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"You can't hid from us for long, Capt..." Krampus's droning observation
was cut short by ringing Crunch Thud... thud. The robot turned towards
the interruption and surveyed the remains of its aide.
Krampus's other robot lay sundered at the base of the mast - twitching with a slow pathetic cyclic jerk. The cannonball had been a walrus in Svart's hand, recalcitrant and unwieldy. He hadn't considered just how awkward it would be when he'd secretly had the coxswain smuggle it up here. But once the stubborn weight was wrestled to the rim of the crows-nest it was just a matter of timing. Svart had mated the pitch of the ship and the slow circle of Krampus's minion under the mast perfectly. Still, he would have almost given his remaining hand if only Krampus had been the one under the lethal drop -- but as any pirate knew, a victory today is worth a dozen triumphs tomorrow. And as a victory, it couldn't be denied... the cannon ball had taken the robot on the shoulder and caved the entire joint into the chest cabinet. Even from his height Svart could hear the squealing of gears grinding against metal. His one secret weapon, and he had evened up the fight. Now the fight boiled down to a contest between a lone iron juggernaut and a solitary one-armed dwarf. Ok, maybe it wasn't completely even just yet. Krampus seemed to take its loss in stride. The metallic first mate took a moment to scan the deck, walked over to a discarded hatchet, and then walked directly to the mast. With an inhuman twist the robot craned back to keep a wary eye on Svart and raised the hatchet high. Svart felt the first blow against the mast. The robot raised the hatchet again, and again Svart felt the mast shudder with the impact. The bastard will rip the Greip apart just to get to me. Svart had known no home but sailing ships for the last thirty years, and the Greip had been his very own for the last twelve. He was damned if he was going to let Krampus rob him of both his life and his ship. "Hold up, traitor. I'll come down and we'll fight like men." Krampus continued to stare up at Svart. Again the hatchet boomed into the mast. "Damn you, bucket." Svart readied a handkerchief in his belt, and hauled himself out onto the rigging. He saw that his ex-first mate had swiveled its head slightly to track him, but continued to attack the mast with the hatchet. Svart deftly jumped from webbing to webbing, lowering himself closer and closer to the deck, always dropping a little farther away from the mast. When he'd gotten about half way down he saw that Krampus had finally stopped its attack on the mast and had began to move its inhuman bulk to close the distance between the two. Svart reached down and looped the handkerchief double in his palm, and then the double once around a rigging cordage and closed it off in his hand. He'd done this before, but never under fire. Svart jumped off the spar and let himself drop. The cordage sang as he plummeted, but as the deck loomed large Svart pushed the cordage away hard with his feet. His handkerchief bundled and made rending sounds, but the friction did its job and he slowed quickly. He dropped the last couple of feet to the deck well ahead of Krampus's advance. Svart had landed next to a discarded adze, it was the only item he could think of to take on Krampus... unless there was some way to get the titan to stand in front of a cannon while he primed it. Adze it'll have to be. The carpenter will get his revenge as well that way. Krampus's tactic was simple -- he charged Svart's ground with a steady purposeful tread, the hatchet blurring and passing over the dwarf's hastily ducked head. The robot had strength, weight, and endurance on its side - not to mention two working arms and an iron hide. Svart... Svart had his size, his agility, and his years. When it came down to it Svart guessed he had more experience in a fight. When he'd first fought alongside robots, he'd wondered if they learned how to fight, or if all their knowledge of fighting was packed into their frames, stored on ratcheted disks, and geared cogs. Since then he'd watched the robots fight again and again... they were good, but they always fought the same battle. There was no learning in the robot nation. Svart dodged another blow, and then jumped over a low sweep. He took the chance and rained the adze blade down on Krampus's head. His hand stung, but besides a spark he doubted anything more had happened. Svart switched from pure defense to a more tactically exploratory mode. He tried to keep himself behind Krampus whenever possible, trying to see if he could get a blow into one of the robots joints. Strategicly sound, but unfortunately the robot was quick to rotate its head to face the little Captain whenever he got behind it. "The second zombie, the one at the docks... it was working for you, wasn't it, Krampy?" The hatchet came down and stuck in the deck, splintering the wood around it. It took the robot a second to pull the blade back out. It didn't say a word. "Your working with the zombie nation, aren't you? You're bringing some sort of manufactured clockwork treaty to Urbis, to turn all your kind against us." The hatchet swept in a backhanded blow that caught Svart's foot in mid leap. He landed with a harsh thump and quickly rolled away from a quarter ton, head crushing, stomp. This is stupid, I can't bait it. It's not human. Svart paused for a moment on the deck as the robot raised the hatchet down for another blow. But if he imbeds the hatchet again, I'll have him. The hatchet came down, and Svart rolled through the robot's legs, rising up behind it. He heard the hatchet splinter the deck again, and he jammed the adze blade deep into Krampus's knee joint and heaved. He heard a pop and was tempted to heave again, but he knew Krampus would have the hatchet out soon enough. He pulled on the adze... and it stayed stuck in the robot. Svart buckled to yank again and suddenly his hand erupted in pain. Krampus had left the hatchet imbedded in the deck and had clamped a hand over Svart's. With a quick yank the robot suspended the little Captain high above the deck. Svart dangled painfully by his two smallest fingers. Krampus brought its other hand around, swaying awkwardly with the adze still stick in its knee. Although the pain was like murder, Svart danced, suspended by crushed fingers, kicking madly at the snapping second steel claw. If it grabbed him as well, he would be seconds away from being ripped in two. Svart couldn't feel the trapped fingers, only the signal flare pain from where they connected to his hand. He could only guess that they were being ground into useless meat. Krampus's head made a loud pinging sound and Svart was aware that somewhere a shot had been fired. Over Krampus's shoulder Svart could see the surgeon, standing comically half out of the water-barrel, still aiming a smoking gun at Krampus's head. "Arrest yourself, you vile whirligig." Krampus's head swivelled around to face the new threat, and as it did so a small column of steam poured out of a tiny new hole in the back of its head. Krampus's free claw resumed snapping blindly at Svart, the surgeon's apparently useless attack having almost distracting Svart into an grisly demise. Krampus turned its body to face the surgeon, but as it did so its head made a small, pitiful whoosh clunk sound. Strangely Krampus's head remained fixed, turning with the body, to end up staring away from the surgeon. "Odd's fish, my dear lummox, you seem to have a frightful crick in your neck." Haltingly, Krampus lumbered towards the barrel trapped surgeon, swinging Svart recklessly back and forth like a blind man's tap stick. Oh bleeding poxy arse - its going to bludgeon the surgeon with me. The solution came to the Captain suddenly, as most career saving inspirations had -- although certainly this was going to be one of the more painful. With the next swing of the monster's arms the dwarf brought his legs up and planted his feet squarely on either side of his crushed fingers. He waited on one long painful arc of the juggernaut's arm, and then pushed with everything he had. There was a rush of pain in his hand, and he felt rather than heard the wretched popping, and suddenly he was flying in a slow arc across the deck... his remaining hand trailing a thin jet of blood. Krampus saw him land, and reversed directions... ambling "backwards" towards the dwarf. Svart tried to get up, but mistakenly tried to use his ruined hand to prop himself up. He cursed himself and rolled over onto his back. Krampus, its head still stuck looking in reverse, came onward, lurching in a aimed but unwieldy one legged gait. Svart jammed his wounded hand against his belly, the pressure against his missing fingers feeling oddly welcoming, and sat up. Move, blast you, move. With a rocking and a tucking of his legs he got to his feet. He swayed, unsteady. Landlegs? How odd that all that unhealthy dangling has given me a case of landlegs. I'm sure the surgeon would be amused. Svart looked around, but all the weapons had been piled up on the other side of the deck, where he'd first landed. He saw his handkerchief still wrapped around the cordage, and though about wrapping his hand in it. Maybe later, though -- weapons first. In the railing, next to him, was a belaying pin. Small, wooden, and weather worn. Still, better than trying to pinch the thing to death. Svart had to grab at the pin twice, and when it came away from the railing it was already slick with his blood. He turned to face his old first mate. "That's seven fingers your kind owes me now, Kramps." Krampus closed and suddenly turned, flailing high and low with its hands. Svart leaped back, avoiding the attack, but stumbled while landing. Krampus kept turning to get a bead on its target and launched itself into another flailing attack. Svart rolled back, half standing, half crouching. Another attack like that, and he'll push me into the sea. And then he had it. Krampus didn't pause this time when targeting Svart. He merely glanced down as his turn continued him through another attack. And this time Svart lept forward, between Krampus's legs, and planted the belaying pin under the robot's descending foot. The pin snapped to the deck under the weight, and then a moment later rocketed out like a shot as Krampus's one good leg went out from under its bulk. Krampus came down hard on the railing, arms pinwheeling over the ocean. For a moment it seemed to lay there, half on, half off, like some mechanical circus act. And then it slowly tottered over the side. Svart limped over to the sundered railing. He peered down into a ring of slowly rising bubbles. "Sink Krampus! And may your barnacles tattoo your skin." "I suppose you'll be wanting to press me into some arduous seamanly duties now... Given your reduced digits, Captain Svart." The surgeon had come up next to Svart, to also peer after the departed Krampus. "My good surgeon," Svart held out his wounded hand, "unless we manage to shanghai ourselves some mighty simple fishermen, we've got a ocean of labor between us and a friendly port."
Three days out, they spied a fishing boat... but it wasn't crewed by simpletons. It left them alone to limp across the ocean with a casual and mocking wave. |