ceaselessbladeâ:
The smile Petra flashes is broad and without deceit. He reads it, like a bolt of blue in a sea of gaudy livery, and an answering smile crosses his own features, as he doesnât mistake the gestureâ for once. Heart clear, he gives a low nod back in return, holding it for a long second. His slip into the mannerisms that had been ingrained in him in Gallia doesnât register to his thought, and the action cascades like a chain of dominos. Minute shifts occur like a wave of rippling fur as Ike shifts to a looser, freer stance, the clap of boots on wood fading as he begins to roll his footwork into a cadence more suited for catlike tread.Â
Out of the corner of his eye, he notes that Petra is likewise adjusting, eagerness clear in her eyes. She doesnât even have to nod for him to understandâ he acknowledges nevertheless, simply raising Ettard in an overhead grip, shifting slightly to accommodate. A slight pauseâ Petraâs stance is back-footed, power drawn into the back of her sole, like a panther watching for a flaw to strike. Well, she shouldnât mind if he creates that opening, then. With a shout, he starts towards the brutes, drawing their attention towards him. âLeave, or die. Last chance.â He utters. The two brigands look at the two of them, sizing them up. He can see it in their eyesâ predators watching for their chances. Theyâre the only two combatants left, so if they can take the man larger than him, and the girl that doesnât even come up to their shoulders, they can wrest control of the ship and leave. Itâs the greed that takes them. The leer of malice flashes across their yellowed grins, and the first to charge towards them is the man with an axe in each hand, tipped with stained barbs. It does not have grooves for blood, but the wicked shape is meant to draw it all the sameâ killer axes.Â
Ike considers matching the man axe-to-axe for swing, but a moment of consideration has him shake off the idea. Take it seriously. He slides his grip down, and Ettard catches with ease into the overhead swing of both hatchets, like a pole barring a door.Â
Spitting and snarling, the brigand heaves, but the momentum of the axe-swing has already been lost, and without it, mere strength is a poor shade. The pole sticks like a stone. Carefully, Ike removes his bracing hand, leaving only his right arm to support Ettard. The sound of grinding steel begins to contact as the sword begins to rise out of the lock, the mercenary staring the other in the eye. The bandit roars in fury. The grinding steel turns into a jagged screech as heâs forced to retrieve his weapons from the clash before Ike can rip them from his grip. In doing so, he wastes precious time, and takes a bleeding gash as he tries to back away. The mercenary doesnât give him that space. Another clang of steel, and this time itâs Ettard forcing the axes downwards, the brigand straining to drag the twin weapons to his side, where he can at least try to force a neutral conflict. The stalemate isnât going to last long. The other bandit isnât idleâ whatever he was doing before, heâs noticed the predicament of his partner, and is moving in to break the lock.Â
The other bandit attempts to strike at Ike as the latterâs attention is diverted but when his blade swings forth to bite flesh it meets with the cold steel of Petraâs axe instead.
The pressure the bandit puts behind the handle of his weapon increases once his eyes have caught up to his actions. Itâs the girl keeping his blade from tasting blood -- an easy target, he thinks, if he could only drive his weapon toward her just a little bit farther...
He hears a huff escape the girlâs lips from beneath the weight of his attempts to crush her, but sheâs for some reason smiling and now heâs falling and nothing about how he assumed this battle would go is playing out like he wanted.
With one quick motion the young lady has taken control of the situation by using his momentum against him, safely misdirecting his attack so that Ike was no longer the target of the enemyâs aggression. As the bandit struggles then to bring himself to his feet he realizes the gravity of his mistake a little too late.
Petra is obviously not one to be underestimated.
Sheâs faster than him, more agile, smarter than him to boot he realizes. Itâs hard for him to predict the strikes coming and going as she begins her assault, one attack after another searching for a weakness, but her strikes are weaker, the injuries inflicted, if any, more superficial. He either certainly had her on brute strength or she was just toying with him.
Wearing him down, piece by wretched piece.
Unwilling and unable to keep this game of stamina going for much longer the bandit attacked, forcing Petra into the defensive, and the match continued. The two were engaged in their treacherous dance for not too long thereafter when finally the bandit missed step and fell into the maw of the lion.
It was quick and easy work.
The bandit stood no more.
Petra looked back to see the outcome of Ikeâs battle, but by the awed looks of the crewmates gathering it seemed she had nothing to worry about.











