Post by Mr. Moshypocrite McSlowbro on May 11, 2012 17:17:01 GMT -5
The battle raged onward, as pirate steel clashed against marine justice as fiercely as the churning sea below. Men gave beastial shouts of pain and glory, each seeking to claim their victory with another stroke of the sword. It was a bloody game, and no one was keeping score.
But there, in the center of it, stood a figure of calm. One who had yet to be pulled into the red haze that others around her had fallen to. Now, this was no hardened veteran, no self-disciplined monk. Her serenity had nothing to do with strength of mind or spirit. No, this confidence came from the fact she was only vaguely aware she was in danger in the first place.
Her thoughts far from where she stood, Kallie was instead embroiled in a conflict of a different sort entirely. 'Wait... how did that song go?' Normally such a thing wouldn't have bothered her, but she had always rather liked the way the tune had gone, and now it seemed to be waiting just on the tip of her tongue. 'Was it... Pah pada padumdum...'
The paint-blinded swordsman was pulled back by his friends, still clutching at his eyes. Several more men flooded into where he had stood, eyeing her silently. Though these men were angry about what she had done, they seemed not so despicable as to deliver mortal harm on a young (unarmed?) woman, as the previous fellow had been. One of them moved to grab her arm, probably to take her into some form of "protective custody" or somesuch. Almost without thought, she ducked underneath him; painting a solid white coat over his shoes, and subsequently, the wood he was standing on. The sailor turned to reach for her again, but found himself quite glued to the deck. '...Padadada pada padumdum.'
The next fellow now had ample evidence that she was going to be a troublesome prisoner, and moved to draw his blade when she skated towards him. But she moved quicker than he, and cast another layer of white across the man's hand. The strong adhesive quickly cemented his fingers to the sheathe. Despite his struggles, would not be drawing that sword any time soon. '...Padada padada dumdum.'
Coasting along more swiftly than the distracted men seemed to be able to catch up with, he proceeded to glue as many vulnerable locations to one another as she could, culminating in what she believed to be her finest work, when she stuck two men front-to-front in a manner that resembled a hug. But more importantly, she had finally found her inner rhythm again, and proceeded to blurt out the last few words of the chorus with boundless amounts of ill-timed enthusiasm. "Something, something, something, MAKE SOME NOISE!" This declaration came at the same time as the obligatory motion of tossing her arms into the air. The gesture did not seem to be appreciated by the gaggle of freshly-disabled men that laid in her wake.
It took the sound of a rifle cocking to pierce her dreamy state. Turning to the side, Kallie came face to face with another invading assailant, who stared her down with nothing but cross-hairs and contempt. Perhaps suddenly forced to face the gravity of the situation, she let out a scream, and held her arms up in front of her face as if to protect herself from the rifleman's cold fury. Seconds later, the eccentric woman heard a loud bang. But it was not the bang that end her life, no, instead it was the bang that would save it. From behind her, on the deck of the other ship, there was a tremendous crash, and shards of wood were sent flying in all directions. It was her great fortune that a hefty shard of the door, spinning off like a world-class boomerang, arced through the air at just the right angle to ricochet off of the offending man's head. He collapsed to the ground in a heap.
Everyone close enough to be aware of the situation, Kallie included, looked around in relative confusion. When the sailor's eyes rested on her, the artist simply shrugged. "...Wasn't me." Turning towards the opposing ship that was sailing alongside them, she was able to make out what appeared to be a small crater of impact, followed by a jagged trail of splinters back further into the vessel. Furthermore, with her goggles shielding her eyes from the harsh whipping winds, she caught a few torn pierces of cloth, which had likely been torn off whatever had been tossed around so flippantly. A rather familiar bit of cloth, actually, given the vibrancy of the jacket it had been attached to.
Glancing back towards the pockets of combat in the immediate vicinity, she confirmed the grim discovery, and quickly decided on a course of action.
Her judicious application of paint had already driven her against the railings, so she wasted no time in jumping on top of them. Looking across the gap, she could see some men advancing towards the broken hold, swords drawn in a manner that did not suggest benevolence. For a moment, the other ship seemed to pull away, as if to prevent her from making the jump.
Like that was going to stop her.
Leaning forward, Kallie kicked off with a burst of compressed air, the force of the sudden blast tearing a hole in her former perch. Zooming through the air like a human bullet, the woman whirled around and delivered a crude, yet effective two-footed kick to the man who was closest to the shattered door. As a result, he was sent careening off to the side, his weapon forgotten on the ground, and she was able to bleed off enough momentum to land somewhat shakily in about the same location the brigand had previously occupied.
"Hey! Leave Fancy-Coat alone!" She shouted, brandishing her paintguns as menacingly as a girl of her stature could manage.*
But there, in the center of it, stood a figure of calm. One who had yet to be pulled into the red haze that others around her had fallen to. Now, this was no hardened veteran, no self-disciplined monk. Her serenity had nothing to do with strength of mind or spirit. No, this confidence came from the fact she was only vaguely aware she was in danger in the first place.
Her thoughts far from where she stood, Kallie was instead embroiled in a conflict of a different sort entirely. 'Wait... how did that song go?' Normally such a thing wouldn't have bothered her, but she had always rather liked the way the tune had gone, and now it seemed to be waiting just on the tip of her tongue. 'Was it... Pah pada padumdum...'
The paint-blinded swordsman was pulled back by his friends, still clutching at his eyes. Several more men flooded into where he had stood, eyeing her silently. Though these men were angry about what she had done, they seemed not so despicable as to deliver mortal harm on a young (unarmed?) woman, as the previous fellow had been. One of them moved to grab her arm, probably to take her into some form of "protective custody" or somesuch. Almost without thought, she ducked underneath him; painting a solid white coat over his shoes, and subsequently, the wood he was standing on. The sailor turned to reach for her again, but found himself quite glued to the deck. '...Padadada pada padumdum.'
The next fellow now had ample evidence that she was going to be a troublesome prisoner, and moved to draw his blade when she skated towards him. But she moved quicker than he, and cast another layer of white across the man's hand. The strong adhesive quickly cemented his fingers to the sheathe. Despite his struggles, would not be drawing that sword any time soon. '...Padada padada dumdum.'
Coasting along more swiftly than the distracted men seemed to be able to catch up with, he proceeded to glue as many vulnerable locations to one another as she could, culminating in what she believed to be her finest work, when she stuck two men front-to-front in a manner that resembled a hug. But more importantly, she had finally found her inner rhythm again, and proceeded to blurt out the last few words of the chorus with boundless amounts of ill-timed enthusiasm. "Something, something, something, MAKE SOME NOISE!" This declaration came at the same time as the obligatory motion of tossing her arms into the air. The gesture did not seem to be appreciated by the gaggle of freshly-disabled men that laid in her wake.
It took the sound of a rifle cocking to pierce her dreamy state. Turning to the side, Kallie came face to face with another invading assailant, who stared her down with nothing but cross-hairs and contempt. Perhaps suddenly forced to face the gravity of the situation, she let out a scream, and held her arms up in front of her face as if to protect herself from the rifleman's cold fury. Seconds later, the eccentric woman heard a loud bang. But it was not the bang that end her life, no, instead it was the bang that would save it. From behind her, on the deck of the other ship, there was a tremendous crash, and shards of wood were sent flying in all directions. It was her great fortune that a hefty shard of the door, spinning off like a world-class boomerang, arced through the air at just the right angle to ricochet off of the offending man's head. He collapsed to the ground in a heap.
Everyone close enough to be aware of the situation, Kallie included, looked around in relative confusion. When the sailor's eyes rested on her, the artist simply shrugged. "...Wasn't me." Turning towards the opposing ship that was sailing alongside them, she was able to make out what appeared to be a small crater of impact, followed by a jagged trail of splinters back further into the vessel. Furthermore, with her goggles shielding her eyes from the harsh whipping winds, she caught a few torn pierces of cloth, which had likely been torn off whatever had been tossed around so flippantly. A rather familiar bit of cloth, actually, given the vibrancy of the jacket it had been attached to.
Glancing back towards the pockets of combat in the immediate vicinity, she confirmed the grim discovery, and quickly decided on a course of action.
Her judicious application of paint had already driven her against the railings, so she wasted no time in jumping on top of them. Looking across the gap, she could see some men advancing towards the broken hold, swords drawn in a manner that did not suggest benevolence. For a moment, the other ship seemed to pull away, as if to prevent her from making the jump.
Like that was going to stop her.
Leaning forward, Kallie kicked off with a burst of compressed air, the force of the sudden blast tearing a hole in her former perch. Zooming through the air like a human bullet, the woman whirled around and delivered a crude, yet effective two-footed kick to the man who was closest to the shattered door. As a result, he was sent careening off to the side, his weapon forgotten on the ground, and she was able to bleed off enough momentum to land somewhat shakily in about the same location the brigand had previously occupied.
"Hey! Leave Fancy-Coat alone!" She shouted, brandishing her paintguns as menacingly as a girl of her stature could manage.*
*That's not very scary.