Crossing blades

[Doubar]

After he had hesitated just a moment, casting a doubtful glance to Bryn whose eyes had lain on Dermott's small frame in the sky, Doubar had resolved to follow his brother.

Swiftly he ran after the younger man, entering the busy lane that, as he now saw, was crowded with people. Murmurs and whispered words washed about him as he walked them by - rumours of a battle that was taking place a little further down the street.

While he fought his way through the mass he tried not to lose sight of his captain, and to figure out what was going on.
A few feet in front of him Sinbad halted for a second, his gaze straying over the center of the alley which was pretty much deserted were it not for the two lone figures that were surrounded by a nasty looking bunch.
Five men approached a tall stranger who stood back to back with a young woman who, for a reason that eluded him, seemed painfully familiar. At first he could not put his finger on where he knew her from but then he suddenly remembered. His pale blue eyes widened as he realized that the one in peril was no other than Kalani - one of the most trustworthy merchants the sailors knew. Her silken robes appeared to be dishevelled and in her pale left hand she held a simple sword in a gesture of defence. The young lass was focused on her opponents while her companion obviously prepared to deal with those who were coming from behind.

Both were determined to make it through the assault if their posture was anything to go by and Doubar could not help but instantly side with those who were outnumbered so hopelessly. Although he had no idea as to what had taken place before, of the events that had lead to this, he was certain that the young one, who had always taken so much delight in hearing stories of the Nomad's travels, could have never done anything to deserve such treatment. And so he, too, drew his scimitar, ready to even out the odds.

A small smile played on his lips while he made his way to follow Sinbad into the fray. A little brawl was always to his liking, but even more so when he entered it for the sake of friends.

[Majid]

Majid noted with relief how Kalani shifted next to him, turning slightly until her slender frame was a soft resistance to his back.
The physical closeness to the young woman immediately proved to be a reassuring element to him - telling him that she held her ground for as long as he would feel her presence.
Although he would much have preferred to shield her rather than make her fight, the tall merchant had encountered enough battles as to know that a situation like the one they just found theirselves in allowed no such gallantry. Both had to rely on each other now and all he could do was protect her from those who faced him while she would have to keep the others at bay at least for the moment.

Sensing her stiffen behind him, the muscles of her left shoulder moving against his robes he guessed she was rising her sword again, ready to fend off those who now snarled at them. The words that were uttered by one of the thugs were venomous and they had Majid groan silently with anger. Unconsciously his hands closed tighter about the hilt of his sword while his eyes never left his opponents.
The expressions the two men wore were dark and furious, but they did hardly unsettle him. He had not been raised as a son of the desert only to feel intimidated by a baleful glare. And so he corrected his stance a little, wielding his sword with speed when they lunged at him.
Both their blows he parried with his scimitar, preparing to attack himself when suddenly a new voice travelled through the empty street, speaking of something he had not reckoned with anymore.

Someone was coming to their aid and as from the corners of his eyes he spottet two men emerge from the crowd with swords drawn his attention shifted to lie on them for only a second.
There, from the upper end of the lane a man about his age ran quickly into their direction, followed by an older one of a quite impressive build.

Had he had more time to give the two a thought, the merchant might have recognized the famous captain and his first mate for although he had never traded or spoken with them, he had seen them quite a few times from afar.
But before he could even tell whom the two arrivals would tend to, he noticed a shadow approach him quickly. Just in time to counter the strike that was aimed at him he arched his body and brought up his scimitar, making sure at the same time to not leave Kalani without cover.

While the blades shrieked upon the meeting Majid corrected his position and twirled his sword swiftly, catching his adversary off-guard with the sudden move. The young lad let out a pained wail as the sharp blade cut his left arm and left him clutch it with his weaponed hand.
Enraged, he hissed through gritted teeth but the merchant replied nothing in return. Hoping that their reinforcements would rather aid Kalani than him he just kept his gaze focused on the two men who now seemed to take notice of the newcomers as well.

[Firouz]

He said nothing, but pursed his lips and followed the brothers into the fray as they cleared the alley.

Dermott's cry had a tinge of helplessness in it he had never heard before. Even in thier direst of moments.

As they reached the sounds of clashing swords, he paused and glanced around the chaos.

The stall patrons were hiding behind their wares, to scared to help those who were trying to protect themselves and the ones hiding in the stalls.

He pursed his lips again and said as he jumped into the fray and met a man face to face with his own sword out and ready for offensive or defensive manuverings, "Well, exercise is always good for the heart."

[Sinbad]

There was always a reassuring, familiar feeling of strength that came with the knowledge that his mates and brother had his back. The capitain had not yet fully seen through what had caused the trouble taht was so evidently playing out before them but he had sorted in the situation as one where few were being threatened by many and that, for starters, always seemed a fair reason to pick sides with the weak for starters. Plus, the city guards were nowhere to be seen.

Focusing on the brutes that were becoming aware of their arrival, he had not paid much attention to the ones they were besieging, making the connection a few seconds later than his brother, watching how the man that was with Kalani countered the strike of who he took was the leader of the pack while two of his accomplices had turned and were charging towards tehm with wild battle howls.

Reflexes kicking in and without much conscious thinking he ducked from the blow of the first and aimed a forceful kick at the man´s side that send him sprawling into a cart of goods, scattering oranges and other fruit across the floor, making Sinbad wince a little - merchants were rarely too happy with conflicts being tackled taht way. He had little time to ponder this inconvenience, for the second man was heading their way as well and he was not the only one.

[Doubar]

As Doubar followed close behind his younger brother, he saw how two of the brutish looking men turned towards Sinbad and him, obviously intent on inhibiting any re-inforcement Kalani and her companion could get.
While Sinbad parried the blow on of the two aimed at him and sent the thug crashing into a market stall, the first mate turned towards the other who just now came running towards him, a low growl escaping his throat at the same time. Seeing the grim features and the faint scar that ran across this man's cheek, Doubar could easily imagine how he and the others surely enough had no troubles scaring young men and women alike. Such features did not belong to a good man and it strenghtened his reasoning that the young merchant and her companion had certainly enough gotten into this kind of situation guiltlessly.

"Thinkin' you can frighten me, are you?", Doubar silently muttered to himself while at the same time he rose his scimitar, sending his opponent an icy glare and blocking his attack with one forceful tilt of his arm. It really needed more than this to beat the sailor, and it needed more than a dangerous look to intimidate him. Thus, Doubar then turned ever so slightly, unimpressed by the assault, and reached out with his left hand. Lifting it he passed the other one's head and sent it crashing down on it.

The move was one of Doubar's favourites, firstly because it just was fun to see an opponent succumb to it, and secondly because hardly anyone expected to be hit from above. And thus, like most of those who had encountered it before, the brute stumbled violently in his tracks, his knees giving way beneath him while his head sent a dull pain to curse all through his body.

To Doubar it was evident that unfortunately the blow would not knock the guy out completely, but at least it would slow him down considerably for a moment so that, in the meantime, Doubar could rush past him and take stance where he knew he was needed more urgently:

Pale blue eyes settling on Kalani's slender frame, the first mate noticed with dread how just a few feet away from him the remaining man lunged at her, making use of his physical strength as he sent his sword speeding towards the young woman...

[Kalani]

Chaos. Everything was in absolute chaos. The street was a wreck, stalls with merchant's wares smashed into splinters, dozens of different wares scattered across the rutted stone of the street. People milled at the sidelines, taking cover behind whatever happened to be large enough to shelter them from the fight, babbling to one another or a merchant now and then angrily shouting about the destruction of property. And in Kalani's mind was chaos too. She tried to focus solely on the barbarians who sought to harm herself and her companion, tried not to let her mind wander to the fear that lurked just on the edges of her thoughts. Tried to tell herself this was just like those times when she and her brother had sparred. Except it really was nothing like that at all. Back then it had been playful back and forth, each trying to gain the advantage, laughing and joking while they swung with dulled blades not meant to cut flesh. Here and now, there was a clear determination in the villains that circled the brunette and the dark-clad Majid... a determination to inflict injury or even to kill if given half a chance. Nothing like the old days of sparring in the slightest, but easier to fight back the fear if she tried to tell herself that's all it was.

The contact that reminded her of Majid at her back was a reassurance, a reminder that she was not in this alone. Had she been alone, she surely would not have lasted this long, particularly against so many. Doubtless she would have fallen in the first few seconds of the conflict had she been alone, inexperienced as she was. She just hoped that Maeve was unharmed, hoped that they could rejoin her soon. Sword raised, lithe frame tensed and ready to fend off attack, she ignored the snarled venom of the madmen who would cut the two merchants down if given half a chance. Their savage glares were not about to intimidate her either, she meeting those glares with a regally haughty, ice-blue stare perfected a lifetime ago in a palace far away. At her back, she sensed movement from her companion as he parried blows, though for this instant at least the men facing her were content to glare and snarl hatefully at her. She did not imagine they would long be content with that, however, and held herself ready to keep them at bay should they attack.

Hearing familiar voices was nearly a distraction from the enemy at hand, but Kalani caught herself before she could look around to see whether she was just hearing things or not. It would hardly do any good to finally have aid and get her head chopped off in that moment. Especially if it were to turn out to be hallucinations of a desperate mind. Moving slightly to keep at Majid's back at all times, knowing it was her task at this point in time to protect his back just as he protected hers, she could hear the shrieking grate of steel on steel, wincing a little at the sound, though the pained wail of a young ruffian was louder, despite the din of the street where they fought. With some relief, Kalani noted that one of the two who had previously been menacing her had taken off, joining one or more of his compatriots in attacking the aid that had arrived for the beleaguered pair of merchants. And Maeve, where the red-headed Celt had gotten to. No time to think about any of that though. Not when the remaining thug was lunging at last, teeth bared in a rictus snarl as his sword came speeding at her. Remembering which angle to keep her blade was difficult as time seemed to speed up, unused to using her left hand to wield a sword. The clash of the ruffian's sword against her own was nearly overwhelming, sending her staggering half a step back against Majid before she could fully regain her footing.

[Majid]

Voices, whispers and the sharp cries of crossing blades filtered through the warm morning air, intertwining and creating a melody that Majid had too often heard in his life.
Around him the battle had just taken up speed, the unexpected aid proving to be a most welcome disturbance to the symphony.
While to his left the younger newcomer was quite clearly heading in the former tribesman's direction, to his relief, Majid noted how the other man had obviously decided to rather tend to the men who threatened his young colleague instead.

Although his gaze was firmly set on the two thugs who had not yet left to oppose their new opponents, out of the corner of his eyes the tall merchant also took in what happened next to him. Years of training had taught him to always stay on top of things and so the forceful punch that one of the ruffians received from the older sailor didn't escape him, and neither did the scattered goods.
Lose fruit like that could easily become an advantage for those besieged, but just as easily could they be their doom. Anyone who tripped over them would be easy prey for an attacker which is why, with a quick glance, he memorized their position, ready to make use of the goods if a chance presented itself or warn those who fought with him if they got too close.

All the while, opposite to him the hurt lad still clutched his arm while his comrade seemed unsure for a moment who to turn against. To their right, the stranger was approaching, even more reinforcement following him with a little distance as it seemed, and in front stood Majid, face grim and features dark - his looks speaking volumes of the fierce warrior he could be if needed. And albeit enraged by the inflicted wound and change of situation they seemed to consider their new position within the fight for a moment, waiting for an opportunity that all too soon they were given.

During the whole battle here at the side of the street Majid had felt Kalani's presence against his back, her posture tense but steady. To him it was an assurance that she was holding up fine and so his subconsciousness always took note of that element, determined to realize when his attentioned was needed behind him rather than in front. Thus, when the young woman's muscles stiffened, preparing to hold the blade against the blow that was to come, he, too, tensed.
Secretly he had hoped that their aid would be fast enough to be at her side and parry the attack when he couldn't, but when suddenly he felt Kalani stagger backwards, her small frame being a light but all the same worrying weight against him he instantly saw his hopes shattered.
As her shoulders pressed into his back all his senses shifted to lie on her alone for a second, her name travelling the little distance as an alarmed whisper and his head automatically turning to see if she was alright, dark brown gaze settling on her as she steadied herself again, hands still raised to keep her adversary away.

It took Majid but a heartbeat to assess that she countered the strike and was indeed uninjured, her tumbling caused by the momentum her attacker had used and not the result of harm inflicted, but it was long enough to provide his own opponents with what they had sought - a sole moment when the tall tribesman's guard was down.

While the merchant's eyes still lay on the young woman, his mind racing with whether she was in need of his help, the two lads got into motion, drawing strength from the diversion provided. And it wasn't before Majid saw the older one of their new allies arrive at Kalani's side that he became aware of a movement in the periphery of his vision.
Dark head quickly turning back to the ones facing him, the merchant's eyes grew wide upon the sight of the two men rushing forwards with their blades raised to strike out.

[Doubar]

In the bright morning sun the ruffian's sharp blade flashed white silver as it rushed down to clash with the young merchantwoman's sword, the violent contact sending the dull shriek of metal on metal to echo through the lane.
From where he stood Doubar watched with horror how the crew's friend was attacked, the forceful move of her opponent sending the young woman stumbling backwards just a step before she could ragain her footing. Inmidst his stride he paused for just a heartbeat, his normally warm and joyous gaze turning an icy blue upon the sight.

Although in his heart he was thankful to see Kalani counter the brute fool's blow, her slender frame bent slightly backwards and against the tall black-clad figure behind her as she kept her own weapon raised, Doubar felt how anger began to boil in his very veins.
While his right hand closed tightly around the hilt of his scimitar, he rushed forward to teach the young lad a sour lesson or two.

"Did nobody ever tell you how to properly treat a fine young lady?", the first mate bellowed as he reached Kalani's side. With his left hand he reached out to grasp the other man by the shoulder and before the younger one even knew what happened, Doubar yanked him sidewards, therewith taking the pressure off Kalani's sword and forcing the ruffian to acknowledge him as his new adversary.

"'S about time you picked on someone your size", the first mate then grumbled, unfazed by the furious growl that left the other one's throat upon being torn away from his intended prey.
Quickly, and before the lad had any chance of getting near the merchantwoman again, Doubar positioned himself a little more to the left - thus being in the direct line between his friend and her attacker - and throwing a quick glance over his shoulder he flashed Kalani a smile.

"Mind if I lend you a hand?"

As he spoke those words Doubar's voice was alit with mirth - a stark contrast to the tone he had just addressed the ruffian with. And it proved to be an even bigger difference to the low whisper he would send out just a second later.
For before the first mate had even finished speaking the man opposing him snarled in annoyance:

"And who would you be?" Dark green eyes glared at Doubar, before another word flitted through the air, changing the sailor's mood abruptly. "Fatty?"

At this, instantly, the first mate's jaw tightened, his arms rose to bring up his scimitar and as he muttered under his breath a low whisper crossed the breeze as a warning.

"Wrong move, lad. Wrong, wrong move!"

[Maeve]

Maeve felt like a tiny mouse chased by a huge, hungry cat. Squeezing herself amidst the people as fast as the dizziness allowed her, accidentally bumping into a woman here and stepping on a man’s foot there, she frantically searched for an opening through the stalls and the booths to make it back to the street. Stealing a quick glance over her shoulder, she saw with growing dread that Baldy was almost on her, smashing his way through the people and the stands with the grace of an elephant racing through a crammed forest. Faces danced before her eyes as Maeve skittered through the compressed throng of merchants, customers, women and children who yelped and wailed in fright and huddled close together to avoid standing in the giant’s path.

With Baldy at her tail in a furious chase, Maeve realized she was a threat to all these innocent people who had been safe from the quarrel before she had barged into their little protection zone. She had to get out of this narrow corridor and make it back to the main road or else Baldy would end up dispatching someone in blind rage, and she refused to let that happen. She had already caused enough trouble as it was, what with Kalani and her mysterious friend outnumbered five to two further up the street because of her; she would not get all these innocent citizens involved in the fight, too.

Finally spotting an opening just around the next stall, Maeve aimed for it hopefully but as she swayed past a mother clutching her little boy tight against her, her vision went blank. Abruptly, shapes and colours vanished from her sight as if a blindfold was wrapped around her head, leaving her completely defenceless in a thick void of blackness. Everything was black. Crying out with sudden terror, her fingers wildly clawed at the air for support, curling in a death grip around the first thing they touched; one of the small wood posts that held the top tarp of a booth. Terrified, Maeve shut her eyes closed and clutched the post in both hands for dear life. As she blinked repeatedly against the frightening darkness to try and make the world reappear, she fought not to scream for help. She guessed it was the vertigo in her head probably messing with her eyes, but even that small realization didn’t sooth the exploding fear inside her. How could she fight with no sight? She couldn’t see! She couldn’t see anything! Everything was black!

The scream of an old woman next to her nearly made her jump out of her skin as spots of colors finally registered in her vision. Hearing Baldy's distinctive roar of rage, Maeve only had time to leap back as his sword swung down in a deadly arc before her in a messy blur of shapes, smashing through the cakes and the pies displayed on the counter of the booth where she had been standing. With her sight gradually returning to normal but with the dizziness crashing on her full force once more, Maeve shakily backed away from the massive thug as he quickly dislodged and adjusted his sword for a second strike. Convinced she was about to faint right then and there, Maeve felt her knees buckle, but as she pressed her back against the counter of another stall for support, her mind racing, her fingers snatched a little display basket of cumin and right before Baldy could charge, she flung it in his face. Crying out at the sudden burning sting of spice in his eyes, he cursed loudly but Maeve silenced him by kicking the closest pole of the booth he was standing under, causing the top tarp to crash down on him.

Everything then erupted into chaos in the narrow alleyway behind the stalls. Shrieking in fright, everyone scurried everywhere all at once and swarmed out to the main road. Maeve heard Baldy kick and twist under the tarp as he struggled to free himself, but she didn’t wait for him to get back on his feet. Seizing her chance, she dashed for the street along with everybody else, hoping she would lose him amidst the confusion and be able to make it back to Kalani and the dark-robed man before he could get his hands on her. More to the point, she was terrified everything would go black again.

Still blinking her vision back into place, Maeve struggled to orientate herself as she was pushed this way and that in the wave of people running in every direction around her in the main street. Panicked citizens shouldered and elbowed her as they rushed past, making her vision sway and the wooziness in her head soar. Maeve winced as someone stepped on her bare toes. A young girl bumped into her. A father dove in front of her to pick up his daughter and bring her to safety. A man hastily tugged his girlfriend along to get her out of potential danger. A woman helped her aging mother through the current of people. A frightened little boy clutched the side of a booth, crying as he looked at the chaos around him but found no familiar faces. A frenetic man emerged from the blurry crowd and gathered the child in his arms.

As everything flashed around her at dizzying speed, Maeve tried to weave her way up the street, her eyes darting everywhere to spot Kalani and the man in black. Reuniting with them was her crucial, ultimate goal now, not only because they were outnumbered five to two and she wanted to help them but also because at this point, as much as she hated to admit it, her survival depended on their protection. She could pretty well continue to deal with Baldy on her own but she wasn’t stubborn enough to believe she had any chance against him. She may have given him a split lip and a nasty gash on the arm, but he’d nearly broken her cheekbone with a single blow. Add to that the infernal vertigo spinning ‘round in her head and her bruised bare feet; the odds were definitely not in her favour.

When the faint, distant sound of clashing steel eventually reached her ears, Maeve felt her heart skip a wild, hopeful beat. She was getting closer. Light-headed and exhausted, she pushed ever onward through the loud bedlam of people, her sore feet following the comforting sound of colliding swords. Once she reunited with the blue-eyed brunette and her merchant friend, everything would be alright. She wouldn’t be alone anymore and the man in black would take on Baldy. Maeve didn’t care about the other stupid thugs. She could take them. But Baldy, she could not. Not right now. Not when every part of her body was shutting down. All she had to do was cross what little distance there was left between her and the man in black and then everything would be fine. And when this was all over, Maeve thought wearily, she would crawl in a warm bed and sleep for a whole week. She was so tired. It was a miracle her legs were still supporting her.

Nearly tripping over a rolling papaya as a hurried man roughly shouldered her, Maeve uttered a curse under a breath. Damn it, she hadn’t made it this far only to be crushed by a frenzied crowd of people who had done nothing so far but stand witness to her misery as she was hunted down by a giant, brutal thug. Out of all these citizens, no one had come to her aid. No one. Instead, they preferred to run and hide. Maeve knew she couldn’t really blame them but if someone bumped into her again she would whack them. She was done trying to spare them the burden of her predicament.

Struggling to move through the agitated crowd, Maeve felt like she was moving underwater. With every move she made and every step she took, she met the resisting flow of scurrying citizens. It was unnerving to no end. As she got closer to the center of the lane, closer to what felt like a safe haven, a strong hand suddenly closed around the back of her neck and roughly pulled her backward. Stifling a scream, Maeve didn’t have to guess whose hand it was as she heard Baldy’s growling voice over the pandemonium in the street.

“Where do you think you’re goin’?” he asked menacingly, turning her to face him as his calloused fingers gripped her throat firmly. “I ain’t done with you yet, sweet ckeeks. I’m just gettin’ started.” Wicked victory shone in his eyes like a hunter who had finally captured a frustrating, slippery prey.

[Firouz]

Firouz ran through the panicking throngs of people. Each one trying to get away from the fighting just in front of them.

He couldn't believe it was Kalani and a black robed man that was the cause of this mess, but he wasn't about to let a friend down in anycase.

As they pushed through, the usual chaos of battle over took him.

....flashes of color...

....screams from everyone to scared to fight or to innocent to know how too....

...his friends on the peripheral of his vision; each one there and strong in their abilities.

As he crossed blades with someone, a man, a vagabond more than likely by the clothes, he frowned. This wasn't one of the men who had caused such chaos, he was just taking advantage of it.

He threw the blade of the other to the side, took a step inside the man's amateurish guard, raised his clenched fist, and said as his fist landed on his nose with a harsh crack, "You should not have done that you know, it's only gone a got you hurt."

He glanced over at Doubar and saw him throwing others to the side with his sheer strength, no blade in hand. He was doing damage control more than anything.

He turned to the downed man and then to his buddy close at hand, "You should get him to a healer now, unless he wants a disfigured nose for the rest of his life."

He shouldn't feel nothing for what he had done, but at the moment, these vegabonds were nothing but irritants; and not worth his time at the moment.

[Sinbad]

After his older brother had taken on another of the thugs, blocking the scrawny man´s vicious blow with ease, chaos had slowly broken loose. The market place the fight was taking place on had erupted into screams even before their arrival with people running this way and that, just trying to get out of harm´s way and by the looks of it successfully doing so, but when Sinbad had turned his head and added a swift move to block the blade of yet another attacker (who apparently was not even part of the group and thus far less of a challenge, dispirited even by that single blow), it had taken him just a mere second to notice that what might have started as a small brawl had by now turned into something potentially more dangerous.

On the periphery of his field of vision, another stall had fallen, a man cradling a little girl in his arms before ushering away, jumping over fallen baskets of fruit. It had seemed at first that this commotion was part of the initial fight, but the captain had suddenly registered that something about it was off. It was at the sidelines, like some extra fight that had broken lose apart from it all and when he had stepped away from the staggering attacker, allowing his older brother to engage that daring, stupid guy who had called him “Fatty”, he had noticed that something was wrong. Between stalls, just as he looked, he had seen the broad, brutal shape of a man, a tall, square bold brute of a guy with a wicked looking sword pushing his way through a gap between the houses, obviously in the pursuit of someone. Judging from the cowardice and recklessness to draw a sword in the middle of a market place with children and women and elderly around, the captain had concluded that the bald guy had to belong to the very same group of thugs he and his friends had arrived to defend the strangers from. Assuring with a glance that his friends were doing fine and slowly turning the tide for the merchant and the unknown woman, he had given a nod into his brother´s direction and swiftly swerved to the side of the scene, trying to make out who the bald guy was following. It was unlikely that person deserved that kind of a hunt, nor did Sinbad think he or she was evenly matched in brute force. The shocked, terrified screams and the rush that had followed in the giant guy´s wake had persuaded the young captain in the blink of an eye, that (macho or not) there might be someone in distress, damsel or otherwise, and without even having seen who it was, he had set to pursuit.

The throngs of people , running in fear and chaos had been thick and blocking his way so Sinbad had swiftly climbed the side of the house he had just seen the bald one run behind. There was a whole street behind that, he could tell and according to the screams, the man would be following it. The houses that framed its sidelines were low, one storey buildings, giving Sinbad the practical opportunity of both a vantage point and a higher level route to follow the stranger faster and more easily.

His saber still drawn, he had made it to the roof and, tossing a look ahead and below into the street, he had noticed that he had just come in time to see the bald one disappear in the crowds. He had followed, running, jumping over the roof and from one to the next, gathering speed, never leaving the eye off the giant. The thug was, luckily, tall enough to not get lost easily. But Sinbad had not been able to spot who the man was pursuing, roaring, shaking his fist. One more sign, he had thought, that whoever it was, was in dire need of help.

His pursuit had led him in an odd zig zag through the streets (or above them) and almost back to the square where he had left his friends. Once or twice he had lost sight of the bald thug, only to find him again. Whoever he was following seemed to be intent on leading the guy away from the crowds instead of seeking shelter in them. Smart, Sinbad had thought, because the brute did not seem to mind casualties, yet whoever he was following was taking the risk of finding himself or herself alone and completely without protection, but was that way protecting innocents. Or that person was looking to get back to the square. Which meant he or she was maybe someone that had been separated from the merchant and his female companion.

Too many thoughts it seemed, for suddenly the captain had found himself still on the roof but with no sight of the bald man. He still had to be somewhere and a look ahead across the roof gave Sinbad an idea of where… the roofs were running together just ahead of him , to his left…leading the pursued into a deadend where he or she had surely hoped to find a shortcut back to the square.

Suddenly, there had been a muffled crashing sound, a triumphant little scream, coming from just the direction of the suspected dead end. Without thinking, Sinbad had dashed to the rim of the roof , run a few paces till he had been just above a brightly coloured canopy..and jumped. Rolling off easily, he had managed not to fall but caught himself and run, ignoring the half hearted complaints yelled at him from an obviously already scared owner of said canopy.

And thus Sinbad arrived at the corner that lead right to the deadend. And just when he arrived, he could hear a voice, clearly that of the bald thug he had been following and confirming his instincts, that the bandid had indeed been following someone that he had now tracked down. Where do you think you’re goin’? I ain’t done with you yet, sweet ckeeks. I’m just gettin’ started.


The man´s voice was dripping with sarcasm and cruelty, setting off every little bit of protective instincts Sinbad possessed. He had encountered many thugs and thieves, murderers and plunderers…but those that always upset him most were the ones putting their hands on innocent, defenseless women and he guessed that ´sweetcheeks` was a good enough proof that the person the bald one had cornered was female.

Slowly, Sinbad turned the corner, spotting the broad shouldered brute. He had his hand raised, clearly throttling someone against the wall at the end of the dead end, paces away unaware that he was now being watched. The man´s broad frame was blocking that person from his view, she had to be slender, her frame entirely swallowed by her follower.

Taking a firm stand, Sinbad stepped completely into the passage.

“Hey there, Baldy.” The captain, as usual, tried to sound light, but what he had concluded about the scene so far made that a bit more of a farce. “I would suggest, if you want to leave here alive…you let go of the girl and turn around. Did nobody teach you to how some respect towards women?”

[Mala]

Fear was racing through her veins like venom, cursing through her essence and making her tremble, the image of the young woman she once was wavering like water that was stirred by the relentless gale.
Deep inside, the echo of her heart was thrumming violently while the world around her blurred in a maelstrom of voices and thoughts and emotions.

Children, women, men, they all shouted and screamed - their cries crashing down on her as she tried to follow the young redhead in her flight. Not even half of what she could hear was perceptible by the mortals around her, but to Mala it was a roaring thunderstorm, deafening and frightening.

As she rushed through the crowds, shapeless, nothing but a gust of wind that touched the skin of those she could not evade if they even sensed her at all, she felt her vision narrow. It was not possible for her to be exhausted, not like she could have been when her lungs were still drawing air, but the onslaught on her senses tired her and left her disoriented - almost as if she were the one to be chased.

Pressing herself against the stone wall of a building she passed by, Mala closed her eyes and tried desperately to silence the world, to withdraw from the emotions that seeped from each and every person that ran past her. She had just done it before, had focused on the Celt alone but doing that had been nothing in comparison so what she had to achieve now that panic erupted like a blaze.
Now it was like she sought one precious bird in a frantically flittering mass of them, one soul when so many others were shouting out - only for her to hear.

Looking up at the sky, the Roman willed herself to be calm and ignore all those she couldn't help. Right in front of her a kid stumbled, knees scraping against the dusty and stoney ground - red blood mixing with the pale colour of sand. The wail that soon would fall from trembling lips radiated from his mind before he even found the voice to cry but to Mala it was already real, already tearing at her heart.

How could it be? How could the rage of one man cause to much chaos, so much pain?

As a middle-aged woman emerged from the throng to pick up the child, strong and loving arms crashing his slender frame to the safety of his mother's side, the spirit clenched her hands to fists. Maybe she could not alter the world she had set foot on, caught in between death and life as she was, but she would not just stand aside and watch. If there was anything, even the smallest thing she could do, she would provide aid and protect.

Her resolve strenghtening, she pushed away from the wall, creating barriers around her own mind and searching for the trace of the one she had nearly lost among the chaos. Drifting through broken stalls and amongst the remainders of wares that were already being picked up by those who seized the occassion, she followed the trace that told of a fire burning low.
As she did so, coming closer each time that she blinked, she suddenly noticed how something prodded at the back of her mind. Something good and beautiful, something she had already felt mere moments ago but which was so much stronger now. She barely arrived at Maeve's side, her own eyes widening in fright as she saw the Celt within the brute's grasp, when she froze.

He was there, behind her. Oblivious to her presence and ready to defend. Challenging the bald man before her, obviously not even knowing to whose aid he had just come.

Spinning around, she tensed as her gaze settled on him, her core lighting up in pride, but also worry. She had never been a fighter, had not even once picked up a sword in her living days, but even she could see that the one threatening Maeve was someone not to be underestimated. And so she watched with dread how Sinbad set off to fight for the one he knew needed his help.

[Maeve]

Maeve felt all her hopes of reaching Kalani and the man in black shatter in a flash. Her insides twisted with white hot terror as her hands grabbed Baldy’s thick wrist to try and loosen the iron grip his big fingers had on her windpipes before he could choke her to death right then and there. Helplessly, as she struggled to get air into her lungs, Maeve realized with terrifying dread that the giant ruffian was holding her too close to him, making it so that she had no range of manoeuvre whatsoever to defend herself. She couldn’t kick him. She couldn’t punch him. She couldn’t do anything. She was at his complete mercy, her head pounding so hard it felt like a carpenter was hammering nails into her skull.

Moreover, as if to add to the dark curtain of despair and hopelessness that seemed to have descended upon her ever since this whole mess had started, Maeve had no idea where she was anymore. She had followed the sound of clattering steel to orientate her escape from Baldy’s clutches towards what she thought was the center of the lane where Kalani and her dark-robed friend were fighting the rest of the thugs, but there had been so many people zigzagging everywhere in the street, shouldering and bumping into her so many times, that she had somehow managed to get herself lost amidst the chaos, with no idea where she now was or how far away she was from her friends.

Squirming under Baldy’s solid grasp, Maeve tried to estimate her position in the market square. Her entire body jolted with a sharp pang of fear when she felt her back press against a wall behind her.

It was a dead end.

She had actually run into a dead end.

Panic flooded through her like a dam crashing open. Adrenaline erupted in her blood flow as her eyes worriedly darted everywhere on her surroundings, which only revealed to her that she was trapped, cornered like a helpless prey, crushed between Baldy’s towering frame and a stupid wall.

Maeve’s mind reeled at the thought that this whole mess would actually end like this, in a dead end. She just couldn’t believe it. She had miraculously made it this far, still standing on her own two feet despite all the numerous scratches many shards of pottery had inflicted on her skin, despite the nearly broken cheekbone Baldy’s back-handed punch had given her, despite the blinding dizziness that still roared inside her head like a thunderstorm, despite the shockwaves of pain in her every muscle, and in the end, in her desperate flight through the bedlam of skittering citizens, what had she done? She had foolishly managed to flee to the worst possible place for the final strike: a dead end where no one would see or hear her scream, and where surely no one would rescue her from her now imminent fate. Baldy had won. Everything was over. Maeve’s only consolation was that at least, now, everyone else was out of danger, away from the giant’s merciless wrath wrecking havoc wherever he passed.

As she felt the last thread of her strength drain away, her head spinning with yet another wave of vertigo, Maeve knew that there was no point in trying to fight him anymore. It was over. The mountain of a man before her was invincible. No matter what she did, no matter where she kicked or where she punched, Baldy always came back with the same insurmountable force and the same unwavering blazing fury. And Maeve was getting at her wits’ end. It was only a matter of seconds before her whole body shut down and the dreamless darkness of unconsciousness claimed her. What could she do anyway? There was nowhere to go, nowhere to run, nowhere to hide or duck or side-step. There was only the wall, Baldy’s massive body, and a few enclosing booths and stalls whose owners were almost done scurrying out of the narrow, isolated alleyway, eager to abandon her to her doom. Maeve wanted to scream for help. She wanted someone to turn around and come to her aid. But in the blink of an eye, the dead-ended lane turned silent. Only the distant echoes of the frightened citizens still running for their lives on the main street reached her ears.

Deserted by all those who would save no one but themselves, Maeve felt herself shake with fear. She was alone, now, alone with Baldy’s vicious icy grey eyes glowering down on her with the promise of the terrible things he would do to her. Gasping for air as panic and terror became her only remaining friends, Maeve squirmed and twisted under his grip, trying to break free like a wild cat trying to escape a snare trap. Deep within her, a voice told her that she couldn’t give up. Not now. Not when she had made it this far. Even if everything seemed hopeless at the moment, she had to keep on fighting. Even if Baldy finally had her where he wanted her, she couldn’t just let him win. She couldn’t declare forfeit. That wasn’t her. That wasn’t who she was. She would fight him every step of the way, tooth and nail, with her last breath if need be, but she wouldn’t surrender. He wouldn’t crush her spirit.

In her desperate struggle for air and freedom, trembling with terror, Maeve only dimly registered it when someone behind Baldy, farther up the entrance to the alleyway, addressed the giant thug. She couldn’t make out what the person was saying but whatever it was it seemed to piss off Baldy enough that he twisted his head around to glare at the intruding stranger over his shoulder.

“Back off, pal, I saw her first,” he angrily growled at whoever it was who dared to interrupt his moment of triumph where he could finally savour his prize. “You’ll have to wait for your turn.”

Oblivious to her forceful wriggling, Baldy then brought his attention back to her, raising his sword inches to her face as he lowered his head down to her level. “You know,” he hissed with venom, “Where I come from, women have learned to keep low and not cause any trouble.”

Like a lightening flash, seeing an opening as her fighting instincts flared up through her whole body with blind hope, Maeve held his icy gaze defiantly. “How dull for you.”

Then, without warning, she head-butted him.

With a furious grunt, Baldy released her throat instantly and cursed at the pain as he brought a hand up to his throbbing nose. Maeve wobbled on her feet and erupted in a series of intense coughs, her lungs aching for air. From the impact of her skull against the giant’s stone-thick one, half of her vision became a total blur but she didn’t care to blink it back into place this time. Instead, she focused her energies on the task of standing on her legs because her knees were dangerously close to buckling and if they did, she knew she wouldn’t be able to get up again. But that didn’t matter. Maeve would crawl if she had to.

As she fought to regain a certain balance, an infernal wave of dizziness violently crashed inside her head once again. Wincing helplessly against the brutal force of it, Maeve leaned her hands for dear life on the counter of the stall to her right to support her weight. She wanted to scream. She couldn’t take it anymore. She wanted it to stop. It felt like the ground beneath her feet was shattering. Like the whole world was tumbling down around her.

Tears stinging her eyes as she blinked against the pressurizing pain inside her skull, Maeve knew she would never make it out of the alleyway on her own. If the cursed remnants of the stupid magic that had brought her back didn't bring her down, Baldy certainly would, no matter if she had just broken his nose.

Her last and only hope was the stranger at the entrance of the lane.

[Sinbad]

Back off pal, I saw her first, you´ll have to wait for your turn.

The snarled assumption that he would have the same vile intentions as the brute before him, send Sinbad´s blood boiling. He was still standing a few paces away, part of the scene obscured by the deep shadows cast by the houses that were positioned in a way that the early morning sun did not yet reach around them. At the other man´s words however, his jaw tightened and he made a few steps further, wordlessly, preparing to attack.

There had been times when Sinbad would have kept debating, would have kept a little game of tossing wits, but this guy seemed pretty unarmed in that respect and ever since that time where thing had still been easier, the captain had learned that fighting was not always play. In this case, it sure wasn´t.
However, the sudden grunt and a whirl of limbs told him that whoever Baldy was focused on did not seem to be as defenseless as it had first seemed. The man gave a violent, furious grunt, seemed to snatch for the woman who must have ducked from his grasp by now, staggering to the left. There was no time for Sinbad to try and get her out, to try and even see who she was because as she leapt or rather staggered into the shadows, Baldy whirled around, murder written in his eyes, drawing a wicked looking sword of his own, directing his entire anger against the man who had dared to distract him from his prey.
Sinbad smirked. Whoever she was had given him quite an impressive nosebleed, maybe it was even broken but the nose of the other guy was so crooked and beat up that it was hard to tell how often it had be broken in the past before. He wanted to remark on the apparent improvement but his opponent had apparently no interest in an exchanging of witty remarks and with a vicious blow, almost aimed blindly, jabbed into Sinbad´s direction, making him jump back to avoid a gash that might or might not have sliced him neatly in two.
Without thinking, he moved back in, parried another vicious blow and delivered a well aimed kick with his knee into the guy´s left kidney. He was rewarded by a painful groan and, since the man´s sword hand was down for the moment, an unexpected left hand fist that connected to the side of his head. Possibly only a quick reaction saved the captain from worse, but his move was not fast enough to keep him from falling to the ground.

The giant was above him with a triumphant growl in a second, raising his sword for the final strike, but, reacting quickly, Sinbad, head still dizzy, senses threatening to go hazy, delivered a two feet kick into the guy´s lower stomach. The two seconds it took the guy to stagger back, almost into a few boxes were enough for him to get back to his own feet. Panting, slightly crouched like some wild cat, he faced the battered bald giant. But by the looks of it, the man seemed only the more enraged, only the more dangerous.
No time, not even to check whether the woman was still somewhere around, she had to be, he could see a shape in the shadows so close that even a short turning of his head would have given him her identity but there was no time for that. Part of Sinbad was wildly joyous at this. It had been a while since he had met an opponent so challenging, but the thought of what the other might have been about to do to that girl made his fury outpace his battle joy.

Baldy was shaking his head briefly as if to shake off the pain from that last kick and charged again, somewhat uncoordinated however. Mere luck and a quick movement saved the captain in that moment. Baldy, in his fury, tripped over something, something that would not have mattered but that tripped him slightly off balance. Sinbad stepped aside, delivered a vicious side of the blade sword blow against the man´s side and, when he fell, elbowed him against the temple. With a grunt, the giant fell.

[Mala]

Like an almighty wave fury radiated all from the man who growled at her son, glaring at the younger one with eyes only a wild beast could bear. Hot anger boiled in their depths and feasted on the realization that there was someone trying to challenge him for his prey, causing his rage to peak.

In horror Mala watched how the brute striked out, his sword cutting the air and howling with the cruel promise of doom. A life taken meant nothing to the one who wielded it, a world with one light less to shine so unimportant for a mind that thought its own existence the most important thing.
The man attacking her son had no care for what it would mean if he inflicted harm, if he even killed. Seeing only his own rights hurt he assailed Sinbad with all the terrible strength of a soul seeking to implement its own twisted sense of justice, forcing the other man to parry and duck blows that might have long overpowered anyone less experienced and skilled than the captain was. But Sinbad was agile, had always been, avoiding the onslaught that was born of hatred and false pride. Even managed to deal out a well aimed kick himself until the bald man arched his back too quickly, too sudden for him to react.

The moment Sinbad got hit and stumbled to the ground, Mala felt her whole being sear with anxiety. Unbearable, choking her although she was not breathing the fear for him infused her and left her staring at the scene unfolding. Almost she could already see the deadly blade hiss in victory, felt something inside herself break and die at the mere thought of it, but then all the lifeless metal met was the dusty ground beneath.

After the fierce kick he had bestowed upon his adversary, Sinbad was up on his feet again, mind racing and body willing to continue to fight. His back was bent, his posture defensive and yet ready to attack - and it only unsettled Mala even further to see him like this. There was anger of his own now mixing with something that the Roman had troubles labelling, fury born from a noble thought. It was powerful and yet it did not run deep - wasn't even half as strong as she somehow knew it would be were he aware of who he was defending. The rising ire fuelled his own resolve to not be defeated, but did little against the sheer brutality with which the other man attacked.

She felt him move before she even saw his muscles twitch, sensed the overwhelming force behind his blow. Like electricity charging up the air around her it travelled the distance, making her skin crawl. He would succeed, if he was allowed to leash out on Sinbad now he would succeed. She knew it, deep inside she knew, the realization of what was to come crushing her and tearing her soul apart. While a scream fell from trembling lips she reached out with all the desperation of a breaking heart, acting without thinking - a part of her taking control that was ancient and shapeless and which did not care about what ever might happen to her or this man. She would not allow him to hurt her son, would never let anyone claim a life as precious as this. She had defied the devil himself, had risen from the depths of an endless slumber. She held no fear of a mortal anymore.

And thus she stepped forward, directly in front of him, blue eyes blazing and grey as seafoam riding the crest of a towering wave. She did not feel how he rushed straight through her, was not aware of how her hands gripped his core, dangerous and merciless like the oceans themselves and it was with an unearthly cry that she released all her fear, all her determination into it - touching a human were it most hurt them: directly at their heart.

Mala could not see the flare that rippled across her image as she made contact with that part of each and every being that was immortal, was not aware of how for a split second Baldy was faced with the picture of a woman as beautiful and yet as forlorn as the sea itself. The only thing she knew was that he stumbled, losing his balance the moment he ran through her.
As the mountain of a man lost his footing, giving Sinbad a chance to overbear him, Mala stood still and unmoving. She did not understand what she had just done, only felt how it gnawed at her own essence, draining and frightening her like nothing ever had before. And yet, none of what she felt mattered, none of it was important because behind her she could sense it still be there, knew without looking that the light of her son still shone.