• Mature • Show Me What Ya Got (Maxine)

[Kasoria]

37th of Vhalar, 722
Orm'del Sea
Afternoon

"Fuck're those?"

"Vaul, do I fuckin' know?"

"Well yer the only one of us been across the fuckin' sea before. Thought yeh might know."

"... looks like a fish."

Both men studied the creatures leaping from the sea ahead of the prow of Sweet Annie. They did look like fish. Flippers, tail, fins... but they couldn't see any scales on them. And their mouths were more like beaks than the rubbery lips they both knew fish possessed. Moreover, these things had been following them for a trial, capering and chattering, playing with wat Kasoria assumed was a leviathan cousin of theirs, made of strange dry land flesh and incapable of diving. Ah, yes, that was something else. They chattered. Like tropical birds.

"I dun' fink that's a fish, Kas."

"Aye, probably right. Fuck it. Lossa' weird shite inna world, mate. Dun' claim to 'ave seen it all."

Clashing and an oath to make a whore blush turned their heads back to the deck. Belial was getting frustrated. Drenched in sweat, even stripped down to his his breeches and boots, he circled Miki with a scowl writ large across his face. The bigger man didn't have so much as bead on him. As Belial circled, Miki kept time. Heater shield up and forward, sword back and cocked, ready to counter. Kasoria snorted softly to himself. Of all the gangers he knew, only Mikiros had even bothered with a shield. Everyone else was always sword, sword, and dagger, sword and hatchet, hatchet and dagger, two daggers, two hatchets... but no shields. What would be the point, after all? In the claustrophobic nature of Etzori gang warfare, not to mention the tight-pressed layout of their city, a big wide piece of wood would just get in the way. Slow you down, limit your view, and take up a useful hand.

But Miki made it work. Clever sod.

"Gettin'... tired yet?"

Miki smiled and gave a shrug that radiated sarcasm. Teeth bared, Belial came in again, lunging-

-rather artlessly, given his lack of a leg-

CRACK

-sword slamming into the shield, and a moment after it did, Miki's came thrusting back in retaliation-

CRACK

-wooden tip catching Belial low in the abdomen. Vaul winced and hissed. Fucking Fates, that would make for an interesting piss later on...

Belial went staggering back, managing to stay on his feet and keep his guard up... but Miki was not merciful. Target now exposed and weakened, he came on in a great clumping, tramping rush, surging forward with his heater leading the way-

-blocking another desperate lung, a slash, Belial unable to get around it-

-bastard sword swooping down from under it, aiming for the archer's leg-

TOK

Wood striking wood. They weren't using real blades and Kasoria didn't want any damage done to his men, but that didn't mean it wouldn't hurt... or in this case, not. Eyes narrowing just a touch, the leader of the Etzori security squad crossed his arms. Watched Belial's face and saw... nothing, save anger. No pain, for there was no flesh to be damaged there. Instead his free hand reached up, grabbed the edge of the heater shield and yanked it down-

-pulling Miki off-balance for a second, sword coming back up-

Too slow. Belial's was already thrusting up and down, over the top of the heater-

-crashing into Miki's breastbone. Now it was the big man's turn to stagger, only not nearly as far. Miki was almost as inured to pain as Kasoria was; more annoyance registered on his scarred face than agony. Another two steps, and he was back on guard... and now it was Belial's time to smile.

"We still takin' bets?"

Raand spat a stream of baccy juice over the side, snorting when it happened to hit the shining flank of a... whatever they were. "Got ten on Miki. Big man'll outlast 'im."

"I'll take the bet, but five. I ain't a rich man."

"Oh aye?" Kasoria said with a raised eyebrow. "Burned through all dat coin I tossed yeh already?"

"Money saved might as well be money spent, Kas. Youse know dat. Spent what I needed to, squared me, debts, the rest went into-"

"Hold up!"

Kasoria's snapped command bought their eyes back to the spar. Belial was wobbly on his feet, but not due to his leg. He'd had going on a decade to get used to his wooden foot, and in truth, it didn't bother him that much. Better just that than his knee, or his whole leg. He retained a lot of his agility... just not all of it. So he had to learn to make do. Miki's problem was dealing with fast little sods who always got under his eyes... which was everyone, really. But he learned, and learned fast. No-one every expected that from the big stupid bloke.

Belial thrust low, at his legs, and the shield came crashing down to the deck, blocking it-

-but it was a feint, a way for Belial to repeat his trick from a moment ago, getting the shield to lower to he could thrust up over the-

Repetition. Never a good idea, lad.

With a tight grin of victory, Mikiros jerked the shield back up as the sword thrust. Tucking his head into his chest and bursting a step forward as he did. Belial yelped as the iron-ribbed edge of the heater smashed into his wrist and knocked the sword from his grasp-

-sound cut short as the rest of the shield slammed into his chest, with all three-fifty pounds of Miki behind it. The archer went sprawling back, rolling and grunting until he finally his the railing at the edge of the deck. By the time he'd rolled over, eyes groggy, Miki was standing over him, sword leveled... one eyebrow cocked in a question.

"Yeah... I yield... and if I had my bow, I'd fuckin' plant you, little man."

"Aye, but you won't always, will you?" Kasoria's raised voice got the archer to turn around. Raand and Vaul flanked him, their own weapons filling their hands. They were up next. Winner was to fight Miki. And the winner of that, would fight Kasoria. "Can't jus' rely on the one thing, Belly."

"yu di wew."

"Thank yeh, Miki. Next time don't try to crush my fucking ribs."

Miki chuckled, sound like a rockfall into a mountain lake, and shrugged as if to say "no promises". The two men walked over to the edge of the deck and started hunting for water, food, and maybe some ale or baccy about. Sailors, after all, were partial to such things. Kasoria swept a look across the deck of Sweet Annie. A tall-masted brig, she was hardly the grandest vessel Etzos knew, but she was swift, and well-appointed for a diplomatic journey. A dozen sailors manned her, crawling up rigging, manning the wheel and the sails, always under the watchful eye of Captain Leoten. The man himself caught Kasoria's gaze and he nodded brusquely.

Aye. Do your job and I'll do mine. Fair enough for me.

Then a new figure showed up on deck. Lurching up from below like a pasty left out in the sun. The rest of The Band did that... pause, when they saw her. Of them, but now on of them. With them, but always outside the loop. Kasoria saw yet another chance to help fix that.

"Dun' plant yer arse anywhere, monster!" He called out, stealing the name The Band had given for her after the brutality she'd unleashed on Merry a few arcs before. "Sparrin' time. An' youse're up."

Raand and Vaul had the good sense to look nervous.

"No magic, right?"

"Nope. Like I said, can't rely on it. Steel an' flesh, aye, yeh can."

Their expressions changed right away. From trepidation to relish, as they turned back to Maxine.

"Ah, well in dat case... which one of us yeh want, sweetie?"

Behind them, but clear to Maxine's eyes, Kasoria winced and turned away.

Fuck me. Not a good idea, Vaul.

[Max]

It had felt like ages but she was finally feeling like herself again.

The violence of withdrawals was behind her now. Color had come back to a face that was once pallor. Her fever had broken and meals could be enjoyed rather than suffered. Daily rum was welcomed rather than shied from, and the natural rocking of the ship on the ocean felt less precarious on her body. When the sun hit her face when she exited the innards of the brigantine she actually dared to smile.

Or maybe she just heard the sounds of violence above deck.

The Rusalka caught the tail end of Belial's whooping. Judging by the way Miki had the man sprawling beneath him, disarmed and dazed, it had been a decisive victory. Max only regretted she hadn't arrived sooner to bet on the exercise. Miki would've been the clear favorite for stature alone. As much as Maxine liked to think size didn't matter so much, it certainly and very measurably helped in a fight. The Mute was surprisingly athletic for his build, too. She made a note of that. Belial's insistence over his superiority with a bow didn't go unnoticed either.

Look at you already. They're supposed to be your allies, and you're noting their weaknesses like you plan on exploiting them later.

Max watched Belial rise to his feet. He was nimble despite his amputation but she could still tell with ease which foot was made of something to splinter.

Old habits die hard.

"Think this weather will hold?" Max asked Captain Leoten as she leaned along a rail surrounding the quarterdeck.

"Eh," he entertained her as he steadied the wheel, shrugging. "Wind is steady. Clouds are mild. I think we've got at least a few good breaks."

"Bad luck for you. A little downpour would clean these mutts off your deck."

"Hmph."

Captain Leoten wasn't much for conversation. He was focused and pragmatic, and he handled his ship and crew with a precision that only came with attention to detail and experience. He didn't care to entertain the sellsword mongrels that crowded his space. He was paid to service the needs of the Etzori delegates, just as they were, and nothing more. He did this duty with a business-like professionalism.

Max imagined he was as indifferent to her as anyone else he was commissioned to sail around Idalos. When she was in the thick of it, sprinting upstairs to lurch over the side of his rails, he seemed to at least appreciate the lack of vomit painted on his deck. It had won her casual, quickly passing but friendly exchanges with the man. Somehow that was still more than her own allies.

Max was peering over the heads of The Band to admire the sloshing water Sweet Annie was carving toward the horizon when she heard her new nickname ring out. She exhaled an amused breath through her nostrils and rolled her eyes toward the Old Man. Of course he noticed she was barely back with the living and wanted to toss her back to the wolves. Her body had just taken a beating from the inside. Now he was ushering her toward another one.

This'll be brilliant.

The Rusalka peeled herself off the railing and sauntered down the short length of steps to the main deck. Kasoria's smugness radiated off him like heat from the sun. She caught the exchange about the rules of this bout and pursed her lips. Max had never relied on Chrien's gifts, but the boons had been a devastating addition to her martial skillset. She rocked her head from one side to the other and then rolled her shoulders. If Kasoria wanted proof she could operate without them he would have it.

The assurance of a playing field more tipped back to their favor had a ravenous effect on The Band. Reservations dimmed into rabid willingness to participate. Max raised a brow at Vaul in particular when he asked who she wished to spar. Her even expression broke into a deliberately coy smirk. She locked eyes on him and her hands wandered to her belt, leisurely tugging the strap out of the belt loop, freeing it from the prong and frame of the buckle, and letting it fall from her hips into the grip of her one hand. With a whistle she tossed the weapon belt and all its tools behind her at the base of a mast.

"So many fine suitors," Max teased. "How ever will I pick?" The faux hesitation lasted hardly even a moment after she spoke the words dripping with sarcasm. Her emptied hands extended toward Vaul and Raand. Fingers curled with a come-hither challenge. "Why not both?"

"Ah, dat's not fair," Vaul grinned broadly. "Much as a tag-team's any man's dream...ain't it right, Belial?"

"Don't be draggin' me into it," the marksman shook his head and waved his hands dismissively in front of him. "Uh-uh."

"Scared o' the wee monster?" Raand jested with dancing eyes.

"Naw," Belial corrected. "I already got my licks to-trial. Keep it up though. I'll splinter something up your arse."

"What is this?" Max turned to Kasoria while The Band bickered. "A peanut gallery?" She took a few more steps to put herself squarely in their makeshift sparring space. Her eyes darted from Raand to Vaul. "Do you two accept or not?"

"Aye," Vaul chuckled. "I accept."

"Been waitin' on this a li'l while now," Raand confessed in agreement.

"Good," Satisfied, Max grinned in kind. "Keep your weapons."

Vaul and Raand looked to Kasoria, fighting laughs and patronizing mutters at the ridiculousness of her requests. The wooden swords came out nonetheless. Their walks were leisurely and sure, but they triangulated her with a swiftness that reminded her that they had fought as partners many times before. She sniffed at that and settled into a defensive posture. The first attack came in with the grace of a performance. Vaul's horizontal hack predictably sent Max moving toward Raand's expertly delayed thrust. Max slipped the forward stab, caught the wrist, and tugged the man in to eat an elbow straight into the solar plexus.

Belial offered a bark of a laugh as Raand coughed his defiance, slipping free and just missing Max with a desperate hack. Her quick response froze Vaul for a moment before he thought to pursue her to give Raand reprieve. Max didn't press yet. Instead she created space and allowed the two men to regroup and readjust in light of the surprise. It was just starting but her body didn't give much argument yet. In fact, it eagerly ate up the rush of dopamine the thrill of the event offered it.

Miki's hulking frame loomed beside the Old Man. He snapped his fingers to win Kasoria's attention, smiling wide before reaching into his pocket. His bear paw sized hands retrieved a single coin. He gestured toward the three sparrers, then toward the Old Man's pockets.

"I gotta say," Belial crossed his arms with a gaze trained like a fighting pit scout. "Even after what she did to Merry, I'll be surprised if she can keep this up after spilling her guts for that many trials..."

[Kasoria]

"Five onna girl."

"Did you not hear what I just said?!"

"Yeh don't know the girl. An' puttin' down Merry was hardly a fuckin' challenge." The leader of The Band took a healthy guzzle from a nearby flagon, oddly grateful it had water sloshing about instead of rum. "She's a mean little shite, fer true, but she ain't let her lessons rust."

Miki was in no mood to argue, unlike Belial. He just grinned and placed his own coins on the barrel between him and Kasoria, quietly (well, silently) congratulating himself on an easy win. He'd seen Raand and Vaul fight before, separate and together. Broad as he was, Raand could move fast and smooth, especially when he filled his off hand with a dirk, like he was now. Shorter, thinner, that didn't make Vaul any less dangerous. He'd forgone training swords for a couple of ax handles instead, roughly imitating his usual style of hatchet-and-mace. Cleaving and blunt force.

They're feeling her out, and learning she'd not stupid, or slow. But if she toys with them forever, she'll learn how fast they adapt.

"Sound mighty confident, Kas."

The Raggedy Man, the Highmark, Kas, whoever and however they knew him as, leaned against the rail with his arms crossed. Never once taking his mind off the three-way brawl he knew was about to tear apart the deck.

"Should be. I trained 'er."

Miki's smile fell. Kasoria snuck him a glance, and grinned.

"Forget to mention that, did I?"

"ur a wunker, kash."

Raand and Vaul didn't risk snapping a glance over at the laughter from the edge of their little sparring pit. Wee Monster wasn't slow, nor stupid, nor untrained. She'd slid over those decks like water, seeing the hack and thrust before their shoulders had even started moving. Raand's chest already pulsed with pain. Vaul was looking even more pensive, knowing that it could just as easily been him. The two of them circled for a few more trills... and then-

"Switch."

- changed up, putting themselves on different sides of her and just as Maxine could register the change-

-Raand came in with a low growl, bear-like form moving swift, lunging with his sword thrusting and his dirk held close and ready for a follow-up-

-Vaul kept on moving, not waiting for Maxine to dodge away towards him like Raand had earlier. She was too savvy for that, obviously. No, he kept flanking her, letting Raand draw her eye until he was away and out of her eyesight. He knew she wouldn't forget him, but maybe he'd be in her blindside long enough to close the distance-

-wooden "hatchet" lashing out to take her leg out, hopefully dropping her to one knee. If not, if she dodged or blocked, his "mace" would be ready for a counter... and Raand would still, hopefully, be in the game for whatever happened next.

That's a lot of hope you're relying on, old boy.

Away from the three, just as they closed in on the girl, Kasoria smiled as if he could read their minds. There'd been enough isolation from her. Enough moping and whining and acting like she was better, even if she didn't intend that. They had to be a team, a unit, and even her loyalty to him wasn't enough. They had to accept her, if not like her. Best way to do that? Either have her beat them, or beat her. Afterwards, well... at least they'd be united in pain.

[Max]

Maxine fought the smirk that twitched at her lips. She saw how they underestimated her but how could they have not? They'd watched her quiver with fever, starve, and tremble through misery for trials. Only couple mornings ago could she wander the length of the deck without needing something to lean on, or curling over where she stood. Now her feet were back under her and athleticism had returned. She watched their glanced between each other, communicating a new cadence to their dance with eyes alone.

Mixing it up, boys?

The call to switch rang out and the men exchanged positions, closing distance with stern expression and weapons loaded. This time when the sword came for her center she didn't hunt to place herself outside it. Her feet shuffled back just out of range, keeping what remained of her reactionary gap and keen on the dirk waiting for her if she had. Vaul used the moment to circle her. Her skin crawled at the notion, and her muscles tensed with anticipated urgency when her left her peripheral vision altogether.

She pivoted her foot back to place both men on her flanks, a short improvement from letting Vaul sit in her blindspot, and the axe handle smashed against the deck when his reaping swing came up empty. Her eyes widened some at the understanding of the closeness of his clever strategy to finding purchase. Vaul followed up with the mace and Raand hoped to pin her in place with another sword thrust. Max chose the horizon mace swing, lowering her center and weaving close enough that her foot planted against the side of his ribs before the axe handle was loaded for another strike.

Vaul grunted as his back struck the side of the ship, knees bent under him and ribs aching at the surprising snap of her kick. The Rusalka didn't remain to admire her work this time. She already turned to Raand, who was hacking for her with continuous swings in hopes he could break her rhythm by forcing her to react to his offense. Her feet scrambled under her, backing away, circling to keep away from the wooden threat. His fourth swing he put speed on it, and when it passed her she rocked forward from her heels and sent the webbing of her opened hand sharply into his throat.

Raand wheezed at the unorthodox choice, dirk hunting her. Her leg cracked behind his knee and reaped his structure out from under him. He landed flatly on the deck, grimacing and coughing while his windpipe assured him she'd done no true damage. Maxine stapled the man's sword arm to the wooden floor with her grinding shin and pinned the wrist holding the dirk near his head. Now there was no hiding the smugness on her face. Her other hand cocked back to begin the process of sealing her decisive victory over him.

The axe handle cracked against her back.

"Really?" Maxine groaned irritably.

The wooden handle clattered to the ground noisily at her heels. Vaul straightened up from where he'd landed across the deck against the railing, sheepishly grinning his response but offering no apology. The Rusalka released her grip on Raand's wrist and removed her sharp shin from the meat of his arm. The man's face flushed but he didn't berate her despite the flurry of insults and curses plain in his eyes. He sat up and got to righting himself. He rubbed his arm against his chest to stimulate blood flow and rid to sensation of annoying numbness.

"Yer welcome, Raand," Vaul gloated. He moseyed over with a whistle, ducking and chuckling when Maxine whipped the axe handle he'd thrown at her right back at him. "What? No one said nothin' 'bout throwin'!"

"That was cheap as fuck and you know it."

"Aw, dun be a poor spor'! Ain't Kas teach ya? Win's a win, dun matter how."

"If you wanted to fight dirty, Vaul, just say so!" She crossed her arms. "I could've blackened both your eyes, the both of you know it."

Vaul adjusted his jaw at that. She was close enough to Raand that she could've blasted her elbow into the man's face, no doubt busting his eye wide open or breaking his nose. It would've been the smarter, tactical choice, but also a poor look as guards for a delegation. They all knew it. Instead she'd chosen to very temporarily incapacitate rather than actually harm them. There was no narcotics she'd sniffed out aboard this vessel yet. Her choices here, under some pressure, was the best she could offer as evidence that she had the ability to show restraint.

"Whatever, man," Max rolled her eyes. She put her hands on her hips, chest rising and falling as her body recovered from the fray. Her light brown eyes found Kasoria. "I thought I heard you fight winner anyways."

[Kasoria]

"Fuck's sake."

"Heh heh heh..."

For a man who made do without a tongue, an eye, and the ability to speak, Miki could be pretty damn smug when he wanted to be. The man was living proof that one didn't need a vast vocabulary to make clear his emotions. He swiped the little pile of coins from the deck with one sweep of his paw, jangled them happily, even giving a theatrical sigh just before pocketing them. Kasoria made a non-verbal gesture of his own about what he could shove them.

"Tut-tut."

"Aye, laugh it up, ya prick."

The Old Man didn't take his eyes off the spar. She was going easy on them; her more than they, he was sure. She could have gone for a crippling blow a half-dozen times, by his reckoning, but kept it... clean. He couldn't figure why, aside from maybe not wanting to gain anymore ire from them. That thought died quick in his head: since when had Maxine cared about what people thought about her?

Aye, well she needs to.

One eye twitched when he saw Vaul's "hatchet" smash into her back. She hadn't given the man his due, and assumed he'd stay down. That or thought he wouldn't be so cheap as to strike her from behind. That made Kasoria chuckle. Spar or not, this was meant to be a facsimile of a fight, and the Irregulars fought only one way. The clue was in the name. She seemed to think that meant force. It didn't. They knew force, and were as hardened against it as she. No, it was more about a lack of regard for the rules, the conventions, the expectations of your enemy. Once you surpassed those, you were in a realm your opponent literally could not conceive and that gave you all the advantage.

"A win's a win, an' that dun' change jus' cuz we're sparrin'," he said eventually, like the ringmaster in some fighting pit. "An' I've seen Vaul plant his hatchet through a man's spine at twenty paces."

"Thirty, when I've got a few ales in me."

Raand got himself up with a splutter and a growl, still spitting out curses. But when he was upright and towering over her, there was a difference in his gaze. Still that wary, distrusting scowl... but a change in his jaw, maybe. A look of somewhere close to respect. He nodded down and managed to grunt out, "Nice move. An' thank yeh fer goin' easy." He grinned, showing the gaps in his teeth. "Gotta stay pretty fer the nobs, aye?"

Kasoria hid a brief smile behind his hand at the ripple of laughter that passed across the deck. Common ground. No matter what or where or how long it was stable, they needed that now. She couldn't play the outsider with them; they'd shut her out and leave her hanging when it mattered. This was progress. Before one or both or all three of them could fuck it up (even odds, let's be honest), Kasoria slapped Miki on the shoulder.

"Winner fights the last winner. That'd be Miki." The Old Man smiled tightly. Not a grin. Not a smirk. Something cold and controlled and with an edge of hunger to it. "Who wins that'n, fights me. Unless Belial wants to-"

"No I bloody do not."

"-an' there we go. Miki?"

Still half-smirking over his win, Mikiros picked up his heater shield and the longer, thicker pole he'd been using for sparring. The regular handles and staves they'd been using simply weren't big enough for him. They'd had to find a spare oar and saw a length off. With a roll of his shoulders and a spit to the side, the big man moved across the deck. Not lumbering. Not stalking. Advancing. Movements economical and precise. Heater shield up and wooded sword raised...

He caught Maxine's eye and waggled it, cocking a questioning eyebrow. Going barehanded against those two was one thing; doing so against a man with a shield was something else. Kasoria folded his arms and kept smiling. That was Mikiros: ever the sportsman. But that wouldn't last long, and if Maxine decided against arming herself, the big man had no problem going at her anyway.

"Slick wee shite, I'll give yeh that," Raand said, he and Vaul moving over to flank their commander. "Think I recognized one a' yours."

"Throat thing?"

Raand nodded to Vaul around Kasoria. "Aye, that'n."

"Takin' bets?"

The three men pondered Belial's question and finally shook their heads. Eyes still glued to the deck. With bear-like Mikiros circling Maxine, eyes sharper than one would expect from someone his size. Kasoria had seen what happened to men who underestimated the brain under all that brawn. But he couldn't warn the girl. She had to stand on her own.

After a few trills of circling, unarmed or not, Mikiros made his move, burst forwards, sword raised-

-only to swing his shield low instead, using the edge of the thing to try and sweep Maxine's legs from under her while her eyes were on the sword-

She'll see that coming. Jump or dodge... or maybe she's learned something new?

[Max]

It was all she could do not to visibly fume. As much as Maxine cared about nothing at all, and gave a whopping effort of zero when it came to building rapport with this new cadre, she was naturally competitive. She could think Vaul's victory was bullshit all she wanted. It didn't change the fact that he won and she lost. That was the only thing that mattered. The Rusalka knew she'd get a crack at him another time. For now she'd have to trust in Kasoria to ultimately wipe the smirk off his face this trial.

Maxine was getting ready to trudge back to the sidelines when the Old Man summoned her for another bonding brawl exercise. It wasn't enough that she'd called out two of his men. No. Now he wanted her to fight his behemoth with no neck. She frowned while Miki boomed a laugh at her expression, a sound that vibrated in her chest his voice was so deep. She blew a raspberry at the sight of the giant donning his heater shield and pole-like sword wrapped in his massive paw.

"Best uh luck ta' ya," Vaul snickered as he moved toward where Raand, Kasoria, and Belial stood to spectate.
"Uh huh," Max responded with a sigh and a roll of her shoulders. "Luck's about all I've got left..."
"Just in case it ain't," Belial piped up and then whistled at her. Max turned her head in time to catch the wooden short sword he tossed at her. He shrugged with a knowing shake of his head. "And a word of warning? That shield bloody hurts."
"I saw that."

Miki didn't wait for the commiserating to end before he turned from a lumbering beast to an bearish predator. Maxine noted the shift and played with the practice sword she wielded now, giving it a twirl to get a sense for its weight and handling. She tutted at it. It wasn't quite her gladius or Ned's, but it would have to do. Her sharp eyes moved to her new opponent. With a raise of a shield and baring of a sword, she found most of her large target vanished behind intelligent defenses.

This'll be a treat.

For a moment or two the fighters stalked each other on the ship deck, feeling each other out and hunting for weaknesses. Mikiros didn't wait for the smaller, likely quicker of the two of them to make the first move and control the pace. He burst forward with a feint but the lowering of his shoulder cued her to his true intention. She took a deep step outside his offenses to his shield side while the heater scraped low through the space she used to occupy. The moment her foot hit the deck, she turned the corner to sink her teeth into the advantageous angle she created on her opponent. Before he could pivot and raise his shield, she was over the top of his guard and scraping the edge of her wooden sword into his chest.

Vaul gave a whistle of appreciation where he rested with his "axe" on his shoulder. Belial pulled a celebratory fist in toward his center, no doubt enjoying something of a vengeance sown for him after his painful loss to the man. Raand crossed his arms and peered toward Kasoria before quickly directing his eyes back to the sparring pair. Based on the man's face and the nonsensical sounds coming from him, Maxine guessed Mikiros was doing his best to curse his misfortune.

"Nah," Max waved her free hand at the man. He raised a brow and patted the spot she'd struck him with his hand inside the strap of the shield. She brushed it off. "Flesh wound, right?" She brought her sword before her in a guard and Miki smiled broadly. He nodded, chuckling in that funny way that he did, and obliged her.

What she'd offered was a second chance, not a mercy, so once his sword and shield was up again she elected to take the offensive this time. She raced toward Miki, staggering her steps so that his eyes seemed to dart back and forth in front of him as he followed her movements. The swing of her sword landed sharply on the face of his shield. She exited before the pole could lance her, circling out and re-entering by the time he had squared to her again. She grit her teeth when her short wooden sword clacked against his massive oar, bones rattling inside her flesh in a way that forced her to exit the fray again as swiftly as she'd entered.

The Rusalka could feel her body growing tired and weak in places she didn't expect. Resilient as she was, her body was not above what it needed in the ways of nutrition. She sucked in some air and controlled her breathing, grinning at Miki as she paced just out of his reach. He grinned in return and slapped at his shield with his sword. It was enough of an invitation for her.

This time when she rushed him he was ready. He timed her pattern, and his sword was loaded to answer her advance. He pushed it out into the space he cleverly predicted her to be, and he would've been right had she stayed upright. Just as his elbow began to extend she dropped and let her momentum carry her on a short, risky slide beneath his thrust. He grunted as the squared edge of her sword slapped against his shin. She scrambled to her feet, ripping a back swing to smash against his rib cage. Miki turned with a scowl. She darted out of range again, narrowly missing the shield bash she rightfully deserved. A large smile painted her face. Such a perilous tactic would've never worked on the likes of Raand, Vaul, Kasoria, or Belial. With his size and large weaponry, he was just barely behind.

Miki tossed the heater shield toward the sidelines with inaudible muttering. He loaded the sword on his shoulder, brow furrowed. No doubt his mind was trying to sort how he'd let a scrawny little addict girl, especially one he'd watched vomit and shake for trials, outwork him. He snapped his fingers a few times. Max, sword hanging from her grip while the other hand cupped her hip, turned to give him her attention. His hand moved like it had a mind of its own, making all sorts of gestures that had her baffled until enough strung together made sense.

"That?" Max re-created the gesture she assumed was a level change, duck under, and strike to his shins and then back. Mikiros nodded. She shrugged and lifted her tired sword toward the Old Man. "Him.”

This time she didn't wait to be retired from training. She tossed the sword back to Belial as she passed the men and made straight for the railing. Her fingers wrapped around the familiar railing, and she braced herself on the barrier while her eyes squinted against the sun reflecting off the sea that surrounded the ship. Her body was beginning to fight her again. The unwellness she felt wasn't related to drugs this time. Not primarily at least. This was just exhaustion. There was no fuel in the tank to begin with, and she burned what fumes remained. It would pass.

"Well?" the Rusalka jested over her shoulder when she was sure black dots weren't going to overcome her vision. "Is someone finally going to challenge Number One? Or are you all just too content making me fight the gauntlet?"

[Kasoria]

Date

"Dun' you run the gauntlet?"

"See a lotta runnin' here, Bel?"

"Hmph. Fair enough..."

Raand had known Kasoria long enough to be concerned when the man smiled. Not afraid, gracious no. He wouldn't admit to that... at least not in strange company. But as long as he'd been acquainted with The Raggedy Man, that which stoked such pleasure from him was... well, what they were looking at now, only for real. And usually with him holding the blade. The joy of an enemy vanquished. The rush of a bloody melee. Fear. Yes, he could admit to that. The relishing of fear, of walking into a room and knowing your name, your face, and all the caravan of remembered horror they led could turn strong men into stuttering cowards.

The big, bald man frowned, as he saw the look on Kasoria's face this time. There was a smile. But there was no malicious edge to it. It was a smile he'd worn before, when his daughter still loved. A pride in the accomplishments of one close to them. Seeing lessons carefully imparted bearing fruit in the fluid movements of a student. A satisfaction that was worlds away from their dark and pitiless world.

A corner of Raand's mouth twitched. Well. Wonders never bloody cease.

"Really teach Monster all dat, Kas?"

"Aye," Kasoria said ruefully. "Back when I was capable. All that jumpin', slidin' shite, probably do me knees in, now."

"You are starting to look your age, Kas."

"Fuck off, Belly."

"I've told youse before, don't call me 'Belly'!"

"Ladies?" Raand's rumbling voice cut through the squabbling and he gestured curtly at Maxine. "Monster asked a question. Who's up?"

Kasoria gave a sigh that was theatrical enough to get a couple of people nervous. He only did that when he had some mischief in mind... and when this Kasoria plotting some chicanery, it usually meant something nasty. The Raggedy Man made a show of undoing his weapons belt as he spoke. Shadow Slayer, an oversized gladius with a story along with its new owner, clattered onto the barrel.

"Well, gotta confess, in alla' fun, I've fergot t'keep track. Silly me, eh?"

The dagger with the brass knuckle grip and the black scorpion laid into the handle. Then an actual, separate set of worn, cherished brass knuckledusters.

"I know Belly's out-" a silent, sullen finger was raised at him, and duly ignored "-an' so's Miki..."

The sheaths under both his arms, throwing knives nestling in each one. Tiny and shiny and honed to a killing, aerodynamic edge.

"So that'd be Vaul, since he won against Monster... an' then me on the winner, aye? Still. That dun seem fair."

Traitor's Claw. A black, curved karambit with a curse on it that caused agony to enemy and ally both. Now he was unburdened... as far as they knew. One could never be too sure with Kasoria. Thus prepared, he wandered onto the deck, into the rude sparring pit they'd created.

"She fought two at once. Did... pretty fair, I'd say." A shit-eating smile was sent Maxine's way, and chuckled at whatever reaction she gave it. "So that's what we'll do. Vaul. Monster. Both of yeh at once."

He waited. Let the words sink in. Let the new reality and the challenge assert itself. Waited just a little more for Vaul and Maxine to exchange a look that was not quite friendly, but seemed to accept what needed to be done. And once his black eyes had seen that-

"An' Mikiros."

The big man turned around. Raand stopped chewing his bread. Even a couple of swabbies stopped their duties and gawped at them. Kasoria allowed himself a small, tight smile. Felt his heart beat a trill faster and enjoyed the sensation. He needed this. Not the blood, not the roar of battle nor horror of death... but the challenge. This was where he tested his limits. Against men he knew were seasoned in all the sneaky, shitty ways to maim another he was... and a woman he'd taught personally, arcs before. The little man swept his gaze across the trio. Slowly turned on the spot as, almost unconsciously, they moved into position. A rough triad around him, already seeking to make a blind spot.

"One thing, though." He looked at each one as he spoke. "One of yeh goes down, an' stays down... yeh all lose." Now he looked dead at Maxine. "Yer a crew. A band. A squad. Not jus' warriors, but soldiers. Time t'fight like it."

With a jerk of his foot, he shoved his toes under the wooden gladius and flicked it up into his hand. Tossed it from left to right and back again to get the balance... then settled into a ready crouch. His free hand stretched out, fingers splayed, then tightened into a fist. The smile faded, but never really vanished... and what did not show on his lips, shone from his eyes, sure as a grin from Mikiros.

They need this. So do you. Make it good, old man.

"... when yer ready, lads."

[Max]

Well...this was painfully predictable.

The Old Man couldn't scoff and judge all trial long. He'd made the rules, and those rules dictated that he step into the ring like everyone else when a pecking order started to establish. It wasn't enough for him to participate. No. Kasoria made a show of his entrance, stripping each weapon his cadre knew had been seasoned with blood and gore over the arcs. He placed them down, one by one, before their eyes so each could remember his impressive repertoire like they could ever forget. It wasn't as though he lacked the skill to back up the intimidating display.

When he was down unsullying himself of sharps and bludgeons, he picked up the training sword and called out the new game. Maxine turned her back to the sea and leaned against the railing. She regarded him with a single raised brow. Of course two on one wasn't enough. He called out a third. As he spoke she shook her head. The corners of her mouth twitched. Was that...mirth that dared to color her expression now even briefly?

"No one likes a one-upper you know," Max reminded him with a tut. She pushed off her wall and strode back toward the miniature battlefield they carved out on the deck of the ship. She gave the weapon in her hand enough twirl, loosening her wrists, and tipping her head back and forth atop rolling shoulders.

The subtle exhales coming from beside her were sharp enough for her to guess it was Vaul cursing. She tipped her head toward her unwilling teammate and shrugged. Vaul flashed her a cocky beam and raising his axe. No doubt he was reminding her of the method he used to earn his victory over her. Miki lumbered with his strange, booming chuckle that brought some levity to what would soon be a grueling test.

"Lads?!" Vaul mocked with faux offense. "We have a lady here, dun we, Miki?" Mikiros nodded in reply, smiling and shrugging his shoulders. Vaul glanced toward Maxine and gesture with his axe toward the Old Man. "Ladies first, eh?"
"A gentleman," Max snorted her sarcasm. "Thought it was 'Monster'?"
"Meh. One an' da same, no?"
"Prick..."

Max locked eyes with Kasoria and found the anticipation radiating from his gaze. She would suggest it was just like old times, but she kind of hoped that wasn't the case. "Old Times" was a lot of Maxine learning through failure. Mostly, getting her ass absolutely kicked. The Rusalka was hoping for better odds this time but the child inside nearly blanched. She killed the alien hesitation with a reckless first step forward.

"Never straight on, Girl!"

She circled out, just out of his reach but clearly hunting for an angle on him. Maxine had no fantasies about tricking him thus far. As she continued to stalk like a wolf circling a bear, she was hunting for his blind side. Kasoria was going to have some decision to make in this challenge he concocted for himself. Re-orient toward her and give his back to her two allies, or find himself more squarely between all three of them. Advantages. Disadvantages.

"That's it! If yer gonna be smaller, ya better be smarter! Make 'im bloody think and react to yeh!"

Maxine lunged in, gladius slashing from the Old Man and fully expecting him to engage or vanish like a ghost. In any case she planned to pivot and take herself off the attacking plane as quickly as she entered his range. If Miki and Vaul had anything between their skulls, they'd be moving the moment they saw their teammate dare to take a piece of their fearless leader.

[Kasoria]

He was old enough to know there was nothing romantic in this. Poetry only came in the recollection. When the mind replayed the bloody blur of flesh and metal and crafted some... narrative out of the chaos. The posturing before and the sorrow or triumph following, that was nothing like the frantic clash of the event. He'd always disdained the notion, for it bled the skill from what it took to win. It was training, experience, and sheer will. Being able to calm your mind and process a dozen things happening in an instant, to you and around you, react to half and factor in the rest, then again, and again, until the fight was over.

This is not a story, or a game. Not in the moment.

Yet still, Kasoria could not keep the smile from his face as his opponents took their positions. He followed Max, facing her and turning until Vaul and Mikiros had faded from his vision... and he could hear the subtle sound of them at his left and right.

Triangle. Front, back left, back right. Make it impossible for your enemy not to have a blind spot.

Well done.

She didn't give him anymore time than that. Came in hard and low, gladius slashing for him. Before she moved, he knew it was a feint. She didn't lack courage, but he'd trained her better. She knew what he could do: she wouldn't risk everything on a single strike, not when she had back up. His gladius jerked up and the wooden weapons clacked together, but the sound was still echoing when she slid away from him. Body pivoting and spinning, young and lithe and more graceful than he could manage-

She won't. They will. Especially-

Vaul wasn't about to waste time with dueling, when he had a better, faster way. Kasoria's eyes snapped over his shoulder just as the wiry man's arm snapped back. He was turning when it whipped forward again, substitute hatchet rocketing out of him, headed to his back, just like it had with-

Miki lunged at the same time, coming in from his right, shield up, sword raised-

In that instant. Where so many things happened. You had to see it all, and think, and-

-his gladius slashed around as he pirouetted, smashing the hatchet out of the air as it hurtled towards him, knocking it off course and spinning behind him-

-using the momentum of the spin to drop low, under Miki's thrust for his chest. His legs and ankles and knees screamed under him with decades of strain. He ignored them all, and his own Sparks, begging to aid him. This was about skill at mundane arms alone. What had he told her before? You couldn't always rely on magic, or marks, or the Ether. Once all that was stripped, what did you have left? Only your wits, your muscle, and your training.

-leg spinning out to sweep Mikiros' ankles out from under him. His shield wasn't high enough to block him, big man not expecting Kasoria to drop so low so fast, let along retaliate in that same trill. The deck shook from port to stern as three hundred pounds of human and a dozen or so more in metal slammed onto their back. Vaul was still moving, though, closing in with his remaining hatchet and Kasoria ached to engage-

No. Don't forget-

Her.

Instead he half-slid, half-jumped across the deck, turning as he did. So he had both Vaul and Maxine in his vision. That was the game, when you faced more than one. A constant contest, between fixing attention and exploiting blind spots. They'd made a solid triangle, but now it was broken, missing one point, and the other two were in front of him.

Don't give them time. They won't give it to you.

With a roar he lunged towards them, gladius held high, but before he reached them-

-changed his path, seeing Mikiros start to rise, shield still held up... but not vertical-

-leaping towards him and using the surface of the shield as a platform, coming at them both from the side, aiming a flying kick at the closest... which happened to be Vaul. Dodge or connect, once he landed he'd bring his gladius back up and deal with Maxine.

The smile had not wavered.

[Max]

Maxine's breath caught and her advance halted when the thrown hatchet careened off Kasoria's sword, redirecting it behind him and toward her face. She leaned back on her heel. The weapon whipped by so close to her visage she felt its wind dance the hair out of her face. She blinked and then seethed, turning her attention back to the fight at hand. It was hard to tell if the change in the weapon's path was poor luck or by design. Kasoria and Vaul, she could've throttled the both of them.

The deck under her feet shook when Miki landed like ten sacks of flour on the deck. She heard the grunt pass from his lips, full hands preventing any hope of softening his impact with a breakfall. Discomfort wasn't the danger though. Landing on his back beneath Kasoria was. Maxine tilted forward at the same time Vaul recognized the peril of their teammate. It worked. The Old Man abandoned his vulnerable quarry and danced a distance away from the enclosing pair.

Mikiros frowned with a furrowed brow but made haste for his feet. Maxine and Vaul both slowed their advance, keeping a clever reactionary gap that permitted them a mere moment to spy the increased violence in their opponent's demeanor. It wasn't enough. Maxine was changing her angle again while Vaul's widening eyes were still picking up the stimulus. Poor Miki had barely earned his bearings before he was targeted again.

Or was he?

Kasoria sprung from the shield just as Vaul rushed for his back, presumably thinking he was about to assist the behemoth ward off another attack. The return was unexpected and the evidence laid in the kick that dropped Vaul on the spot. The man coughed his complaint through grit teeth and raised his defenses in a hurry. Max had already closed the distance. As soon as Kasoria raised his gladius, Maxine was swinging hers.

The slash was high, intended to draw the Old Man's eyes up and away from Vaul on the floor. It was deliberate and angled in hoped he couldn't merely duck beneath it and embarrass her as quickly as he used to. She committed to it. She had to. Because as soon as he recognized that her shin was snapping low to reap his near leg out from under him.

Vaul had rolled out of the way by then, curiously thankful while dashing to scoop the first hatchet he'd discarded with his throw. Mikiros picked up the slack. His hulking frame didn't open his shield, but he rushed in to a bash with his weapon prepared to sink in to the first opening it found.

By now the deckhands had mostly forgotten their work. How could they keep their focus with such a display, with these foul-mouthed heathens sweating, slashing, and smashing all about their ship with deafening cracks of wooden training weapons and harsh-landing bodies. The sea was calm this trial and the view, however gorgeous with the weather, was still monotonous. This was exciting.

"Alright, alright!" Belial ushered the few sailors who dared encroach toward the safety of where he watched the exchange. "Bet away, but stay out the way!"