675-11-21 - Rescue Mission 3: The Showdown

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Rescue Mission 3: The Showdown
Summary: The pirate camp is attacked by the rescuers, fighting ensues, as does the search for the royal captives.
Who: Zephan Onimus, Moshe Machuri, Vandrik Aidyl, Madalyn Onimus, Nathan Onimus and Luanda Brais; also Rhea Blackvenom and a priate guard, both NPCed by Rivers; and two women in the tent with Madalyn, as played by Teddybear
References: None
When: November 21st, 675
Related Logs: 675-11-21 - Rescue Mission 1: Heading for the Island and 675-11-21 - Rescue Mission 2: Ashore
Date of RP: 16-23/12/2014
Where: Pirate Camp, on the Island
Room Desc: In the scene set.


The day has passed as it had, and the two captives had spent it in the tent, with Nathan tied to a pole and Luanda tied up somewhere beside him. Darkness had set in outside, and for now only an oil lamp on a table was offering a flickering light. An oil lamp that the pirate guarded as well, as he sat on a chair beside that table, his lazy gaze now and then brushing the captives. He was awake - of course! - although those eyes now and then tended to drop into a half-lidded weary gaze. The kind that sometimes precedes a quick five minute nap.

He may even have had slipped into dreamland, with the ruckus of drunken singing from outside the tent slowly subsiding - were it not for the other ruckus that had followed. Sounds of movement outside, running and soon shouting a well. Shouts that were cut off, literally, and ended in the gargling sound, characteristic of someone who had just gotten his throat cut. However. There are sounds of steel clashing against steel as well.

A sound that stirs the guard, and makes him jump to his feet and venture to the tents exit, to peer carefully out from behind the flap.


With the sounds of violence outside of the tent, it brings the question of whether or not the poles to which the prisoners are tied are truly secure or not. (Since nothing has really been able to be accomplished and there’s no way of knowing what will happen…) Nathan pushes up, sliding up the pole to his feet as the guard is looking out of the tent. He would try to push the pole out of place so he could free his hands… but the chances of that are likely slim given the purpose of the tent. So… he likely is able to do nothing but wait to see if the guard leaves the tent.


Luanda looks up blearily, her eyes blinking slowly. She had been dozing, and the sounds outside only reach her with some difficulty. She seems a bit feverish, perhaps from the sunburn or perhaps from the gash in her shoulder. The hurts from her ordeal have not healed much in the days she’s been a prisoner, and she has added to them; her wrists are raw from trying to slip free of the binding ropes. There is only so much she has been able to do with the guard asleep. But now, hearing the ruckus outside, she lifts her chin and sets her jaw. She begins to strain once more against the ropes, ignoring the pain, trying to free at least her hands.


The poles should be secure enough, at least they have been driven far enough into the ground as to provide the tent with stability. Less stable is the confidence of the guard however, who still stands at the entrance, staring outside, as low curses leave his lips.

Outside it is hard to see much in the darkness. There may be a bit of flickering light provided by the almost burnt-down fireplace. But mostly it is a chaos of people engaged in combat, where it is hard to tell who is friend or foe.

Amidst of all the fighting is Prince Zephan, his sabre cutting through a pirate before he turns to the next, a cold fire burning in his eyes that have a darkness to them in the poor light. Somewhere close by is Prince Zahir Nuru, flanked by some Golden Lion knights, as well as others fighting on the side of the Isles and their allies from the desert. Which will only be those who came with the /Mermaid/ and the Nuru ship.

The parley with the pirates from the three ships that had arrived, had been brief, with Prince Zephan pointing to broken treaties, and them replying that the pirate captain responsible for the capture of Prince Zephan and another Princess was an aberrant rebel against the league of the pirates, an outcast, which gave them leave to attack, albeit without help from said league as they refused to turn against all of those in the camp.

It is obvious that the people from the Isles and the Golden Lion are getting the upper hand, when a slender figure clad in the intense colours of a leader who also wears an impressive black hat manages to break free from the fighting and heads towards the tent where Nathan and Luanda are, with swift and sure-footed steps.


Moshe is one of the Isle’s knights that has come along for the rescue mission. He was not asked, he had come on his own and he is showing them that he is no coward.With every grunt, growl and curse he spits out at his enemies for taking the royals, Moshe continues to fight against the pirates, shield in one hand and sword in the other.

He may have got seperated from the others as the fighting continues but he is interested in the tents, he knows the Royals are within the tents. As he brings down a pirate, he hears something, he is not sure what but he distinctively heard it, a woman’s voice or sound. As he blocks another attack, parries and steps away from his attacker, he gets closer to that tent. Finaly he manages to block hard enough to expose the pirate’s side and his sword finds that mark, bringing the man down once again. Still through this he is heading to that one tent, a smaller one compared to the others.


Vandrik is no stranger to combat, but combat in the jungle was something new. Still, he managed to hold his own, not slowing them down any while they fought their way to free the captives. Now locked in mortal combat with the final guards, Vandrik is proving his mettle bearing a single long sword and the light armor that he wore for the occasion. He doesn't waste time with words while he fights, until the man with the black hat heads towards the tent. Vandrik notices him right away and shouts out to alert the others, "Someone stop him!"


Some may call Prince Zephan a fool, for he wears no armor at all, just his fashionably negligent attire of a shirt and breeches. He is after all not a knight, and perhaps he chooses the advantage of swiftness over that of protection. His blonde hair frames a face that is pale in the flickering light of the campfire, his eyes burning with deadly determination, one hand already pressed to his side, where one of the pirates has managed to slash him, as dark red stains are already showing there on the light blue fabric beneath his hand.

The prince’s head turns, his gaze following Sir Moshe as the knight moves from his side over towards a smaller tent at the back. Zephan’s brows will lift in a silent question, as he probably has been oblivious to the sounds of a female coming from there. Still, he will not call him back as he suspects the bastard knight has his reasons. The Onimus Prince’s attention is then drawn to Sir Vandrik and his warning, cold blue eyes soon settling on the figure with the black hat, that has already almost reached the entrance of the bigger tent, where a head of man had been visible but is withdrawing now, vanishing in the darkness inside.

“Yes!”, comes the hissed reply to the Aidyl and former knight of Two Rivers, when Zephan evades another attack of a pirate, ducking away under the slightly rusty blade of a poorly kept pirate sabre as he spins about the man and places his own deadly blow at his back. “To the tent…”, the prince calls to those who are not too heavily engaged in the battle, as he is already heading towards it.


The figure hears the call of the prince, it turns, revealing a face with feminine features below the wide brim of the black hat. There is a flicker in her eyes - of panic, or challenge, who can tell? - before a low curse leaves her lips and she vanishes into the tent.

The female pirate captain will move over at once to where Prince Nathan and Princess Luanda are tied, each to a pole, bringing them between herself and the entrance as she draws a small blade, while the guard stays by the entrance, in terrified shock.


MOSHE’S ADVENTURE

There are not any guards near the entrance to that smaller tent to which direction Moshe is moving. Just one body is already laying there with a cut throat in a pool of blood. Another pirate is, likely, on the battlefield and tries to save his ass.

The closer Moshe will get, the more clearly he will hear voices of a few females, "We should run! We should just run, they all will kill us!" - says one female.

"No no no," opposes the other, "We will tell, that we are not with them. They came for the Prince and Princess, who needs handmaiden?!"


Now Moshe see's his direction bound empty of threat, the fighting left behind for now but he is ready for anything as he approaches the smaller tent. As he starts to notice the body laying there with the throat slit open and then he hears the women talking. Two women, afraid but obviously armed.

Upon approaching the tent, looking down at the dead pirate he takes a look around once again. Before he enters he speaks and it's a deep sounding voice, no fear but determination. " I am Sir Moshe of the Isles, here to rescue Princess Madalyn and Prince Nathan." Then he will enter, his shield at the ready as he does, just in case they decide to attack him.


When the man will come inside that smaller tent, he will be surprised. There aren’t any women with blades and shields. No. These two women are dressed in simple rags. They keep their hair tied with dark ribbons and stare at the man with wide open eyes. One of these females starts crying, "Please, please... I am not one of them! I am just a healer!"

The other one just gives a glare for her partner and moves closer to the body laying on the ground, covered with many blankets. Moshe will be able to notice perfectly white curls. The woman is unconcious.

"We do not have nor Princess, nor Prince! Leave us alone," tells the grumpy one.


Moshe looks towards the two females and frowns, sure he intended to frighten anyone inside before entering but they seem harmless enough. His eyes looks to the two. " I am not going to harm you if you do not intend to harm me. I will spare you if you listen." his voice is commanding and the look of his face, the blood splatter from his kills tend to make him seem a little more gruesome.

At seeing the white curls his face changes to that of anger to surprise. " Step away!" oh yes, there is anger, mixed with concern. He hopes these two are helping this woman, he hopes it is who he is seeking and he hopes she is alive. " Madalyn!" his hopes spoken out loud, his sword sheathed and his shield dropped. There is no etiquette left as Princess is not mentioned but just her name is spoken again. " Madalyn!" once again he moves but closer to the one covered in blankets.

"Do not leave, stay within the tent or you will die!" he tells the two, maybe it's for their protection or maybe it's to make sure no one else is alerted of his presence within the smallish tent.


"We won't move out, but neither will you leave the tent, nor this girl, who you call Madalyn!" The grumpy healer rolls her eyes, "You can't carry her. She has a huge wound on her right side. We are trying to save her and recruit to the crew of our Lady Pirate."

The sensitive one starts sobbing even louder, "We tried to save her, I promise. Things look good for now, but if tonight her fever will raise... Then she is lost. She will sleep. Forever. Don't move her..."

Madalyn is laying on her back. She is breathing very slowly. The young girl looks really calm and even happy. She is dressed up in a simple dress. All bandages will be hidden under the dress, of course.


Moshe is not sure or he seems not to care, his eyes on Madalyn and he knows she is sleeping. The smile that he see's on her makes him smile again, she was always able to do that to him. At hearing the two healers telling him not to move her, telling him that she may die if she does not break the fever, his expression changes. From a smile to one that may murder anyone that says another word about Madalyn dying.

He turns his head to both of them, his eyes ablaze with anger. " If she dies, both your lives are forfeit, you will do what you will, you will save her." then he stops and looks back to Madalyn and licks his lips slowly, already chapped but he cares not. " If you save her, your lives I spare and you will be well compensated."

Then he moves right beside her, down to his knees and putting one arm across her body, putting his hand on the floor beside her to steady himself as he leans in to whisper in Madalyn's ear. " Princess Madalyn, it is me, Sir Moshe. I have come to take you home, you must wake up, so we can talk again, please."


Meanwhile, back on the other station...

Vandrik blinks a few times when the features underneath the black hat turn out to be feminine. There is only the briefest of pauses as he reminds himself that he's in the Isles and not Two Rivers, so seeing women in charge shouldn't seem out of the ordinary. And the person with the biggest hat has to be the one in charge, right?

Vandrik continues to cut a swathe through the pirates, their life on the seas no match for his life of training and competing with the blade. His light armor also allows him the luxury of not needing to parry every attack, as he can shift his shoulder this way or that way and allow the cutlass swings to glance off the steel. Rapiers, however, do require more attention as their pointy bits tend to find ways to poke through any open crevice in the armor. Still, the pirates are likely not used to fighting against heavy longswords, nor the rather brutal fighting style of Beresgond.

Seeing that the prince is nearer to the woman than he, Vandrik calls over to him. "Go for the tent, highness! The men and I will handle this lot!"


Assuming that the woman just moved past them and tried to position herself towards the rear of the tent, Nathan kicks out at her booted feet when she moves past him, fully intent on tripping her in her haste to get away from the conflict outside where screams ring through the night. “I /told/ you this would happen!” he calls out in a loud voice, pitched to carry beyond the walls of the tent itself. “Time to hide while your people die for your stupidity? Brave captain!”


Indeed, the woman known to Nathan as Rhea Blackvenom would have moved past the poles, swiftly, tossing the black wide-brimmed hat into a corner, which would reveal her black long curls, still in part hidden by the red scarf that is bound about her head, as well as the snake tattoo at one of her temples. She moves with the elegance of a panther, which in part may be the reason for her evading the captive’s sudden attack, the other part being that she already may have expected it.

“Do you know you are adorable, when you are upset like that?,” she purrs behind the youngest Onimus prince now as she reaches around for his cheek with her hand, to give it a teasing little pinch. She will stay at his pole for now, and he will soon feel the tip of that elegant smaller blade against his back. “I will not give up on my supper yet…” she whispers, the playfulness of her words not really managing to conceal the strain in her tone. “Although..,” and here she pauses, and Nathan will feel the tip of her blade vanishing from his back as her attention shifts to Luanda and a mad cackle suddenly can be heard throughout the tent - and maybe even beyond. “A Brais princess, hmm?”, Rhea giggles as she crosses the distance to the other pole - and the young Royal of Two Rivers that is tied to it.


Meanwhile, outside of the tents the fight is still raging on. The odds are turning more and more against the pirates - indeed their number seems to have diminished a little, but who can tell for sure, with all those forms of dying and severely injured scattered about.

Zephan nods to Vandrik’s words, although he does not need any further encouragement. He is already on his way, not really caring if any of his men are following him or not, his pace picking up when he sees the woman vanish inside of the tent. He’ll slip through the flap silently like a snake, the absence of any armor on him maybe an advantage. His attention will be drawn to his brother first, pale blue eyes lightening up when he sees Nathan is still alive. Registering motion at the back of the tent his gaze will wander - and shift to the other captive, the barely clad woman of Two Rivers, a view that will be enough to distract him momentarily - and make him oblivious to the guard lurking behind him.


That guard will, no doubt, attempt to attack Prince Zephan from behind. Which means his back will be to the entry flap of the tent. Which means he won't see Vandrik enter several moments after the Prince. Just in time for Vandrik to soon and bring his blade in a wicked arc across the back of the pirate guard, slicing deeply from shoulder to hip, skiffing through tendons and vertebrae alike. If the guard survives, which he likely won't, he'll never walk again.

With that finished, Vandrik moves to stand next to the Prince, his normally handsome face set hard with anger and determination. His curly blonde locks are matted to his head with sweat and blood. His armor is dented and covered in the blood of battle. This all brings back the grimness that he faced in Two Rivers during the famine and plague, which takes Vandrik to a very dark place indeed.

With his human side suppressed so that he won't hesitate in combat, Vandrik almost stalks directly towards the remaining pirate in the tent, intent on just killing everyone not on his side. But, then he remembers the hostages and stops short, stepping back next to Zephan.

He looks to the Prince for a moment, then back at the hostages, instantly recognizing the young Brais royal. Vandrik sighs heavily and grits his teeth, holding his sword out in front of him with both hands.

"Now is the time to start trying to find a reason for me to not make your death the most long and. painful death I can imagine," Vandrik growls at the pirate.


“Ahhh, now that is a sight for sore eyes!” Nathan says cheerfuly as he sees those entering the tent. Twisting against his pole, he shows his bound hands with a hopeful grin on his lips that is a bit out of place with the hostage standoff. “Would someone be so kind as to cut me loose and give me a weapon, so I can shut this wench up?” his gaze turning towards Rhea with a distinct grim darkness in his eyes. “She uses poisoned blades by the way. Just so you know. And she is the brilliant mind who thought sending a severed finger and calling it mine would earn her an island.”


Luanda increases her efforts to free herself as she listens to the chaos outside. Her eyes brighten as a loop of the ropes shifts, and then her breath hisses sharply as the rops slips onto her injured wrist, putting pressure on the swollen flesh. She shifts her position as much as she can, then freezes as the pirate queen enters. She doesn’t cower; instead she watches the woman warily, her eyes narrowed. “Know your enemy,” she whispers to herself. “Know and study, and the weaknesses will be revealed….” She watches, then shrinks away when the she-pirate cackles. She makes one last effort to yank her hands free, then gives a little soft cry of pain, quickly stifled. She looks over at the newcomers, then at Nathan. Then she looks to the pirate queen. “If you harm us further… my father will make sure you die a painful death. Had you returned us all safe…. you would have been richly rewarded.” Then, to the rescuers, “Please… help us.”


A grin curls the guard’s lips, as his own sabre is ready to attack the oblivious Zephan from behind. His gaze connects briefly with that of the pirate leader Rhea in a triumphant glare as he takes a swing - for a blow that will not be executed fully, when Vandrik interferes just in time. That grin dies at once, as does his owner, when the Aidyl deals him a ghastly wound to his back, which cuts him literally open and finishes him off on the spot.

The sudden movement, followed by a spray of blood that stains his already ruined shirt of light-blue even more, will belatedly alert Prince Zephan to the threat, as he glances over his shoulder just in time to catch the effectiveness of Sir Vandrik’s action. But there is little time to waste when there is still that other threat present in the tent.

Rhea Blackvenom frowns when she sees her man go down, and leaning foward she will grab Luanda by her hair. “Keep on whimpering, little girl,” she taunts her with a mad grin. “And I’ll give you cause to whimper even more… Poor little thing, look at those wrists...” Her free hand reaches for the Brais Princess to pull her up, a movement that should be hampered by the rope she has been tied with. But Luanda will suddenly feel that horrible burning sensation of her sore wrists subside and find the strain of her bonds gone, when pieces of rope fall to the ground beside her, cut with remarkably little effort by the sharp blade. The newly found freedom will be of rather short duration, because Rhea pulls Luanda towards her from behind with more strength than one would think her capable of, given her slender physique; and the sharp edge of her weapon is set against the captive princess’s throat.

“You mean your Isles queen would have given me an island if I had sent her one of /your/ fingers?”, she snarls in Nathan’s direction. “And aye… a poisoned blade, so you should better watch out!” Whereas Vandrik’s challenge will make her tighten her grasp about Luanda. “Try, and I’ll let this princess here bleed for it,” Rhea says in a low menacing tone, as she stares back at Vandrik with a faint smile. “Nobody moves!” This addressing all in the tent now. “Or I will kill her.”

Cold blue eyes will study Rhea from afar, the older Onimus prince seemingly not too impressed by the threat of the woman. And so he will walk over to where his brother is still tied to the pole, pointedly ignoring both Luanda and the mad pirate leader, his left hand still pressed to his side, while his sabre is in his other hand. “Brother,” Zephan smiles, a faint smile, but grand for his standards, as he sets the blade of his sabre carefully against the ties that bind Nathan and cuts him loose.


"Make no mistake, wretch. You are dead where you stand," Vandrik states, his voice a harsh growl between clenched teeth. "Your choice is /how/ you die. Surrender, and I shall do my best to see that your execution is swift and humane. Draw even a trickle of Brais blood and I can promise you agony of which nightmares could not contain before we allow you to die."

Taking a cue from the Prince, Vandrik likewise steps forward, working his blade around a few times to loosen up his tight muscles. "The time for bargaining passed when you entered this tent to threaten our kin. If you wanted to parley, you should have done it before I was drenched in your men's blood."


“Ahhhh. Much better.” Nathan says, as he takes a moment to rub his wrists, that show shockingly bruised and abraded skin from a long time spent bound. “If you don’t mind, brother? You’re bleeding you know, and I have a little business to finish with the crude lady there…” as he speaks, the Prince reaches out as if to take the saber from Zephan’s hand if the other does not protest, turning towards the pirate and the princess.


Zephan’s pale blue eyes shift from Nathan to the sabre in his own hand when his brother asks him for it. “Certainly, I don’t mind,” he says then with a shrug, handing the weapon over to the youngest Onimus prince. “You know I’m better with my hands anyway.” The remark about his injury will be met with a dismissive gesture. “It’s nothing, really.” A cold glance he shoots towards Rhea and the princess. “So go and finish your unfinished business with the wench, brother,” Zephan says in a distant look in his eyes, clearly not caring if anything happens to Luanda in the process. “But finish it you should.”


A mad cackle comes from the pirate leader, even though her eyes roll nervously, darting from Zephan to Vandrik and then to Nathan, when he is freed from his ties. An action that makes her instinctively press that blade of hers a tad more against Luanda’s throat, enough to make a few droplets of blood trickle from a cut that for now is still rather trivial.

“Is anyone listening to A WORD I SAY? I’ll kill this poor little frightened princess right before your eyes, if I have to!” Rhea shouts, her tone menacing, and her eyes rolling in a mixture of madness and despair.


Luanda gasps as the pain in her wrists eases, but the pain in her swollen ankle returns sevenfold. She sways a little, but does not give voice to the pain. For a moment she looks absolutely dazed. Part of it is shock, maybe, and part of it is a whirl of thoughts that race through her mind. For an instant tears form in her eyes. She trembles, afraid, not wanting to die. And then she blinks, and she lifts her head, and an unexpected sternness comes into her eyes. “I am listening to you, pirate,” she says, her voice hoarse and yet steady. “I am listening to you sealing your death. If you kill me, you will surely die. Not only that, but all who live here with you will likely be put to the sword. These men here want you dead. I might be able to convince them to let you live if you let me go. I might be able to convince my father King Brais that you do not deserve to die. The men here know you are dead sooner or later. So.” She glances over at Nathan, and there is something almost wistful in her eyes. She trembles slightly. “So. Are you going to let me go or are you going to sign the death warrant for you and all your followers?


“Now, see what you did?” Nathan says as his eyes focus past Luanda on Rhea, a smile curving his lips that is far from pleasant to be on the recieving end of. “You cut her. Did you use the same poisons on that little knife as your sword? What are you going to do when the Princess faints on you and falls down? Try to defend yourself while holding her up?” His eyes catch Luanda’s for a second as he speaks, then he focuses more fully on the pirate. Lifting the sword he’s ‘borrowed’ from his brother and giving it a little twist as he flexes his wrist. That done, he takes a slow, deliberate step forward.


"Holding a knife to her throat does nothing but further anger us, wretch," Vandrik growls. "You're life was over the instant we set sail in search of you. I will repeat, and this is the final time, you're only choice now is how you die."

As Nathan approaches the pirate more directly, Vandrik will begin stepping to the side, ensuring that there is no place for the pirate to go. He holds his sword in front of him at the ready.


Even Zephan will approach the pirate lady, from a third angle, even though his movement seems to be but a casual stroll; his eyes linger on Rhea though, cold blue eyes assessing her as if her were looking through her. He will leave the spotlight to Nathan and Vandrik for now, though, staying close enough to interfere, should it become necessary.

“You /are/ dead, wench,” he says flatly, a faint smile curling his lips as if he were already anticipating the pleasure to watch her die.


The action had obviously not been deliberate. Rhea’s dark eyes widen ever so slightly when she hears Nathan’s assessment of the situation. Did she really cut Luanda? “It’s your own damned fault…”, she hisses, her arm that holds the Two Rivers princess tightening about her. “When she falls I’ll kill her.

“Empty words,” she snarls at Luanda’s brave remark next. “I’d be a damned fool to bring you back to your father. Rather convince him he’ll pay me a nice little ransom which he’ll do. When he gets some fingers. Your fingers…” A dangerous spark gleams in her gaze. “Real fingers of a real princess this time, right, little prince?” The blade is still at Luanda’s throat, albeit with decidedly less pressure than before. Those close by can indeed see traces of a dark liquid on the blade. Seems Nathan was not so wrong with his assumption after all.


“You *are* a damned fool.” Luanda’s words are clear, clipped. “Pay you? You don’t know him very well, do you. Each request for ransom will remind him more and more of me. And then he will come and he will kill you so very… very…” With each moment Luanda’s voice gets slower, slightly slurred. She blinks, then glances over at Nathan. She smiles briefly, and all the while she is getting more and more pale. Then she sways dizzily and slumps sideways hard, going fully limp, falling towards Rhea’s knife-arm.


Nathan is smiling, looking rather calm and serene in that moment when he lunges forward an instant after Luanda begins to fall. The Prince Protector shows a grace and economy of movement that comes from long hours of practice. A precise lunging slash is made, angled above the line of Luanda’s slumping form and striking upwards towards the vulnerable neck of Rhea before she can properly react. There is no play in the eyes of the young prince as he strikes with the full intent to kill as efficiently as possible, striving for a deathstroke in the first move of their duel. Blood flies from his arcing blade as it flashes upwards, sending a spray across the wall and roof of the tent.


Even though Rhea Blackvenom has held the Princess with her other arm, the sudden shift of weight takes her by suprise. “Will you stay on your feet, little princess wench,” is muttered towards Luanda through clenched teeth, as she tries to stabilize her and succeeds at least in part, but not enough to avoid her sword arm from being hampered.


The moment is brief, still, her attention is distracted enough to open up her defense, when the deadly slash of Nathan’s sabre comes, her attempt to pull away and evade his attack too late to really succeed. Luanda will feel the arm that holds her go limp, before it lets go of her, the poisened blade falling to the ground when it slips from the pirate leader’s grasp. Soon followed by the pirate leader herself, the slender form of the rather petite woman collapsing as blood leaves her throat, and life leaves the woman with a last gargle.


Into the silence that follows cuts the sound of clapping, when Prince Zephan Onimus brings his hands together for a haughty applause. “Bravo, Nathan. Well done… Now… I heard Madalyn is here as well?” A slight tension has entered his cold voice. “We should look for her as well.” Unaware as he is of Moshe’s success in that particular search at the moment. “Oh… Sir Vandrik? If you please…?” A lazy gesture towards the Two Rivers princess comes from the older Onimus prince. “This is after all a princess of your former kingdom.”


Luanda falls in earnest once she is released, landing hard in a rather splendid, if unintentional, imitation of a sack of potatoes. The skimpy sack she wears is soaked with blood, and the seam of it splits when she lands. Groggily she lifts her head. “Princess Madalyn… she’s here? I was trying to find help for her… for her… when they took me. She… badly…” Her voice trails off again, and Luanda faints, slumping indelicately, her head thunking on the ground.


Nathan gazes down at the fallen Rhea, watching her as her chest goes still in death, no longer drawing breath. He is silent until that moment, blade still held at the ready as if not trusting the woman to stay down. The young man's gaze lifts towards Vandrik, “Yes, if you would tend to the Princess…” Nathan echos, while turning towards his brother. “We have a sister to rescue.” the word ‘again’ left unsaid but still hanging in the air as he exchanges a look with Zephan. Turning on his heel, dressed only in a sarong and carrying his brothers bloodied sword in hand, splattered with the crimson of arterial spray; the Prince begins to stalk out of the tent to search for his pale haired sister. “Come, Brother…” his voice drifts back over his shoulder.


Vandrik will rush forward just after the prince, his first thought of catching the princess. Lucky for her, then, when Vandrik manages to catch her before her head can hit the ground, though not stopping her fall entirely. Pausing just long enough to ensure that the pirate is dead and he won't have to defend himself or the fainted fair maiden, Vandrik will skid his sword back into its sheath. Then, with one motion, he slips his arm under Luanda's legs and scoops her up, holding her safely against his chest.

As the princes lead the way from the tent, Vandrik will survey the area and shakes his head. "Well that was a fine day of slaughtering. And now I get to be dick on the way home, too," he comments to himself with a heavy sigh. Seems the heroes just never get to have it easy these days.


FADE