8th Wave

[tentacruelest]

Th' next time this Barge feels like poking around in my head, I'll be keeping to my quarters. The lot of yeh - useless dregs not fit to scrub a floor. It's bad enough I'm locked in here with you, I don't need to call any of yeh friends.

[Private to Bush]

Was dealing with me yerself so difficult that you sought to work through less offensive channels, Captain?

[Private to Arthas]

A word, my king.

[Can you feel that heavy sarcasm, Arthas?]

Comments

[spam]

[tentacruelest]

[Davy doesn't have a nose, not quite; it's mainly hard, flat bone covered by soft, squishy tissue. As he attempts to haul Dent over the side, his opponent smacks him square in the face.

Stunned, he twists his head aside, temporarily blinded by the sudden flash headache]

[spam]

[halftheman]

[ Harvey can't close his eyes; at least, not one of them, and that one doesn't tear up, anyway. The other, though, that screws shut and he reels a little from his own blow; the nerves in his face are deadened mostly, after two rounds of acid and multiple bouts of plastic surgery... but that still smarts. ]

[ He doesn't need to see to bring his leg up, though, and try and stamp his foot into Davy's crablike leg, trying to drop him to a knee if he can't take him completely off balance and down to the ground. His arms work blind, now, shoving forward -- trying to get him down. ]

There's no sea here, Davy. More's the pity. I was a port town's son.

[spam]

[tentacruelest]

[The crab leg has its own armored protection, but where the point meets the ground is where it's weakest, and it doesn't always have the traction Jones wishes it might. It skids out from underneath him, but he lunges to grab the side with his claw, enough to steady himself and prevent an all-out tumble.

Then the sticks come out and rain down on his head and shoulders. He gives an audible snarl and fights to turn the battle back in his favor, pushing up with his downed leg and forward, to knock Harvey back]

I am the sea!

[He's had enough; the claw comes back, and heedless of the blows coming fast and hard, he sweeps the arm high and across, powerful and heavy even when his strength is sapped]

[spam]

[halftheman]

[ Slower and smaller than Croc, none the less Davy hits like him. Harvey gets the sticks up to take part of the blow, but despite that it saves his ribs from being broken, it doesn't allow him to keep his feet. He tumbles, rolls, coming up into a awkward crouch, and briefly he remembers: ]

[ Sloppy, Dent. You're down, you're dead. Get up. We'll do it again. ]

[ But then, then it passes. He shakes it off, and gestures. ]

Alright, alright, you are the sea.

[ And while they're both angry, it feels less and less like they have any heart in this fight. ]

[spam]

[tentacruelest]

[Dimly satisfied - and yet somehow, not - Davy straightens back up with slowness and care. In the heat of battle it's easy to dismiss injuries; adrenaline will carry a man through a fight more than most things. But now that his opponent is clearly yielding, the bruises and aches rush up to meet the old sea captain and he seems to stagger, wounded]

[It's the truth; he has no heart or passion in this fight. Dent's not the man he wants to be facing, not truly]


...

[With a nod of acquiescence, he steps back and removes his pipe from his coat, to resume the activity immediately prior to the beating]

[spam]

[halftheman]

[ Two-Face grumbles, but Harvey says the pain the would only get worse if they went on, and neither have their heart in this. Instead, he rolls to his feet, brushes himself off. ]

[ In the dark, so far from others, he feels safe in shrugging off his jacket; his holsters and guns are clear; leather straps criss crossing his broad back. He dugs into his bundle again, and takes out a couple of water bottles, and offers one, almost companionable, to Davy as he drinks from his own. ]

[spam]

[tentacruelest]

[Without a word, Davy takes the bottle in hand and uncaps it. Instead of drinking from it, he pours the contents over his face and head after removing his hat, tentacles making their odd popping noise in response]

Yeh aren't half bad.

[spam]

[halftheman]

[ Not the weirdest thing he's ever seen. ]

Been fighting a long time.

[ He drinks normally, thank you. No need for a smoke after all that-- he needs to breath. ]

[spam]

[tentacruelest]

[Giving a grunt, Jones with his pipe finally staggers away from the rail, somewhat disgusted with himself. He hurts, and the fighting did nothing to improve his mood]

[spam]

[halftheman]

[ Harvey's generosity and compassion only goes so far. He won't stop Davy; he will, however, go bang on the door to pub once he puts his coat back on to hide his guns and get a beer and maybe some ice for his face. ]