come_sailaway | Pack it up, pack it in,

Entry tags:

Pack it up, pack it in,

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.

Threaded | Flat

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.

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."

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.

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.

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.

Edited 2022-09-08 23:55 (UTC)

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?"

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?"

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.

Edited (no Haguro, yes sumo) 2022-09-10 16:35 (UTC)

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.

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.

[ 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.

Threaded | Flat

i came to win

Battle Me that's a sin

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

Punk you better back up

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