Yesterday, 04:38 AM
(This post was last modified: Yesterday, 04:43 AM by Hallowette Maxas-Darl.)
==Ens. Ollie Pearson - Security NRC==
A sense of a searing flame rattled across Pearson's consciousness and he immediately felt the thick, flat, sticky wetness that accompanied the vicious wound that would hopefully become a dardy new scar.
"Gaaaaah! Bloody Hoons!" howled the blonde officer, wincing at the deep throbbing pain that announced unceremoniously that he was in fact, very likely, pretty badly hurt.
Ollie knew he was had - in his maneuverings and subsequent defense of himself and the doctor, he had failed to account for his weak side, and it cost him. Still, he wasn't about to give up any ground to the Klingon he was currently grappled with. Pearson realized he had little recourse to deal with the assailant at his back, and while his mind scrambled to find a way to counter him, his body and now weakened arm began to struggle to hold on to the one at his front.
Ollie was just about to swallow all sense of his pride and yell for help when he saw the flash of a phaser beam arc past him, and the tell tale sound of a heavy body hitting the floor sang like Christmas in his ears. Thanks to whatever Mate made that shot...
Ollie turned his full attention to his old dance partner, the brute that had destroyed his rifle, and was now mutually locked in close fighting with him. Now I get a chance to return the favor... "You and me now, Drongo!"
Pearson did his best to leverage his training and strength to further wrap up the now disarmed Klingon, though he quickly realized that the wound to his arm had bitten deeply enough to diminish his power a noticeable degree. While his intended bravado may have been to do something cinematic, like throw the Klingon over the Captain's chair, he noticed that given his bloodied state, he probably was more likely to do something less heroic...like maybe shift him slightly from where he was... maybe over to his right...or maybe his left.... Options. Options.
That's when he noticed an incoming Dr. Ostberg, hypospray in hand.
Looks like we are going to the right... "Nighty night princess..." Pearson taunted as he shifted his weight as best he could, hopefully presenting his erstwhile companion Doctor a very unwilling, yet equally exposed target.
==Pearson knows he is hurt rather badly, and so will do his best to use his Starfleet martial training to use the Klingon's bulk and momentum against him, swinging the pretty lady (or man) towards Ostberg. Hopefully this will leave the Klingon open to the Doctor's 'gentle attack', and minimize any chances of getting further injured - maybe even allowing a captive in case a conversation be in order==
A sense of a searing flame rattled across Pearson's consciousness and he immediately felt the thick, flat, sticky wetness that accompanied the vicious wound that would hopefully become a dardy new scar.
"Gaaaaah! Bloody Hoons!" howled the blonde officer, wincing at the deep throbbing pain that announced unceremoniously that he was in fact, very likely, pretty badly hurt.
Ollie knew he was had - in his maneuverings and subsequent defense of himself and the doctor, he had failed to account for his weak side, and it cost him. Still, he wasn't about to give up any ground to the Klingon he was currently grappled with. Pearson realized he had little recourse to deal with the assailant at his back, and while his mind scrambled to find a way to counter him, his body and now weakened arm began to struggle to hold on to the one at his front.
Ollie was just about to swallow all sense of his pride and yell for help when he saw the flash of a phaser beam arc past him, and the tell tale sound of a heavy body hitting the floor sang like Christmas in his ears. Thanks to whatever Mate made that shot...
Ollie turned his full attention to his old dance partner, the brute that had destroyed his rifle, and was now mutually locked in close fighting with him. Now I get a chance to return the favor... "You and me now, Drongo!"
Pearson did his best to leverage his training and strength to further wrap up the now disarmed Klingon, though he quickly realized that the wound to his arm had bitten deeply enough to diminish his power a noticeable degree. While his intended bravado may have been to do something cinematic, like throw the Klingon over the Captain's chair, he noticed that given his bloodied state, he probably was more likely to do something less heroic...like maybe shift him slightly from where he was... maybe over to his right...or maybe his left.... Options. Options.
That's when he noticed an incoming Dr. Ostberg, hypospray in hand.
Looks like we are going to the right... "Nighty night princess..." Pearson taunted as he shifted his weight as best he could, hopefully presenting his erstwhile companion Doctor a very unwilling, yet equally exposed target.
==Pearson knows he is hurt rather badly, and so will do his best to use his Starfleet martial training to use the Klingon's bulk and momentum against him, swinging the pretty lady (or man) towards Ostberg. Hopefully this will leave the Klingon open to the Doctor's 'gentle attack', and minimize any chances of getting further injured - maybe even allowing a captive in case a conversation be in order==