The fight
::Where was the Treacherously Handsome Captain at?...In the forest clearing like he had said he would be..He wore the usual clothing for himself..Black, baggy pants that were held up by a hardened, leather belt that bore a crucifix clasp. His upperbody was dressed in a white, long-sleeved dress shirt..It was buttoned up, except for the top three buttons..Then the sleeved were rolled up to the elbows..His long-coat and hat were set aside..Near the base of the tree that wasn't to far away..In his hand, he carried the sword that he often used back in his real admiral days...The handle was made from oak, wrapped in leather...The guard of the sword was wrought from steel..And the blade itself was damascus steel..However, the edge was special..It was made from obsidian..and sharpened to a very thing point, making it beyond sharp..Both hands bore leather gloves..So it'd be hard for that saber to slip from his hand..All the Admiral needed, was his partner for this much-waited for dance.::
From the shadows of the forest, the swarthy captain would enter the clearing. Adorned in the usual tight fitting pants of black, tucked neatly into the top of thigh high boots with a low heel. A woolen peacoat worn over the top of the usual black linen shirt and cobalt blue satin vest. Devoid of hat, long hair had been pulled back into a long trailing braid. Light were those steps that carried her forward. Intensity of those cold, dark blue eyes were upon him. If he had any men hiding in the bush, it would be founded out. She wasn't stupid, and she d**n well didn't trust this man. Standing a few yards from him, she'd stop.
::He didn't have any men hiding....Duels were sacred, even to wolves...That famous, wolf-like half-thingyed grin formed upon Randall's pale lips, his grip on the sword hilt shifted as he looked her up and down..::"..Don' think any words are needed at this point, Jacquoylette....So, Come on..Let's see th'wrath you've been savin' jus' for me."
To that she'd nod. "You're correct, no unnecessary words." Turning to pull her coat off, it would be laid to the side. The cutlass she wore now clearly seen upon her hip. When she turned, there was a flintlock in hand. The motion was fluid as it was lifted and thingyed. "Wrath Randall? You have not a clue how far my wrath will reach." With that the trigger was pulled. It would be his right shoulder, more along the chest she'd aim for.
::With that raising of the Flintlock, his eyes grew cold, at the thingying of it, he stanced himself...At the motion of her finger going backwards..He lunged to the side..Just barely, barely avoiding the pistol ball..In fact, it braized his right arm, cutting up his flesh as it passed..It didn't strike through..And despite the fact he had to lunge to the side, and was now bleeding..He didn't lose focus..He used his current crouching position as a spot to burst into a quick, short sprint towards her...Randall'd waste his breath on breathing, rather than a retort..The blade was gripped so the pommel was near the top of his fist..The blade rested its flat against his arm..And as he came within range, he brought it across , lifting the blade from his arm slightly....The pommel was aimed at the hand which bore the empty flintlock..The blade..was mainly to act as a barrier between her and himself...She may win, but she wouldn't do so by using a flintlock.::
As soon as the pistol had barked, it was dropped for she knew it was useless a second time. The distance between them would give her a small amount of time to act as he rushed forward. She knew she was a good shot, but never put stock in it hitting it's mark always. Having turned to the side to draw that cutlass in one hand, a dagger about to be brandished when that pummel stuck out at her. Another turn would have her hand free of the bludgeoning, though close enough that she could make an attempt, utilization of shoulder and motion of both, to push him aside. Hopefully to stumble, but him being a vetran, that would perhaps be not the fact. It would at least allow her distance to prepare for the next attack, which included finally brandishing that long bladed dagger in hand.
::He was pushed aside..But barely, he had half expected it, but it was better to go with the flow of her blow..And as she went to draw that long-dagger..Randall swiftly rotated his blade in hand..Of course, the blade wasn't what he was going to use to attack..He sent his left left out in a sweeping-type kick at her right knee, hoping to take her to the ground..His blade was poised, ready to deflect an attack..He hardly took his female opponent lightly..::
She'd move so that the kick would not disable that knee. As she began to fall, twisting so that it would be her back that she'd land upon. At the same time, the hand holding dagger tightly. Drawing her hand back to her chest slightly as she moved downwards, then an outward thrust of that arm and hand. If not the upper thigh, a calf would be where the blade would be thrust into before she hit the ground. Anticipating the landing, she'd immediatly roll away from him, releasing her hold upon the blade.
::And she had left herself open with that..He could've nailed her aorta, or cut her deep brachial artery..But he hadn't..He swiftly shot his blade down..Her dagger would nail the broadside of the blade..A brow being arched as she rolled away..A perfect chance for a follow-up and possibly a quick end to this fight..He didn't take it.::"...Up on your feet Jacquoylette! I won't kill you when you're on th'ground like a dog!"
To her feet she would stand, glaring at him. Cutlass gripped tightly in her hand. If that dagger didn't bite into flesh, then in her hand it would still be. The release would only have been if embedded. Stance taken as she stood across from him. "Don't call me by my given name ever again. You have not the right, nor permission." Lowly growled. Her hatred for him prevelent upon features and in those dark blues.
"...I'm the master in this duel Jacquoylette...You knew this before you dare come here.."::He spoke cooly..::"...You think I *really* want to kill you?...I just had two very fine chances...And none were taken...I need this duel to stage my death..You see, no way in 'ell would the crew be able to infiltrate the Tower of London..By Stealth or force...So, that's why I didn't come to you...Assuming you already know why...That French Fellow thought he was smooth I guess.."::He rolled his shoulders in a shrug::"..So instead..You get to "kill" me...And after I'm "dead"..I'm going to rescuse My dear family...Now, if you continue to fight me..I'm going to do what I've been dreading to do, ever since I came up with this plan, kill you.."::He spoke cooly..::"..As for Mr. Gibbs, God rest him, He was the victim of being in the wrong place, at the wrong time."
A sneer formed upon her lips. "You're going to be dead, Randall, as will your family. You think me to be some fop? Whether I survive this or not, your family is dead. You can't stop it now." Cold was the grin that formed. "Even if it means instigating the foppish Brit's to do it for me. Her hand was already in motion as she spoke, her gaze holding his the entire time. She too was a marksman of blade and pistol alike. The dagger would be snapped towards him, it means instigating the foppish Brit's to do it for me. Her hand was already in motion as she spoke, her gaze holding his the entire time. She too was a marksman of blade and pistol alike. The dagger would be snapped towards him, again, the broad width of his chest to be that which she aimed for. No sooner had that dagger snapped free of her grasp, she was rushing the short distance between them with that cutlass raised to strike at what ever side was to be presented to her if he moved to dodge the oncoming blade of the dagger thrown
"...So..You were stupid enough to send people after my family..Well now Luv, that means it's officially no 'olds barred."::That....Meant trouble for JD...He seen her hand move for the dagger..And her on-rushing..Randall was getting old, sure enough..So he couldn't dodge both completely..He rose the sword up, parrying her dagger, so it bounced off went to the side..As for her rush-and-slash..Randal shifted the blade again..He avoided a stab, but to avoid it all hardly possible..It sliced down his side..leaving a cold...trickling sensation in his side..He knew he'd been cut..However, he seen through the pain..And decided to attack her right back..He suddenly rotated the handle of his sabre, , and sent it downwards..Aiming to send a cut across J.D's thigh..Hopefully to cut her femoral artery..Which meant she could survive, if she had a surgeon not to far away..She could still fight if it landed..It'd just be alot d**n harder.::
