Stormyx
Sick Ducker
ML
SkyeOfStars
Dervish
CaliforniaStateOmero lined up his crossbow with the gap in-between the shoulder blade, if he got it jammed in there then it should stop the knight from being able to swing his lance properly, should the knight find it again.
“Mírate! Qué un chinga! Oye. Oye pinche cabron!”
Omero was put off by a barrage of Spanish insults. Though Omero's Spanish was only decent, he could make out enough of the words to know that what was being said was unpleasant to say the least. Omero looked away from his crossbow to see Artemisia in the fighting top alongside Omero. She had shimmied down the ropes from the crows nest and had now started to throw pebbles at the armoured knight bellow. Omero had been slightly surprised at her sudden appearance, where had she come from? How long had she been in the crows nest above?
“Fancy seeing you here, especially with that.” She said nodding her head at his crossbow.
Omero smiled "Well no offence, but I get the feeling that this will be a bit more effective than that" Omero said humorously as he gestured towards the small pebbles she was throwing at the knight bellow.
As Artemisia continued to throw stones at the knight, which simply bounced off the knights armour. Omero once again lined up his crossbow. There was no point in hiding his true skills from her, she would soon know anyway.
"Lets just say I'm not a member of the church in the traditional sense" Omero said as he fire his crossbow where it directly lodged itself in-between the ebony knights shoulder plates. At the very least that would succeeded in slowing it's movements.
Emilio half forced a devilish smile across his darkening features. Rough clouds had started rolling nearer and nearer with every passing second that The Dread Pirate was out on the deck; it's own scattered wreckage a close semblance to the tumultuously churning clouds off the port aft. The rain droplets were getting larger and the deck more slippery. As the small waves turned larger, Emilio felt a growing sensation of dread. It ebbed and flowed as if he stood on the the very beach-head of fear; which was rocked back and forth by an even larger dread-- that of the vengeful papacy--, and that of Emilio's ever-steady confidence. The latter always wavered, revealing the frightened and dejected child underneath, but returned all the same. Like the flickering candlelight which never ceases. Oh, what Emilio would give now to see his mother again, to be lulled to sleep against her warm bosom. But that was all just a fantasy now.
Before this scarred, determined man stood a scarred and determined soul, the core of which hummed like the whirring of bees. As the smoke cleared Emilio could make out even more red sparks colliding in the empty spaces where armor should be, trying to make connections that wouldn't fit. Emilio chuckled as he thought of that. He and this Harbinger had more in common than either would care to admit.
"Yes," Emilio responded to the things ominous words, nodding his soaking head. "We shall perish. But we insist that you go first." Emilio finished loudly, shaking in the cold rain. His voice reached Leonard, and Epunamun and his men. They all chattered in shivering loyalty. "Get that gun loaded. Tell Epu to load a ball into the stern cannon" he whispered behind him.
"Aye, aye!" Leonard responded as he carefully stood and made his way across the deck. As he did he noticed two figures among the fighting top. He raised only an eyebrow, realizing something rather important. They'd need the rest of the crew if they wanted to outrun the storm.
Echoed slurs came from somewhere above and behind, Emilio couldn't look, the Harbinger had already started upon him. Without it's lance and left arm, it seemed unburdened. The ax which had once impeded it's movement was blow away by the blast. It ran forward at an uncanny speed, it's right arm outstretched to deliver a surely damaging blow. The sharp edges in the knuckles of the hand glistened in the rain as it hurtled toward Emilio. The Dread Captain stood as steady as he could for as long as he could, biding his time. He needed to make sure the thing was in the perfect position before he moved. Thankfully that time came sooner and easier due to a crossbow bolt clinking into the Harbinger's shoulder. It was a near perfect shot, one which Emilio had no time to admire. He rolled forward under the Harbinger's missing hand and behind him. He sliced at the things shin as he passed, feeling nothing but resistance. His sword would be useless. He ran as he stood back up, toward the back wall. The Harbinger noticed the two figures among the masts, flicked his hand at the barrel next to him, forcing the hefty wooden cylinder at the fighting top. It crashed into the main top yard and sent all sorts of debris and metal castings and hooks down into the fighting top. Emilio noticed the attack, eyes flicking wildly to catch every motion. He gasped as he noticed the source of the conflict.
"Damn it!" He said to himself as he walked forward. He sliced at the Harbinger's back, bringing it's attention around. As he moved back he screamed up to the figures among the fighting top, "Get down from there, damn you! We need those masts intact!"
Epu yelled in response with the Captain, "Cease fire!"
The Harbinger tried for a punch but couldn't lift his arm high enough due to the obstruction. Another attempt bent then snapped the bolt stuck in the shoulder joint and nearly got at Emilio. He ducked and rolled again, this time shorter, and elbowed behind the knee, making the Harbinger loose some balance. It regained balance rather easily and grasped downward with the hand it didn't have. Emilio was able to somersault away from the action, nearly loosing the grip on his scimitar as he did. He fell onto the railing and regained his breath as the Harbinger found it's bearings again; it's empty, sparkling visage turning mechanically toward Emilio.
From up above, Artemisia watched as she ran out of pebbles, the knightly being turned and took note of their presence. The bolt Omero released struck the being between the shoulder blades, a perfect strike. She gave a cheer of excitement only to cry out instead, “Look out!”
Artemisia ducked from the flying barrel that the knight had sent their way with a flick of his wrist. Astonished and mortified as the barrel imploded above the fighting top, raining planks, bolts and screws, and the rest of it's content onto the deck below, Artemisia could only marvel at the capabilities of this being.
It had begun to rain heavily, and with that, the waves began to rise ever higher. The footing on the deck, from where she could see, was already wet from the rolling waves. The Captain called up to them, “Get down from there, damn you! We need those masts!”
Kneeling from view in the basket of the fighting top, Artemisia looked up at Omero, fear flickering in her eyes, “What do we do?” She tried to keep the panic from creeping in, but the cold rain only made her tremble harder. “We’ll have to get down and face that thing! We’re sitting ducks in a pond staying here.”
Omero couldn't agree more. While the fighting top provided a good position from above to fire down on the monster, it also meant there was no way to defend against it's attacks. Omero had found that out the hard way. Part of the splintered wood from the barrel that had been thrown, had embedded itself into the left side of Omero's chest, fortunately Omero could tell it hadn't hit any of his organs, though he was loosing blood fast. Omero turned to Artemisia, Omero could see a look of fear in her eyes. The look was all to familiar; it reminded Omero of the first time he had faced a monster. Though he had learnt from latter experience not to let fear take control, as soon as you do, you become rash, reckless and unable to think clearly.
"Agreed, we need to get down to the deck as soon as we can. We will be of more use fighting down there than we will being dead up here" Omero spoke clearly and with a voice of authority, trying his best to hide the great pain in his side. "Though, I am going to need some help getting down" Omero said as he gestured towards the piece of wood that had deeply embedded into his side, the blood being made more clear by the water from the rain.
If there was one thing that Artemisia feared the most, it was dying. And dying alone. She had seen too much death for her lifetime. There were very few people in her life that she had liked or even cared for after sailing to Portugal those many years ago. She waited in earnest for a reply from Omero, and she received a nerve-wrecking response. The Italian man was injured, and it was not a petty wound at that. A wooden piece of broken barrel had lodged into his side. From the grimace on his face, Artemisia knew that he was wounded severely, so she could only do one thing when he asked for her help getting down.
“Signore, I ask that you trust me with this. I have never done this on a ship. But I have done this in the back-alley streets.” She rose up from the fighting top basket, reached high up her skirt, and pulled a dagger out from underneath. In a blink of an eye, Artemisia had quickly cut away a rope above her reach. The length of the rope was long enough to wrap around her and Omero.
Slipping back into the basket of the fighting top, Artemisia extended the rope, and wrapped it firmly about his torso, carefully avoiding his wound. In fact, she tied the rope above his wound to create a natural tourniquet. Her lips were pursed out of pure concentration and fear. Many times before, Artemisia had found herself in a hard place and a rock. The only person she ever relied on was herself. There was no one to look out for her, except for her. And they would die, either by continued attack or by hypothermia and bleeding out.
Rocking back onto her haunches, Artemisia looked at her crafty work and nodded with confidence. The knots she had tied would hold, of that she was certain. Now the only thing left to do…
“Signore, we must jump, the rope will carry us far enough, and if we time it right, we can land where we need to. Behind the captain or beyond, no? What do you say?” She stood cautiously and offered her hand out to him.
"Agreed, we need to get down to the deck as soon as we can. We will be of more use fighting down there than we will being dead up here" Omero spoke clearly and with a voice of authority, trying his best to hide the great pain in his side. "Though, I am going to need some help getting down" Omero said as he gestured towards the wound.
Omero took her hand and allowed her to help him up, there was a jolt of pain in his side as he stood, though Omero did his best to ignore it. The plan to get down itself was a solid one, though if something went wrong it could be fatal. Omero smiled to himself; what was life without a few risks?
"Very well then, I'm ready when you are".
Pulling Omero close to her, she hooked her arm tightly around his torso, careful to avoid his injury. She had tied the rest of the rope around herself. Her eyes glanced out to the ocean, and watched the waves; trying to find a tempo with every rolling wave that slammed into The Burned Bitch. 1…2…3…4…5 Every five seconds, a wave lifted the ship and spilled water over the poop deck. At the bottom of the five, the ship dipped back down, riding with the waves. Artemisia looked to Omero, still counting in her head the seconds between each wave, “On my word.” Her voice trembled from the cold wet rain that had soaked her fine rag-tag silken clothes. Artemisia placed her foot on the rim of the basket and lead forward, still with one arm around Omero. “When we jump, cling to me.”
The Burned Bitch lifted high into the air as a wave came along, the fighting top moved with the ship, leaning far over into the ocean before beginning to right itself. 1…2…3…
“Now!” She shouted loudly, mainly out of fear, but to give her the courage to jump. She hefted Omero forward, the tipping of the ship would provide enough momentum to carry them away from the harbinger. She pressed the soles of her boots into the basket frame of the fighting top and sprang forward. They fell several feet before the rope grew taunt and swung out with the rocking of the ship. Her heart jumped to her throat as they swung out past the ship and over the water.
With careful precision as the ship began to tip the other way, she cut the rope they were on when they reached the lowest point of the pendulum which had carried them only mere fee from the deck. The fall to the deck was not far, though she wrapped her arms tightly about Omero to help minimize the impact of the fall.
Omero and Artemisia hit the deck of the ship, though it was not a gentle landing. Artemisia had wrapped her arms tightly about Omero to help minimize the impact of the fall, and Omero in turn had done the same. Omero had felt very little pain from the fall, though this was more likely because he was losing consciousness, he had lost too much blood and would soon pass out. Omero reached for one of his steel crossbow bolts and cut the rope Artemisia had skilfully tied with it. As Omero stood his vision blurred, it was only a matter of time before he would become unconscious, but Omero couldn't give in yet, he had to try and help stop this monster.
"I can't...give in...yet" Omero gasped as he once again lined up his crossbow, this time though his vision was blurry and hands were shaking. Even with Omero's master marksmanship skills a shot like this would be near impossible, but Omero had to try, he couldn't just leave everyone to the mercy of this monster. Omero fired and watched as the bolt bounced harmlessly off the armour. Omero started to fall backwards, he fell unconscious before he had even hit the floor.
Her head slammed into the wooden deck, causing Artemisia to see stars. She released Omero from her embrace, only to watch him stumble and then collapse. Knowing that he lost a significant amount of blood in a short period of time, concern filled her mind as she hoped he wouldn't bleed out on the deck. By some miracle they had landed some feet away from the native man, Englishman assembled around a cannon. Dragging Omero halfway into her lap, she placed her hands firmly atop his wound to slow the bleeding, his head cradled in the crook of her arm. From countless stabbing incidents to brutal bar fights, Artemisia was familiar with blood, enough not to make her queasy. Though, her hands were coloured red with Omero’s blood. She wanted so desperately to remove the shrapnel from his side, but she was afraid of causing more harm than good.
Instead, she simply sat behind the men with the cannon, a forlorn and distraught look on her face. Death had been an ever constant companion throughout her life. It had taken her mother and father, her brothers and sisters, and a few other people that had left an impact on her life. But they all had gone. Artemisia found herself between a hard place and a rock once more. The ship lifted again before falling back towards the ocean, sending a wave across the deck, soaking her to the bone.
Epunamun struggled to load and close the cannon in the blistering rain. As he finished he felt a strong breeze pass him overhead and heard a muffled *thump from behind. Epu might have thought that it was another attacker if he hadn't done a double take. In fact, two slightly familiar figures laid on the deck near him.
"Go check them." Epu commanded as he sat back against the makeshift barricade. He lifted himself slightly, peering just over the edge at the trudging fight his captain was engaged in. Epu heard shuffling near him and turned to see a girl, the one who'd started the festivities earlier.
"Get below deck," Epu said as he turned from her. "You have no place here."
Leonard came back above deck a moment later; disheveled, and slightly burnt. He quizzically looked at the girl, then the man laying on the forecastle deck behind them.
One of the sailors screamed through the whisteling wind, "he's hurt. Is the doctor okay?"
Leonard nodded as he took up position next to Epu. "Aye, he'll be here any moment. Get him below deck and into a hammock." Leonard ordered. The sailors begrudgingly lifted the man, trying their best to not upset his wound, and took him down the steps. Leonard glared across the ship and watched as Emilio dodged an oncoming claw strike, fleeing toward the quarter deck. Leonard breathed deliberately as he held onto the blunderbuss in his hands. "I'm going to relieve the boss-man." Leonard said in a fear speckled confidence. "I'll see you in the daylight, friend." Leonard said sweetly to Epu. The American nodded and rubbed Leonard's shoulder briefly. In just a few wet and quiet moments Leonard was gone, carefully sprinting down the deck toward the stern and his fate.
Rather dazed from the fall, Artemisia reluctantly let the sailors take Omero from her arms and carry him downstairs below. It was only till the native man ordered to her to get down stairs, and then she forced herself to get to her feet. In truth, she was useless now, as she had no weapon nor any other means to fight. Willingly, she ventured downstairs after the sailors to where the doctor would be in attendance.
{Collab by @The New Yorker, @TheDuncanMorgan, @MacabreFox }
“Mírate! Qué un chinga! Oye. Oye pinche cabron!”
Omero was put off by a barrage of Spanish insults. Though Omero's Spanish was only decent, he could make out enough of the words to know that what was being said was unpleasant to say the least. Omero looked away from his crossbow to see Artemisia in the fighting top alongside Omero. She had shimmied down the ropes from the crows nest and had now started to throw pebbles at the armoured knight bellow. Omero had been slightly surprised at her sudden appearance, where had she come from? How long had she been in the crows nest above?
“Fancy seeing you here, especially with that.” She said nodding her head at his crossbow.
Omero smiled "Well no offence, but I get the feeling that this will be a bit more effective than that" Omero said humorously as he gestured towards the small pebbles she was throwing at the knight bellow.
As Artemisia continued to throw stones at the knight, which simply bounced off the knights armour. Omero once again lined up his crossbow. There was no point in hiding his true skills from her, she would soon know anyway.
"Lets just say I'm not a member of the church in the traditional sense" Omero said as he fire his crossbow where it directly lodged itself in-between the ebony knights shoulder plates. At the very least that would succeeded in slowing it's movements.
Emilio half forced a devilish smile across his darkening features. Rough clouds had started rolling nearer and nearer with every passing second that The Dread Pirate was out on the deck; it's own scattered wreckage a close semblance to the tumultuously churning clouds off the port aft. The rain droplets were getting larger and the deck more slippery. As the small waves turned larger, Emilio felt a growing sensation of dread. It ebbed and flowed as if he stood on the the very beach-head of fear; which was rocked back and forth by an even larger dread-- that of the vengeful papacy--, and that of Emilio's ever-steady confidence. The latter always wavered, revealing the frightened and dejected child underneath, but returned all the same. Like the flickering candlelight which never ceases. Oh, what Emilio would give now to see his mother again, to be lulled to sleep against her warm bosom. But that was all just a fantasy now.
Before this scarred, determined man stood a scarred and determined soul, the core of which hummed like the whirring of bees. As the smoke cleared Emilio could make out even more red sparks colliding in the empty spaces where armor should be, trying to make connections that wouldn't fit. Emilio chuckled as he thought of that. He and this Harbinger had more in common than either would care to admit.
"Yes," Emilio responded to the things ominous words, nodding his soaking head. "We shall perish. But we insist that you go first." Emilio finished loudly, shaking in the cold rain. His voice reached Leonard, and Epunamun and his men. They all chattered in shivering loyalty. "Get that gun loaded. Tell Epu to load a ball into the stern cannon" he whispered behind him.
"Aye, aye!" Leonard responded as he carefully stood and made his way across the deck. As he did he noticed two figures among the fighting top. He raised only an eyebrow, realizing something rather important. They'd need the rest of the crew if they wanted to outrun the storm.
Echoed slurs came from somewhere above and behind, Emilio couldn't look, the Harbinger had already started upon him. Without it's lance and left arm, it seemed unburdened. The ax which had once impeded it's movement was blow away by the blast. It ran forward at an uncanny speed, it's right arm outstretched to deliver a surely damaging blow. The sharp edges in the knuckles of the hand glistened in the rain as it hurtled toward Emilio. The Dread Captain stood as steady as he could for as long as he could, biding his time. He needed to make sure the thing was in the perfect position before he moved. Thankfully that time came sooner and easier due to a crossbow bolt clinking into the Harbinger's shoulder. It was a near perfect shot, one which Emilio had no time to admire. He rolled forward under the Harbinger's missing hand and behind him. He sliced at the things shin as he passed, feeling nothing but resistance. His sword would be useless. He ran as he stood back up, toward the back wall. The Harbinger noticed the two figures among the masts, flicked his hand at the barrel next to him, forcing the hefty wooden cylinder at the fighting top. It crashed into the main top yard and sent all sorts of debris and metal castings and hooks down into the fighting top. Emilio noticed the attack, eyes flicking wildly to catch every motion. He gasped as he noticed the source of the conflict.
"Damn it!" He said to himself as he walked forward. He sliced at the Harbinger's back, bringing it's attention around. As he moved back he screamed up to the figures among the fighting top, "Get down from there, damn you! We need those masts intact!"
Epu yelled in response with the Captain, "Cease fire!"
The Harbinger tried for a punch but couldn't lift his arm high enough due to the obstruction. Another attempt bent then snapped the bolt stuck in the shoulder joint and nearly got at Emilio. He ducked and rolled again, this time shorter, and elbowed behind the knee, making the Harbinger loose some balance. It regained balance rather easily and grasped downward with the hand it didn't have. Emilio was able to somersault away from the action, nearly loosing the grip on his scimitar as he did. He fell onto the railing and regained his breath as the Harbinger found it's bearings again; it's empty, sparkling visage turning mechanically toward Emilio.
From up above, Artemisia watched as she ran out of pebbles, the knightly being turned and took note of their presence. The bolt Omero released struck the being between the shoulder blades, a perfect strike. She gave a cheer of excitement only to cry out instead, “Look out!”
Artemisia ducked from the flying barrel that the knight had sent their way with a flick of his wrist. Astonished and mortified as the barrel imploded above the fighting top, raining planks, bolts and screws, and the rest of it's content onto the deck below, Artemisia could only marvel at the capabilities of this being.
It had begun to rain heavily, and with that, the waves began to rise ever higher. The footing on the deck, from where she could see, was already wet from the rolling waves. The Captain called up to them, “Get down from there, damn you! We need those masts!”
Kneeling from view in the basket of the fighting top, Artemisia looked up at Omero, fear flickering in her eyes, “What do we do?” She tried to keep the panic from creeping in, but the cold rain only made her tremble harder. “We’ll have to get down and face that thing! We’re sitting ducks in a pond staying here.”
Omero couldn't agree more. While the fighting top provided a good position from above to fire down on the monster, it also meant there was no way to defend against it's attacks. Omero had found that out the hard way. Part of the splintered wood from the barrel that had been thrown, had embedded itself into the left side of Omero's chest, fortunately Omero could tell it hadn't hit any of his organs, though he was loosing blood fast. Omero turned to Artemisia, Omero could see a look of fear in her eyes. The look was all to familiar; it reminded Omero of the first time he had faced a monster. Though he had learnt from latter experience not to let fear take control, as soon as you do, you become rash, reckless and unable to think clearly.
"Agreed, we need to get down to the deck as soon as we can. We will be of more use fighting down there than we will being dead up here" Omero spoke clearly and with a voice of authority, trying his best to hide the great pain in his side. "Though, I am going to need some help getting down" Omero said as he gestured towards the piece of wood that had deeply embedded into his side, the blood being made more clear by the water from the rain.
If there was one thing that Artemisia feared the most, it was dying. And dying alone. She had seen too much death for her lifetime. There were very few people in her life that she had liked or even cared for after sailing to Portugal those many years ago. She waited in earnest for a reply from Omero, and she received a nerve-wrecking response. The Italian man was injured, and it was not a petty wound at that. A wooden piece of broken barrel had lodged into his side. From the grimace on his face, Artemisia knew that he was wounded severely, so she could only do one thing when he asked for her help getting down.
“Signore, I ask that you trust me with this. I have never done this on a ship. But I have done this in the back-alley streets.” She rose up from the fighting top basket, reached high up her skirt, and pulled a dagger out from underneath. In a blink of an eye, Artemisia had quickly cut away a rope above her reach. The length of the rope was long enough to wrap around her and Omero.
Slipping back into the basket of the fighting top, Artemisia extended the rope, and wrapped it firmly about his torso, carefully avoiding his wound. In fact, she tied the rope above his wound to create a natural tourniquet. Her lips were pursed out of pure concentration and fear. Many times before, Artemisia had found herself in a hard place and a rock. The only person she ever relied on was herself. There was no one to look out for her, except for her. And they would die, either by continued attack or by hypothermia and bleeding out.
Rocking back onto her haunches, Artemisia looked at her crafty work and nodded with confidence. The knots she had tied would hold, of that she was certain. Now the only thing left to do…
“Signore, we must jump, the rope will carry us far enough, and if we time it right, we can land where we need to. Behind the captain or beyond, no? What do you say?” She stood cautiously and offered her hand out to him.
"Agreed, we need to get down to the deck as soon as we can. We will be of more use fighting down there than we will being dead up here" Omero spoke clearly and with a voice of authority, trying his best to hide the great pain in his side. "Though, I am going to need some help getting down" Omero said as he gestured towards the wound.
Omero took her hand and allowed her to help him up, there was a jolt of pain in his side as he stood, though Omero did his best to ignore it. The plan to get down itself was a solid one, though if something went wrong it could be fatal. Omero smiled to himself; what was life without a few risks?
"Very well then, I'm ready when you are".
Pulling Omero close to her, she hooked her arm tightly around his torso, careful to avoid his injury. She had tied the rest of the rope around herself. Her eyes glanced out to the ocean, and watched the waves; trying to find a tempo with every rolling wave that slammed into The Burned Bitch. 1…2…3…4…5 Every five seconds, a wave lifted the ship and spilled water over the poop deck. At the bottom of the five, the ship dipped back down, riding with the waves. Artemisia looked to Omero, still counting in her head the seconds between each wave, “On my word.” Her voice trembled from the cold wet rain that had soaked her fine rag-tag silken clothes. Artemisia placed her foot on the rim of the basket and lead forward, still with one arm around Omero. “When we jump, cling to me.”
The Burned Bitch lifted high into the air as a wave came along, the fighting top moved with the ship, leaning far over into the ocean before beginning to right itself. 1…2…3…
“Now!” She shouted loudly, mainly out of fear, but to give her the courage to jump. She hefted Omero forward, the tipping of the ship would provide enough momentum to carry them away from the harbinger. She pressed the soles of her boots into the basket frame of the fighting top and sprang forward. They fell several feet before the rope grew taunt and swung out with the rocking of the ship. Her heart jumped to her throat as they swung out past the ship and over the water.
With careful precision as the ship began to tip the other way, she cut the rope they were on when they reached the lowest point of the pendulum which had carried them only mere fee from the deck. The fall to the deck was not far, though she wrapped her arms tightly about Omero to help minimize the impact of the fall.
Omero and Artemisia hit the deck of the ship, though it was not a gentle landing. Artemisia had wrapped her arms tightly about Omero to help minimize the impact of the fall, and Omero in turn had done the same. Omero had felt very little pain from the fall, though this was more likely because he was losing consciousness, he had lost too much blood and would soon pass out. Omero reached for one of his steel crossbow bolts and cut the rope Artemisia had skilfully tied with it. As Omero stood his vision blurred, it was only a matter of time before he would become unconscious, but Omero couldn't give in yet, he had to try and help stop this monster.
"I can't...give in...yet" Omero gasped as he once again lined up his crossbow, this time though his vision was blurry and hands were shaking. Even with Omero's master marksmanship skills a shot like this would be near impossible, but Omero had to try, he couldn't just leave everyone to the mercy of this monster. Omero fired and watched as the bolt bounced harmlessly off the armour. Omero started to fall backwards, he fell unconscious before he had even hit the floor.
Her head slammed into the wooden deck, causing Artemisia to see stars. She released Omero from her embrace, only to watch him stumble and then collapse. Knowing that he lost a significant amount of blood in a short period of time, concern filled her mind as she hoped he wouldn't bleed out on the deck. By some miracle they had landed some feet away from the native man, Englishman assembled around a cannon. Dragging Omero halfway into her lap, she placed her hands firmly atop his wound to slow the bleeding, his head cradled in the crook of her arm. From countless stabbing incidents to brutal bar fights, Artemisia was familiar with blood, enough not to make her queasy. Though, her hands were coloured red with Omero’s blood. She wanted so desperately to remove the shrapnel from his side, but she was afraid of causing more harm than good.
Instead, she simply sat behind the men with the cannon, a forlorn and distraught look on her face. Death had been an ever constant companion throughout her life. It had taken her mother and father, her brothers and sisters, and a few other people that had left an impact on her life. But they all had gone. Artemisia found herself between a hard place and a rock once more. The ship lifted again before falling back towards the ocean, sending a wave across the deck, soaking her to the bone.
Epunamun struggled to load and close the cannon in the blistering rain. As he finished he felt a strong breeze pass him overhead and heard a muffled *thump from behind. Epu might have thought that it was another attacker if he hadn't done a double take. In fact, two slightly familiar figures laid on the deck near him.
"Go check them." Epu commanded as he sat back against the makeshift barricade. He lifted himself slightly, peering just over the edge at the trudging fight his captain was engaged in. Epu heard shuffling near him and turned to see a girl, the one who'd started the festivities earlier.
"Get below deck," Epu said as he turned from her. "You have no place here."
Leonard came back above deck a moment later; disheveled, and slightly burnt. He quizzically looked at the girl, then the man laying on the forecastle deck behind them.
One of the sailors screamed through the whisteling wind, "he's hurt. Is the doctor okay?"
Leonard nodded as he took up position next to Epu. "Aye, he'll be here any moment. Get him below deck and into a hammock." Leonard ordered. The sailors begrudgingly lifted the man, trying their best to not upset his wound, and took him down the steps. Leonard glared across the ship and watched as Emilio dodged an oncoming claw strike, fleeing toward the quarter deck. Leonard breathed deliberately as he held onto the blunderbuss in his hands. "I'm going to relieve the boss-man." Leonard said in a fear speckled confidence. "I'll see you in the daylight, friend." Leonard said sweetly to Epu. The American nodded and rubbed Leonard's shoulder briefly. In just a few wet and quiet moments Leonard was gone, carefully sprinting down the deck toward the stern and his fate.
Rather dazed from the fall, Artemisia reluctantly let the sailors take Omero from her arms and carry him downstairs below. It was only till the native man ordered to her to get down stairs, and then she forced herself to get to her feet. In truth, she was useless now, as she had no weapon nor any other means to fight. Willingly, she ventured downstairs after the sailors to where the doctor would be in attendance.
{Collab by @The New Yorker, @TheDuncanMorgan, @MacabreFox }
