The tug war for a friend’s life. The adrenaline of a moment where you knew it was no longer only your battle but a fight for survival. Was she afraid? Was she regretting her decision? Not really. The part of her brain, the cautious one, has long been on vacation in the lands not yet discovered to care for what was going on now. Did she ever get acquianted with it anyways? Hard to remember...
But now. She was sure as heck gonna free her friend, do some proper ass whooping of these deadlies and take home her prize. Or make her prize a home. Whichever way this was supposed to work. She was gonna emerge victorious and Idalos freeze twice over if songs wouldn't get sung about her bravery.
However, seeing that the blasted skeleton was determined to not lose this fight, Emerit's patience was running thin. She has had enough.
“Hold ‘im!” She urged the sailor, nudging her chin pointedly at Mute's arm that she kept holding onto. She was not gonna have him lose the only anchor he had. Her. So when replaced she dislodged the axe from its comfortable place on her hip for one and one purpose only. The arch she cut with the weapon it as she drove it back was magnificent...she was believed. Yet, she was not going to swing it with the sharp edge. Oh no. This was her ship in question! She wasn't going to damage that jewel by her own hand. So through the motion, she swung the big boy to a slam-a-lam with the slightly wider, blunt edge. The mightiness of the strike mustered every single one of her muscles into action, lining and tensing them over her bones with a grace that these bastards were so lacking.
Whether with a war cry, or a grunt of effort, it was not hard to land that attack on an almost still target.
“We’s being boarded!” Someone shouted on the ship. Whatever it was that helped Mute escape, whether Em’s blow or the shelletons weltering will to keep going, the Biqaj woman would have noticed it only from the corner of her eye as she darted her gaze to starboard. Mute was a big boy...in every sense of the word...with a toothpick in his hands that he seemed to know how to use - aim and poke. He didn’t need a babysitter, nor did Em have the brain space to be one.
“Keep rest off! Keep ‘em off!” Emerit shouted, making the cross over the deck hastily to face the daring enemies, hoping that someone would join her in this fight. Alas, standing it alone did not deter her either from the first rooting of her feet on the rocky boat and the square facing towards the threat.
“Smack ‘em till they down…” The woman then urged in less of a shout and more of a grinned command of a fighter eager to start. The Biqaj was not violent by nature, anything but. Yet, excitement brought many things out of many people.
For now, she had no clue how to subdue these bastards but there had to be a way. They would find it, she was sure. How soon? Well, that was a question for the gods.
But now. She was sure as heck gonna free her friend, do some proper ass whooping of these deadlies and take home her prize. Or make her prize a home. Whichever way this was supposed to work. She was gonna emerge victorious and Idalos freeze twice over if songs wouldn't get sung about her bravery.
However, seeing that the blasted skeleton was determined to not lose this fight, Emerit's patience was running thin. She has had enough.
“Hold ‘im!” She urged the sailor, nudging her chin pointedly at Mute's arm that she kept holding onto. She was not gonna have him lose the only anchor he had. Her. So when replaced she dislodged the axe from its comfortable place on her hip for one and one purpose only. The arch she cut with the weapon it as she drove it back was magnificent...she was believed. Yet, she was not going to swing it with the sharp edge. Oh no. This was her ship in question! She wasn't going to damage that jewel by her own hand. So through the motion, she swung the big boy to a slam-a-lam with the slightly wider, blunt edge. The mightiness of the strike mustered every single one of her muscles into action, lining and tensing them over her bones with a grace that these bastards were so lacking.
Whether with a war cry, or a grunt of effort, it was not hard to land that attack on an almost still target.
“We’s being boarded!” Someone shouted on the ship. Whatever it was that helped Mute escape, whether Em’s blow or the shelletons weltering will to keep going, the Biqaj woman would have noticed it only from the corner of her eye as she darted her gaze to starboard. Mute was a big boy...in every sense of the word...with a toothpick in his hands that he seemed to know how to use - aim and poke. He didn’t need a babysitter, nor did Em have the brain space to be one.
“Keep rest off! Keep ‘em off!” Emerit shouted, making the cross over the deck hastily to face the daring enemies, hoping that someone would join her in this fight. Alas, standing it alone did not deter her either from the first rooting of her feet on the rocky boat and the square facing towards the threat.
“Smack ‘em till they down…” The woman then urged in less of a shout and more of a grinned command of a fighter eager to start. The Biqaj was not violent by nature, anything but. Yet, excitement brought many things out of many people.
For now, she had no clue how to subdue these bastards but there had to be a way. They would find it, she was sure. How soon? Well, that was a question for the gods.
Off Topic
"swung the big boy to a slam-a-lam" - credit for that phrase goes to Astronomy
