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Teules
Feb 17, 2010 20:35:55 GMT -5
Post by Portugal on Feb 17, 2010 20:35:55 GMT -5
It had started out like any other treasure hunt he and the others set out on. Though, without his compass things had become a bit difficult. But the directions hadn’t been too hard. And he really didn’t want to explain just why he had no compass. They had actually been doing perfectly fine. They’d even found ruins! And the crew had almost immediately spread out to find treasures hidden in the ruins…
That was also when they found the locals of said ruins.
There had been a fight. That had been the last thing Afonso remembered before something hit him from behind.
When he woke, he was someplace that was definitely not the ruins. He was in a hut of sort, his hands tied behind his back and his head aching. Everything was hazy to him, his mind swimming as he tried to sit up. However, when a wave of nausea hit him, he opted to remain lying. He couldn’t be sure how much time had passed. He was aware of his captors entering and exiting the hut, but everything had begun to swim together.
His eyes began to grow heavy, sleep becoming a more and more welcome thought. And he was about to give into the notion (ignoring the little voice that said he shouldn’t), when a commotion sounded. The familiar sounds of people shouting in Spanish reaching his hazed mind.
((-hopes this is alright-))
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Teules
Feb 17, 2010 20:52:48 GMT -5
Post by Spain on Feb 17, 2010 20:52:48 GMT -5
Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Of all the things that could have happened, Afonso had been captured. Antonio had been careful, he had been watching him--but then the chief of the Aztecs tried to attack Lovino and he just...lost it. The red had yet to clear from his vision--the Spaniard was different, clearly, a malicious cackle escaping his lips as an Aztec charged him. He brought his great halberd up once, then sliced down, taking off the man's head with one clean spurt and splattering blood across his figure.
"Where is he?! What did you do with him?! Come on out you fucking coward!"
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Teules
Feb 17, 2010 21:04:12 GMT -5
Post by Portugal on Feb 17, 2010 21:04:12 GMT -5
"To... Toni?" He could hear the other. Hear the screams from outside. Weakly, Afonso managed to pick himself up. But the world swayed, and he all but fell to the ground again. His stomach lurched, Afonso nearly vomiting then and there. He needed to focus, but he couldn't. His head, it was splitting in two. And everything was so hazy.
Someone had come in, and a small cry escaped him when he was yanked up by his hair. he was dragged out, Afonso finding it hard to keep his balance. The Aztecs were shouting something, and he could feel something sharp (a blade, his sluggish mind supplied) was pressed against his throat. A hostage, great, he had become a hostage.
((So I may or may not've given Port a concussion >3>))
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Teules
Feb 17, 2010 21:34:17 GMT -5
Post by Spain on Feb 17, 2010 21:34:17 GMT -5
The chief looked at Antonio with fire in his eyes as he held onto Afonso, his hand still tangled roughly in the other's long locks. The Spaniard stared at him, cocking his head lightly to the side as he got a firm grip on Cortes, spinning it slightly as he locked eyes with the man. A woman stepped forward from the crowd and spoke, in easy, fluid Spanish, looking up at Antonio through dark eyelashes.
"My chief offers his condolences for the loss of this man. However he is going to sacrifice this man; you may leave, then, and my chief won't be forced to kill you."
Antonio blinked, a bit surprised. "Sacrifice?"
The chief and the woman exchanged a few words the Spaniard didn't understand before she nodded. "It is...custom. For Quexacoatl. We must sacrifice a teule. And our chief desires his scalp."
Slowly, a look of disgust crossed the Spaniard's face. He took his axe and swung it, suddenly, pointing it directly at the chief's throat. "Tell your chief I would rather die myself than let one of you swines touch one of my men. Let him go and I won't have to kill you."
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Teules
Feb 17, 2010 21:43:00 GMT -5
Post by Portugal on Feb 17, 2010 21:43:00 GMT -5
He only managed to catch one or two words, blinking dazedly from the woman who spoke Spanish remarkably well, to his captain. Sacrifice... They wanted too. He tried to clear his head, looking towards Antonio again. And a small shiver ran down his spine. He had never seen the generally cheerful Spaniard look, well, so crazed.
And yet, the look seemed familiar.
"To-Toni," he cringed at the weakness of his voice, trying his best to hold himself with some sense of pride. Though that was hard when the entire world was shifting from side to side. "Just... Just get out of here. I'll be fine. Ju-"
Anything else he was about to say was cut short, Afonso hissing slightly as the blade pressed more against his neck, blood trickling from a small cut. The chief was saying something to the woman, and even with his dazed eyes, he could tell the others were prepared to take his captain down.
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Teules
Feb 17, 2010 21:56:36 GMT -5
Post by Spain on Feb 17, 2010 21:56:36 GMT -5
Antonio had always been a battler; but even at this rate, he knew he was in trouble. There were enough men surrounding him that this was going to be a difficult battle--time to talk his way out of it. The Spaniard smirked at the translator and replied, "Tell your chief that I would like to challenge him. It's not every day you get to challenge the will of a real God, no?"
The woman nodded and relayed the message to the chief, who folded his arms and spoke back. The woman then replied, "He asks what your wager is."
"IF my crew can defeat every man in this clearing, you will let him go."
As the woman repeated what he had said in the native language, the crowd of warriors began to jeer. Like a man like this could beat them! The chief smirked and spoke lightly to the woman, who spoke calmly. "Let it be that way, then."
Antonio smirked and readied his halberd. They had no idea what they were in for.
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Teules
Feb 17, 2010 22:06:36 GMT -5
Post by Portugal on Feb 17, 2010 22:06:36 GMT -5
It was moments like this, that even through his foggy brain, Afonso wanted to bash his head against the wall. Why did his captain have to be so rash? Though, at least other members of the crew were with him. And while he couldn't see him (he could barely focus), he could imagine Lovino was smacking his hand against his forehead.
They could all get killed, didn't Antonio realize that? One man wasn't worth risking the crew! He tried to should, but the world gave another sickening lurch, and Afonso was pushed to the side, the chief handing him off to others. He was grateful though to be allowed to sit, two men standing on either side of him as guards. He looked towards his crew, trying to speak still. But it was too late, the fight had started.
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Teules
Feb 17, 2010 22:14:46 GMT -5
Post by Spain on Feb 17, 2010 22:14:46 GMT -5
Fight had begun, indeed. As the Spaniard was rushed, he swung his halberd in a massive, wide arc, taking out the two nearest warriors to him in one even cut. Antonio used the momentum to propel himself forward, readjusting his weapon and swinging again, silver cutting into flesh as the Spaniard moved, his halberd a blur of silver. Antonio dodged as an arrow sailed over his head as he met primitive weapons with siler, rolling, stabbing, slicing and dodging almost in a fluid motion. It was obvious who was the more skilled among them. Antonio was nearly singlehandedly taking down the Aztecs, blood spraying across the field and his figure as he took out another with the spiked end of his blade, drawing it out with a dull thunk--
It wasn't until a millisecond too late that he noticed another man with a spear charging him. Antonio felt the shirking pain of metal hitting flesh--his stomach!--and whirled around to slash the warrior who hit him.
Little did he know it was a decoy, and another warrior approached behind him...
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Teules
Feb 17, 2010 22:30:00 GMT -5
Post by England on Feb 17, 2010 22:30:00 GMT -5
Staying out of the way (knowing he was rather pathetic when it came to physical fighting) because Antonio demanded he not get himself injured, Lovino was nervously watching his Boss's every move. Sure, even HE was worried about Afonso being caught - and possibly injured or killed - but every threatening move that Antonio made, especially when the fight started sent a jolt of fear through him.
And then, what he'd been afraid of most happened. Someone was going to kill his Boss. Without even thinking beyond 'I don't want that to happen!' his ever-present and yet never fired (before now) gun was up in his hands. There was a loud burst of noise and even as Lovino was thrown back from the force that he hadn't expected... he couldn't stop staring as the man he'd shot at died in an explosion of brain, bone and other bits.
Oh my god. He thought to himself, feeling sick and relieved all at the same time. He'd blown a mans head off... he regretted having done it... but still... he got to his feet and dashed forward without thinking.
"SPAIN! Are you alright!" he yelled as he skittered quickly through the bodies laying on the ground to get closer to his boss.
(and yes, that was an intentional use of the name Spain )
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Teules
Feb 17, 2010 22:43:00 GMT -5
Post by Portugal on Feb 17, 2010 22:43:00 GMT -5
"IRMAO!" The Portuguese word left his lips with surprising volume when he saw one of the men about to kill Antonio. It was like slow-motion, Afonso ignoring the swirling of the world, trying to stand up only to be shoved back to the ground, and held there by the two that were guarding him. The gun shot cut through his panicked, nonsensical, thoughts. And wide, glazed green eyes fell on Lovino. And then, a small sense of relief rushed through him, Afonso letting his spinning head rest against the dirt ground. His eyes slipping shut despite the constant nagging feeling that he shouldn't let them close. "Graças Deus..."
((Portuguese may or may not be right... But it he's saying "Thank God"... Oh! And Irmao, brother ))
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Teules
Feb 17, 2010 22:51:35 GMT -5
Post by Spain on Feb 17, 2010 22:51:35 GMT -5
Antonio blinked, shocked by the sudden blast, the yelling-he locked eyes with his crewmate, Lovino. The Italian had saved his life. As he straightened, slowly, he threw him a small smile before turning back to the chief, looking down at him from his nose. Standing in the middle of the clearing of dead bodies, covered nearly head to foot in blood and guts and god knew what else, the Spaniard held out a bloody hand. "Now let him go...or I'll kill you too."
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Teules
Feb 17, 2010 23:02:24 GMT -5
Post by England on Feb 17, 2010 23:02:24 GMT -5
Lovi managed to make it to Antonio's side with a minimum of gore on his boots and only slipping once on a pool of... something that he refused to look at directly for fear of losing his stomach. His hands shook slightly around the warmed metal of his gun, but he managed to swallow despite his dry throat and keep the gun at the ready in case it became necessary.
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Teules
Feb 17, 2010 23:03:53 GMT -5
Post by Portugal on Feb 17, 2010 23:03:53 GMT -5
He was being pulled back to his feet. There were more shouts. Afonso managed to crack his eyes open, just in time as he was pushed forward, nearly falling over again. His hands were free, he realized belatedly. And he had been pushed towards his crew.
It seemed like the chief was either a man of his honor, or just feared for his life.
"Y-You idiot. Irmao... Yo-You stupid... You all coul... could..." The Portuguese man couldn't form any coherent thoughts. Dazed eyes slipped shut as he tried to take another step towards his captain. But his legs gave way. The navigator falling to the side with a simple 'thud'.
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Teules
Feb 17, 2010 23:16:18 GMT -5
Post by Spain on Feb 17, 2010 23:16:18 GMT -5
At the reception of his crew member, a wave of relief crashed through the Spaniard--he realized that that stab wound to his stomach was starting to make him dizzy. Still, he gathered up Cortes with shaking hands and carefully lifted Afonso over his shoulder, looking at Lovino with swimming vision. "Let's...get back to the ship...shall we?"
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Teules
Feb 17, 2010 23:37:56 GMT -5
Post by Portugal on Feb 17, 2010 23:37:56 GMT -5
"Put... Put me down..." His weak voice sounded after a few moments, Afonso regaining consciousness. He blinked dazed eyes blearily, trying to grasp what had happened. But the recent events were slipping from his mind. He could remember the fight, though the memories were hazy. He did remember one thing clearly. Weakly squirming, he raised a hand managing to reach back and lightly 'whack' the Spaniard upside the head. "Du-Dumbass put me down. You're hurt."
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