The Walkers

Chapter 23

I picked the rapier and looked at the man who was in front of me. Huge! He's like a tower, metaphorically speaking. I cannot understand how a man of this size can be so nimble. Oh. That was a close one! I just dodged a stab by a hair's breath. This French-accented, black-haired man is both bulky and nimble. I have been going on with this sword fight for a couple of minutes and it seems that I am going nowhere. I'm being forced into a defensive fight! Help me, Morrison! God dammit!

"Stop running, ye cunt!" Captain Mustache is taunting me with his rather raspy voice. He's pursuing with his saber! I need to parry that move!

The clanging of steel against steel echoes throughout the deck like a sinister cacophony. Even the other battles have stopped as everyone watches with awe, while the tidal waves are rocking us back and forth. The floor is wet and is hard to keep my balance. A wrong move can mean the death of me. I don't mind fighting... I mean I was basically forced to fight for my life. Yet, I do not approve that Captain Morrison is just standing there doing nothing and smiling like a handsome, lazy bum.

"Who are you calling cunt, swashbuckler? Are ye afraid of me cutting yer perfect mustache? Shall I cull it from the skin of yer lips?" I taunted back as I attempted to slash diagonally from downwards up. I guess my voice did reach through and was effective because I pretty much saw how he popped a vein.

The comments that left my mouth were salty and aggressive, but managed to do the trick. My foe seems to be losing his calm and collected self and is leaving openings for me. On the downside, he is getting pretty aggressive and I don't know how much I will be able to hold up. Oops! I parried that one just barely. His eyes are bloodshot with rage and each of his slashes are filled with brute strength equal to that of a mad beast rushing headfirst into the fray.

"Ye fookin' dog of Morrison. How ye dare to speak ill of the true scourge of the seven seas?! I shall cut yer tongue and cull yer bowels with me blade!" Yep. He is pretty pissed off. I did press the right triggers. Now, what do I need to do with these newly acquired powers? I think my first option here is not to let myself be cut. I think that'll hurt pretty much if it did happen.

"Ye think I'll let a landlubber like you to cut me? Ha! Don't make me chortle! Ye'll taste me blade caressing your skin. Then, I'll make ye dance to the hempen jig!" I retorted to his taunts.

I guess I am getting pretty good at pirate speech and at counter taunting. Is that a word? Concentrate. Focus. Solomon, you have to keep your cool. Ack. That one hurt! His blade kissed my skin and I can feel the warmth of the liquid oozing out. I got to focus.

"Ha! How ye liked the taste of me cutlass?" Mustache talked like he had won the fight. That one pretty much hurt, but it's going to take more than that to bring me down. I can hear the cheerful expressions of the crew mates of the Cross Ann. Shit. Let's play a bit hooky here.

"Ack! It hurts!" I grabbed my wound, which was diagonal across my chest, with my hand. I never lost grip of my sword, but I need to put an act here. I need to wait for an opening to strike. He's coming over. This will be my moment. Just a few more feet for me to...