We're more than carbon and chemicals

[lucetimods]

Who: All Draftees
What: Fighting Third Party
When: 26th, 27th, 28th, 1st, and 2nd
Where: The Southern Farmlands
Summary: See here for overall details.
Rating: Probably gonna be gorey in places :|a

DOESN'T NEED A CUT. People should know how this works, if not, just follow other people's lead. I'm gonna set up some strategist threads at the top, for the four strategists to use if they want to, otherwise people should start their own threads.

((Mod Note: Since this has been asked a few times, just fyi, the livestock do not talk. Happy hunting!))

Comments

[hippocraticly.livejournal.com]

Stars. He could see them and the doctor was only vaguely aware what was happening now as he felt hands grapple at him and, for a moment, he wondered why the soldiers were messing with him and if there was any damn point in trying to struggle and delay the inevitable. Their death. It wasn't -- he had been a damn idiot and now the two of them were going to die in these damn farmlands. In their war; in their cause; a war he had no interest in ever fighting and one Jack certainly didn't.

McCoy wanted to apologize to him. The guilt was like ice in his stomach.

And so, he thrashed against the hands pulling at him and barely understood what the pirate was murmuring to the soldiers in his typical, intoxicated slur -- was he taunting them? -- as he craned his up head for one, final look at the pirate before he was pushed, sent spiralling from the hayloft and into the callous embrace of unconsciousness before hitting the hay below.

1/2

[all7seas]

There was far less taunting after McCoy was safe. Far more business. Jack kept his back to the wall, thinking, thinking.

"You don't want to be killing me, now do you, lads? I know where the fighters are camped. I've studied all their charts, haven't I? That's a shiny bit of information that any large wingéd swordsman such as yourself might be proud to bring back to his General."

The Elite grinned at this, then lunged for the pirate. Sparrow had time to notice that his enemy's teeth were filed into points; then he had to fight for his life.

2/2 ;;

[all7seas]

The gathered crowd of spectators cheered and howled as the battle progressed. Jack realized with a half-smile that bets were being placed. He had a pretty good guess as to where he stood in the odds.

He wiped sweat from his brow and tried to keep his concentration as he circled with the larger fighter, who had the further reach and the advantage in almost every way. Still, the pirate had his speed. He had his agility and sense of timing. And he had a plan, a wonderful plan that involved leaping from the edge of the loft and using his small and somewhat ineffectual black wings to slow the fall.

A sparrow not quite flying, not quite falling--that was his trademark, after all.

"What's all this then, eh? Are we not brothers-in-....feathers? Practically second or third cousins, us, hm? Should be peaceful-like, not--" he leaped back as the other fighter's sword nearly swiped off his head. "Right--THAT wasn't very nice, mate. I don't choose to play when I don't like the company, savvy? Cheers."

There is a time to fight, and a time to run; he had bought McCoy plenty of time to get away, and that made Sparrow happy. Jovial, even. Now his own time to run had come, and not a moment too soon. With a jaunty wave at the crowd, and a gold-and-ivory smile for the Elite, Jack turned and leaped from the edge of the hayloft. He had no fear of falling, or of heights, because he was not quite falling, ever. He strained his wings out to their full span, trying to catch as much resistance as he could--angling them to soar.

It was going to be all right, if he could only get round to where Bones must have fallen.

Jack had known, of course, that there would be pursuit when he ran away. When the guard unit did catch him by the door, they didn't hurt him too badly before the Elite joined them. Token hurts, those were, and he shut his eyes and accepted them as such.

But he found himself looking the needle-toothed gladiator in the eye when the larger man caught up and lifted him by the shirt front. Sparrow spat out a tooth and some blood and gold and grinned at him.

"Everything were beautiful, mate. Nothing hurt."

There was no answer from the enemy as he methodically tore those soft black wings from Sparrow's shoulders and trampled them onto the dusty straw. The body he flung casually against the wall to land in a huddled heap not far away, and none of the suddenly disinterested squadron seemed to notice it or care as they dispersed from the shadowy cavern of the old barn and marched away over the sunlit farmlands.