*
Hal was sitting down next to the ale barrels with a tankard in one hand and with what he hoped was a surly-looking expression on his face. It wasn't difficult for him to pretend that he was angry, but that wasn't the look he was going for yet. As it was, just watching Lady Tasha out dancing and laughing jovially with the deckhands was enough to make his stomach flip. Grimly, Hal concentrated on making sure he just looked surly.
He realize that if he had asked her to dance that she probably would have. Hal just didn't want to make a fool of himself out there and do something stupid. Like trip and fall, or knock Tasha down or... or something.
The big man took a lengthy sip of the bitter ale and tried not to wince. Hal didn't drink as a rule. He disliked the taste for one thing and besides, Hal knew that his mind was off in the clouds often enough as it was, he certainly didn't need anything helping him get into that state. Especially not tonight, Hal reminded himself firmly.
After roughly twenty minutes, it appeared that Hal had consumed roughly three or four tankards of ale. In actuality, Hal was letting most of the alcohol spill out onto the deck by keeping his mouth closed whenever he tipped back his mug. The rest Hal managed to surreptitiously toss over the side. His friends were beginning to glance at him curiously.
At long last, he saw Dirgen leave his cabins and walk casually over towards the crowd. Hal took a deep breath to calm his fluttering nerves and hoped fervently that none of the children were awake.
He staggered over to where Lincoln Merrick was happily playing his lute. As the young minstrel saw the big man approaching with a rather obvious stagger, Lincoln began to look nervous. Fingers started missing chords and his voice quavering slightly as he sang. Finally, Hal stood directly before the minstrel and stared at him blankly. Merrick looked way up at Hal and tried not to tremble before the big man's gaze. "Do .. do you have a request?" he asked nervously.
Hal belched thunderously and stared down at the minstrel a while longer. The passengers behind him began to murmur worriedly amongst themselves. In the background, Hal vaguely heard Tasha making her over to him while continued to Dirgen slowly advance on him.
"Yeah," Hal said in a surprisingly deep voice. "I want you to play somethin'." Hal let himself sway slightly as he spoke.
"W-well... What do you want m-me to play?" Asked the now very nervous minstrel.
Hal leaned his face down until he was nose to nose with the flamboyantly garbed young man. "Anything," he growled, letting his ale soaked breath hit Merrick solidly in the face. "Just make it good."
Two cool, slender hands grabbed Hal by the arm and pulled him back, away from the relieved looking minstrel. Hal knew before even turning his head to see that it was Tasha. She was staring up into his face as if he had gone mad. "What do you think you're doing?" she demanded furiously, her voice tinged with concern.
Hal pulled his arm out of her grasp forcefully, though it pained him to do so. "What do you care?" he muttered, surprising himself with an honest answer. His voice was deep and sullen, loaded with hurt that wasn't totally feigned.
Tasha's face registered shock at his attitude. Then she peered at him curiously and took a brave step towards him. "Hal," she asked amazedly. "Have you been drinking?"
Hal spasmodically waved the half full tankard of ale that he still carried in front of her face and grunted rudely. " 'Lemme think about that." Then he placed the mug to his lips and tilted back, letting the dark fluid spill down his chin and onto his shirt.
Finally Dirgen stepped up to him. The dwarf assumed a pose that was supposed to look strong and defiant, mostly it just looked silly. "Ahr, I think you've had enough of that son."
Hal lowered the tankard and stared the dwarf in the face arrogantly. "So what? You gonna stop me from drinking it, little man?" He gave Dirgen a shove, knocking him back a pace.
Tasha grabbed a hold of Hal's arm again and stepped in front of him, desperately trying to restrain him. "Hal," she pleaded frantically. "What do you think that you're doing?"
Hal looked down at Tasha and stared deeply into her eyes. His gaze softened fractionally for a moment and he knew that he had to do something to reassure her. And for half a second he almost told her. But then the words of his oath to Dirgen came back to his mind, so Hal placed one hand on Tasha’s shoulder and pushed her aside. He tried not to wince as she fell solidly to the deck with a cry.
Angry with himself and for what he knew he still had to do, Hal stepped towards the dwarf and threw the remainder of his tankard directly into the captain's face. Dark ale splashed down over the fresh uniform. "Come on then, dwarf," he sneered, actual anger seeping into his tone. "You want me to stop? Then stop me!" Hal lunged forward with an overhand punch that sailed harmlessly over the captain's head by at least a foot.
The dwarf dodged unnecessarily to the side and threw off the cloak that he was wearing, assuming a combative stance. The crowd in general gasped and tried to slide away from the fight. Hal could hear Tasha call out his name, imploring him to stop. But Hal was in too deep to pull out now.
He lunged forward with several more blows that had absolutely no hope of actually landing as Dirgen swayed away always a half step behind, despite his natural seafarer’s gait. Finally, Hal got frustrated and grabbed the dwarf by the shirt front and pulled him close. "Come on, dammit. Do something!" he hissed before shoving Dirgen away. Taking a step back to set himself, Hal threw a roundhouse punch that was so slow and so obvious that a child could have blocked it. Thankfully, Dirgen did. When the dwarf launched his counterpunch, the big man left himself wide open and even leaned down to make sure that the blow looked like it would land.
Hal saw stars. He spun back and away, feeling at his exceptionally sore jaw with the fingers of his right hand. He'd never been hit so hard before in his entire life! Blood trickled down over his fingers from his heavily split lip. He shook his head once and spun back to where the dwarf should have been, trying to make some sense of what was going on.
He could fuzzily make out the form of Dirgen advancing on him. Hal held both hands out in front of his face and tried to mount an offensive, realizing too late that he'd been crossed. Dirgen fainted up with one hand and Hal over-reacted, leaving himself wide open. The big man doubled over in pain as the dwarven captain's follow up blow caught him squarely in the gut. Hal dropped to both knees and tried not to vomit.
A small, stubby hand grabbed Hal by the hair and forced his head back. Hal could make out, barely, the leering face of Dirgen directly before him. "Ahr," the dwarf growled softly, only loud enough for Hal to hear. "Did you really think that your spiel about how I couldn't win a battle to save my life meant anything to me? You really are as stupid as you look if you think that. All you've done is give me an opportunity to humiliate you, rob your friends blind and make me' uncle Ollie proud of me." Dirgen stopped for a brief moment, his gaze softening briefly as he stared off into space with his one aqua-blue eye. Then Dirgen reared back with one arm and let fly, a wide smile spread across his ugly face and his yellowed teeth visible in the dim light.
The smile dropped like a rock as Hal's big hand caught the fist mere inches before it struck. He stared the dwarf in the eye for a long moment. Dirgen’s expression began to look exceptionally nervous at that point. He got even more nervous when Hal grasped the dwarf's shirt front with his other hand and began to rise.
"Ahr, this is a shitty deal," Dirgen muttered under his breath
Painfully Hal got to his feet and hauled the now frightened dwarf up into the air. He shook the howling dwarf furiously, growling angrily the whole time. Only dimly was Hal aware of the people in the crowd around him, at the moment he couldn't bring himself to care too terribly much.
Vaguely, Hal heard someone, he thought it was Tasha, cry out a warning of some sort, but by then it was too late. Hal cried out in pain and dropped the dwarf to the deck, pressing one hand to the small of his back. He staggered against the ships' railing and saw three of Dirgen's burliest sai
lors advancing on him. One of them was carrying the board that had just been slammed into his back.
Hal tried to defend himself but he was already beaten. The shots from Dirgen had taken more fight out of him than he would have ever thought possible. On top of that was the disgustingly hard work the dwarf had put him through all day.
But despite all that, Hal wasn't about to go down without swinging.
Hal took the butt-end of the board painfully in the gut and hunched forward. A second man slammed down on his back with both hands, knocking the wind out Hal's lungs. Breathless, Hal grabbed somebody's leg and stood up, easily tossing one of the men overboard. The sailor screamed as he fell, landing with a loud splash.
The third man lunged at Hal then and received a solid boot to the gut for his efforts. The man staggered back and dropped to the deck. Hal tried to force air back into his tortured lungs and deal with the man holding the board at the same time, but to no avail.
The board caught him solidly across his chest and knocked Hal back into the railing, the wind knocked right out of him again. Feebly, Hal tried to push himself forward but was unable to see through the dark spots in his eyes. He felt the sailor give him one last, solid push and Hal toppled backwards into space.
The big man fell straight down, colliding with the seething water headfirst and limply. The shock of cold almost brought him out of his stupor, but the impact with the sea had knocked him senseless. As it was, Hal felt himself rapidly losing consciousness as he sank, trying desperately to breathe water.