Log; Ongoing?

[riteofmaldoran.livejournal.com]

When; September 27th, Ritual Day
Rating; PG-13 (for now?)
Characters; Vala [riteofmaldoran], Barbossa [captain_hector], Link [jikan_no_uta], and anyone else who wants to jump in.
Summary; Vala, during the escape with Will and Elizabeth, gets seperated and into a bit of trouble. As usual.
Log;

She ran.

Or, half-stumbled, more like.

It had been a trick just getting down there, and with everyone on the move at the same time, she had foolishly thought they would make it out easily. And it had been relatively so... until that hulk of a man came out of no where with his cronies. Which was whom she was currently running from, to distract them so Will and Elizabeth could get out.

And damnit, they had better get out. They so owed her for this.

She ducked around the next bend and pressed herself to the wall, holding her breath and listening as the man came stomping after her. Mentally counting down, she remained motionless until he was just about to turn the corner-- then she sprung.

She went on autopilot, dark eyes sharp, always two steps ahead. Kick. Spin. Duck and weave. Darting to the side she swung around to land a blow to his temple, but she miscalculated distance and recovery time and found herself winded and suddenly very familiar with the ground. Panting, she moved to right herself-- only to have another attacker, newly arrived (she hadn't seen him before) hit her in the ribs and send her down again.

Gasping for breath, she rolled, leg swinging out to connect with the guard's groin, and the surprised pause that followed allowed her to recover to her feet--

Only to note that she was surrounded. And severely outnumbered.

Another beat, and then she gave a wide, if slightly wobbly, grin, wiping blood from her chin with the back of her hand.

"Now, now, boys. I hardly think--"

She didn't get the sentence out before, swearing profusely, the man she kicked in the balls came at her. She grinned wider and moved, ready to fight again, giving all she could...

But without help, she knew this battle was lost.

Comments

[captain-hector.livejournal.com]

At first, he'd convinced himself that the events of the day were certainly something that he should be bothered with. It was trivial, people of the city manipulating others into nothing more than a pile of panicked ants. He wasn't troubled too terribly by was was enacting itself in the world below his floor of the old warehouse. He didn't care to run into the fray and become an ant, himself.

But, he'd been watching all the same. There was a lot going on; people playing both the hero and the villian, and blood everywhere. An organized action of violence and a loose action to stop it. And the fighting... The blood that he could see... Cut lips and folks run through... He wanted to fight, then, and only for the sake of fighting. His fingers began to itch, his blood calling for the adrenaline that same with a real, honest-to-the-Lord fight. (It was something he hadn't known in so long, like so many other things that he'd known so easily before.) Arming himself amply, he left his quarters, trusting Jack to not make too horrid a mess of the place in his absense.

He stepped heavily into that cloud of action, eyes sharp and sword sharper still. There was no enemy ship to secure, no need to worry about giving orders to half-wit sailors, there was only the fight. He didn't even particularly make note of which side was which; whoever gave him trouble would be against him, and bother if they fought for any other cause.

It was the mindless guards who tried to intervene his path first, just as he was entering the thick of the action. He cut through them with a vigor that many may find disturbed, allowing himself a mad grin now and again as he toppled another. Many here, he noticed, were picky about whose life they ended. Barbossa, most usually, was not.

He was filled with a passion, almost, a thirst and hunger, for this violence by the time he came upon the young woman and other-worldly man. He observed them for a moment, fighting with such vigor and honor. They had goals, it seemed, and, oh, (he donned a smile of sarcasm for a moment) wouldn't he just look like an old-fashioned hero?

He pulled his pistol from its place at his side, readying it with a click and firing into the frenzy. What a noise! And the primative machine flared light for that split-second, cutting brilliantly into the dark. The guard for the city that he'd shot in the back of the skull tumbled forward, collapsing, life pooling fast below him.

The pirate stepped forward, grinning bright and wicked, sword in place for battle again. "Evenin', gents," He drawled, bending the brim of his hat as if in greeting. Oh, and the lady... "And ye as well, ma'am, 'o' course." His smile for her was, possibly, even more devious, flirtacious in the most dark and twisted of ways.

With no further words, he turned sharply, slicing deep into the chest of the nearest opponent before turning his blade sharply and running him through. He lunged forward a bit, yanking his blade from the guts of him, shifting his weight quickly and slashing once more, cutting another upwards across the face. The line of blood arched with his sword through the air...

He was alive.