shoulder. A complicated trigger mechanism made the weapon fire and reload itself automatically, a feat that would make guardsmen drool for this weapon. As he crested below the arch of the cavern, the man controlling the English ship glanced up in time to see Percival taking careful aim. An arrow cut through the air as thunder rumbled above, planting itself right between the man's eyes and dropping him back. Percival landed in the crows nest, on the sentry's back to wrestle him into submission and prevent the call to arms.
The Bean Shidh
As if spiritually linked to the man, Blythe followed without question, hesitation or protest. There were no others the woman would follow as Blythe served Percival. Cresting the ridge, she paused at his side and looked out toward the ship which loomed in the fog over the water. Piercing eyes took on an odd, excited light, but she didn't return her gaze to his features until he spoke of the plan. His words gained a mere smirk from the silent woman. Blythe would watch the man affix the rope to the tree but she would not move from where she had taken her stand on the ridge. Again he spoke, and again she turned her attention to his face as she always did. This time, though, his grin stoked the growing madness within her gaze. In a rare moment, pale lips quirked their own grin before the Banshee nodded her head a single beat. His attention on the crossbow did not gain a glance from her; Blythe was already looking back down upon the nearing ship and sorting through her own coming actions. Even when the Talon took his leap and began his descent, the redheaded woman never seemed to notice. When Percival had closed half the distance between the top of the ridge and the ship below, Blythe took her turn on the rope. Her weapons were not yet drawn and wouldn't be until she came to land. Movement of the ship had drawn her landing zone a small distance from Percy's own, and the woman negotiated the wooden mast expertly, her form somewhat hidden by the canvas of the sails that were either filled with the wind or collapsed and not in use currently. Regardless, that small frame became smaller as Blythe loosed her hold on the repel rope and crouched with a wide stance there on the crossbeam of the mast, her gaze cast downward but her peripheral vision ever attentive to the movements of the Talon.
PercivalVizharen
Percival snapped the man's neck with a subtle, slow twist; admiring the last struggle before the man's life was robbed of him. Percival swung himself over the bucket and began his descent to the deck. He was slow, methodical, as if every action was thought out before he acted. His crossbow bounced along his back. Percival had a goal, and it'd cause a lot of harm to this perfectly fine ship. As Percival made it to the deck, a few deck hands were checking lines, unaware of things amiss. When the trio turned to see Percival heading to the helm, confusion came. Percival outright ignored them, making his way up as if nothing was wrong and everything was right as rain.
The Bean Shidh
Their distraction would be their undoing. As Percival dedecended, Blythe crept along the crossbeam until she came to one of the lines that extended from the tip of the mast all the way down to the deck below. Drawing her rapier soundlessly, the woman gripped the top of the lines with one gloved hand then swung herself fearlessly from where she had crouched moments before. Rope smoked against the thick leather of her glove with the rapid fall. Two of the men would be treated to the heels of her boots as she barrelled into them. The third would never know what hit him; the point of that well-tended blade would pierce into his neck and sever his spinal chord right at the base of the skull. The price the woman paid was not having a steady footing when she landed. As such, Blythe released the rope and hit the deck, using the two kicked bodies to soften her landing a great deal.
PercivalVizharen
Percival whistled to himself as he pushed the arrow-stricken body from the helm and into the water. His tune was a precarious one, without a care in the world. He gripped the wheel with gloved hands and gently steered the ship into the cavern as the scene unfolded below. He gently nodded his head, glancing high and low, watching for torches, sentries, and a port.
The Bean Shidh
Blythe got to her feet after rolling from atop the bodies and onto the deck proper. Gloved hands brushed themselves together as if to remove the dust from them, her silent steps leading her over to the downed men. Her rapier was removed from where it had lodged in the one deck hand. Its tip was then plunged idly through the lungs of the other two men. If they hadn't been killed by the kick, they would die of lack of oxygen. As casually as could be, Blythe then turned and scanned the deck as she strode toward where Percival had come to his current task.
PercivalVizharen
"Would y' kindly hold this for me?" He patted the wheel while waiting for her to step up. His voice was calm, as if this was an every day thing for him. Once she had the wheel, he slid down the ladder and turned his attention to the sails. The wind was favorable, but they needed more speed. Percival began to exercise his knowledge of boats and sails, implementing all the sails to give them speed. It also obscured the deck from view, and gave them opaque cover to manuever. Once the sails were tied off, Percival turned toward the series of hatches that lined the deck. Slightly irritated there were so many, he frowned. A flamboyant gesture was made in reaching for the pommel of his sword, and he withdrew it with a wide swing and gait. The tip of his blade slid under the iron ring used to hold a lantern up. He hoisted it over, kicked the hatch open, and let the lantern slide below. He did this with each hatch, then slid the fat-dead bodies of the late deck hands on top of the hatches to pin them down. Satisfied with his work, he slid his sword back home and made his way back to Blythe. "They make this too easy, I tell ya."
The Bean Shidh
"Aye." That rasp of voice was given briefly as Blythe sheathed her rapier and moved up beside Percival only to let gloved fingers curl around the wheel of the helm. Free hand rose to pull the hood of her cloak back up over the strands of shocking red that capped her lovely head. The Banshee continued to hold the course as Percival continued with his new task. The only hint against the casual and rather calm appearence of the woman and her actions was the maddened light that made those blue eyes bright. There was a bloodlust in the woman that surged to the surface so easily in situations such as this. A soundless chuckle shook the shoulders of the small woman as Talon made his way back to the helm. No words were offered to his comment about how easily it had been for them to take over the ship, but her gaze did swivel toward him in order to gift him with the rare glimpse of her smile. Indeed, it was too easy when this group of riffraff were tasked with something, but that was only natural when so many experts were in one location.
Spectre of Faith:
Cassus settled in high above the others, eyes scanning their surroundings. The buttstock of his long gun helf firmly against his shoulder, with a few other rifles and pistols at the ready. Silent prayers were said for those he would send into the great here after. A calming breath was pulled into his lungs as his head lowered to the polished wood of his long gun, waiting for his first target.
PercivalVizharen
Ahead, orange light wavered along the walls of the deep cavern. The voices of men preparing for a midnight dock apparent. This was their supply ship, an all too needed supply ship. Percival lightly touched the wheel and looked to Blythe, nodding silently. This was his moment to shine. "Brace yourselves, my friends. This will get bumpy.." The wheel was cast into one direction and caught moments later. Everyone on the main deck, or above it could see the port ahead, supported by wooden anchor poles which held up a small city. It continued back into the cavern until the rock curved down to meet water, creating an effective dead end. Water parted as the speeding ship made its way toward the dock. A guardsman spotted the vessel first, and noticed the full sails and odd approach. He stood up from his chair to stair a moment, as if his eyes decieved him!
The Bean Shidh
Blythe watched ahead of them until she spotted the movement of Percival looking toward her. Eyes rose, his nod was noted and returned, and the wheel was relinquished to his care. Immediately, Blythe lept from the helm to the deck and braced herself against the inner-deck railing. A firm grip was taken with both hands as eyes turned forward again to watch as the dead end began to approach in what seemed to be a more rapid manner. Her heart raced within her chest, but it was not from fright. Indeed, the glaze of insanity within her eyes proved that there was nothing but pure excitement that quickened her blood in those moments!
A Merc For God
"May the Lord guide our strokes upon this canvas; and to him we will each gift a masterpiece of sin, a symbol for all to see the error of their ways.." He called out, making the cross sign over his dark attire. St. Laz was bulky, in his religious coat. In one hand he held a thick stick used for walking and whacking. Across his back, the holy weapons used to relinquish those who sin. He remained vigilant, standing in the middle of the deck unafraid of what fate might bring him. "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.." He held his ground; for now.
Spectre of Faith:
Cass smiled, pulling the hammer back, sighting in on the docks ahead. His finger poised at the ready. A silent chuckle at Lazarus' words. The fun was about to begin.
PercivalVizharen
"SOUND THE ALARM! ENEMY SHIP!!!" The guard screamed, running back from the impending tool of doom. "TO ARMS! TO ARMS!" -- Percival laughed maniacally from the helm as he took a weighted stance. "Here..we go...!" CRACK! The ship plowed into the first dock, sending the wood in parting ways and brilliant splashes of water! Men yelled, and shots rang out in the cavern echoing loud. Bits of wood tapered off and bent from the strain, but the momentum failed to cease. The ship pushed forward, sailing right into the cavern port square. Here, it was halted abruptly, and Percival was nearly thrown from his stance. He recovered and looked over the wall surrounding the helm; English soldiers came out of the sea stained huts half clothed and armed with swords. Most looked dazed or confused, but all were certain their new neighbor [the ship] was the cuplrit for this early morning drill. They gathered on the dock around the bow of the ship, pondering a way to get in. Percival did not wait to engage. Having height and cover as an advantage, he used it when he put his crossbow to good use. The first strike was on an unlikely woman coming out to drag her husband back, begging him to remain or else he might be killed. Ironic. Percival watched his kill go down from behind the sight, and he smirked. "Oops.. that should proper piss them off. Happy days!"
The Bean Shidh
"That's it, priest! Recite your spells to ease the moment!." German flowed easily from the woman's lips and were carried upon a brief shriek of maddened laughter. Her grip tightened as the hull of the ship began its destruction and it was the only thing that kept that small woman on her feet when they suddenly came to their bone-jarring halt. "Come, my friend. Send souls skyward while I bathe in the blood of the wicked!'" A truly insane grin was sent toward Lazarus before Blythe drew her rapier in one hand and her pistol in the other. With unmatched finesse, Blythe lept atop secured cargo and bolted toward the rail of the ship. Without a thought, the woman jumped into the confused masses who were gathering, her blade immediately in motion to cut down the armed men with swift flicks of the blade toward their throats and juggulars.
A Merc For God
When the ship struck, St. Laz was sent to the deck in a brilliant failed display of strength. When he righted himself, he was thrown against the deck again to only further illustrate his failure to stay on his own two feet. He managed to get to a kneeling position and lower his head. "My Lord, your lesson is quite clear. I shall remain humble in completing your orders. I am human, not angel thus grace is not upon me." Effortlessly, the aging man lifted himself back to his feet without so much as a groan. Following Blythe blindly, he vaulted over the edge to land on the docks six feet below. He watched as the Banshee sprung to action ahead of him, twisting and twirling in such beautiful fluidity. Admirable.-- The twisted priest followed suit, though less agile than his counter part. His first target was a man rushing for the Banshee's back side. His goal was denied by the blunt strike of a thick stave, and his body sent to the deck with a brilliant display of martial strength. Where he might have recovered, Laz denied him by slamming the length of his bludgeoning tool across his bare chest forcing the bone to favor the shape! St. Laz stepped near the body, saying a prayer aloud while disarming another combatant.
Spectre of Faith:
Cass smiled at the incoming fire. As soon as the ship came to a stop he took aim at the first shooter he saw. "Peace be with you..." His shot placement was perfect, dropping the man with a clean head shot. The long gun was quickly reloaded, and a second round fired, ending the life of another man. His attention went to his advancing companions as he pulled a fresh rifle to his shoulder and took aim and squeezed the trigger, turning the mans head into a fine red mist. More reloads of his long gun and more soldiers fell. Cass took aim as several lead balls slammed into the cover in front of him, showering him in wood splinters.
PercivalVizharen
Percival took his time to descend from the top of the helm to the main deck. He was actually yawning as he traversed the length of the deck and stood at the bow of the ship. Thirteen soldiers had gathered around the front of their ship, and between all four of them, two still remained. Both died tired as arrows pushed out of their foreheads and their bodies lost all function and fell dead. Percival tossed the empty crossbow against his side and shrugged it to his back. Slightly annoyed with the progress of the fire below. He motioned to Lazarus. "Is it burning.. down there?" He pointed at the breach below the main deck. He couldn't see. The likelihood these people carried on conversation during combat was always high. "I can not hear ya' mate, SPEAK UP! WHAT!? IS IT BURN.. y'know what? Christ." Percival turned and looked up. "CASS! THIS IS GOING TO BLOW! FIND A NEW SPOT!" Percival vaulted over the edge of the railing and landed down below, on the deck. He turned to peer into the breach to see for himself. He had to pull his face back the heat was so intense. "Yes!" -- Turning back to the others. "Alright, the signal is sent.. begin our attack!"
The Bean Shidh
When the final man fell beneath the blade of the redheaded Banshee, Blythe stood there with the rapier still raised and held her end stance for the moment as she listened to the voice of the Talon. Of all things to do, Blythe laughed at the exchange. Never did she look away from the carnage they had wrought for there would surely be an alarm moving through the city that would send more their way at any moment. "One day he will come to terms with the fact that you do not understand a word he speaks." Still German given to the man nearest her, the man who infuriated her beyond words but for whom she would gladly give her life to save. At the call of advance, Blythe was in motion in a blur of mud-caked cloak and unkempt red hair. The bloodlust was in full surge, and she would seek to feed it as quickly as possible.