The moon had long ago set, earlier than usual for this time of year. Vilpamolan’s docks were lousy with rowdy crewmen and good-for-nothings mulling about the ships. Fights were common, and a few had already taken place this night. From where she hid, sitting crouched in the shadows behind a chimney on a rooftop, Rixxan watched and studied. The ship she needed to seek out was dead ahead. It wasn’t the most regal of all the pirate vessels in the dock, but with a captain like the one it had, that wasn’t terribly surprising. The guy had supposedly taken more than his fair share from a few piratey ventures and there were plans in the making to see him taken out. Rixxan shifted slightly to remain balanced as she pulled the hood of her cloak over her head to keep her hair from giving her away. The moon’s light would absolutely shine down on her and reflect off her sunny strands like a beacon, a dead giveaway that she could not afford.

All Rixxan knew at this point was that she needed to take him out. The folks around here called him ‘Dreadbeard,’ but she was sure that wasn’t his real name. Didn’t matter, pirate lords probably picked their names to strike fear and dredge up respect from their slimy crews. Either way, she’d overheard in the tavern a few nights ago that there had been an offer on his head and she was more than interested in the coin.

As the crew of the ship fumbled drunkenly about the docks, loading on supplies for what was probably another raid, Rixxan spied down into what she assumed was the captain’s chambers, there was one window with a single candle lit in it, and every now and then a figure would move past it. She didn’t know much about ships, she hadn’t ever been on one, but she could deduct that that must be where Dreadbeard was. Looking over ledgers, planning a new raid or heist, or maybe even eating dinner and enjoying a nightcap. But he couldn’t stay in there forever.

After not much longer, the candle was blown out, and the crew seemed a bit more in order suddenly. Ah, finally, he emerges from the bowels of his vessel! He was a dreadful looking man, with a gnarly beard that went about to his stomach and a rat’s nest of hair sitting below a queer, ratty hat. His stomach was definitely the productt of years of drinking the same cheap mead, and she wondered how he could possibly fight and kill as many people as he did, as frequently as he did. “You’d think a guy like that could afford a shave and a haircut every once in a while… Gheeze. Well, I’ll give him a real close shave! Might even nick an artery or two, by accident, of course! Hah!” Instead of going straight at the docks, Rixx started towards the darker side of the building, divided from the next by an alley no more than two or three metres across. She slid her sword across the rooftop, and it balanced just on the edge as she swung her legs over and hung from the last of the roof shingles, before dropping and landing quietly on the street. Her sword had yet to fall from the roof, so she sent a bolt of dark energy to knock it, and caught it in her arms the way a lover would their desired. It was dark enough in this alley that she wasn’t worried about light escaping and giving her away, but as she strapped the goliath weapon back on she heard something coming up behind her. Instinctively, she grabbed the hilt of her sword, prepared to unsheathe it and also readied herself to have to hurl dark energy at whoever was approaching.

Dreadbeard, an ominous name, Icarus thought to himself.  Among pirates, the more grim the name, the more notorious they truly were, more often than not.  In this instance, Icarus sought a man that had been raiding merchant vessels along the eastern coast.  The man in question was apparently a man of some ill repute that forced the local merchant to offer a contract for the man.  

The price offered was considerably for him simply dead and his vessel scuttled, but Icarus would rather see him brought to justice and forced to suffer long years of hard labor instead of the quick death others sought for him.  It was a more fitting end for criminals in his mind.  The man had inflicted death for profit and as such, he would be punished by seeing his riches taken from him and the years of his life paid in repentance for the trials he had put others through.

As night came, Icarus approached the docks, a veritable fortress for some.  As such, law enforcement was nearly non-existent unless the crews were informed ahead of time for something that could not be bought, excused, or swept under the rug.  Often enough, external contractors were hired to carry out hits when it involved some local figure that was causing an eyesore for them.  Funny how it seemed the sun had set somewhat earlier than usual, but he would hold it as a boon since his plan involved infiltrating the man's ship through stealth.

It seemed that on this night, the majority of the men were reveling in some recent haul that had given them quite the amount of coin to spend on the drink.  Still, Icarus could spot more than a few sentries making their rounds along the docks and they were certainly armed and ready for any possible confrontation that could take place in the event the law decided to crack down on them.  From behind a stack of boxes, Icarus spied the lit captain's cabin, assessing it to be the most likely location for the captain to be found.

After a few moments, the light vanished and the fools that had been gallavanting around the docks seemed to stiffen up and show a bit of discipline at last.  Fat foppish bastard as he was, the man had the respect of his men, likely due to the fact he probably ran a very tight ship.  It seemed from above him somehere, a voice could scarcely be heard and instinctively, Icarus crept further back into the shadows, now behind a barrel beside an alleyway.  

Even as he heard the slight ruckus behind him, he was already moving and dove into the barrel, flipping it over and remaining in the hollowed out bottom of it.  Glancing through a hole in the side, he rotated the barrel cautiously in the dark to glance down the alley toward the thin figure of what appeared to be the lithe frame of a woman's figure standing out from the shadows and illuminated by the light on the opposite side.  Something had startled her.

That something appeared as a group of men, perhaps three or four voices in total from what he could tell, began walking past the alley.  Pausing for a moment, one of the men held a lantern up and glanced down, spotting her.  The situation quickly degraded as she drew broadsword the size of which brought random memories of himself bearing a sword the size of his own body as well.  Shaking the thought, Icarus inched a bit closer to the alley to see what exactly would happen.

The decision was a clearly poor one, however, as she turned tail and ran toward him underneath the barrel.  Leaping over him gracefully, the woman made a sound as though she stopped and a bolt of black flashed over the barrel, striking and knocking out one of her pursuers.  In the next instant, Icarus felt the barrel tipping over and he gripped the inside as best he could, stabilizing himself to remain within after it was tipped.

Thankfully scrunched tightly into a ball, Icarus didn't appear to be detected, though the woman certainly expressed some annoyance as she attempted to kick it toward the men with no result at first.  The gentle rock back and forth didn't bother him, but each kick came firmer and he felt a jostle as her boot struck each time.  "Why the f*ck won't you roll, damn it?!" he heard her say in frustration as the final kick that sent him rolling in the barrel came.  

"Oh shi-" he said aloud as he rolled, feeling the impact of three men and hearing their cries as they were bowled over by the very heavy barrel.  Crawling out dizzy, Icarus looked back toward where the woman had departed, chasing after her.  It seemed he wasn't alone in his endeavor and he needed to find and take down the captain before she did or he wouldn't be getting paid today.

Rixxan was startled by the light of the watch’s lantern, and while they were just as startled to see her, they were quick to start after her. “Shit!” Rixx re-slung her sword and took off toward the docks, heading to a pass lined with barrels. She was quick, thanks to her elven blood, much quicker than groggy human guards, and she would use her agility and wits to her advantage to get out of this situation. She leapt over a barrel  in her path and landed facing the way she’d come. After throwing one ball of darkness at the watch and striking a guard down, she pressed her palms against the barrel and threw her weight against it to send it rolling towards the watch.

It didn’t budge. Rixxan’s eyes grew wide and she heaved again, then stood up and started kicking at it continuously and cursed under her breath. With her final kick, she lined her boot with her dark energy and that was enough to send the barrel careening towards the watch. Rixxan didn’t stick around to find out whether or not it hit them, but simply continued her sprint for the safety of the shadows in the nearest alleyway. It was slightly closer to the ship but the rabble-rousers aboard were busy with other things and clearly unconcerned with the doings of the clumsy watch. The alley was clearly used for unloading and loading ships, it was full of boxes and crates. Rixxan climbed up two levels of boxes and pressed her back upon the building where the boxes were stacked against. Just in time, too, as someone had just darted into the alley. Not one of the watchmen. Rixxan felt a chill run up her spine, as she was unsure where this stranger was coming from or why he was chasing after her.  It occurred to her, just then, that someone else might be going after the reward money as well.

She gritted her teeth as she concocted a plan. She could attack him here, head to head, but she wasn’t in the mood to deal with a skilled fighter or assassin, or whatever he might be. Quitely and quickly, Rixxan reached up to the edge of the building and flipped herself onto the rooftop. At the same second, she cast a dark fireball onto the crates to set them aflame, creating an explosive inferno. She couldn’t help but grin and laugh out loud, then bolted across the roof and leapt to the next rooftop, a slightly lower one on a building that was nearly parallel with the ship. As fast as she could, she made her way to the back edge of the rooftop and slipped down over the side. She hadn’t planned her dismount well, however, and ended up being pulled down by her broadsword and stumbling onto her hands and knees.

“Damn it all…” After re-gaining her composure, Rixxan looked over herself to find that her hands were pretty roughed up to begin with, but now they bled with little pieces of rock and glass stuck into them. She tried to brush them off on her pants and found that only made matters worse, having to bite her lip in order to overcome the sting of the numerous little wounds in her palms. She started picking at them with opposite hands, first pulling out the larger shards and then picking at the nearly unseeable bits. “Great. Now I’ll have to kill this Dreadbeard guy without my sword.” Disheartened by her inability to regenerate immediately, Rixxan sat down against the building, in a shadowed area made even more obscure by a raggedy overhang on the building. She would tend to her wounds and wrap them in cloth bandages to keep the stinging and handicap to a minimum. She would have to wait awhile, after her explosion with the crates, anyway. The crew would have been alerted to something and, if they didn’t happen upon her first, they would be out and about and looking for something. The explosion was too close to the ship for it to go unnoticed, so Rixxan figured she could use the supposed dispersal to take a breather and patch up her hands.

And hopefully, that man who had followed her into the darkness of the alley was either incapacitated, dead, or burning to death. Any option was okay for now, so long as no other obstacles got between her and Dreadbeard's end.

Damn it, where did she go? Icarus thought to himself.

The woman gave him the slip almost as though she vanished into thin air.  Elves were far too nimble and she had likely given him the slip by getting just out of view and hiding… in the alley he just passed seconds earlier.  Turning around, Icarus took three steps before a shockwave and searing heat sent him flying as one of the woman's black blasts of death and flame ignited the boxes that contained some sort of explosive material in them.  Still ten meters away, the force launched him backward ten feet and collapsed the corners of the buildings they were next to.  

Thankful for wearing his mask as wooden shrapnel pinged off it, he went fully prone on the ground, rolling under the foundation of the nearest building, attempting to remain out of sight.  Now on full alert, the guards were scrambling, crew members losing their drunken haze as the dozens of men that served Dreadbeard began patrols and others worked to grab buckets to put out the fires that had erupted.  Suppressing a cough and rolling onto his back, Icarus rubbed his chest that had absorbed the brunt of the blast.  

Fortunately, the leather beneath his garments had soaked up most of the kinetic force and that was likely what kept him from suffering any broken bones or worse.  He didn't know who the woman was, but her games were certainly not enjoyable and if she kept trying to kill him, it was likely that he would not hesitate to return the favor.  For now, the most important thing was evasion, embracing the shadows, and remaining out of sight and sound of the enemy.

Returning his belly to the ground, Icarus crawled forward with his knees and elbows, katana removed from his hip and held by the sheath in his left hand.  Continuing forward, he glanced to the left and right to ensure the immediate path before him was clear.  Spotting his destination, Icarus rotated his body to line up laterally before he crossed the ten foot gap by rolling quickly, holding the sheathed blade to his chest.  

At last, he heard the sound of glass crunching and the woman's voice once more.  Turning and glancing to see her picking glass out of her palm, Icarus looked from underneath the building and watched the surrounding area.  A pair of guards appeared around the corner, coming quietly upon her as she sat against the building.  Trying to crawl quickly, Icarus focused his senses and found himself somehow intercepting them as they charged toward her when they came close.

Unaware he had teleported and simply bewildered by the sudden shift in the world around him, Icarus reached up with his left hand, grasping one of the men by the head.  Instinctively rotating his grip on his weapon in his hand, the sheathed weapon in his right hand became a blunt hook that caught the second man under the chin and pulled him off his feet.  The man trapped by his left hand flowed through the air as Icarus sailed with his own momentum, slamming him face-first into a wall.  Both men lay on the ground unconscious and with the force they were dispatched, it seemed unlikely they would rise for quite some time.

Turning back to the woman, Icarus cocked his head and his eyes glowed brilliant blue behind his mask in the reflected light of their lantern that by fortune alone had not broken.  The markings on it were a combination of red lines and patterns upon a flat mask, the very same design of the first mask his master had given him.  Anonymity was commonly his friend as it did not pay to have every stranger in the world knowing his identity.

"First, don't try to kill me ever again or the last sight you ever see will be the world spinning topsy turvy as your head leaves your shoulders.  Second, you have made this infinitely more difficult for both of us.  I'm pretty sure neither one of us is going to manage this alone, although I probably could.  I have literally no trust for you, but the fact they're trying to kill you too means we have some sort of common goal or at least an enemy," he said before starting to walk away.

"I won't make it more difficult for you lest we fall prey to them in our fighting, but know that you'll die if you attempt my life again.  I'm taking the south side of the port, that way is relatively clear after you blew up two buildings further north.  I'd suggest if you want to continue and have a chance of living, you'll follow at a good distance.  We can settle our squabble when we've found him," he said, issuing his warning once more and offering enough advice to preserve her life.

Always striving to keep others alive, even if they were imbeciles that made tasks nearly insurmountable, Icarus could at least grant her that much.  If anything, it may even twist her with a sense of honor if she had any so that she would remain out of his way as well.  It seemed working alongside her was out of the question for the time being.

Taking off once more, Icarus ran from view once more and dove into another empty barrel, flipping it over and sneaking along the pier.  When patrols came within earshot, he would cease movement and wait even for minutes at a time if necessary to avert their suspicion.  After all, no one would be suspicious of a barrel unless they saw it moving, or at least that was his logic.  His plan to maneuver to the ship was sound in his mind, including the path he would take until he boarded it.  From there, it would be simple enough to disarm and arrest the man, escorting him away at bladepoint if necessary.

Her tracker, unfortunately, was not dead, Rixxan learned. He’d just struck down two guards she hadn’t noticed encroaching on her, then turned to her to give her a stern warning, which was essentially a slap on the wrist as far as she was concerned. She scoffed and rolled her eyes at him, this masked man in front of her in his armor with his proud stance and weapons. Though, as he walked away, Rixxan did think that it might be best to change out her own weapons. Her goliath of a sword disappeared and a smaller, shining and clearly rarely-used bastard sword with a solid, black obsidian hilt appeared in her hand. She’d bandaged herself up enough now that it wouldn’t be too difficult to wield the smaller weapon, so she stood up and dusted herself off. This guy was clearly a bit more skilled than she was, but Rixxan assessed her situation to decide what her new course of action would be. Did she try to overpower or overtake him and risk losing her head? Or did she simply lurk in the shadows and let him do the dirty work? 

She tossed her hair back and snorted at her own failure to decide. It was easy to choose the second option, though the first option was infinitely more appealing to her darker nature. The man was a lurker as well, she found, as he was hiding under a barrel and moving very slowly to maintain his sneaky position. Rixxan realized that it must have been him under the barrel she was trying to tip, and that must have been why she couldn’t tip it. She cloaked herself too, but with the darkness of the shadows rather than in a physical object. She had chosen to slink around behind him rather than try to overtake him. He could probably do the majority of the dirty work for her, she was sure. 

Eventually he got far enough ahead of her that she just sat on another boxcrate and contemplated things. She’d wait until he did or didn’t make it off the ship, then either slink behind him for a bit more or immediately confront him and take Dreadbeard’s head. After not too long, she heard what did not sound like a successful confrontation, and more like a scuffle aboard the ship. She peeked around the corner just to see a figure running off the boat, but quickly moved back into the shadows.  The person turned into her alley and ran past her, and surprised as she was, Rixxan leapt from the shadows and took to running after him, gaining on him quickly thanks to her elf speed. He’d run into an intersection, and had turned around as Rixxan drew her sword, pointing at him as she stepped carefully from the alley. 

“Time’s up, Dreadbeard. Nowhere to run and no one to protect you now that your crew’s caught up elsewhere.” She grinned as she paused for a moment, to live in the dramatic effect as she watched him look her up and down and scoff at her size. He was convinced she wouldn’t have any ability to hurt him. She scoffed now, and sighed as she went to step off and attack, only to be caught off guard by the sudden appearance of the masked man. Out of nowhere. In her way. 

She growled and felt the dark magic consume her mind, and she barked at him as a quick burst of the dark energy enveloped her for a moment and disappeared as she barked at him.

“You again!?” She bit her tongue hard enough to hurt, because she was still unsure of whether or not she could challenge this individual. “How did you even just show up here! You were on the ship!”  

For all his efforts, Icarus had infiltrated the ship fairly easily after figuring out the patterns the guards were following.  Eventually, he came to edge of the dock near one of the moorings, the easiest place to board the ship since the gangplanks were manned by a sturdy-looking group of pirates.  Sneaking behind some boxes, Icarus pushed the box off himself and grasped the thick ropes that held the ship in place beside the dock.  They seemed more than sturdy enough to hold his weight without shifting too much from tension.

Glancing once more around to ensure there were no guards nearby, Icarus took two steps before leaping with his hands outstretched.  Wrapping his legs around it and clutching it close to his chest, he nocked the rope into the crook of his arm and stabilized himself as the light sway of the rope slowed.  He pulled himself along, inching toward the deck of the ship as he continued to monitor the positions of the nearest guards and the light that fluttered from their lanterns.  

After a few minutes and a body slowly tiring from the effort, Icarus reached one hand out and stabilized his body against the ship.  Taking a deep breath, he grasped the rope once more, releasing it with his legs.  Icarus turned his body along with his grip, now facing the ship as he swung back and forth to drive his feet toward it.  After a few swings, he generated enough momentum to get a sufficient foothold on the metal beams that anchored the rope to the ship.

Now pulling his feet toward him, he walked his hands forward until he stood vertically on the beams, his position just under the rope.  Glancing around, he found enough handholds due to the metal brackets supporting the structure of the vessel itself.  Now truly feeling the amount of effort he had put forth, he took another deep breath and reached up, finding a grip before stepping up on a stud with his foot.  He repeated the process time and again until he planted both hands on the deck.

Peering over, he noticed the deck itself was devoid of any pirates, the captain having returned to his quarters.  Sneaking aboard, Icarus drew his katana and longsword silently in preparation for what was to come.  As a pirate, it seemed extraordinarily unlikely the man would surrender without a fight and Icarus would subdue him by force.  Noticing the door ajar, he pushed it in only to have a vase collide with his mask, knocking him back as a large body hit him and flattened him before fleeing toward the gangplank.  

Icarus scrambled quickly to his feet, the element of surprise now lost and reinforcements coming onto the ship from the docks.  The scene around him changed even faster as he became surrounded by nearly a dozen men.  Taking a defensive posture and shifting the direction he faced, he reacted as they began to close in.  His swords flashed as steel met steel and in the darkness, only those brief lights could be seen.

Striking down the first two simultaneously, Icarus cleared a way for himself toward the gangplank and he rushed toward it quickly.  His pursuers gave chase and more met from the front.  In the distance he could see his target turning down an alley toward his hopeful freedom.  Now in the light of the dock lanterns, the blood of the others could be seen marking his mask and bloodmist emerged from his mask as he let out his breath, the life fluid on the mesh mouth opening.

"Get out of the way, damn it," he growled as he ran toward them.  

Not heeding him, one took a wide swing which he slid under, his katana plunging into his abdomen and he drew a wide arc to withdraw the blade while he followed through to dissect another man.  Finishing his spin facing back the way he came, he thrust forward with his longsword, piercing a man's chest with excellent accuracy that struck his heart.  Rolling backward, Icarus brought the katana up, blocking a chop aimed at his head and countering with a lateral cut with his longsword that bit deep into the assailant's leg at the knee.

Another of the men came at him and Icarus returned to his feet, sidestepping the blow and driving his katana into the man's wrist before he kicked him off the pier and into the water.  With a quick slash, he cut another's eye out and the man collapsed from the pain as he clutched his face.  Almost too fast for him to react, a blade thrust forward toward him and it was only by the good fortune of his circular technique that allowed him to dodge what would have been a life-threatening strike.  The blade dove through his shirt and narrowly missed biting into flesh as he spun in place, his longsword cleaving the man's head from his shoulders.

The pier itself was a veritable bloodbath now and yet, the pirates still seemed intent to bring him down, despite their complete inability to so much as draw his blood.  Some cried "demon" while others fled, but even more now joined the fray.  His acrobatic efforts were tiring, although he was still nimbly dodging everyone with his nearly artistic form of battle.  Everything he did was with a purpose, no effort wasted on movements that were less than absolutely efficient.  It was the art of war that he had formulated and mastered himself.

It involved the ultimate in mobility in tight quarters to keep the enemy consistently forced back to ensure he could strike freely while they had no such freedom if they fought with numbers.  It was a form designed for the battlefield against many opponents, but in solo combat, it quickly proved overwhelming for even the staunchest of opponents that were not in possession of foresight due to the irregular movements and unpredictable direction his blades would come from.  One weapon that could parry and strike in addition to the fast motion of the katana gave him the ability to whip out with great efficiency in a manner that was impossible to dodge at times for the uninitiated.

He feinted a strike and pulled back his weapon before parrying a blow aimed at his ribs and stabbed backward with his longsword, piercing the shoulder of a foe while he headbutted the man in front of him.  With the crunch of broken facial bones, the man backed off and Icarus pressed the attack, leaping and bringing the heel of his boot across his jaw as he spun, fracturing it and knocking him out of the fight.

His path now mostly cleared as men scrambled away from the bloodied man, Icarus took off at full sprint, catching sight of Dreadbeard and the woman in alley he saw the man flee into.  Forcing himself to move faster than he thought possible, he appeared before the woman, blocking her from Dreadbeard with both weapons drawn and held low.  His head leaned back slightly, his eyes glaring down at her as blood-red light radiated from his body due to the veritable quarts of blood that now covered his clothing and neck.  

Bloodmist emanated from his body as the heat his body generated from the battle in the cold night air met and caused the blood to evaporate from him.  He knew now that the woman had come with the intent to end Dreadbeard's life.  Perhaps the call of coin was far too alluring or perhaps she gave no mind toward the morally right decision to force him to suffer the rest of his life.  Icarus didn't care.  This man would live by whatever means he could achieve.  

"He lives.  You can keep the reward for his capture, but his suffering will consist of a long life of arduous labor and not the quick gift death would bring him," he said, unsure of how he even reached them in time.  He raised his blade and leveled it with her, keeping his ears focused on the man in the event he intended to strike him from behind or flee again.

Rixxan’s internal growling grew louder as she took a heavy step forward, her sword lowered just from her anger as she started spouting out of frustration. He might have been scary to anyone else, but Rixxan was mad and seeing red. 

“You are a really big troublemaker, do you know that? I could have handled this entire thing by myself, but you got in the way! Ugh! Damn you! Who do you think you are?!” Rixxan’s teeth were grinding and she didn’t even realize it. It was times like this that she almost wished the demon was still inside of her. All that was left from that period of her life, though, was the pink hue of her eyes. They were green, once, years ago, before that whole scenario started. Even thinking about it was normally enough to make her lose her head, but she had nearly lost it already and that wasn’t dramatic enough to affect her anymore. She took another step towards the masked man, focusing on him and preparing to throw more of her dark magic at him. Out of the corner of her eye, now she noticed Dreadbeard start off running again. 

“No! Don’t let him get away!” Rixxan started after him, bolting past the opposing threat, and turned down the alley Dreadbeard had run into. Immediately, her eyes grew wide and she dug her heels into the ground to come to a screeching halt. Dreadbeard was standing in the alleyway. On either side of him were more members of the crew, and probably other crews from the nearby ships and allied captains. Rixxan took a deep breath as the crowd took a synchronized, menacing step towards her, threw down a black fireball to cause a moment of disarray, and turned heel to run. The small army behind her roared and started after her once the smoke cleared, and she ran back around the corner screaming to the masked man, even though they were not allies. 

“New plan! Run away! Run as fast as you possibly can! RUN!” Rixxan ran past him and tried to make her way to the docks again, thinking there couldn’t be too many pirates ahead of her seeing as they were all chasing after her and the masked man. 

The woman's protest to his interruption made him ready to simply call it a day and hack off a limb so she would get the hint that her behavior would not be tolerated, but for a moment, he found her too pretty despite the rough exterior and lack of respect for life that he couldn't do it.  Something about her diminutive Elven frame brought to mind his thoughts of his first and only apprentice, Riva.  She was a warrior by nature, but it was her loyalty to his oath brother Sahmbo that had instilled his faith in her to be a capable disciple.  

This brief hesitation cost him the initiative and his focus as Dreadbeard fled the scene behind him.  It wasn't until she yelled and ran directly past him that he finally snapped from his frozen state.  It seemed that even though they were inherently opposed to one another, the pair were destined to have their fates intersecting for a greater time than either of them likely anticipated.  Turning around to follow them, Icarus sheathed his weapons and the blood that soaked his garments trailed off him as he sprinted.

Still around a corner from her, Icarus heard the crack of her dark magic striking something while the voices of a veritable army of men let out a battlecry.  He instinctively began to run even before she came around the corner and called out to him.  He cursed his luck even as he chuckled at the turn of events.  Icarus certainly didn't expect this, much like she hadn't expected his interference prior to his appearance directly before her nor the explosion that had nearly killed him earlier.

He led the charge as a few more men appeared before the pair.  Using the wall to his right as a spring, he leapt past them, dragging his left hand down in a fist that knocked one of the men completely off his feet.  It wasn't much of a gap, but if the woman were any sort of professional as he suspected, she could make due.  Landing on uneven ground, Icarus lost his balance and rolled forward, headbutting another man in the crotch with his hardened plaster mask, bringing him to his knees and smashing his own nose behind the mask.  

"Son of a bitch!" he exclaimed as he recovered, using the man's shoulder to rise quickly as he slumped over in pain.  Taking off once more, he maintained his slowly diminishing lead over the woman while doing what he could to strike others that were in the way.  With his hand firmly on the grip of his katana again, he tucked his shoulder down and charged, slamming into another man while striking him with the pommel in the gut.  Ahead of him, the path was clear again and he dashed forward, hoping to make it to the docks before the small pirate army could catch him.

Icarus led the way back to Dreadbeard's boat.  The effects of fighting with such great expertise and continuing in varied sprints for the past ten minutes had finally begun to take their toll on him.  His mind was not functioning as efficiently and he was now forced to perform instantaneous calculations that were not assisting him in developing a winning strategy.  They would have to ascend onto the ship, rushing past the corpses he left behind.  

From there, he had no idea what to do.  Upon the ship, the pair were surrounded and it seemed rather than outright attempting to kill him, the pirate captain had other plans in mind.  He looked toward the woman in his company with a gaze of unadulterated hunger and lust gazing disdainfully at the man.

"Ye thought ye could take Dreadbeard with but the two o' ye?  The stones on the lad are immeasureable ta have killed so many o' me men.  I'll break yer woman first and turn her inta me slave before I toss her ta the men.  It's the least she gets for tryin' ta kill me.  You," he said, pausing as he pointed a hand at Icarus.  "For being willing ta let me live, I'll offer ye more time.  Ye can drop your weapons and keep the mask until ye be executed at open sea in the morn'.  I'll be wantin' ta see the face o' the sod what came for me before he dies so I can stare inta his eyes as the light fades from them," he explained, offering him a temporary stay of execution.

Disarming himself with a nod and a grin hidden beneath his mask, Icarus removed the two blades located at his hip and let them fall to the ground before kicking them forward and taking a step back.  He still had an ace up his sleeve but it would have to wait until they were at sea.  The men gathered here certainly came from additional ships, meaning there would be significantly less men when they arrived at their destination.

Still, he worried about what would happen to the woman in the time prior to him unleashing his grand plan the revolved almost entirely around as much luck as it did skill.  She had started to grow upon him.  Sure, it was like a tumor growing on one, but the tumor was still a part of one's body.  He at least had a requirement of his own honor to do what he could to give her a chance.

Following the masked man proved easier than she thought, especially given the shadowy nature of the scene, she used it to gain on him even more, jumping through the shadows with her meld. She could feel her magic starting to wear on her, as explosions were not necessarily her forte, but she would reserve the last bit for any emergency situation there might be. But so far, he left simply a wake of downed crewmen and pirates behind him, and she’d simply leap over their bodies and continue sprinting behind him. He was definitely an avid fighter, probably a warrior in some past war or a leader of some battalion. But where he was skilled, Rixxan was nimble and quick, much much quicker than any human could hope to be. Even in the wake of danger, elves were ever so graceful. It seemed at one point, her masked ally had used his own body to hit another combatant and had hurt himself, she could tell from his scream of anguish, and Rixxan couldn’t help but giggle inside. Eventually, she realized she didn’t need to run as fast as she had been, and simply started trotting along behind the masked man, as she’d caught up to him quite quickly. If any of the crew who he had taken down started to rise as she past them, she would simply slash them down with a quick smash from her sword ro hilt. While it would normally be the type of thing she would use to dismember a body, it served well enough for putting people down at this point that she had taken a slight fondness to it. Though she missed her real, hulking beast of a sword that she normally carried. The weight of it on her back, causing her fatigue and strain at times, it was a burden she loved to carry. Swinging this small bastard sword around was like swinging around a stick in comparison, but it did it’s job, to say the least. 

At one point, the man got far enough away from her while crossing between two alleys that a duo of pirates came between the two. Rixxan slowed up her gait long enough to find a good striking angle, and as they rushed her, she turned her sword sideways, striking one in the stomach with the blade and the other with the hilt, then flipped it to do the opposite. Blood spurt from their abdomens as they clutched at themselves, and Rixxan allowed them to buckle before her before pushing them down and using them as a springboard to jump ahead a dozen feet or so, putting her back in the same place as she had been, and now she was gaining on the masked man faster than she had been before. 

Rixxan realized, soon enough, that she had made an awful mistake in following this masked man. She had expected him to know the way out of the area, to somewhere safe and far away from the pirates, but he had either read the wrong map or been a complete fool and lead them literally back to the ship, directly into the hands of the pirates. As they encroached and Dreadbeard started to speak, directing his words toward Icarus more than her it seemed, but Rixxan could feel the pit of hate inside her stomach starting to build up even more. She raised an eyebrow as if she couldn’t actually believe she was hearing the words out of his mouth. Slave? Are you kidding me? I’d sooner be dead. 

She rolled her eyes and threw her sword down alongside her ally, who’d been given some option to essentially live 6 more hours or so. This was going to be a long night, until she could get some more food in her and re-fuel, she’d only have a few shots at magic left, and that was by no means enough to save her. Some of that, she bet, would be used summoning her greater sword, and the rest most likely would be allotted to explosions and dark energy. The circle around them tightened, and Rixxan could taste the alcohol coming off all of their breath. To say it was pungent was an understatement. 

Dreadbeard’s crew produced two pairs of shackles, one of the normal iron-looking metal, and one of some sparkly bright tungsten-coloured metal. Rixxan took a deep breath and forgot to exhale. 

The pirate lord started again, “For ye, some plain ol’ shackles’ll do fine, but yer woman’s trickier than ye might think, I’ve seen ‘er lurking roun’ the ports many a night and she’s got that evil magic,” the man spat, as men from this continent tended to do to ward off ‘evil spirits’, and looked her over again. Rixxan wrinkled her nose in disgust, and he laughed at her display of such distaste. “Fer the elf we’ve got a pair o’ lovely bracelets straight from the isle o’ the elves. I can tell she recognizes ‘em, by the look of horror on ‘er face! Ain’t it funny, that the elves have shackles that prevent magic from being used by their wearer! Ain’t that a kick in the ass, lass?”  Dreadbeard laughed merrily as the shackles were closed up Rixxan’s wrists by a crew member who held the end of the chain, and the masked man was locked into his. While her mind was screaming, she was blinded by hate and anger. Her brow was locked in a deep furrow as she glared at Dreadbeard. She wanted more than anything to blow up this entire ship right now, send everyone flying into the air, but no matter what she tried there was no magic she could use. Dreadbeard stepped up to them, just a few feet away now, and seemed to be entertained by all of this. Rixxan failed to see any sort of humor in the situation.

“Well now, we’ve all had our fun fer the evenin’, but it’s about time to set sail and head out. Mates, take ‘em away. Separate holds, boys. Don’t need ‘em plannin’ ‘n plottin’ against us.” He shoved past them, knocking shoulders with Rixxan, who was surpressing everything inside of her. As he had just stepped past, he turned around, and almost whispered to Rixxan. “Though without yer magics ye have nothing to protect ye, here,” and a rough, burly hand cupped her ass.   

“You son of a bitch!” Rixxan went to swing and punch him in the jaw, only to find her hands ripped away from her just as she did. 

“There’ll be none o’ that insubordination on my ship, lass. I’m captain and I run a tight ship, so get it through your head that ye best learn yer place.” He walked off, towards his chambers where Rixxan had spied him earlier. She should have crawled through the window and killed him earlier, she thought. She should have flayed his skin and cut out his tongue and eyes and carried his head back on the end of an axe. If these shackles weren’t on her, she would have exploded into a fireball and burned the ship and everyone on it. Rixxan growled at the man who held the chain of her shackles, but knew that if she was bound she held no ground fighting anyone here. He grunted at her and tugged the chain, the metal of the shackles clanking together and scraping her wrists. He led her to what was probably not even a holding cell, but just an empty room about the size of a large closet, with a hook on the wall that was apparently what the shackles were attached to. He closed the door as he shoved her in, and she heard a lock click shut. This room was very, very dark. The only light was the light that crept in under the door, and that didn’t do her any good. 

“This is pretty depressing, huh. Sit in a dark room until someone comes to lead me away to my deflowering ceremony, I suppose. I didn’t think this is how it would be, really. I thought I’d be a bit more notorious than this before I was taken out of the game, maybe have even my own estate. Though, really, I dreamed of having a guild of fellow wrongdoers…” Rixxan sat down, knees to her chest, with her head leaning back against the wall. “This is the worst! I just need to get these shackles off, I could break this whole ship to pieces with one jolt of energy to the beams of the hull! Crack them straight through! I don’t want to sit here and await whatever fate these pirates have in store for me.” She sighed and kicked the wall out of frustration, earning herself nothing but shocks and pain through her knee and hip. “And what about the man in the mask? Surely he is not having the greatest time right now… I wonder what sort of torturous end he will meet. Unfortunate for him that he’s simply a man and has nothing to offer a group of pirates, though at the same time… I might rather face his end. Though, without the torture part. I’m sure he’ll be at least missing an appendage or two by the time the dawn greets us and he meets our Maker. Rixxan sat in the darkness for the rest of the night, eventually drifting off to sleep where she was greeted by nightmares. 

The worst of them was a vivid world covered over in fogs and smoky air. There was a hot springs nearby, and waterfalls collecting into pools of steaming clear water. She recognized the area, immediately. Looking around, she spied a long-faced teen boy nearby, laying in one of the pools relaxing. She knew who he was, the love of her so-far-short life, who she had thought she had lost years ago. Was he really alive, in the same place she had lost him?  As she approached him, she caught sight of herself and realized she was years younger. Not knowing that this was a dream, she touched her face, and though the flesh had feeling, she was not sure what to make of this situation. Had she dreamed the past few years as some sort of premeditated vision? Was she still sixteen and happy? Upon closer inspection of the pool’s reflection, she found that her eyes were still green, her face still young and un-tried by the darker times of her later teenage years. She smiled and thought that maybe her recent misery was all just a bad dream itself, maybe she had slipped or it had just been a mistake and she’d dreamed it for no reason. She called to the boy, and he lifted his head from the ground and saw her and waved, a smile growing across his face that she had known for so long. Rixxan started towards him, to tell him about the strange dream of the future she had just had, when a shadow appeared next to him. Rixxan screamed as she recognized the person standing there as herself in the present, sporting her pink eyes and hollow=faced smirk of apathy. Green-eyed Rixxan screamed, yelling no, as the pink-eyed, older girl grabbed the boy by the hair and lifted his head, and slit his throat with a nearly invisible slash. As she blinked, she found herself now the one with the corpse hanging off her hand, and screamed. She was not dreaming the future. She was re-living the past. In the worst way she could possibly think to imagine, this nightmare was forcing her to re-live his death. The whole scene was so eerily accurate that it seemed like it was actually happening all over again. Rixxan felt her own her start to rip through scar tissue that had healed and numbed her, just as it had on that awful day.

Rixxan shook awake as boots clomped down the stairs near her door, half-panicked from her awful dream of her former lover, half-panicked as she realized this probably was the beginning of her undoing. 

Unlike his inconvenient and untrustworthy ally, Icarus was not able to enjoy a good night's rest, no matter how disturbing the dreams may be.  In fact, he was thankful for the fact some of men were seeing fit to heft a beating upon him because the dreams that often came to him were the sort to drive the most stalwart man into a spiral of fear and depression.  His dreams were often the inner workings of his memory crying out to him and bringing back those things he feared most and the horrors which he had survived.  Compared to those times, this was nothing.

In his first life, Icarus had been torn apart by demons.  His last memories of that moment were driving a blade into the head of one only to have the arm ripped off by another.  His leg was bitten into by the mouth of a demon he had not killed and horns were driven into his abdomen followed by demonic hands that gripped to tear him in half.  That life had suffered a horrid end and the last sight he saw were the fields of thousands of his men's corpses as the cries of the dying could be heard while a black army of Hell trampled the land underfoot.  

The dreams of seeing his brothers slain in each of their various ways dominated his psyche in those times.  From Rygar who died protecting him using forbidden magic to Sahmbo who was slain by one of the Devil Gods and then Hellmarx who died in the defense of his son in the imperial capital of Peaceguard when Abaddon came to claim him, Icarus had seen them all, the latter two after his first resurrection.  His wrath when he combined his might with that of his angelic guardian, Freya, had been the sort of thing that crushed the Devil Gods underfoot like vermin.  Such power was lost when he traveled through realities after his victory, however.

As it was, they were under orders not to disfigure his face nor his body, but they were given free reign to inflict harm upon him with fists until they were satisfied with what they had done.  His body was still strong, tempered by war, and the fresh resurrection only a month ago had renewed the state of his flesh, removing the faintest of scars.  Indeed, by many opinions, he had a body that approached the pinnacle of human athleticism, a gift from the dark power that had returned his life to him as it left him, even turning back the clock on his body's age several years.

One of the men that came to him was one he recalled from earlier.  The man now had one eye while the other had a rag wrapped over it, the scar left by Icarus' blade stayed true in the man's flesh.  Understandably, the man was angry and the grunts Icarus let out with each new blow left him winded even as he tensed up to protect his organs with the sheer strength of his body.  He had a lithe form, but it was one which had been tempered and as such, at least he wouldn't have damaged kidneys nor a ruptured spleen by the time of his execution tomorrow.

Still, the amount of time he had to dwell on the entire situation left him bringing back his memories of the structure of the ship.  If they were going out to sea, it seemed likely that Icarus would be forced to "walk the plank" in shark infested waters.  That would be the moment he would perhaps have his only opportunity to turn the tide and take over the ship.  It would be a moment that would force him to use every ounce of skill and cunning to achieve the results he desired, however, he still had two aces up his sleeve.  One was the woman, the second being a patrol he had planned to meet him roughly forty nautical miles from land in the event such a situation were to arise.

Indeed, Icarus was a master strategist.  He always had a backup plan.  Initially, it had been his intent to capture and sneak Dreadbeard out of the docks by a carefully thought infiltration that he had unfortunately botched, likely a complication due to the woman's explosive magic.  The second plan had been enacted before he even set out to catch the pirate lord.  

When he first accepted the task, he set conditions and gave details of his plans to the merchants that had assembled to hire him for the task of apprehending or killing Dreadbeard.  He informed them that they would require three ships that would need to have nigh upon one hundred mercenaries upon each of them in addition to their crews.  At first, the merchants laughed and brushed off his idea until he explained the situation to them with math.  They were taking significant losses frequently to the point they would be able to recoup their losses from such an endeavor within a few weeks. 

On top of that, the reputation that the merchants were not ones to be trifled with would circulate, adding safety due to the fear of mass retaliation by them.  Sure, the occasional vessel could be poached on the sea, but their frequency would plummet immediately and remain so for quite a long time.  After a few hours of discussion, he had been able to convince them of the necessity to do so if his initial plan ended in failure.  

In fact, although the woman might be quick to argue with him about it, chalking it up to mild coincidence, he had directed them to the ship just for this reason.  He planned to suffer whatever lumps required and remain proper bait so his grand scheme could take effect and the trap could be sprung.  All that he worried about was timing.  He would have to wait for quite some time until his reinforcements could arrive if they didn't detect Dreadbeard's ship early.

Hours passed by as beating after beating came and went and at last, perhaps an hour of solitude came for him as he hung limply from the hook in the ceiling his bindings were hung from.  When the last of the men left, he let out a cough and laughed defiantly despite having received one of the most intense beatings in his life.  Still, no blood in his spittle indicating damaged organs, so overall, he was satisfied by the result.  

Morning came fast, though for him, it was all the same.  He hadn't been able to tell the time but his jailer below deck had made a rooster call to taunt him.  "It's your time, you masked f*ck," he gleefully called as he opened the cell.  Beneath his mask, Icarus was smiling although his body was exhausted.

Grabbing him by his bindings, the man hoisted him off the hook and Icarus collapsed despite his attempts to stand.  Breathing raggedly, he found his footing as the pirate helped him up with a kick in his butt followed by a slap to the back of his head, taunting even as he raised him over his shoulder.  Phasing in and out of consciousness, Icarus saw the bright light of the morning sun as he came to the main deck.  The pirate threw him and as he landed, the rest of the crew gave a cheer and laughed at the state he was in.

Gazing around, Icarus looked up toward the aft section of the ship, seeing Dreadbeard standing proudly over the ship while the woman from the night previous stood next to him, still chained, but seemingly in much better condition than he.  In fact, it actually looked like she hadn't really even been touched save for the fact she was being handled inappropriately while chained.  Icarus let out a sigh of relief as the men raised him to his feet and he looked toward the sea to either side of him, acting like he was trying to fight the removal of his mask.

"And now, boys, the moment ye've all been waitin' for!  Let's see the bastard's face!" Dreadbeard shouted to a chorus of cheers and praise.  

With the removal of Icarus' mask, much of the crew seemed shocked, to include the woman.  Beneath it was a youthful face, free of deformity or scar that defied the sheer brutality and efficiency of a man that had seen war for years.  He was war incarnate with a kind of attitude for mercy that defied it as well.  All things considered, he was a walking contradiction.  The things he had done versus the peace he sought, even going so far as to forgive one that had tried to kill him and worry about her safety.  In times past, he would have simply ended her existence based on the fact she was a threat.  Now… now he had a vision of what a world could be like without war or hate or pain and he would do all he could to bring it to being.

"Wouldn't ye look at the pretty boy?  To think ye all were beaten by a sissy.  I can't tell if we should kill him or turn him into a cabin boy har har har.  Have ye got any last words, boy?" Dreadbeard taunted, believing this moment to be a great victory over an enemy that had been a credible threat to his life of piracy and luxury.

Staring him straight in the eyes, Icarus smiled defiantly.  "Yes, I'll give you one final chance.  Surrender now, or everyone's lives are forfeit save myself and the girl," he called back to the pirate lord.  His deal was met with a great laugh from the crew as the captain bellowed out the order to send him to the plank.

Now able to stand on his feet once more, they walked him toward the plank, cutlass poking against his back.  In the distance, he could see a ship to the aft of them as the anchor held it in place.  It wouldn't be long before the first of the three ships would be upon them, even the lookout in the crow's nest paying no heed to their surroundings as he watched the execution at sea.  Icarus kept his smile despite the dire circumstances he was in.  Directly below him at the edge of the plank, he could see the sharks already circling, knowing the anchored ship meant a meal for them.

Turning around and dropping down, Icarus reached up with his arms, grabbed the plank as it flexed and recoil, launching him up and over the head of his executioner.  Kicking back, he sent the man falling below as his screams brought everyone forward in a bid to kill him now that he had defied the ceremonious execution they deemed fitting for him.  The rusted shackles on his wrist were the sort that were not intended to remain and he could only assume they selected them for him because they didn't believe he would put up a fight.

A cutlass thrust toward him and Icarus twisted his body and brought the links over the point of the blade, striking dead center of it and slicing through it in a shower of sparks.  Commands were barked and the men kept coming for him, Icarus using the manacles now to strike with more force and parry blades as he took step after step forward.  Each strike he took was connected in its form as he stepped forward with martial poses to defend himself prior to palms and legs lashing out to dispatch enemies, at last siezing a sword as a man lost control of it.

Swinging wildly to clear a way, he ran toward the center of the ship, looking toward Dreadbeard to see he already had his hands full with the woman as she had turned the tables on her captors.  That was a good thing as the last problem he needed was a hostage situation.  And so, Icarus only had to keep fighting until their rescue arrived to keep her alive.  At least she could escape.