Antonio Fernandez Carriedo. He was the most feared conquistador on the seas. Even the strongest, cruelest captains would call to load the cannons, just to be safe. Antonio was known for sinking rival ships, showing mercy only to those who would agree to unconditionally serve on his ship for the remained of their lives.
Not only was Antonio the most feared conquistador, but he was also the most alluring and handsome. Once his emerald eyes lock with his targets, he pulls their very essence into him, capturing their irrevocable loyalty to the point men and women alike want to fall at his feet to serve him in every way possible. His chestnut hair looked tousled by the breath of angels, messy and sexy. His voice commanded respect and everyone's attention, twisting in eloquent patterns and seductive tones, with the ability to persuade even the darkest demons in hell to match his thoughts and opinions.
That was Antonio. That was the man that was swinging onto Arthur's ship. This terrible god of a man, clothed in red and black silk, ax in one hand, rope in the other, this man, was the man coming to sink his noble British ship. Arthur met Antonio's eyes and advanced to where the man was on the British vessel, sword drawn. His brilliant green eyes were calm and confident, blonde hair rustled by the sigh of the sea, navy and white silken garments flowing out behind him as he advanced with great dignity towards the man bent on destroying him.
They clashed furiously with a horrible grace, steel against steel, sword against ax, body against body; twisting and turning around and around. Antonio crashed down into Arthur with the staff of his ax, drawing a cry of retaliation from the Brit's throat, who in turn lashed out at him with his gleaming sword. Blow after blow was exchanged between the two, their deadly dance never slowing. They cried cried out to each other, one right after the other just after the fiercest blows, teeth gritted, sweat and blood shining on the exposed skin of their overheated bodies.
Arthur slashed across Antonio's chest with his blade, the block from Antonio coming at just the last second with an angered shout. No one beat the conquistador in battle! With another livid cry, he pushed Arthur back, forcing him up against a wall. He held the British man there with his ax, pressing up against him, sweat and blood mix with the contact. Their emerald eyes locked with each other, a dark passion, a black anger shining in both. Their eyes mirrored each other's every thought and feeling, adrenaline rising with each passing second the contact was prolonged.
Both man panted raggedly, but neither's energy was yet spent. Tension and anger continued to build as they stared each other down until, with a deafening cry, Arthur rammed up against Antonio, trying to break free from him. Antonio just thrust up against him with a smirk, keeping the blonde pirate against the wall. With an irritated grunt, Arthur wrapped a hand around Antonio's neck, in which Antonio responded with an equally irritated grunt and pressed him roughly against the wall, and slammed the staff of his ax into him.
Arthur couldn't reach his sword to even begin fighting back, instead he just tightened his hold on Antonio's neck, panting heavily from the force of the blow. Both of them were stuck. If Antonio let up, he'd lose the advantage of leading the battle. He couldn't grab his knife to finish the job, and Arthur wouldn't last much longer if he stopped fighting back. They remained locked together in a battle of strength as a result, both waiting for the other to give first.
The passionate hatred steadily built between the two. Each time Arthur tightened his grip on Antonio's neck, Antonio would slam into him with his ax. Both cried out in frustration at the entire situation. They were both close to giving in, their strugglers against each other strengthening in desperation until, with a final ringing cry of defeat, Arthur dropped his hands from Antonio's neck and went limp against the wall, head low and chest heaving for breath. He waited, exhausted, to see what Antonio would do to him.
Antonio smirked and cried out in triumph before moving away from Arthur. He extended a warm, calloused hand to the British pirate, who wordlessly excepted the help from the Spaniard. Antonio laughed softly and adjusted Arthur's feathered hat. "One of these days you might win Arturo~" He said before walking across the deck and swinging back onto his own ship with high spirits, leaving Arthur to watch him depart. With a soft laugh the Brit shook his head and went about cleaning up with his vessel, secretly hoping Antonio would come back soon.
