Meanwhile above the clamor of the battle, Markus and Mahal viciously dueled above the precipice. The Chief of the Blood Axes swiping his blade before him, causing the Weather Witches captain to thrust himself back out of the blade's range, striking his Cutlass with his own from behind, the blade's momentum pinning it against the wooden railing. Markus stepped forward and stuck the foreleg of Mahal with his heel merely seconds before Mahal punched Markus in the face. 

Gods the man was powerful. One punch had Markus' head spinning. He snarled and caught himself before he stumbled, barely deflecting the next stab by thrusting his blade from up under the Chief's sword to drive it skyward, locking the blades for a moment. Markus pressed his free hand against the blade in a half-swording manuever and pushed them against Mahal's shoulder, yanking his sword down to make a draw-cut. Blood spurted as he hit a nerve near the pectoral, splashing Markus in the eye and blinding him temporarily. Mahal cried out in a way he would never admit to with his crew memebers, and he headbutted Markus, striking his sword hand as he yanked his own sword away. It was with the flat of his blade, but it managed to disarm the Captain and send him reeling. 

On instinct, Markus flung himself on the ground to dodge the follow up attack he knew was coming. Mostly blinded and without a sword, he knew he was in trouble. 

Realistically, Markus knew he was the better swordsman. But he was unused to the Cutlass, and he could barely feel the presence of his Backsword somewhere below. Wiping his forearm against his eyes did a bit to help his vision, but not by much. Once he could get a good look at Mahal, he saw the chief looked wild and unruly, his shirt torn and blood matting his chest from the cut Markus had given him. He was still armed and as combat ready as ever, however, eyes balefully glaring at Markus.    

"My people once owned these waters." Mahal said, stepping forward menacingly. He saw there was little Markus could do but back away, so he took his time. "Back before the Sultanate and the Dark Wars. When we found a trespasser who had nothing to grant us, we would imprison them and ransom them. If no one paid, we cooked them and served them as a feast to the Gods." A hideous laughter escaped his parched lips as he stepped over a line of rope. "Tonight, I feast on your corpse, welp! It is good the Vizier brought such a fine feast to me!" 

Markus squinted and took one more step back, his foot bumping into a corpse of one of the corsair's Calliope had killed. The Vizier information he would use soon, but for now he needed to focus. He looked down and saw a small knife in the dead man's hand. Without hesitation, he picked it up and held it before him defensively. Mahal drew himself up, eyeing the blade that seemed only a quarter of his Cutlass's length. "Do you insult me with such a thing? Die with what honor you might have." 

"I will," Markus replied, stoic. He turned and grabbed one of the ropes hanging over the side of the precipice. "Once it's my time. How will you die, I wonder?" The words were lost on Mahal as Markus cut the rope, and only at the last second did the look of confusion and terror appear on his face as the rope under him suddenly coiled about his ankle and yanked him off the ground to slam into the wall. 

Above the fighting below, Sketti would brain a Blood Axe Corsair with his steel arm stump before halting and seeing the eponymous Blood Axe flag unfurling above them along the wall. The flag was massive, at least 50 feet in width and thrice as long. At first the Blood Axes cheered at the sight, seeing it as a victory for them. But suddenly two figures materialized out of the cavern above the flag. One of them, Mahal, upside down and dazed. The other was Markus, who dragged him along by his hair. 

Utter silence followed, and Markus cut the man down to hit the floor at his own feet and not the hundred or so odd feet below. Mahal seemed barely conscious enough to stir, but Markus roughly pulled him up to his knees at the very edge. "You have a choice!" the Swordmage cried, his voice echoing across the chambers to reach every ear, even Calliope below. He seemed both terrible and mighty at this moment, and as dangerous as a mad wolf. "Lay down your weapons and surrender, or this will be your fate!" 

In one, horrible moment to the crew of the Blood Axes, they saw as their Chief and Captain was slit like a cake down the center of his chest, opening his bronzed skin and revealing his still beating innards with three quick cuts. Markus tossed the bloodied knife below, and just as Mahal was falling backwards, Markus reached into his chest cavity to grab the man's lungs, holding him up. He pulled them through his ribs, and then yanked them end over end to flap behind his shoulder like a pair of wings. 

"By Alfrikr, a Blood Eagle." Halvar gasped, knowing the grisly death as an invention by his own barbaric people. 

Blood poured off the edge, and after a few moments, the devilish Captain kicked Mahal's back and sent his corpse tumbling into the depths of the hidden bay. 
[@Penny]