“’Tis a sin tah suffer such a numbskull as ye live,” Captain Fang said, “but it appears we be a perfectly even match. Ye know as well as I do ’tis futile tah resort tah our mother element.” The pirate could barely stand in his exhaustion and was leaning on his sabre. Sasha was also down to his last reserves of energy. He was poised low on the ground, ever ready to strike with his shinobuken held horizontally in front of him, his left hand behind. “Were we in a trainin’ dojo where ye’ve been raised,” the captain said, “no one would claim victory… BUT HITHER IS NOT A DOJO!” Captain Fang thrust his amputated right arm and released the harpoon on the end of it. As a matter of fact, Sasha had earlier grabbed a handful of salt when he tumbled forward across a drying pan. Now he swung his left hand from behind him and flung the salt to the captain’s eyes like a sumo wrestler purifying the ring. Sasha felt a certain amount of pleasure when he heard the captain utter a pained squeal. In a s
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