Dost thou even hoist?

[Sarge Potteiger]

Sarge rammed his blade between the shoulderblades of the man, since apparently he want going to do anything about it. 30 centimeters of double edges bayonet penetrated his armor with relative ease and sliced open his lung. The flat of his sword may have caught Sarge on the knee, and he may have stumbled to the side, weapon still lodged in Thraishe, but he'd accomplished what he'd wanted to.

 

[Thraishe Krine]

The point of the blade came through his chest and he looked down, then at Sarge with a "wtf" expression on his face. He pulled the blade out and used it with his vibroblade. His adrenaline was pumping and it dulled the pain, but he knew he couldn't last much longer, he had to end this. Thraishe somersaulted forward, he landed, and with haste, lunged at Sarge's torso.

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

Who the feth did a - right, looking cool. Sarge picked up a barstool and simply rammed it into Thraishe mid somersault, knowing it would knock him over completely. Sarges first rule of fighting; never try to look impressive, it left you wide open.

 

[Linna Beorht]

In the very back of the bar, a Zeltron with mobile tattoos and a stack of textbooks watched the fight with exceptional enjoyment.

 

[Thraishe Krine]

Thraishe fell backwards onto his back, skidding across the floor. He hopped back up and threw down the swords and took his armor off.

"Let's settle this like men," Thraishe said as blood pooled by his lip.

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

"Settle this like men, you say." Sarge scoffed, wrapping himself up in his cloak so that he was now no more visible than the air one breathed. "You've lost. Lets go through this slowly. You took two rounds to the chest, no doubt cracking your diaphragm. You're still bleeding from the neck where a bullet sliced through some of your skin, and have a gaping hole in your chest that's caused internal bleeding and should, at this moment, have you coughing up blood and on your way to an infirmary."

"There's nothing to settle, except your body on the ground. You don't even realize you're dead yet."

 

[Thraishe Krine]

Thraishe pulled out a StimPac and injected himself.

"I've still got fight left in me," Thraishe stepped back and took a Judo stance.

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

"Yes, that'll fix the fact I severed a vertebrae on my way through your chest, or the fact that you technically shouldn't even be able to speak right now since I'm fairly certainly your lung is still fethed." He snorts, shaking his head, not that Thraishe would be able to see. "You lost this fight. Accept it and move on; preferably to somewhere with a bacta tank. But if you really think you're going to do anything - come at me."

 

[Thraishe Krine]

Thraishe sprinted at the man, only to collapse half way through.

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

"That's what I thought." Sarge walked over to him, gave him a pat on the head, then went to collect his prized blade. There was a murmur into it as he called for medical help for Thraishe, and he extended a hand out of the cloak to crook at @[member="Linna Beorht"].

They would talk elsewhere.

 

[Thraishe Krine]

As Sarge walked by him, Thraishe lunged up, piercing Sarge's gut with his knife. The oldest trick in the book.

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

There was a few logical fallacies to this attempted stabbing. First was the fact he'd dropped the weapons he'd been holding but never drew others. The second was he'd removed his armor, apparently completely as nothing was specified other than 'armor', which leads to the fact he was naked.

You can't hide knives on your body when your naked.

Never mind the fact that even with a stimpak, the bacta he'd have recieved was minuscule at best. It wasn't a miracle drug. It merely accelerated the bodies own healing processes at a relatively exponential rate.

Thraishe was down. On the floor. Naked. With no weapons.

Sarge was done here.

 

[Thraishe Krine]

like a baus