Dost thou even hoist?

[Sarge Potteiger]

Tattooine
Mos Espa Starport

@[member="Thraishe Krine"]

Sarge didn't often venture to this planet, as it was a place he wasn't overly fond of. But as he spent more and more time wandering, he found it to be quite popular. Most ship captains he hitched a ride with stopped her, and now wasn't an exception.

Passing through the starport, nearly invisible to anyone and everything, he took in his surroundings before banking into a cantina and taking a seat at the bar, pulling his hood down. From behind, he looked like a disembodied head thanks to his camo-cape.

From the front he looked like a tired soldier.

Either way, he wasn't expecting trouble.

 

[Thraishe Krine]

Thraishe walked in, thirsty, and went to his favorite spot, but noticed someone was sitting there.

"Hey buddy, this is my spot, I'd kindly ask you to leave," Thraishe said calmly.

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

"Eh...", he looked to his right, then his left. Just about every seat was open save one or two. "Plenty of empty ones, and it's clear you just got here. Not your seat right now."

 

[Thraishe Krine]

"Listen, this is my seat now get lost before you start something,'' Thraishe said through gritted teeth.

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

The man's eyes slowly drifted up and down Thraishe, clearly sizing him up. His gaze came to rest upon Thraishe's eyes as he raised a slow brow in curiosity. "You're really going to start a fight over a seat...?" He asked, hand gripping his bottle just a hair tighter.

 

[Thraishe Krine]

"Bud, I don't want any trouble over seat, just move to a different seat." Thraishe said, quite annoyed.

He looked at the man, clearly a fighter, maybe a soldier or gun for hire. Definitely a strong contender. He didn't seem dimwitted either.

He ready his vibroknife inside his cloak just in case things got hairy.

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

Snorting, he lifted himself off the seat and sat down into the next one.

 

[Thraishe Krine]

Thraishe took a seat and ordered his drink. Who did this guy think he was? Some kind of big shot, he guessed.

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

Shaking his head, smirking, he downs his drink and wraps himself up in his cloak. It was time to leave - ah, fuck it. He swung his bottle up and towards Thraishe's face, aiming to break it across his nose.

 

[Thraishe Krine]

Thraishe's eyes widened as he fell back, off the bar stool. This guy was asking for it. Thraishe sprung his legs up, into the mans chest.

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

Sarge snorted - he was still sitting, which meant his chest was still facing the counter. That meant the kick had to go for his side. Here was the problem, so far as Thraishe's attack went... it wasn't the best move he could have made.

In order to piston his legs with enough power to do anything besides rock Sarge side to side, he had to move his entire body to get momentum going. That gave Sarge time to move off the stool and effectively sidestep: that's exactly what he did.

The follow through on the kick would give him the time to pull out a small slugthrower pistol from his belt, and by the time that was done, no matter where the man moved, he'd be square in the sights of the weapon. Sarge fired two rounds at Thraishe's chest at near point blank range.

 

[Thraishe Krine]

Thraishes body armor prevented the bullets from going too deep into his chest. The armor was made for blasters, not slugs. He stumbled back caught by surprise as a small amount of blood pooled at the top. That just pissed Thraishe off, and he looked at him with an annoyed expression. This just got real. Thraishe glanced to his left, then to his right and picked up a bar stool. If he timed this right, he could throw the stool at the man, leaving enough time to draw his vibroblade. He threw the stool at him.

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

Sarge smiled, watching as the man shifted his head one way... then the other. Classic example of someone looking for something to throw. It wasn't much, just a subtle shift of the head, but if you knew to look for such things then you were golden.

So it came as no surprise when the man lifted a stool and hurled it at him. Instead of moving out of the way, Sarge dropped prone, pistol out in front of him in a perfect firing position. He unloaded the rest of his clip, doing his best to keep his aim squarely on Thraishe.

 

[Thraishe Krine]

Thraishe, in a moment of clarity, cartwheeled back, drawing his vibroblade. A bullet had nicked his neck and he had felt faint. Thraishe lunged forward with all his might. This wasn't an optional fight. He wouldnt back down. He couldn't. He won't lose.

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

Sarge dropped the pistol and reached to his waist with his right hand, while pushing himself up and forward with his left. A split second later, a thirty centimeter long double-edged blade was in his hand. However, he didn't stand, he propelled himself forward with his shoulder aimed for Thraishe's waist.

In his right hand was the blade, which was aimed to cut the femoral artery along Thraishe's thigh where there was a gap in his armor as they came into contact with each other.

 

[Thraishe Krine]

They locked blades with a clash of steel. Through gritted teeth, he grunted, equally matched in strength. He had to turn the tide. Thraishe headbutted the man.

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

Sarge wasn't sure what Thraishe was doing. His shoulder being at waist height, he was easily pinning Thraishe's weapon arm between chest and shoulder with nowhere for him to move it. That being said, he was literally head butting the air unless he was, perhaps, a midget.

Finding himself stalled, he stepped to the side and stood to his full height while bringing his knee up towards the mans stomach while simultaneously bringing an elbow towards his back in the hopes of catching the back of his head as he doubled over.

 

[Thraishe Krine]

Thraishe slumped over in pain, but rammed Sarge with his lowered shoulder. He had to revere this.

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

He grunted, doubling over a little. Hooking his leg in through Thraishe's from the side, he pivots to trip the man off balance before using the knife he still held to stab downward, aiming for the space between his shoulderblades.

 

[Thraishe Krine]

Thraishe was caught off guard, but managed to bring his sword to bear. He swung at Sarge's knee with the flat of the sword, hoping to take him down.