Post by Terminally Chill on Nov 29, 2013 19:12:15 GMT -5
The old farmer's defiance brought everyone to a shocked standstill. Oskar's mouth was agape, the only person witnessing the baffling spectacle aware of the mysterious man's identity. The slaves saw a soil-stained stranger, dressed in humble garb barely any better than their own rags. While the neophyte pirate knew Sagara as the Iron Tiger's teacher and therefor a man possessing an exceptional amount of martial arts prowess, the reason for his appearance as an ally was as much a mystery to Oskar as anyone else. Even Ruddiger could not hide the shock on his face. The namesake blade was stopped dead on the iron-blooded master's unyielding palm. Grinding his teeth, the guard captain futilely struggled against the stalemate.
“There's something special going on tonight in this queendom.” Sagara finally addressed the executioner directly, showing no sign of folding beneath the sword strike's strength. “I can't allow you to ruin it, Captain.”
“An Atzintlian commoner...?!” The blow to Ruddiger's pride was the greatest cause of alarm. A simple farmer possessing the audacity to stand against the royal guard captain was unheard of, every bit as deserving of execution as Oskar's offense. “Die, treasonous old man!” the ripper decreed, reeling his shark-tooth sword in before lashing down to split Sagara in two. The martial arts master moved with speed and grace that betrayed his aged appearance, taking Chester by the back of his shirt and dancing out of the cruel blade's reach with one swift movement. Rending through the stone with ease, the ripsaw carved a jagged scar into the ground where Sagara and Chester once were. The skinny slave tumbled across the ground as the fleet-footed farmer tossed him to safety. The defectors were making no efforts to flee to the ship, eyes locked in awe as they witnessed the fantastical fight of two top dogs.
The skirmish was visibly one-sided, Sagara forced on the defensive as he dodged and danced around Ruddiger's violent and erratic sword swings. The tyrant captain's movements were different from before. While uninterested and lackadaisical when faced with Yoko's best efforts, Ruddiger seemed to have already registered Sagara as a threat. The two darted around in a blur, the master of Ironblood Arts consistently avoiding the stone-shredding swipes. The blade's teeth hungered for flesh, but first contact only came when the edge sliced through the trailing end of Sagara's cloak. The farming fighter dismissed the sheared cloth without an acknowledgment, continuing his evasive maneuvers. The speedy approach was a stark contrast to the Iron Tiger's heavy-hitting, stationary style. While both Sagara and Sano were practitioners of Ironblood Arts, their technique was entirely different. Ruddiger's furious flurry claimed another shred of Sagara's cloak, tearing fabric away from his shoulders and claiming a lock of white hair. The close call pleased Ruddiger, the familiar bloodthirsty grin crossing his face as Sagara seemed nearly backed into a corner. The sun-baked savior circled around the headsman in a flash, but the 'Ripsaw' was ready for the move. Whipping his blade around, Ruddiger awaited the satisfying sight of blood.
“Ironblood Arts...” The swing was never completed, Ruddiger's armored arm frozen in place. Sagara's hand snapped forward like a snake, two fingers penetrating an opening in the ornate platemail. “Blood Anchor!”
'My arm...?' An electrifying pain surged through the appendage before concentrating on the area surrounding Sagara's fingertips. Confusion gripped Ruddiger as a mysterious weight in his arm dragged him toward the ground. “... Why is it so heavy?!”
Sagara took advantage of his opponent's falling momentum, withdrawing his fingers as quickly as they'd struck and lashing out instead with a single leg. The iron-blood master's shin smashed across Ruddiger's nose bridge, the crushing kick inciting a gasp of surprise from the slave spectators. The cruel captain's head shot upward and his back arched from the attack's force. Blood sprayed from his bent nose, busted by the brutal blow.
“PATHETIC!” The light in Ruddiger's crimson eyes returned, smiling sadistically through the red trails streaming from his nostrils. Shrugging off the head-snapping kick, the royal executioner's spine straightened to prepare a counterattack. This time, he'd finish the job of slicing the old farmer in two.
“Blood Weaving!” Before Ruddiger's murderous will could be carried out, Sagara's opposite hand flashed forth like a lightning strike. The fighting farmer's finger moved in a sonic salvo, the tip jabbing into the guard captain's broad torso with speed untraceable to the common eye. The series of strikes were finished in a blink. Ruddiger was left in a shocked trance, body frozen in place. Spinning on his heel, Sagara turned his back calmly and began walking away from the stunned headsman. The guard captain suddenly lurched forward, expelling blood onto the ground with a violent cough. Ruddiger's clutched his raggedly heaving chest with his free hand and collapsed forward. For the first time in his tenure as captain of the royal guard, Ruddiger fell to his knees.