The Scillus, Upper Decks - Samheen 24 TT

[Guest]

Rezon handed Maverick the spyglass as he climbed on to the aft deck.

“You think that’s a party?” asked Rezon almost gleefully. “You’ve seen more than I thought then, but . . .I bet you haven’t seen this. Look closer, focus on the heart of the storm, and tell me if you see what I think I did.” He turned to holler a command to his crew increasing speed and Maverick felt the ship respond quickly. The crew was either fast or already ahead of their pilot.

Turning to let Maverick view the scene to the West, Rezon did not realize the young merchant was instead searching the deck for the very device the pilot was now using. Rezon was bending over an odd brass and crystal device unlike anything Maverick had seen aboard previous ships. The pilot held it upward to catch the remaining sunlight and Maverick saw a small beam of light flash onto some sort of placard Rezon watched intently. Maverick thought he heard the pilot mumble something about being “on course . . .for now” before he began to answer the previous questions. Rezon maintained focus on the placard as he spoke.

“Eh? The Condotierre? That’s right, you’re a Mouthie aren’t you? Yeah, that’s them alright,” said Rezon, half shouting. “Have they given you any trouble? I told the Marshall to keep them out of site and out of the way. This is my ship anywhere but in port.”

Rezon’s head cocked at the mention of Luis and he turned slightly.

“Luis is giving you a hard time?” he asked a little incredulously. “The man’s a snake but, like this ship, he’s my snake. That man has saved my life at least twice.” He shrugged it off. “He’s probably just irritated with the Marshall and taking it out on you.” Rezon had obviously finished whatever task he’d been working on and turned his attention back to the crew.

“Lads,” he shouted, louder than Maverick thought possible. “Brace her for impact! Storm’ll be in here in under five burns!” Rezon then turned back to Maverick.

“So, did you see the eyes?”

~

For Jack, the barracks area of the ship set aside for the soldiers of the Condotierre seemed fairly well organized but, at the moment, was very crowded. The soldiers mulled about obviously discussing their predicament. Jack saw a varied display of emotion among the men; fear, excitement, and anger. Stepping into their midst, he was instantly aware that he was the stranger. All eyes turned toward him and most conversations stopped or at least lowered in volume.

“Fessacchione! What are you doing in here boy?” shouted a voice that seemed to come from everywhere but in front of him. A hundred eyes stared back at Jack, waiting for an answer.

[Jack Farrell]

Shit

Jack cursed, he should have thought of something in advance. Why, by his ancestor's bones, would the cabin boy be visiting the Condotierre? Jack froze for a fraction of a second as he saw hundreds of eyes staring at him.

"Just letting you know that the Storm is only a few burns away sir. I know that its nothing you are not already prepared for but this looks like its going to be... interesting. The Captain told me to tend to the horse and since I was below I thought I would just see to it you were all informed, and prepared. Storm sand is the very devil." Jack had settled a bit, he was not unused to talking to crowds, telling tales, this was not so different.

"Its fine you see, it floats through the air like a mist, choking your lungs, blinding your eyes. I have seen horses and men alike drop coughing blood clogged with grit and sand. Worst thing is you know its happening but your lungs just keep on sucking it in." Abruptly Jack broke his revere and picked up his tone "The Scillus is a good boat but she leaks and sand gets every which place. Thought I'd help wherever I could, see if you needed anything: facecloths or the like." Jack knew the Condotierre would be veterans almost to a man, but he was not sure how much they would know about the desert. He was banking that it was not a lot.

[Guest]

The situation was still confusing to Maverick. Normally on any military ship the Condotierre would be the ones sailing the ship. In this case however they only lay claim to the airvessel for transportation. So was it a military mission or not? A secret mission that needs the elite forces of the Mouth.. a mission that no doubt serves the Merchant Council more than the king... so it involves trade.. and huge profit.

"Luis objected to the guest of the Sky Marshal. He takes offense to the lady drawing sandcircles, just a local habit of the people of the sand," he commented offhand. He could not risk not informing Rezon if he wanted to stay on the mans good side, and likely he already knew there was a woman on board.

Maverick accepted the spyglass and stared into the storm. Of course he knew what he was going to see and the flashing ember eyes that were the core of this mayhem only confirmed it. Air Dragon. At least Amica did not lie. It would have surprised Mav if she had. He took her for the serious type and honest to a fault, in a way that no doubt brought her trouble.

"Aye, I did," he confirmed to Rezon, giving the pilot a serious look, for they had not factored this into their plan to take control of the ship. Rezon was obviously not as ignorant of it all as they had hoped "What do you make of it?" There was unfortunately no opportunity to rip Rezon from his compass right now, and so he would know if the ship turned around. Maverick knew it was essential that he stay and at least distract the experienced sailor. "This is not the kind of party we were counting on, is it?"

[Guest]

OOC: Nicely played Jack.

IC: The faces of th soldiers, once contorted with irritation, softened somewhat at Jack’s explanation.

“We appreciate the warning son,” came another voice as the bodies parted to let a man through. Approaching was a man in his mid twenties with short cropped hair, a military uniform and an air of authority.

“But I think we’ll be fine down here as soon as the lads settle down.” The man approached Jack and lead him back toward the doorway.

“I’m Captain Liham,” said the man, introducing himself with a hand shake that could have crushed Jack’s hand, wrist and forearm with a single jerk.

“It was nice of you to consider warning us,” started Liham with a cautionary tone, “but I suggest you direct further inquiries and communications straight to me. The lads don’t mix well with the sailor type.”

~

Rezon took the spyglass from Maverick, putting it to his eyes with both hands. When he removed it, he looked dumbfounded.

With a sigh he said, “I feared the eyes might be a dragon’s. We knew they were a danger crossing the desert. Though, I couldn’t see any body when I looked, just those eyes weaving about. Is it possible . . .

Wait. What did you say?” he asked sharply. “What lady? And drawing circles in sand?” His voice was high pitched and Maverick could see drawing quickly drawing conclusions to his own questions.

“Baldracca! That tribal tart is aboard my ship?!?”

[Guest]

Maverick shrugged "All dragons are highly magickal creatures, and known to collect artifacts that amuse them. This is likely an Air Dragon using the storm both as a disguise and a battering ram. I would venture a guess she's hunting for prey, and we are it. Magick of the ship probably looks yummy. Perhaps its better to turn the ship around or something? Maybe we can dodge it when we leave its territory." Will he buy that? It is a nice alternative solution to Amica's problem.

Then Rezon proved his Mouthie heritage by swearing loudly in the exotic dialect. Maverick arched an eyebrow, pretending to be surprised "You did not know? Why, I would have told you sooner, but with the Sky Marshals approval...It sounds to me you've met her before.. Is she trouble?"

Maverick gave Rezon an innocent honest look as he tried his ploy "This may not be the best of times, but if you have concerns over this... tribal tart... then I can hold the wheel for you while you check below deck?" That would give him the opportunity to bag the compass. Of course he had never before flown an airship, but Maverick was a great believer in improvisation. How hard could it be?

[Jack Farrell]

Jack was thinking fast. This was Liham, the man Rezon had asked him to spy on shaking him firmly by the hand. The ancestors watched Jack closely, or so he felt.

"Pleasure to make your aquaintence Captain, but im not so much of a sailor myself. Not yet anyway." Jack smiled and walked back towards the door with Liham. "Been on this boat scarce two days myself but 19 years in the desert lends a man some caution when it comes to storms."

He nodded to Liham and turned towards the horse-hold. "Face-cloths, soaked in water if you can spare it." Jack made his good byes and headed down. He needed to ensure that the horse had some protection ready and it would be good to talk to Amica before heading back to see Rezon for that lunch meeting. Jack smiled. Wheels were in motion.

[Guest]

Rezon listened intently to Maverick, his frown etching deeper and deeper into his tanned face. The pilot clearly did not like what Maverick was saying.

“A dragon changes things,” he admitted, still seething with Maverick’s revelation. The pilot was doing his best to focus on the more important issue. “We can try to run or change course but if my education serves me right, that beast’ll be half a step of our next move. Hell, she’s coming after us hiding in the middle of a fuckin’ sandstorm.” His eyes lit up.

No,I have no plans to turn around,” he fumed, “no, I have something better planned. The Marshall you say? Well, he fits into my plans splendidly. He’ll get his chance to atone if he’s the one that let that conniving wench on board. You see,” Rezon said grinning with menace, “Only his men operate the cannons.”

Rezon sighed. “It’s ironic really. If it wasn’t for those buffoons below deck, I wouldn’t even be in this mess. I’d be a happy merchant with one hell of nice way to travel. I’d probably be very rich. But, on the other hand, if it wasn’t for them, I wouldn’t have a set of cannons on board that might blow this winged bitch off our tail.”

Rezon eyed the wheel and then eyed Maverick, contemplating whether to trust this young man with the task. It was a withering stare, one that measured Maverick’s worth as a man and at the same time telling him he would never be Rezon’s equal.

“Hold the wheel steady, don’t turn it.” Rezon instructed harshly. He then pointed to a long, thick lever to side of the wheel. “This controls altitude, it angles the propellers to give us lift. Don’t worry about speed. She’s flying at about almost full speed as it is. The only thing that would make us faster is to lose weight.” Maverick would not have been surprised to learn that with that statement, Rezon’s mind immediately went to the Marshall’s horse.

“I’ll be back in a flicker, don’t make any mistakes,” said Rezon ominously. His bright red coat flapped stiffly in the increasing wind as he made his way down the ladder leaving Maverick to pilot the air vessel.

~

“Soaked in water you say?” Liham questioned as he walked with Jack toward the exit. “Wouldn’t think there were that many times where water was abundant enough to offer that luxury. At least, not in my trips across this One-forsaken land. Must have been shorter distances,” he surmised with a hint of disbelief.

“Thanks for the advice, anyway,” said Liham, putting his hand on Jack’s shoulder and gently steering him down the ramp. “I’m sure we’ll see you around.”

OOC: Jack, please continue here

[Guest]

Maverick stood at the wheel and felt like a true sailor, even high up in the air, where the wind played with his long hair. He looked around unobtrusively to see if he was observed. At the first oppertuntiy he would bag the compass of course, stuffing it down his pants.

Standing at the wheel he felt a pang of guilt for having ruined Amica's cover so easily. She was a beautiful example of what desert folks raised as their children. A wild woman that was sadly taken. It was only a little pang. Mav had to consider his own survival first of all.

Flying straight into a sandstorm which contained a dragon still seemed unwise, even though the cannons were some reassurance. Mav eyed the wheel, considering whether to turn around anyway, but decided not to risk the captains ire. Instead he started to ponder an excuse for the loss of the compass, though the wildly tugging winds were perhaps his best option.

[Guest]

Maverick had a few moments to enjoy his first piloting experience. It was an achievement, though he would probably be a long time finding out, for only a select few ever received the opportunity to fly these magnificent vessels. The wind whipped through his hair with abandon, gently tugged at his clothes, and sliced about his face and eyes but the feeling was close to elation.

The feeling, though, was short-lived. Under Maverick’s guiding hand, the vessel responded correctly for a few more burns. But suddenly, like a mighty sand fist, the storm leapt the remaining distance to the Scillus, knocking the port side violently and forcing Maverick to brace himself and the wheel. A second gust hit behind the first threatening to send the ship into a spin if Maverick could not maintain the wheel. The storm was here.

[Guest]

Mav felt elated. He could get used to this feeling. With a huge grin he stood with his legs just seperated enough so that he stood stable and able to withstand unexpected pulls, the compass hiding comfortable inside his pants. I'm da man, he hummed while eying the approaching sandstorm.

Then it hit, hard. No time for humming. Maverick braced himself after the first pull, trying to keep the weel straight while his muscles protested "Aarrrrrrgh." Then a thought entered his mind. Nobody could fault him for going slightly off the right course in the middle of a bleedin' storm. At the next pulling wind he allowed the wheel to swing just slightly so that they would make a full turn. It was a sharp turn, but he could always blame the wind. Mavericks muscles put in their utmost effort to straighten the wheel and keep it in place after the turn.

[Guest]

As Maverick pushed his arms to straighten the wheel, he felt another set of hands next to his and the wheel began to turn.

"You looked as if you needed an extra hand or two," came the familiar voice of T'kil. His cloak and face cloth were pulled tightly about him, so much so that he reminded Maverick of a common thief, masked to avoid discovery. Still, the shaman's eyes shown with a power that would be anything but common.

The ship turned successfully under Maverick's piloting though his muscles burned as if he'd had to lift the ship rather than simply steer it. Even T'kil looked overly strained.

"I can't imagine what you just did to the people below," chuckled the shaman. His mirth lasted only a flicker before it was erased by a third gust of wind, slicing his exposed skin with sand. The gust hit Maverick as well, a gritty reminder that the storm was now upon them fully.

Looking out into the whirling sand, the dragon was not visible. But not much else was either. To see, one had to almost completely close one's eyes. And then, visibilty was so reduced that Maverick couldn't even see the bow of the ship. Another blast of sand filled wind washed over the pair on the rear deck.

"Have you found the compass Amica wanted?" T'kil asked, shouting above the wind.

[Guest]

Maverick gritted his teeth as he felt his muscles tremble with the effort. For a flicker he feared that he had just lost control over the ship entirely, sending them on a very dangerous spin that would no doubt make them crash even before the dragon had a chance. He didn't even dare to spend some of his energy on swearing, concentrating fully on that wheel.

T'kil suddenly appeared. Mav hadn't heard him approach, but then such was not a difficult feat in the middle of a sandstorm. The sand scratched at his face, getting everywhere. It had been to late to change clothes. The rogue regretted not being able to change into his robe of the people with appropriate headdress. The people of the sand had dealt with sandstorms for as long as anyone could remember and probably long before that. Their clothing formed real protection, not this in effectual gear of jerkins with a light shirt and baggy breeches. The sand was getting everywhere, in his ears, his nose, even where his pants bulged.... because of the compass.

"I've got it," Maverick shouted, not explaining further. It was a rather awkward moment to be discussing what one carried in ones breeches. "Now I hope the rest of Amica's plan will work."

[Guest]

“Good.” T’kil replied, raising his voice to be heard above the wind. He realized that words were becoming pointless. He moved closer to Maverick, almost next to his ear.

“Keep on this course, if you can! We are finally headed . . . “ He stopped short and gripped Maverick’s shoulders with a strength that could only be fueled by fear. Maverick could feel the shaman’s fingers dig into his skin and press almost to the bone. He could not help but follow T’kil’s gaze toward the bow.

“By the Blood of the Tribes!” T’kil gasped. Directly ahead, blocking what little sun penetrated the swirling clouds of sand, was the form of the dragon. It filled their vision in slow motion, its great bulk holding their gaze, a combination of terror and awe. Its slender head whipped forward on a serpentine neck and reptilian eyes met their stunned, gaping, stares in what appeared to almost be recognition.

Down below, a similar curse interrupted the pair’s astonishment. Several sailors, led by Rezon and Luis had emerged from below deck rolling a massive, cast iron cannon. They had all stopped and were staring open-mouthed at the approaching dragon.

[Guest]

Dominicus Undies! Maverick had seen dragons from afar, but never had he seen one so up close, intend on killing him. That familiar predatory look was definitely not a good sign, nor was the fact it was directly IN FRONT OF THEM. His fear nearly froze him in place, his heart in his throath.

It was the sand blowing in his face that woke him. This was supposed to be Amica's finest mark, or perhaps her finest burn. He had brought the ship about and secured the compass in his itchy pants. Now the shaman had better get to work.

"GET YOUR DAMNED ASSES OVER HERE WITH THAT CANNON, CAFONES. DRAGON CARPACCIO RIGHT AHEAD," he yelled defiantly, trying to break through the obvious fear of the sailors who he might just have committed to death by turning the airship. If he was going down he was not going to do that peeing his pants.

"Your pretty ass wife better hurry up with her plan," he growled at T'Kil close to his ear "Or we are the ones ending up as carpaccio."

[Guest]

Even with the wind, Luis and Rezon heard Maverick's cry and broke their gaze from the dragon. The look on their faces as they saw T'kil at the helm with Maverick was probably the same they'd just shown the dragon. Rezon glowered. Luis shouted something unintelligible toward the men carrying the cannon and urging them to move the cannon to the middle of the deck.

Rezon did not follow Luis but instead began a steady, deliberate pace toward the helm. Soon he was bounding toward the rear deck.

"I don't think he's expecting me," hissed T'kil. He'd been spotted. If he used his disappearing trick it would be too obvious. He would have to wait and confront the Pilot.

Rezon was out of breath when he arrived at the top of the ladder but his eyes still shown with fury.

"You will explain later," he growled to Maverick. He sent a look of disgust toward T'kil.

"For now, I need you to hold the wheel. Do not deviate!" He moved closer, shoving T'kil aside with his hips. He placed his hand on the lever next to the wheel and pulled. Maverick could feel the impact immediately as the bow of the ship began to slowly rise. Not only were they maintaining course toward the dragon, they were now moving to intercept it.

[Jack Farrell]

The wind whipped his face as Jack climbed the steps. Sandstorms were the nether's own breath, Jack hated them.

He Struggled with the facecloth he wore about his neck, stretching it up so he could still breath without inhaling a lungful of fine sand. Honestly, nethers own breath. Jack staggered as he felt the ship lurch again - what spvained creature was driving this thing? Jack staggered onto the deck, head throbbing, voices still echoing and hands still slick with blood.

He was not expecting the cannon, and he certainly wasnt expecting the Dragon.

Asp's own shit.

[Guest]

"Sorry Captain. The wheel escaped me due to the force of the winds," Maverick gave an apologetic grin that said he was not so very sorry, having to yell over the sound of the howling winds. His muscles were still strained keeping the wheel in place now. Rezons disapproval hardly seemed to matter in the face of certain death. Maverick felt strangely excited. Finally something was happening. "That man over there," he shouted, "He helped me and.... HEY.. where are you going captain" He gulped. "Carpaccio it is then."

Dammit Amica, your plan had better work, or we are all dead meat, Maverick thought in frustration, seeking T'kil's eyes. Surely there was something the shaman could do to contact his wife. He had all these powers.

"JACK," Maverick called out, when he saw his mate. Hopefully he knew what was going on. The blood on his hands did not bode well.

[Guest]

T'kil noticed Maverick's look but he did not respond immediately. He too had noticed the bloody hands of Jack. Concern flooded his face but he steeled himself against it.

"Something is wrong," T'kil said absently. "Amica." His voice trailed off.

"The anchor's in sir, we're ready!" Luis yelled back toward Rezon instantly breaking T'kil's concentration. Luis and his small crew had secured the cannon to rings on the main deck and angle the mouth of the cannon directly at the dragon. At this speed there would be only chance to fire before coming about.

"Then fire!" Rezon was leaning over the railing as he shouted, looking defiantly at the beast as she flew overhead. Because of the wind, the men on the deck more felt than heard the blast. The crack of the cannon resonated across the deck, filling each man's chest with the shockwave of the explosion. Each had to fight to keep their balance against the angle of the deck, the wind and the shockwave.

The dragon had not been expecting her quarry to be so armed. The cannon's shot went straight toward the dragon. She reacted but not fast enough. Recognizing too late that the device was a weapon, she banked right, the current of the winds altering significantly as her great wingspan shifted their path. She screeched when the cannonball struck her, a sound of anger no man on board had heard before. Where once a flawless membrane had connected her wing to her breast there was now a gaping hole and a flapping membrane.

Within a flicker, she was gone from sight, disappearing back into the swirling clouds. And, as if connected, the ferocity of the storm had immediately calmed when the dragon fled their sight. The storm, though, was not gone . . .only the dragon. There was still no true sense of the sky or the ground. And one could still see only a few paces beyond the gunwale but at least they could open their eyes to try. When they had struck the dragon,
Most of the men stood slackjawed as they witnessed their successful strike on the dragon. None had been expecting this idea to work.

"Reload!" Rezon yelled again frantically searching the horizon for the dragon. Gently, he leveled out the Scillus and the men began to reload. That is, except for Luis, who was now heading toward the helm with a dangerous look in his eye.

Upon seeing the approaching officer, T'kil stepped forward and placed his mouth next to Maverick's ear.

"You must stall them," he hissed. "If Amica cannot help, I must do this another way. I . . . have an idea."

[Jack Farrell]

Jack spun at Mav's call of his name. His head was thick with concussion but he was still lucid enough and the adrenaline of seeing a dragon was clearing his head pretty sharpish.

Boom

The fire of the cannon was immense and Jack stumbled against the bulk head. This was getting crazy. He checked himself, fell to one knee and took a few seconds to catch his breath. Insanity. He saw the dragon reel... so the thing could be hurt. He only hoped that it decided to attack the prow again rather than come from the side - the cannon would take time to wheel about. Jack looked to the side, it was a wall of sand - the Scillus was wrapped in the winds which carried only the finest grains of sand - the heavier grit being too heavy for the air to carry. It was a dust storm. Jack pulled his facecloth tighter about him, feeling the slick touch of his own blood running down his head. He smiled, he was a mess.

Jack stumbled as the shockwave hit him but stood sharply and lurched towards the helm where Rezon and the others waited. He barely noticed Luis in the sandstorm.

"Aeris?" Jack asked T'kil's shadowy form, still looking about for the Dragon.

[Guest]

"TAKE THAT!" Maverick shouted with a squeel of delight as the dragon took a serious hit, while the blast pushed against his chest. Maverick, convinced he was going to die and refusing to do so without a fight, was however not budging, holding on to the wheel with the strength of 20 men or so it felt. Of course he well knew it would have to be the shamans magick that truely did the creature in. It felt good however not to be completely helpless in the face of such an onslaught.

Listening to T'Kil Maverick gave Luis an impish grin, full of white teeth. Not a lot of what the burly man could say was likely to matter in these final moments, though no doubt the mans thunderous face did not promise much good. "LUIS," he called in an effort to draw attention away from T'Kil slipping into the shadows to check upon his wife, "DID YOU PEE YOUR PANTS?" Adding as the angry sailor was close enough to hear him over the winds in a more normal but still loud voice "What do you reckon, will we have another shot at her? This is something els than taking care of horses, eh?" He fully expected the man to attack him, bracing himself.

[Guest]

OOC: Arg! Lost the post due to stupid red X! Sorry if this seems condensed. Should know to do this off line.

IC:

T'kil used Rezon's preoccupation with reloading to slip behind him and down the steps where he ran into Jack.

"Aeis," replied T'kil to Jack. "She is only wounded and will return. I have an idea but I need time." His eyes darted to the approaching Luis whose face was even redder than before. "Help Maverick stall him."

T'kil slipped to the side and pulled out his knife. Kneeling on the deck, he began to carve.

~

Maverick's taunt carried easily in the calmer wind. Luis's eyes narrowed at the words, but only after he checked himself. He grimaced and increased his pace. When he saw Jack talking to T'kil as well, he broke into a full sprint. He locked his gaze on Jack, ignoring Maverick, and pulled his knife.

"You!" Luis shouted as he reached the steps where Jack stood. blocking his path to T'kil. With his knife he pointed first to Jack and then Maverick.

"They're traitors sir!" With a look of pure hatred, Luis stepped forward and lunged at Jack with his knife.

[Guest]

"MADE YOU LOOK," grinned Maverick, white teeth flashing as he saw how much he was getting to Luis. Good, the man was an annoying Puppo anyway. Then he approached Jack with a drawn knife, accusing them both of being traitors. Which might be the truth, but such inconvenient timing.

"HEY LUIS, " He kept up his voice loud so that the whole ship could hear, which no doubt contributed to his humilation. It was his intention of getting Luis so enraged that he would make mistakes, and go for Maverick, away from where T'kil stood. "WAS THAT UGLY LOOKING BRUTTA YOUR MOMA? HOW COME SHE SPROUTED WINGS, EH? "

Maverick was enjoying this, as he held on to the wheels he taunted further with a wide grin "IF SHE IS NOT YOUR MOMA SHE CERTAINLY HAS YOUR MOMA'S BIGG ASS. I SAW SO MYSELF."

[Jack Farrell]

Jack nodded to T’kill and, by the virtue of his request was looking directly at Luis as he drew his blade. Jack’s eyes grew blank as Mav’s words floated past. Jack was a practiced fighter, if not a great one he had been in a fair few scraps and he knew the first few seconds were all experience. If he had given his mind to it Jack would have expected more from this pirate, a little caution perhaps - he must have underestimated Jack or maybe he was hoping to rely on the shock of his charge to scare the younger man. The blade flashed.

He was a big guy, lots of power - thick skull. He must have been used to fighting with a sword, lots more metal for your swing. Shivs were for close hard work, in and out - light on your feet like Jack. Charging in with a knife was a lot of wasted momentum.

He didn’t bother drawing his own blade, that would take too long, he moved instinctually stepping backwards out of the reach of his first lunge. He moved lightly on the balls of his feet leaving him wincing and trickling blood. Jack fought dirty and hard, fists, knees and teeth - anything went when your life was in the line. He stepped back in as the blade passed his centre line, bouncing off his back leg, back into the ‘danger zone’ that 2-3 feet of space that was all you had between the fighters, just under an arms length, just inside a fists reach. He attacked Luis’s knife hand first, gripping the forearm hard with one hand and driving his other fist down into Luis’s elbow with all his weight and shoulder behind the blow.

[Guest]

OOC: Jack, be careful on assuming the success of your actions.

IC: Maverick’s taunt went unnoticed by Luis, however, he was for the moment ignoring T’kil. He was too engrossed in his attack on Jack. However, the men reloading the cannon did take notice. They had finished reloading and, seeing the action near the rear deck started to jog in their direction. As they ran, Maverick could hear their cries for assistance. But, on a few of their faces, he could see small smirks of amusement.

Another taking notice of Maverick’s words was Rezon. At first he was shocked by the sudden eruption of violence. He had been focused solely on the dragon. But now, hearing Maverick’s words he realized that something was indeed very wrong. Maverick was trying to goad Luis. Confusion filled his face as he stepped forward and gripped the young merchant’s shoulder.

“What is going on?” He hissed. But his gaze turned away from the merchant turned pilot. It rested on the shaman. Realization replaced confusion as he let go of Maverick and leapt over the rail.

~

Jack dodged backwards quickly and, if he’d looked, he would have seen the look of glee on Luis’ face. Luis had wanted Jack’s head for a very long time. As Jack grabbed his forearm, Luis suddenly twisted bringing his own shoulder in close so Jack was off balance. Jack never got a chance to hit Luis' elbow. With another turn, Luis’ elbow came crashing into his jaw sending Jack to the deck. He immediately tasted blood in his mouth and at least one tooth was loose. Luis hit like a bull. Jack was though, able to keep his firm grip on Luis’ forearm. His spill pulled the quartermaster forward with him, putting him on one leg and off balance.

~

While Maverick and Jack fought their separate fights, they did not see T’kil stand and pull an object from some hidden pouch. Those from a distance could only see him wave his hands mystically over a symbol he’d carved rudely into the deck. When he finished, a section of the deck began to glow eerily, even in the daylight. The symbol the shaman had etched burst into a brilliant light, startling any who watched it directly. Suddenly, the wind began to rise and T’kil stepped, or staggered rather, back from his creation, looking to the western and then the southern sky. The wind rose further and the sands could be seen gathering about the ship. Maverick and Jack began to feel the familiar bite of the grains on their skin. They could not see T’kil’s eyes, but if they could, they would have seen a look of pure fear.

[Jack Farrell]

ooc: sorry

Jack was a dirty fighter. He hadn't learnt to fight from some expert, he had not learnt rules of combat or pugilism. He had developed his 'art' brawling in the dust with other slaves fighting for respect, his life or food. Now was little different.

Luis towered above him, Jacks steely grip keeping him off balance. Jack reeled from his blow, the elbow had connected before Jack could react - Luis obvious had a few lessons in the school of hard knocks himself. He hardly noticed the blood in his mouth as he watched his opponent. He bought his guard up instantly, his off hand protecting his face - he should have remembered that basic rule first. At the same time he thrust out with one leg. It wasnt a kick or a sweep so much as a stamp, he heel of his foot aimed at Luis's knee with all the force Jack could muster. Jack had to level the field. Lying on your back with a knife wielding giant above you was a swift way to end your days.