The first guard had yet to say anything, but was making incoherent grunts, and then she understood. No tongues.
Almost laughing again, she refrained, instead slipping a knife from her boot and up through the first guard’s rib from behind. As he fell, she caught his head, looking between her knife and her mace, neither of which were suited for cutting heads off.
Letting the corpse drop to the rain-slicked deck, she turned towards the second, still living, guard, approaching him and kicking him once, brutally, in the ribs before dropping her weight on his legs and lower torso, causing him to fall back in pain.
Rising and raising her mace, the woman, clearly a paladin after the display of holy magic by the railing, offered a prayer that was torn from her lips by the wind. The mace fell. Once brought nothing but a shower of blood and a gruesomely mutilated neck, the second almost separated the head from the body. The third sent the head rolling away from the body, the jaw crushed and the brain leaking out of the crushed skull.
The first guard received the same treatment, and the heads were placed into a cloth bag as the bodies were slid overboard into the sea. The blood and gore on the deck couldn’t be helped, it would have to stay there. Although, she hoped the rain would wash it away nicely.
Walking carefully with the rolling deck, the armored woman made her way to the cabin door she had lured the guards from, knocking quickly on the door, a hard rap, and standing erect as it was opened. She was banking on luck, here, hoping that the captain did not know all of his men by name.
“Yes? What do you want?” Irritably, the tall-ish human man opened the door in his nightshirt, the bed behind him occupied by twisted blankets and a young woman.
Examining every detail of his face behind her helmet, the woman spoke in a deeper voice than natural for her, her Common clear and concise, “Sir, issues below-decks.”
Looking annoyed at the interruption, the captain dragged a hand through his short brown hair, his green eyes piercing, clearly wanting to get back inside the cabin and close the door on the rain and wind, “Well, deal with it!”
“Sir, come with me, please.”
“Who are you to order me around? You’re not one of my men!”
With a cry, the man launched himself at the woman in the doorway, a knife making an appearance in his hand as he tumbled through the air in a furious rage. Catching him, the huntress shook her head mentally and lifted her own hand, the fist with the knife pivoting to catch his stomach.
With a groan, the captain sank to his knees, and the tall woman kicked the door closed, a warning snarled at the girl in the bed, “Stay put!”
Turning her attention to the captain as the door slammed shut, the huntress knelt by wounded man, blood pooling on his stomach along with the fluids that inhabited his abdominal cavity. The white nightshirt was stained red with his life as it escaped him, his eyes dimming slowly.
Sharply, the woman asked, “Who is the girl?”
“No one…” the man gasped, his breath wheezing in his throat, “an amusement… I swear…”
Frowning, the woman rose, her eyes distant behind her helmet as she raised her mace, then sent it crashing down on the prone man. The ship rolled sharply with a large gust of wind, shaking the huntress and sending the mace into the man’s skull instead of crushing his chest. Cursing sharply into the wind, the standing figure again knelt, digging through the mass of pulped flesh, blood, and bones to find some recognizable feature.
Cursing as she found little, she took her knife and hacked at the man’s neck. Managing to look disgusted through the full faceplate, the figure dropped the disfigured, broken thing into her bag, rising and tearing the tabard from her body to fling it into the wind. Timing her efforts with the roll of the ship, she sent the body crashing into the waves below her.
Red blood was a black stain on the rain-scoured deck that washed away rapidly as she turned to face the door once more. Carelessly, she pushed inside, unprepared for the blistering stream of curses that greeted her. The sharp pain in her abdomen was equally unexpected.
Staring first at the girl, and then at the knife lodged in the gap in her armor just above her hip, the plated figure reached to grip the girl’s wrist, forcing the release of the offending piece of metal. Holding her attacker at a safe distance, the woman used her other hand to remove the knife from her side, an increase in the flow of blood that ran down her armor a testament to the girl’s aim, or her luck.
Speaking in Common again, the figure sounded more annoyed than in pain, “What in nine hells was that for? He is dead. You can leave.”
Edited by Allaynna on 10/30/2012 10:18 AM PDT