Any Storm in a Port

[Siren]

Closed

A week had passed since the skulking skeleton of a ship named Swift had docked at Radasanth, depositing a sassy (and maybe overly saucy) siren on the docks. She'd had a great night involving some great brandy and maybe more than one man...or woman...it was a hazy night, but she was sure it had been great. The next day she'd gone out to find her next ship and adventure, but no one had been hiring.

And so it went for an entire week. Nothing. Clear skies and calm seas and not a single ship looking for another crew member.

It was giving her itchyflipper.

It was bad enough that finally she turned to the one place in Radasanth that could give her the feel of being on a ship, even if she couldn't actually set sail. Weapons strapped to her back, Siren ascended the worn stone steps of the most famous building in all of Corone: the Citadel.

The gargantuan ziggurat dominated the city's skyline, daring any challengers to come and seek their destruction. The high steps strained legs and nearly forced would-be warriors to crawl up. Even entering the Citadel was a lesson in humility for those who sought to boast of their prowess in arms.

Stairs ascended, Siren turned at the entrance - not to consider changing course, but to look upon the crests and breaks of the buildings in Radasanth from the highest crow's nest in range. She felt eyes on her while she observed the town, following the curves nature had graced her generously with, noting the long neck, gentle nose, full lips, and high cheekbones. Some, of course, would be staring at her hair, of the way the sun lit her seemingly black tresses in shades deep and luxurious enough to be the envy of any woman, mer or otherwise.

She only looked for a minute, and then entered cool dankness of the building kept by the monks of Ai'bron. She was seen quickly enough, and once she had explained what she was looking for, she was shown to a blank stone door. It opened for her and she stepped through eagerly.

Instantly she was hit by winds that nearly knocked her flat, that ripped at clothing and hair and nearly knocked the wind from her. She had to find her footing quickly, as the ship she had boarded listed dangerously, a helpless subject to the merciless waves of the gale it was caught in. The salt air that filled her lungs was dampened by the torrential rains which fell relentlessly from the blackened sky. Thunder crashed all about, sometimes in growling rumble and sometimes in furious roars, and the lightning illuminated the ship in stark detail.

A glance aft showed her a final problem: there was a fire chewing its way up from the galley. The twenty yard long ship wasn't built for this sort of weather; in about ten minutes it would sink and she would have to fight the rip currents and choppy waters to make it to the distant shores that showed as blurred smudges on the horizon.

Futilely, she wiped some water from her face, then tied her hair back in a thong. Her shirt and pants were already plastered to her body by the heavy, stinging drops of rain, and there would be no helping that. Setting her feet wide apart for balance, she unslung one of the harpoons from her back and watched for her opponent.

[Death_god]

Zanth has never had anything to do in this place. Yet his main goal is to kill his brother Zaith. Last they met it was in an arena at the Citadel and there Zaith told him he must get stronger before they fight again. This time, this visit, He would be the one walking out of the arena first. The day was crisp and cold. The wind chill made it feel at least twenty above. And the cold just made his armor cold which in turn made him colder then he wanted to. The sky looked bleak and dull like a storm is approaching. And the closest building is the Citadel. "So it is eaither go fight or freeze in this weather?" He smirks as he goes toward the doors to the large building.

Once he gets close enough he puts his arms out and pushes the doors to the citadel open. At his side is his true sword, Yamato. Once inside he looks around and sees no one as he makes his way to the counter to either arrange a fight or join one. The lighting inside was not the best but it was better then nothing. The floor was a cold concrete that just made Zanth feel colder now, yet he was inside the building. Why was he so cold? As he makes his way to the counter he sees people comming and going from all directions, all types of races and weapons in one place. 'Note to self - This is my new training place.' Zanth thinks to himself as he approachs the counter. "Good day sir. How may I help you today?" A small robed man spoke just a foor in front of Zanth. "Umm Yeah I'd like to know if there were any open fights that I could partake in. Preferably against someone of my stature. Like someone who wont kill me with one hit."

The monk loos at him and smiles "We have just the fighter, but she is no novice yet she is no master fighter either. So if you will, please follow me." The monk speaks and walks from behind the counter. He then turns to Zanth who looks confused and walks down the closest hallway. Zanth follows confused and weary.

~~Moments later~~

They arrive at this long corridor. Dimly lit, a mild wind breeze comming from the only room in the hall way. The monk speaks "There be your opponent. Be careful for tthe arena is to their choosing." And with that the monk turns and walks back to the counter. Zanth grips Yamato's sheath and unties it. With the sheath in his left hand, with his right he grips the hilt and makes his way to the door. A large oak door with a handle to push the door open. As he places his hands on the handle a strong gust of wind pushes the door flat open and knocks him clear on his rear. The door is open at least. But what he sees is not what he expected. It is raining like crazy, the water is going nuts as if a tsunami. But the one thing that is scaring him is a boat is still drifting in this weather, and the fact it is on fire is just 'Oh my god how is that possible'. Zanth takes a step inside and immediatly gets thrown to the left cause of the wind. As he struggles to stand, he looks to his left and sees a young woman standing there, some kind of spear in her hand. "I take it you are to be my opponent? Well My name is Zanth. Charmed."

[Siren]

Through the sheets of water that poured down from the blackened heavens, she saw a man emerge from the cabin door and into the arena. He was almost a head taller than she was, and his exceptionally broad, smooth builds told her he was wearing armor. The lightning crackled sinisterly above, casting a reflective shine off of him that proved it. She'd have to aim carefully. He opened his mouth in some form of greeting, but the howling winds stole his voice and words, making it useless.

Siren didn't waste her own breath, with the winds and rain buffeting her body it was hard enough to keep her lungs clear already. The ship rocked hard under a particularly brutal wave that crested over the sides of the ship, swamping the deck and threatening to knock the buxom woman from her place. Though the little caravel creaked and protested with the effort of holding up under the immense strain it was being put under, Siren had gained her sea legs before she'd even had legs, and maintained her balance.

Swiftly, she raised her right arm high, holding her harpoon so that the tip of its head aligned with her eye. Her left arm came up, pointing straight at Zanth to help her aim. With a mighty heave, she snapped her arm forward in a straight line, throwing the spear so hard that her momentum lifted her left foot from the ground for a moment, sending the harpoon careening across the distance between the sailor and the knight.

No sooner had she sent off her first harpoon than she unslung the other, preparing to throw it, but the sound of heavy hemp rope snapping above her head distracted her. Only now did she realize that some of the storm's "thunder" had been the ship's fully unfurled sails whipping in the raging wind. The storm was driving the sinking ship ever closer to the distant shores.

[Death_god]

Zanth stood at the stern of the ship while his opponent, a young woman holding a spear; looking as if she was pissed and wanted him dead at all costs. So she raises her right arm, spear in her hand like she is gonna throw a twig in this raging storm. No sooner then she launched it did she bring her second one to the front. But she got distracted in the process of the heavy hemp rope snapping.

Zanth stands still as the harpoon flys at him. With the wind blowing the way it is, the wind slowly yet on que changes the harpoons target to the wall behind him. It hits the wall behind him and sticks to the wall like a fly on fly-paper. Zanth smiiles at this gripping Yamato and starts a heavy charge towards the unknown opponent. The wind now blowing towards him makes the hemp rope go nuts and start whipping around uncontrollably. The rain pelts Zanth like hail on a bad day. The rain is comming down heavier then ever, the thunder roars and booms, the flames on sip are not helping the weather one bit. Zanth groans as the rain hits him but it don't stop his charge.

During his charge, he had to jump over fallen limber, part of sails that have fallen due to the storm. The winds are at least blowing at least a good fort-five miles per hour. Zanth's hair is blowing like hell in this wind like no tomorrow.

As he gets within striking distance he raises Yamato and goes in for a diagnal slash across the right shoulder to the left side right below the hips. After the slash he drops to his right knee and does a spin kick. Spinning around hopefully knocking her off of her feet. The flames on the ship are not helping him as they are making his armor hotter then it should be and making him sweat even in this battle. After his spin trick he takes a leap back and readies himself for anything to come now.

[Siren]

Damnit. Siren hadn't expected the warrior to just stand there; she'd been pretty sure she'd adjusted her throw for the wind. Apparently not well enough. She hadn't been truly pissed until that unsightly smirk presented itself on the big bastard's face, but that was all she needed to convince her that he needed to be skewered on her harpoon like a fish.

The heavy percussion of his boots on the wet wood compounded with the splashes to let her know he was coming, and she wrenched her attention away from the listing ship's predicament in time to back away from the heavy slash from Zanth's big sword that otherwise likely would have cleaved her in two, and his attempt to take her feet out from under her wasn't what knocked her down.

A particularly vicious wave broke over the side of the ship, swamping the deck, knocking crates loose, and shoving the half-mer forward. She grabbed hold of a rope to prevent herself from getting thrown overboard just yet, and her hand tightened on the rough coil of broken rigging while she found her feet and tried to catch her breath after having been bombarded by the ocean's wrath.

The deck beneath her steamed; the fire had chewed its way from the galley through the ship's interior, and boards all around the ship were cracking. Every gust of wind and each slap of a wave against the dying vessel only quickened its time before it fell apart and died.

Siren looked upon her opponent with rage-blackened eyes, but her full lips contorted into a smirk. "That's a big sword you have," she yelled to him, slinging her harpoon back into its place and drawing her spear instead. "Compensating for something?"