Pack it up, pack it in,

[saltwaterlungs]

CHARACTERS: Darcy, and YOU?!
DATE: First half of September prior to the event
LOCATION: Sports deck
SITUATION: A pirate-sponsored fight club for the sake of beating the shit out of each other bettering each other
WARNINGS: It’s a fight club. Violence is to be expected.

I came to win

Fliers go up around the ship, as they so often do. This time put up with a reasonable amount of tape and written in a much less flowery hand than people would expect, the announcement ‘FIGHT CLUB TUESDAY EVENINGS SPORTS DECK: MAKE FRIENDS AND THEN HIT THEM’.
Anyone going to the sport’s deck after 7pm for the Tuesdays before the excursion will find tennis court set up for an impromptu fight club. There’s a notebook with a pen off to one side as a sign-in sheet, and a small list of rules written in the same handwriting as the fliers.
-No killing or dying
-Respect tapping out
-If you’re learning, respect your teacher/s
-If you’re teaching, respect your student/s
-Cause problems, get kicked out

Off to the sidelines, Darcy can be found supervising, keeping an eye out for any issues.

Battle me that's a sin

In one corner is supplies for fencing and swordplay. Three protective jackets, mesh masks, and blunt training sabers in a loose pile, plus whatever weaponry people themselves supply. There’s a circular arena drawn out on the ground, with a narrower fencing piste drawn through the middle of it.

I won't ever slack up

For those more inclined to hand-to-hand combat, a couple of the punching bags from the gym have been dragged out onto the court, along with focus-pads and a couple of long strips of bandages bandages to wrap one’s hands with. An arena has been drawn out, about the right dimensions for a boxing ring.

Punk you better back up

Over on the furthest side- deliberately angled to face off the ship- there’s a makeshift shooting range consisting of a bunch of water bottles and some mannequins from the Tommy Bahama laid out as targets to shoot at. A line has been drawn on the ground, presumably to stand behind when shooting.

Try and play the role and yo the whole crew'll act up

Right in the middle of everything is an arena marked out for no clear purpose, with no equipment nearby. It can probably be presumed that this is somewhere for people to spar, or more likely, show off in front of everyone.

Comments

i came to win

[pinballer]

Fight club? Hell yes. That sounds right up his alley. If he's not involved in any extracurriculars at school it's only because they weren't cool enough to have a fight club.

But as soon as he enters and starts to write his name down on the sign-up sheet, he sees who else is there, acting all supervisor-like. "Aw, fuck me, of course," he says, slamming the pen back down against the table.

It's partly that he's still angry (Vance's anger is notoriously long-lasting) and partly because he expects another apology will be in order before he's allowed to fight and he simply doesn't want to give one.

[saltwaterlungs]

Vance earns himself a glare fit to curdle milk from across the court.

But then she looks away, making no effort to stop him from signing up or moving any closer to him. Darcy's here in a professional capacity, after all, and so long as he abides by the rules, she's got no issues with him.

[be_seeing_you]

Number 6 did threaten promise to check in on the guy. Now seems like a good time. His knuckles are already wrapped from a previous boxing match, and his brow is still shiny with sweat from it. But he isn't breathing hard. He's got fight left in him.

"I already saw some of your work the day of the duel. How about you show me some more?"

Battle Me that's a sin

[theweakhavepurpose]

Pratt should not go to a fight club. He should absolutely not do anything that might make him actually be violent. Just weeks ago, he almost went ballistic because he couldn't resist getting milkshakes even with a chance of jukebox roulette.

However, Pratt is not someone who makes good decisions. He never has, and apparently, he's not going to start now.

Also come on, there's swords and that's pretty fucking cool.

"Oh shit, you've got this set up all awesome."

[saltwaterlungs]

"Thanks dude," Darcy gives him a little up-nod from the sidelines.

"I set it for Captain Bonnet- he thought it would be a good idea to have somewhere people can test their skills and learn from each other, and he asked me to run it."

She gestures vaguely to the court in a similar manner to Mufasa showing Simba the breadth of their kingdom.

"Swords, hand-to-hand, shooting- I think I've got everything covered."

I came to win / OTA, looking for a teacher!

[390h]

The flyers are strangely fortuitous for Hope. After the diner disaster, she's been quietly stewing over the idea of learning how to fight in some way. They'd had gym class periodically at Metamorphosis, like any school did, but none of their lessons had been about such practical measures as self-defense; mostly it had been running or exercise-for-it's-own-sake. The Headmaster had preached that physical health was important as a means of keeping the mind sharp, but he wouldn't have wanted his students to know how to hurt each other...or resist their captors.

And so she was not unfit, but nor was she really capable of dealing any harm to someone. It seemed like something that needed to change, if future "shore excursions" were going to feature zombies.

Still, when Hope arrives at the sports deck, she's clearly uncomfortable. She's smart enough to have worn her jumpsuit for the occasion, but she doesn't know how to start otherwise. A part of her is afraid to try.

[konpeito_aji]

Nobunaga is intimidating even when he's trying not to be (which is almost never, but even then!) so he kind of extra forgets himself now that at least he doesn't have quite the recognizable Demon King psychotic genocidal maniac reputation on sight. But the worst he does is just poke Hope's shoulders with two fingers to check her balance and reflexes.

He's in almost all black full plate Japanese 1582 armor, with two katana, and a gun on his hip AND a bow and quiver of arrows slung over his shoulders... So there's a lot to react to. Or not. Shell-shocked is also an expected result.

[be_seeing_you]

He picks her out as a familiar face. He'd enjoyed their friendly game of card. He notices immediately that she looks unsure of what to do. So, maybe he can take her under his wing one more time.

"It can be difficult to know where to start," he says walking up next to her. "Did you need some pointers?"

Punk you better back up

[businessorlibation]

When Jinx had been shooting at bottles in Hurikane, that was for fun, something to vent some stress. This time, though, Johnny is here to improve his technique. He has his 1910s revolver from home, and also a Beretta M9 from the claw machine, and a box of bullets for each; his latest set of presents from the Sundries included a More Than Sufficient number of bullets.

Perhaps if one is more accustomed to firearms, one might remind him not to cross his thumbs when firing the Beretta, or help him with his stance to brace for recoil. Or perhaps one might just watch him as he puts hole after hole into a mannequin.

[konpeito_aji]

"You're not worried about wasting ammo?" Like yeah sure, obviously those boxes are... a lot. But Nobunaga is still kind of impressed with the sheer amount on display here.

He twitches at the stance, that is not effective at all! But it's not like this is one of his own soldiers, or that the man is a total neophyte, is he?

"Do you know the name of your guns?" Nobunaga twitches again, like he's just itching to fix this-- and after a small sigh... Casually shoots his own matchlock to demonstrate the proper technique. "Knees. Stop locking them. You cannot possibly handle the recoil like this, and you're putting too much stress on your body. You need to loosen your legs more, and get ready to crouch down so that the next in line can fire over your head." This is basics grrrrrr. "How long have you been using this weapon?" Okay, it's not like Nobunaga isn't the best general maybe ever. He can't blame soldiers for not having as good a leader as himself. Probably.

[prince_of_beasts]

Battle me that's a sin

To the side of the sparring circle, Dimitri finds a quiet spot to run through some easy stretches. His leg is still stiff, his ribs still prone to twinge. Despite his general tendencies, he's making an effort to take it easy and let them heal, but he can’t sit idle, either.

When he's warmed up, he picks up his longsword. He hasn’t done this since ... the diner, actually; avoiding the weapon, unwilling to hold still or focus long enough to practice. Slowly, at first, Dimitri begins running through drills. It’s comfortable, comforting, a relief, and he picks up speed as he falls back into familiar patterns. His technique is formal, but there's a smooth fluidity to it. To someone who knows what to look for, it's clear he's got real experience.

Dimitri doesn't consider himself much of a teacher, but at home he had a small collection of "students", which is to say "kids who wouldn't leave him alone until he agreed to teach them the basics." He'll offer to guide anyone who seems clueless, or approach anyone more confident with a gleam in his eye and an invitation to a match.

I won't ever slack up

a. OTA (high chaos)

It's not his specialty, but Dimitri's trained in hand-to-hand, as a fallback in case he's ever disarmed. He occupies himself with beating the tar out of a punching bag. Once he finds his rhythm he stops paying attention to where the bag is swinging -- and it is swinging pretty wildly.


b. Murderbot

Until he spots a likely-looking partner, someone he's confident he won't hurt accidentally. "SecUnit, hello!" Dimitri indicates the ring with a wave and a tilt of his head. "Interested in a bout?"

Try and play the role and yo the whole crew'll act up

Dimitri makes sure he has a wide berth before trying anything with magic. No, wider. Wider than that.

When he's sure no one's in the possible blast radius, he raises his hands and concentrates. Lightning crackles through his veins, swelling in time with his breaths. It's like flexing a muscle to direct it down his arms; sparks arc between his fingers, the hair on his forearms prickles, and static fluffs him up like a Ghibli protagonist. This is going well! This is working!

BOOM.

The explosion launches him several feet. He lands with a whoof, ears ringing, the glaring afterimage whirling behind his eyes. A few locks of hair are smoldering, and the collar of his shirt’s on fire.

Battle me that's a sin

[crushed_pearls]

Erin observes this young swordsman for a long while, squatting on her heels with a distant but interested expression on her face. His weapon is familiar enough, plenty of Lost and for that matter mortals use weapons that differ only in trivial details, but what has her attention is his style. While there are only so many ways to swing a sword every culture has their own style, and she's struggling to place this one. It's almost Irish, which takes its notes from the English occupation and the warriors that followed the grey monks over there, but not quite right somehow.

Hrm. Johnny had said he didn't know if she was from an Earth. That does seem to suggest some not-Earth.

Fucking fascinating.

"You fight like someone's going to write a book about it," she says at last, aloud. "Good footwork, good follow-through, impressive control of the weapon but it's so...pretty. Who's got you fighting all pretty, youngblood?"

MAGIC obvs

[konpeito_aji]

"What the hell was that?"

Oh. The kid's on fire.

Should... should he put it out? Does the kid know? Is the kid also kind of shell shocked from the LIGHTNING?

Well whatever, no use wasting time wondering. Nobunaga steps forward, and quickly clamps it down in metal to suffocate the oxygen out. And just holds the singed hair between his fingers to make sure it doesn't proceed further, just in case. Listen, it'd be a shame for the pretty hair to have to get shaved like a Buddhist monk is all.

"Does it always do that?" It. Whatever the hell IT was. He also offers a hand up, if the young man can take it.

Oda's assessment regarding the swordform was not as flattering as Erin's, but similar enough. It's clear the young man knew what he was doing, so the lightning without so much practice was a bit... shocking. Yes.

[serialskiller]

"You want to fight...with me?"

Murderbot had actually come in his capacity as Watson's medical assistant, a first aid kit in hand as it and a few drones watch the proceedings. Dimitri approaching it leads to a bit of a frown, arms crossing over its chest.

did somebody want a fire extinguisher.....well rip this isn't a fire extinguisher but--

[fonomena]

Drawn to this overall gathering by a combination of glimpsed fliers and mild curiosity, Jade's been mostly keeping to himself over the course of observing this "fight club" sort of event. Oh, he's not unfamiliar with combat training in the least, though he's fallen back in the habit of running his own brief exercises in the privacy of ungodly early mornings in various corners of the sports deck--ever since Flynn Scifo had vanished from the premises of the ship, taking his enthused inclination towards group drills with him. ...Still, all this--isn't a bad idea, is it? There's merit here. Honestly, if Jade were more naturally inclined towards willingly teaching people about things in general and actually offering to do such...he'd almost be tempted to propose some sparring bouts with others himself, but...

No, observing and cataloguing from the sidelines is plenty enough for now. A opportunity to canvass the abilities of others in quite this sort of way hasn't arisen since...the bloody live broadcasts from the battle royale--and Jade could already say he quite prefers this way, thanks very much. There's already interesting sights to see, too...including, quite notably, the way a certain recognizable young man detaches to a certain stretch of open space at length. There's prompt familiarity in the way he squares his stance, and raises his hands--the concentration that falls upon his features, and the steady breaths taken--because even despite the huge variety of magic types represented on this ship, Jade has noticed that every spellcaster seems to orient themselves about the same way. Which means he can take half a guess at what Dimitri is about to attempt even before the electricity begins to crackle to life between his fingers. ......Ah, might be a bit presumptuous to actually call him a spellcaster, though, considering--

Goodness, quite the explosion. Enough to draw flinches from pretty much anyone in the area not utterly absorbed in some form of combat, assuredly, though Jade doesn't flinch himself. He's stepping forward as Dimitri lands on the floor in a flurry of smoke and flame, even, almost lazily raising a hand of his own as he idly calls upon a chant: "O violent torrent--Splash!"

Fortunately! It's a very short cast, since it's only a partially realized arte anyway. With a brief and softly melodic thrum, fourth fonons gather into a single watermelon-sized globule of water over Dimitri's head...and said globule of water is also breaking open to pour directly onto his face now. Since, you know, best take care of that smoldering hair and flaming collar first thing--

i won’t ever slack up

[goodweather]

[ He supposes that maybe it never much sunk in that he’d be doing much fighting during his tenure here. Passenger battle and murder, sure, though Phil never thought to put up much of a fight, ambivalent about his own death as he is.

But. But. Things are different now. Not that he cares any more for the inconvenience of getting conked until the next morning, but for the people that will very much care about seeing him get conked, or for keeping other people from getting conked… the game is changed now that he’s played it.

Phil’s dressed in some casual shorts and a t-shirt (which does in fact show off a build usually kept under long pants and button-downs). He hovers from a distance, watching but hesitant. This kid’s really going to town on that punching bag, huh. Y’know. Maybe he should have just put up with the inevitability of Darcy relentlessly making fun of him instead. ]

Battle me that's a sin

[be_seeing_you]

They haven't been formally introduced yet, but Number 6 has seen Dimitri around. It's not until just now that he's really paid close attention. That sword work is a sight to behold. It's not Number 6's style, but he admires the skill with a swordsman's appreciation.

Number 6 is, himself, still dressed in his fencing jacket, with mask under one arm and his epee in hand. He's been running through his own drills but has stopped now to catch his breath.

Once he senses Dimitri stopping for a moment himself, Number 6 approaches, saying, "That's some fine work. You seem like a natural."

Acting up with the crew in mind

[touchofcashmere]

Stede will show up and go right into, well, the melee circle perhaps. He has his sword at his side and his wearing a loose linen shirt though still the bright red camp counsellor shorts because they are easy to move in, as well as trainers and socks with flamingos on them.

He smiles at anyone who comes near and puts his hand on the hilt of his sword.

"Well, would you like to give it a go? A little friendly spar or two?"

[konpeito_aji]

Nobunaga still really wants to know Stede's skills with a blade, but best not tempt fate. Even if he avoids using either katana on his hip, Nobunaga suspects he might kill Stede with just a simple European rapier. Besides--

"You seem like a man better suited to using your words and brains than blasting apart mountains with a cannon." So... rap battle? Haiku rap battle? Let's go!

"I'm quite curious how one such as yourself escaped childhood without becoming a soldier, only to end up in a violent criminal life now." It's... it's a compliment... kind of????

He snaps his fingers in thought. "Are you familiar with the way of the fan?" That is not gay innuendo, he means it's literally a fighting style and he wants to test Stede in it. Actually, that's kind of gay, but if Nobunaga doesn't know it's gay, it's all okay, right?

[be_seeing_you]

Number 6 is in his fencing jacket, mask under an arm and epee in hand. After how Stede had stormed off that last time, he's not so sure how this will go. But, maybe it's a chance for them to settle some of that tension between them?

"I'm game for a round if you are?"

I Came To Win

[crushed_pearls]

Erin shows up a bit late; she wishes she could say it was on purpose, but the unfortunate truth is she's still getting used to navigating the ship. At least her sea legs showed up quickly, but, then, Erin's used to operating in less than ideal conditions. Sea legs beat a lot of other options.

First order of business is to approach the organizer. Erin's steel-toed boots presage her arrival, deliberately loud enough to be heard well ahead of time. She's armed but, then, when isn't she?

Erin tousles her cloud of black hair while she tilts her head this way and that, getting a feel for the setup and picking people out. The one on the side doesn't seem to be a shrinking violet, which means she must be the organizer. Worth a shot, at least.

She takes a deep breath, mentally prepares herself to violate her own personal space, and approaches Darcy with her best only-one-corner-of-her-mouth smile. Erin extends her hand, oddly soft and uncalloused, to shake.

"Erin Peters," she introduces. "Newly boarded. This your party?"

[saltwaterlungs]

Darcy takes a glance down at her hand and then back up at the blindfold on her face.

"This isn't a job interview, you don't need to do handshakes."

She somewhat pointedly doesn't take it, her wrist resting loosely on the hilt of her rapier. Of course she notices Erin's weaponry and the armour, and Erin would certainly feel a characteristic twinge of desire come from her. Of course the baby butch is going to have feelings about a pretty sword lady showing up, that's just to be expected.

"Darcy. And sort of. 's... I guess you'd call it 'sponsored' by Captains Bonnet and Blackbeard's pirate crew. Mostly Captain Bonnet. I'm running it for him- swords are-"

Darcy goes to point before realizing how useless that would be.

"To your left-front, hand-to-hand shit is back-left, and there's a ring in the middle for dueling and whatever. Let me know if you need any help with anything, ehn?"

Wait what about tennis? / Teacher / Guns || NOT ALLOWED TO STAB || Archery maybe

[konpeito_aji]

Nobunaga took forever to find the sports deck, and not that he's complaining about a very highly practical fight club, but he was actually gonna try out tennis.

He got a racket and everything!

Well, whatever. Might as well survey the troops.

Err... watch the others, surely they've gotten better at fighting in 500+ years. No wait, who is he kidding? Everyone said the future was way less violent. They're all likely to get themselves killed, aren't they?

Which is also why he's not allowed to do anything with the swords, and please please, PLEASE do not ask him for a katana demonstration. He literally doesn't know how to hold back?

There's another problem he's going to have, probably uniquely him if the others are an indication yet -- he's kind of a giant fanboy of weapons. LIKE A LOT. So everyone's preferred and specialty weapons are getting memorized on sight, and he's not going to be able to refrain from asking questions, all the questions. Especially about guns. So. There's that.

Nobunaga will actually teach anything (except kendo/swords!!!) related to weapons and fighting if asked though. Maybe even martial arts and sumo wrestling, though he's not exactly what anyone would expect for a sumo wrestler, he's not that tall (5'9") and while obviously a soldier, in no way a meaty weight-lifter, way more like a lithe dancer. So there's that.

He also cheerfully pincushions a clothing dummy with archery arrows, and it's clear he's got more decades of experience with the bow than even his gun, despite the way he treasures it.

There's an overly loud demon laugh, the kind of laugh that only idiots have. "It's been ages since I got to do all this!" Yes, an absolute weirdo.

i came to win / punk you better back up

[skaikru]

Clarke's just here to creep. Noted the flyers plastered along the hallways and flip-flopped between thinking the idea 'archaic and unnecessary' and 'practical and a good learning experience', then somehow without fail her feet guide her to the sportsdeck any given Tuesday. Most of her time is spent watching each person sign in, matching faces to names of strangers, maybe offering a few okay, cool, have fun-themed shrugs to those she knows.

Every club meeting needs someone to take minutes. And the thought another Battle Royale could be around any corner — or worse, unchecked ship-wide chaos — means it'd be great knowing what everyone could do before coming face to face with them in a dimlit jungle and engaging in a peace talk.

So congrats, show offs. You're all being watched. As the evening progresses, Clarke's a lot less covert about holding a notebook open with it's spine against her forearm and makes no effort to hide she's making notes. Who's got magic, who's got weapon mastery, who's running on rage and recklessness (respect, tbh), and who's falling back on the comfort of training, who seems like they can be hurt and who seems like they brush it off like rainwater off the shoulder... Stepping out of the drawn sparing fields, you may even make eye contact with a 5'5" blonde appraising you like a piece of meat. Win your round? Good job. Lost? Disappointed and judgy.

She won't participate, though. Even with a heavy holster hanging around her waist, a knife and gun on each hip, and the undercurrent of teenage rage that constantly begs for an outlet. She does linger by the makeshift shooting range for a while, though. Staring down the targets like she's practicing setting her sights. For once distracted from the group around her, itching for a little target practice but waging the cost-benefit of wasting ammunition on 'just a little fun' and coming up empty.

[konpeito_aji]

"Maker of your gun?" He approves of all the watching, he does. It's like she outed herself as being a Mitsunari Ishida type (big compliment actually), and that will save him having to do it all 100% himself. Nevertheless, Nobunaga has a priority, and the priority is memorizing every forgesmith and model of every single gun he comes across. "How many years experience do you have with it?"

But since he knows she has no reason to tell him right away, he holds up his matchlock pistol. "Akechi Mitsuhide designed this, 1579, only just rolled off the line six months ago." He treasures his baby. "I've been using firearms since they hit Japanese shores," actually not completely. They hit when he was a baby, but they had to take a little time to get over to Owari, but same difference. "Five hundred years and they really haven't needed to improve much." Treasures it.

He totally hears her on not wanting to waste ammunition. Since it's an ancient relic at this point, he's very much conserving ammo. Well, he's had 30+ years of practice and actual combat war... so it's not like he needs to keep in practice with it.

"Oh, I'm Nobunaga Oda," a small polite bow. He's getting used to this now. Sort of. Maybe. He'll make exceptions for gun owners basically. "It was 1582 for me." And it was Japan, so he had to retroactively re-translate that time thing once here. But since Gregorian calendar seems to have stuck, everyone is familiar with it, good by him, he prides himself on adapting.

OTA

[be_seeing_you]

Battle me that's a sin
Number 6 came carrying his own bag of fencing equipment. Though, his epee is still a problem due to the lack of blunting. So, he picks out one of the safer sabers and tests the weight in his hand. He's already got his jacket on and a mask under his arm. To whoever approaches, he'll say, "Care for a duel? First to 5?"

I won't ever slack up
Did he mention he was an Olympic boxer as well? His fencing jacket is off, leaving him in just his dark turtleneck. He's standing near the drawn-out ring currently wrapping his knuckles to prepare for any challengers. Come his way and his eyes will turn up to meet you, a confident challenging smile on his lips. "Want to go a round?"

Punk you better back up
Don't forget he's an excellent marksman. Just one problem... he doesn't have a gun of his own here. So, he approaches the range when he sees someone who appears to be finishing up and asks, "Would you like to have a friendly competition? I don't have my own weapon, I'm afraid, but if you would be so kind as to let me borrow yours?"

Try and play the role and yo the whole crew'll act up
Wildcard me! I'm up for anything.

Punk you better back up

[businessorlibation]

"Mr. Smith, I have no doubt in my mind that you'd win in a competition. That said--would you prefer the Beretta or the Smith and Wesson?"

His smile when approached by 6 this time is completely sincere and warm, and clearly he's got no qualms with the idea of handing the man a weapon.

battle me, that's a sin (closed to darcy)

[goodweather]

[ It takes a while for Phil to show up. He does eventually, though.

He's opted for a tee-shirt and shorts that are modest, athletic, and showing of a figure normally hidden under the long pants and button-downs he's so fond of. Phil almost looks embarrassed to be here. Fights are... not really his thing, for how many of them he'd gotten into while in Punxsutawney. And in a place filled with people who come from all sorts of bullshit fantasy or apocalypse or whatever backgrounds, living lives way more exciting than some asshole from Pennsylvania, he knows he's way out of his depth. Everyone point and laugh at the noob.

But he said he's show, so he's showing. ]

Nice setup.

[saltwaterlungs]

[ Darcy's genuinely glad to see him take up her offer. Honestly, even if she takes a moment to curse the fact that apparently he just gets to look stacked without much work. Unfair. Nerds aren't allowed to be built. But she smiles in greeting anyway. When did that start to become a habit? Who knows. He'll notice that she has some... fresher bruises on her face than the zombie excursion gave her. ]

's pretty good, ehn? Been going pretty well I think. Nobody's died yet.

[ There's still time. She gestures for him to come with her closer to the sword designated area. ]

Okay- first question. How did Dimitri's sword feel to use? Heavy enough, light enough? The cutting part felt easy enough?