As Darius leapt, everything around him seemed to slow down.
The stormy wind that assaulted the ship moved no less forcefully, but he could pinpoint each individual ripple of air as it pressed itself against shirt and sail alike.
The waves which crashed onto the deck became individual droplets, hurling themselves at the Libertalia until they were dashed against the wooden surface and were able to cause harm no more.
Beside him, the flames of his longsword licked at the cold air and sought out their target, the steel beneath eager to feel warm blood run down its sharp length.
Darius himself could almost taste combat. He inhaled sharply between gritted teeth as his opponent, momentarily frozen in place, seemed ripe for the picking.
The Scalvorian landed on the deck half a trill before his blade met Garen. His strike was powerful, just as he'd intended it to be, and he flexed his muscles as the steel met resistance from bone and cartilage. He leant on the blade and watched Garen's eyes widening in shock...
...and it tasted delicious.
Darius' growing grin was met by Garen's glare, and then a swirling wind surrounded them both. The Scalvorian lunged at his opponent, but he could not see him clearly, and the strike was dodged. The bearded blond, his blade dripping with the man's blood, went to pursue, but something made him pause for the tiniest of moments.
A brief glance across the deck made him hesitate. The crew were still valiantly fighting their non-existent enemies, and Darius knew they would eventually prevail. The sailor he had given his longsword to had freed another, and together they would be able to free more.
But when he caught sight of the wounds, he felt as though the air had been punched out of his lungs. It was not merely that the sailors were injured - blood was not an uncommon sight during sea journeys - but that their wounds were caused by his own hand.
He could pursue Garen. He was confident that he could catch him and run him through. But at what cost? Would his crew have to die for that to happen? And could Darius sacrifice them to do so?
That thought fuelled his anger, and the taste in his mouth turned sour. He began to swing his blade furiously at the tendril that held those three sailors captive.
"Cut this one!" he yelled amidst the howling windInner Voice ability., ostensibly to the other sailors who had already been set free. "Cut this one!"
In the hope that the tendril might break, either due to Katara's flaming blade, or at the hands of the freed sailors, he began to pursue Garen. As he did, he realised that the moment had probably passed him by, and his chances of catching the interloper were likely slipping away.
If he was able to catch up to Garen, and the tendril was broken, he would strike again. If the tendril remained intact, he would attempt to engage Garen in combat to delay him, without going in for the kill. And if he was unable to catch up to Garen, he would scream into the storm, cursing Chrien's name before rushing to the aid of the wounded sailors.
The stormy wind that assaulted the ship moved no less forcefully, but he could pinpoint each individual ripple of air as it pressed itself against shirt and sail alike.
The waves which crashed onto the deck became individual droplets, hurling themselves at the Libertalia until they were dashed against the wooden surface and were able to cause harm no more.
Beside him, the flames of his longsword licked at the cold air and sought out their target, the steel beneath eager to feel warm blood run down its sharp length.
Darius himself could almost taste combat. He inhaled sharply between gritted teeth as his opponent, momentarily frozen in place, seemed ripe for the picking.
The Scalvorian landed on the deck half a trill before his blade met Garen. His strike was powerful, just as he'd intended it to be, and he flexed his muscles as the steel met resistance from bone and cartilage. He leant on the blade and watched Garen's eyes widening in shock...
...and it tasted delicious.
Darius' growing grin was met by Garen's glare, and then a swirling wind surrounded them both. The Scalvorian lunged at his opponent, but he could not see him clearly, and the strike was dodged. The bearded blond, his blade dripping with the man's blood, went to pursue, but something made him pause for the tiniest of moments.
A brief glance across the deck made him hesitate. The crew were still valiantly fighting their non-existent enemies, and Darius knew they would eventually prevail. The sailor he had given his longsword to had freed another, and together they would be able to free more.
But when he caught sight of the wounds, he felt as though the air had been punched out of his lungs. It was not merely that the sailors were injured - blood was not an uncommon sight during sea journeys - but that their wounds were caused by his own hand.
He could pursue Garen. He was confident that he could catch him and run him through. But at what cost? Would his crew have to die for that to happen? And could Darius sacrifice them to do so?
That thought fuelled his anger, and the taste in his mouth turned sour. He began to swing his blade furiously at the tendril that held those three sailors captive.
"Cut this one!" he yelled amidst the howling windInner Voice ability., ostensibly to the other sailors who had already been set free. "Cut this one!"
In the hope that the tendril might break, either due to Katara's flaming blade, or at the hands of the freed sailors, he began to pursue Garen. As he did, he realised that the moment had probably passed him by, and his chances of catching the interloper were likely slipping away.
If he was able to catch up to Garen, and the tendril was broken, he would strike again. If the tendril remained intact, he would attempt to engage Garen in combat to delay him, without going in for the kill. And if he was unable to catch up to Garen, he would scream into the storm, cursing Chrien's name before rushing to the aid of the wounded sailors.
OOC
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