Acoda knew what she'd gotten herself into, yet her temper still frayed as she attempted to hack her opponent to pieces. At every cumbersome swing he weaved this way and that, slid between her too-wide stance and she struck nothing but air.
Just once strike, she thought as she swung with an enraged roar; the murderer side stepped, and with a roll reached for a leaky flask of ale lying on the deck, one blow and I WILL break your carcass in half, drunkard!
He emptied the flask in one powerful drag, then stumbled on the blood-slicked flooring. There, he was unbalanced--and Acoda raised the sword for the killing blow.
By the time Acoda's crashing strike met the wooden railing and blew it to splinters, the brigand had leapt aside and jumped back to the deck below. With a frown, Acoda jumped over the shattered railing and landed below.
Two leaping strides and she was upon him with a sweeping lateral slash. The gust of her strike alone tore the captain's hat from his head; the rest of him ducked to safety--and with a roll palmed a full bottle of rum; he sprung to his feet and weaved past Acoda.
She saw him fly past, mouth plastered to the bottle, even tried to move an arm to catch him--but watched with fury as the combat harness that kept the pirate from just running her through with a sword also staid her wrath.
Infurating! Acoda thought as she bit her lip so hard as to draw blood; she managed to turn and see him make a bee line for the lower decks, giggling like a drunken child as he went. Drunk before he even raised a sword to me!
A flick of the wrist worked the sword into an improvised heavy spear, and with a steady stance she aimed dead center at his back. When she had him dead to rights, Acoda launched it with all her augmented strength.
"Make a fool out of me, will you!?"
The instrument flew, almost tear clean through the drunkard--blade, hilt and all.