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     2817 BGA, Dark Ages

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     2817 BGA, Dark Ages

     BLOOD AND BODIES littered the battlefield, the stench of rot and burnt ash permeating the air, with spilled guts and severed heads tainting the grass a bitter crimson. Explosions from canons echoed across the saltwater, while dragonfire rained down upon the ships. No matter how much they have elimanated the numbers of their foes, more Velestian pirates only emerged from the shadows, each wave more brutal than the last.

     Some of the Narnian ships had taken quite the damage, while the pirate ships took wave after wave of flames from Verzimir and Aesyrn, their protective shield slowly melting from the heat. Jamie had never anticipated that the pirates use antics such as that, knowing how they stuck to their black powder and their spears, but it seemed the new pirate king had been willing to make a deal with the devil for the slightest chance of winning. And that — that made him a very dangerous person.

     Violently, she pulled out her sword from one of the pirates' chest, whirling around to swing her blade once more and maneuver a slice across one's stomach. After a bit of movement, her footwork came back to her, her steps light and wielding graceful. For those moments, she felt like herself again, the Warrior Queen who had been ruthless in battle, eliminating anyone who crossed her path.

     She'd known to herself that she could use her pendant, and it would rid her of her enemies in an instant. But she also knew that it would never give her the satisfaction of winning. It was a shortcut, it was cowardice, as if running away from the brutality of having to go through something so devastating. In some sick way, it gave her peace, knowing that she earned her life, that she earned her breath, that she earned her chance to see tomorrow.

     A little ways to her right, Zhev wielded his scimitar in a precise and calculated manner. Despite taking many blows and harboring many cuts, he pressed on and had not stopped until his opponent was bleeding on the ground. The Qhans may have been savages in war, but Zhev had a peculiar way about him when fighting. For the common observer, he would have looked to be frightening, almost animalistic in a way that was artful, which made it even more terrifying for the opponent. These pirates only ever stood a chance because they didn't care, and would only realize when his sword was at their neck, and with one flick of the wrist, they would meet death within the second.

     Leo alternated between using his sword and his abilities, his expression cold, not even gritting his teeth or bellowing in rage. Jamie wouldn't have recognized him if she had seen him up close. But even if his anger did not show in his face, it could be felt, churning and freezing to the touch. As if anyone would be dead on the spot if they so much as came ten meters within his personal vicinity. His hands were a blur, with pirates dropping dead or crumpling to the ground within seconds, blood gushing out of them and their own weapon embedded upon their heads. He moved with a grace that rivaled kings, and he had nothing else to hold him back.

anchorage | edmund pevensie ✓Where stories live. Discover now