165 Fishing in troubled waters (1/2)

His eyes took a dark and brooding turn as he stared at the flapping uniform that had fallen to the ground. Flashes of that climactic battle raced through his mind as phantom pains struck his side. His arms throbbed as he chopped down, burying his dagger in a marine officer's shoulder before twisting it in for maximum effect.

With a mean sway to the side he dodged an incoming foe, their faces had all faded to the background as he fought them. Who they were didn't matter to him. All he saw was threats to his family, a concept that he thought he would never understand.

With a rapid jump, he sailed over a passing sword stroke, using the flat of his blade to leap onto the railing on the side.

He danced from side to side, as he swept past a litany of weapons coming his way. Then he winced, a bullet had grazed past his face, drawing a small line of blood.

Instantly his attention snapped back to the present. With a masterful leap, he vaulted onto the marines in his way, burying the heel of his shoe into the top of their clavicle.

Within a matter of seconds, he was at the very centre of the ship where the mast rose. Around the wooden mast a collection of heavy-duty ropes hung, ready for any amount of insanity that they would be subject to.

With a high jump, he held onto one of their thick ends, twisting downwards before flinging himself off board toward the ship right beside it.

This was the last standing ship on the armada that hadn't lost its head. He was about to change that.

As the momentum of the swing reached its absolute peak, he flicked his hands letting the curved dagger in hand fly over toward them.

With a wicked sound of flapping wind he landed atop the ship, right beside the marine man that had been downed by the bladed weapon intruding on his throat.

He waved his hand, yanking harshly against the curved blade. A squirt of blood gushed out as the man crumpled.

Terrick waved to the right, bringing his hand up in a bloody and cruel predatory talon. His left hand clenched against a bloody pistol that he had salvaged off one of the bodies from the first ship.

He cleanly sliced with his dagger drawing a guttural scream from the soldier whose shoulders he had carved, before he placed the muzzle of his gun in his mouth and fired.

The out spurt of blood and the noise hid his form for a second as the men around showered in the recently deceased soldier's brain matter.

Now the area around Terrick had cleared. He could see the Captain, barking rapid orders as he made his way forward.

Terrick surged forward, accurately sliding into the arm's range. With a twitch of his waist, he lunged forward, a deep inhale filling his nose with the scent of blood and rain.

A dull groan rose from the marine, as he swished to the side, accurately catching the hem of his opponent's cloak at the tip of his blade. Terrick waltzed around, dodging the sword that came for his side he thrust forward, letting the bloodied dagger tear at the man's skin.