As he looked up, Kazik drew forth an expression of clear surprise at which his new and oldfound associates dispatched their assailants. Whilst his pistol did click as he chambered the second barrel, before him had fallen nearly a dozen foes only by the skillful hands of the crew. Just has one of the pair had pointed one of their sidearms, it seemed, in any variety of violent action did they just as soon meet their fateful demise. In the mist of a heavy, howling sleet, both Kazik and Charlotte heaving in relief that those who remained among that damned crew had, at least, the talent to keep themselves alive.
From each shot of a musket, the clouds of smoke so famous to their use vaporized into the stormy winds, the omnipresent push of each passing gale enveloping the crash scene into a hazy cloud. What was created was the constant, acrid waft of gunpowder rising against the nose as each round of wind blew, almost like tiny shards of glass jabbed themselves into the nostrils with every inhale. Charlotte, with little to protect herself, rose her elbow to her face as she looked about from her hunched-over position of cover.
Both of them exchanged looks in clear surprise; They agreed even through a thick haze of hail and ice that they had done well in selecting a capable crew, if this random rabble could do so much as so readily assail an entourage of pirates to retreat, surely, any remnant could only pose so much resistance. Just as soon, they were forced to avert their eyes, both ceding to an oppressive gale.
Still, Charlotte continued a short march to her right amidst the chaos, sure to keep her posture low while a continuous roar of wind and fire rained around. As the wind blew stronger, the howl alone blew in such tumultuous roar that it threatened their very perceptions, eyes, ears, and all, until all that consumed them was a never ending blur on the cusp of detection. Her head dived down as another gale pressed over, digging her face well into the corner of her arm while the brunette woman desperately sought some relief.
“Bloody tempest…” One could tell the woman screamed aloud from exhaustion, but the omnipresent screech of the storm hushed her all too well.
Kazik fared little better in the face of the winter storm. Somewhere in the blur could he be heard, fighting, a clanging of steel against flesh and iron parading itself amidst the omnipresent screech which pervaded the Cotsch coast. He darted about hectically, searching in some attempt for assisting his friends against the already mostly-fallen group which had assailed them just moments prior, yet as he drew sword or pistol to find one foe, only heard their silencing, and each hush via cloud of gun smoke only loosened his grip upon his instruments, almost a bit...disheartened at the display.
That relieving looseness provided that little extra comfort - for what could be provided amidst so fortuitous a tempest - as the young captain did shout over the coming storm in effort to regroup that band.
“To the centre!” he shouted, waving his sword as he tried to draw attention, “Push them back up to the-!”
He turned. Just a glance was what it took to interrupt him, not even paying mind to how he inhaled snow and ice with his agape expression. That little unfocused blur, of rich blue and white color, that was just enough to make him stop.
"Rrraaggh!”
Kazik was well off his feet, feeling himself being driven downwards and wrapped around like a fishhook dragging him deep into the snow below. He twitched and turned, struggling to free himself, yet the assailant confined him too well, maintaining his hold as Kazik desperately struggled to free himself! A pounding sensation came just moments later, like some spike bludgeoning into Kazik’s head while the pair did burrow themselves into knee-deep snow. A wave of hardness came across his entire body, thrashing him and cracking him with a pained grunt.
In a tangle of arms, the captain struggled away from his captor’s confines, finally setting loose his arms as he made his best defense. Great weight sat atop him, the murderous eyes of a pirate hunter atop him adorned with an acrimonious snarl. Kazik rose his hands before him, posing to parry whatever came down upon him.
The hunter’s arm raised. The opposite dove in. Kazik attempted to breathe, and found his breath being seized. Like some flailing sea creature, the myrmidon floundered for air, both hands gripping the ironclad vice of the assailant atop him. Jolting and seizing, Kazik’s wrestling drove the arm left and right, yet his choker atop him remained steady, like he tried to instead wrest a pole driving well into his throat. Through every wrest of his jolting body, the choke hold would not cede without a struggle, and for every struggle came another whiplash of air, freezing into mist as Kazik grunted. It grew numb, and harsh...like every choking gasp of air left him one bit closer to conceding for the final time...
Another push! Another jab! Another snap!
And with one final throw, a sonorous smack! broke through even the howl of the storm above. His assailant recoiled back and up, retracting his hold to immediately lift a pained cry, holding his nose and eye however he might support them. Kazik gave him no respite; Seizing the initiative, then with his own two hands did he just as well return the favor only moments old, springing forth with all his weight as the myrmidon crashed atop his assailant! Now, it was his own hands placed in firm chokehold of his foe, seizing whatever composure remained from his reversed adversary.
The pirate hunter made few attempts to strike back, ceasing after the first unsuccessful smack to Kazik's head, which he minded perhaps as much as if the storm had passed; He even seemed to grin as he felt the blow, without a flinch wordlessly daring him to do his worst. That invitation registered henceforth as his cue to take on a defensive position, shielding his eyes through splayed hands. He'd screech atop his lungs, crying for his comrade's assistance as he desperately struggled. His cries were cut short, a heavy thud pounding his throat, sputtering out a violent hack to complement. As the myrmidon established his dominance, firmly pinning the stunned hunter to the ground by his neck, his spare hand spiked down, drawing forth his blade as he nearly cut his opponent along the lengthy draw. His arm was seized, his foe jamming his reach with his one good hand, a wild desperation in his blood-soaked eye! He grunted, drawing forth breath and slammed his elbow upon the side of the hunter's head, a great, sickening crack! signifying the hunter's repeated disablement!
Forth, Kazik reached, and pressed his inner fingers against the side of his blade...
...and with a swift, heavy shink!...eviscerated the wind from his adversary's neck.
“The flags! Fall back! Fall back!”
From atop the overhang just above, what remained of the over-watching force waved backwards into the forest behind, signalling the group’s retreat whilst they made a mad dash for cover. The men at hand made odd glares back at Enzo, acknowledging the Fioretzan with their bewildered, consternated expressions, and finally once last slight wave as the men bolted back into the treeline even suggested for a mere moment for him to follow. Such, inevitably, invited him to be lost in the confusion of his supposed adversaries, of course, but it could give a great way to gain an upper hand, if Enzo could find a good moment to launch an ambush...
The most apt posse had done more than their fair share of fighting off their enemy, their works on clear display as the hunters made their retreat; A dozen well dead, the weeping blood seeping into the ground as if they were the Springtime melting the snow. Not even a steady onslaught of winter could dare cover the scene, instead only robbing the bodies of whatever warmth they still carried, as even from their dead bodies, the steady rivers of blood from which they ran crystallized in the wind, freezing into a thick, pungent, frozen sheet. Scarcely four remained, all making their full retreat at whatever pace a full sprint could afford in what was soon becoming knee-deep snow.
Kazik made his voiciperal grunt halt the storm, so great was his exertion, rising on his own two feet as he wiped off the contents of his dead foe off him. Even the body-heat warmth of the blood nearly burned onto his skin, so cold were the prevalent winds, and before such a prize would leave a more lasting impression did Kazik wipe it with his thick sleeve. Charlotte marched to his aid, still shuddering as every howl whipped aside what cloth bolts she had on. She smirked at him, nudging toward the cliff's overhang.
"They've been malkied enough tae run, Kazie!" She happily reported, stretching her arms out in celebration. Kazik, yet, still marched on, a fierce-set determination awash over him.
"...K-Kazie, mate, where ye' oaf te'?" Her smile dropped as she began picking up pace to walk at Kazik's march. He drew his sword once again, straight-faced as if he carried some manner of indignancy.
“Loose ends are a luxury we cannot afford, Charlotte. Not now.”
“Ach, Kazie! Look at ‘em! They cannae get far in this weather!” she refuted, pointing toward a group of limping figures, slowly disappearing into the haze of the storm.
“If they make a retreat now,” Kazik responded, “they know where they’re headed. Their hideout must be nearby!”
Charlotte raised her hand to object, and with a biting roar from the tempest, soon found herself objecting to the buffeting winds that tormented them.
"Oi, ye' daftie, och awa' an' dinnae talk pish!" She yelled back at him. She seized his arm quickly, almost forcing him to cede his push onwards, and with the turn of his head, Kazik continued to go forth, almost dragging the woman along with him.
"They're weak, Charlotte! We can finish it! And when we're done, we can take what they have for ourselves!"
"Ach, Kazie! Look at us, we cannae go'on an' go take a damn pirate hunter's cove when we're oot here half-starved to death!" Charlotte dug her heels into the snow, Kazik grunting as he tried moving further.
"We need the supplies, Charlotte! We have nothing, and only the Gods know how long this damnable storm is going to last!"
It was clear that the longer these two argued, the chance either of their plans would succeed plummeted by the second. Even so, as if to remind them of the structure at which they so thoroughly promised aboard their ship, intervention would help well enough to move affairs along. Of course, insofar that none believed that direct action would help make up their minds...
