[img] https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/gameofthrones/images/2/2e/Fair_Isle.png/revision/latest?cb=20130416032351 [/img] [center] [i]Where tides crash, and thunder strike, On isles of iron, and halls of Pyke. Her knives did cut, and whips did crack. The witch with heart and tooth of black. [/i] [/center] Stormdrinker had more than earned its name, tearing through thundering waves, and smashing into enemy galleys. Yadira felt at home aboard her ship, with her feet firmly planted on a deck which was friendly and familiar to her. On the Lord of the Tides’ Seasnake? Not so much. Not that she really had the luxury to stand about and complain. A lithe man with olive skin, and long, dark hair stood opposite Yadira, a curved blade clutched tightly in one hand. The blade’s hilt had a polished gemstone encrusted in it. “That's a very pretty sword,” Yadira said, fairly certain that the sellsword couldn’t understand her “how much do you think I’ll get for it?” In her own clutches, Yadira gripped her hand axe, Drownedfang. The Myrish man let out some guttural cry, sprinting towards Yadira, as battle raged around them. All across the deck of the Seasnake, steel clattered against steel. [center] [i]A people’s love, and family scorned, A soul, with cruelest will adorned. No care or mirth and joy to guise, Darkness burnt, behind her eyes. [/i] [/center] Yadira Blacktooth, exiled daughter of House Greyjoy, had found herself fighting beneath House Velaryon, when the search for able bodies found its way to the cities of harpies and pyramids. She served no master other than herself, yet the promise of gold and power was enough to sway the young woman and her corsairs into pledging their allegiance to Daemon’s forces. For now, at least. The sellsword came barreling down on Yadira with a furious swoop of his blade, which she caught with the sharp of Drownedfang. The man was taller, but what the Blacktooth lacked in height, she more than made up for in bulk. Fuelled by raw mass, Yadira drove the sellsword across the deck, sending him floundering backwards. Her training in the fighting pits of Meereen served the young woman well when shedding blood in such unconventional quarters, and in armour so light. Even if she hadn’t been taught the ways of pit fighting, Yadira had grown up as a reaver and a pillager, with sea salt in her veins. The Seasnake might not be Stormdrinker, but the young woman was in her element when battling at sea, and she wielded her hand axe with the savage fury that only a true Ironborn could muster. Yadira pulled Drownedfang free from swordlock, aiming a vicious swing at the sellsword’s chest, but the myrish man was quick enough to regain his balance, parry the swooping hand axe, and swat the Blacktooth’s strike away. The swellsword hissed something in his queer tongue, lunging for Yadira the with pointed tip of his blade. Yadira sidestepped the thrust, grabbing the man by his limber wrist, as he stumbled into the space where she had stood, mere moments ago. The young woman yanked - hard -, throwing the sellsword off of his feet, and forcing him to his knees. It all happened so quickly that the sellsword barely had time to yelp, before Drownedfang tore into his throat, exploding in a burst of dark red gore. Blood splattered across Yadira’s face, and she pulled her hand axe free from its bloody new scabbard, leaving the crumpled form of the myrish sellsword to bleed out on the deck of the Seasnake. “WHO WANTS SOME, THEN?!” Yadira cackled her challenge to the attacking Myrish, dark red soaking her body, and a grin smeared across her lips. [center] [i] Rage and hate and blood to feast, Quench the lust of foulest beast. Cut and carve and cleave, and hack. The witch with heart and tooth of black. [/i] [/center]