[01] Naval Battle!

[Alexander Trafford]

Blackened clouds and hastening winds churned ominously above the two intertwined vessels; the pirate ship’s bow had lodged itself nicely into the Maiden’s Dream and the naval frigate had, consequently, spilled over the top rail of the buccaneer brigantine. As the two vessels drove against one another the forward mast of the [I]Black Oyster[I] had broken against the central mast of the Queen’s prized warship, and the two timber posts had become inseparable.

Trafford rolled his eyes and chuckled. Using his free hand he adjusted the pipe that sat in the corner of his mouth and inhaled deeply. The smooth and sweet taste of uncorrupted tobacco glided through his throat and came to rest in his lungs, where he held it for several seconds while his eyes gazed over his opponent. With onyx hair and a crimson bandana his foe maintained the appearance of a pirate – but he was much too skilled. He parried the captain’s cutlass in a manner that suggested incredible quickness and reflexes. Alex was reminded of Belle, and how his temporary ally had seemed to possess the ability to foresee his attacks when they had battled in Dante’s coliseum.

He exhaled a plume of bluish grey smoke; the discharged fumes emerged in thin ribbons that circled amongst one another as they slowly rose and eventually evaporated in the darkened skies.

In hopes that his opponent would not anticipate his next move, he drove his cutlass downwards which, in turn, forced his opponent’s blade in the same direction. Trafford pushed off and moved towards his foe’s now-undefended side. He kicked his leg forward, in an attempt to trip the would-be-pirate, but the onyx haired youth simply jumped over his foot and shin as if it were a rope and he were back in the schoolyard.

“Hmm,” Alex hummed in amusement as he hopped backwards and re-raised his sword. His stance with a weapon was just as awkward as without; he simply had no idea how to engage in proper melee combat. At least he did not try and fake a stance, which would have just looked foolish. Instead, he simply stood normally – his body relaxed and his free limb resting against his side.

“What’d you say your name was?” Captain Trafford questioned his opponent, before tightening his lips around the ‘bit’ of his Briar pipe and inhaling once more. He tried to sound arrogant and sarcastic in an attempt at feigning a sense of over-importance, but, in truth, he honestly forgot the boy’s name.

“It’s Juno,” his foe exclaimed, apparently taken aback by the forgetfulness of the captain.

“Juno, eh?” Alexander paused for a moment, before curling his lips into a smirk and continuing, “Isn’t that a girl’s name?”

“What?! No . . . of course it’s not,” the warrior with onyx hair shouted at first, before lowering his voice and ‘playing it cool.’

“No, I’m serious,” Trafford withdrew the pipe from his mouth to allow the fullness of his devilishly good-looking smile to be displayed, “I saw the movie, about a pregnant chick named Juno.

You . . . you’re not pregnant, are you?”

Ace chuckled before reinserting the smoking device, but his opponent did not; Juno simply tilted his head to the side and smiled as he shook his head, taking the joke in stride. Good for him, the psychokinetic thought, Belle would surely have taken his head off for such a comment.

Speaking of Belle, where the hell did that little upstart go?

He did not have time to think as the faux-pirate lunged at him, the tip of his cutlass ‘leading the charge.’ Alex dashed to the side as Juno moved alongside him and he pushed the onyx haired warrior past him, although he did not pursue his opponent as he stumbled forward.

Instead he held up his blade, not in a threatening manner, he simply raised it in front of his face and admired his reflection in the gleam of its blade.

“Wanna see a trick, Juno?” The Captain questioned, a thin smirk cracked along his lips. This time, however, he did not wait for a reply. Trafford ran his index finger along the side of his saber and, as he did so, a trail of golden energy wrapped itself around the cold steel. As the extremity reached the tip of the blade, he dropped it to his side and admired his handy work. The entire length of the cutlass was now covered in his own essence; the glowing power that acted as a tell-tale symbol of his freakish ability.

Before either of them could speak again the brewing tempest opened up and the first crack of thunder and flash of lightning filled the sky. Everyone paused for a moment before resuming. A few moments after the sky became lit with the storm’s manifested anger, the rains came – and they did not come lightly. Thick, bullet-sized raindrops poured down from the blackness of heaven above.

“En garde?” Trafford mocked as he became soaked under the darkened skies.