There was no need for all the leering and weapons and threats; Akala stood there passively with her head held high, relieved, of course, that Ha'aheo had listened to her advice. Whatever the gods had in store for her, she would face with her head held high and her pride intact.
Of course, that was when everything changed.
One of the men had just closed his arm around her slim forearm, squeezing it with a crushing strength that made her cringe...and then, suddenly, Ha'aheo was there.
The man released her to reach for his weapon -- but he didn't get far before Ha'aheo had thrown his colleague on top of him. She stared down at the pair of men, then, belatedly, leaped backwards. She practically tripped on the sword underfoot, then looked back to the pair of men with a smile.
She could help after all.
The man on the bottom was out cold, while the man who had landed on top of him merely dazed. He was already scrambling to his feet and searching for the lost weapon, eventually settling for his fallen ally's before moving to take on the mershark as well.
Left to her own devices, Akala scooted over to the unconscious man. He would live -- though, she thought, he would find a mysterious prick in his finger when he woke up. Using a sharpened shell, she sliced open his fingertip -- just enough for a prick of blood.
The blood of an evil man... It was a potent component. Using the man's finger, she etched a symbol onto the blade of the weapon, drawn in the man's own blood. She murmured a quiet chant as she did it, careful to avoid touching even a drop of the stuff.
It drew the spirits to the blade like -- well, like blood drew sharks -- so that they feasted upon it and festered and wallowed in to the energy that was beginning to build. She stepped away from the cursed object as the sun caught the glimmering blade and the shapes writhing over the top of it. In the sunlight, they stood as dark, undefined shadows, growing and shuddering like some sort of beast summoned up from the depths of hell.
