Garbage Man

Sanctuary Avenue 

The freshly paved Sanctuary Avenue is a broad strip extending directly out from the spaceport, lined by large buildings that eventually give way to smaller stores, the more personable ones extending on to Brightstar Boulevard. In the distance, the Stubtooth Mountains loom over the western horizon, scattered forests smudging the scenery in between with patches of dark green.

Ren Arnassis is walking towards Brightstar Boulevard along one side of the road, hands in pockets.

Walking down the Avenue, heading away from Brightstar Boulevard, Rillitan Ryoleli bobs downwards as he passes under a low hanging sign, making a mumbled comment as he does, before shaking his head.

Malion arrives from Spaceport Lobby . Malion has arrived.

Ren Arnassis is walking one way down the Avenue, Rillitan the other; the two look like they will eventually meet.

Jared is also coming down the sidewalk, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket.

Ren Arnassis scratches his beard as he crosses the street to avoid a knot of teenage Demarians blocking up the sidewalk. Looking up, he finds himself staring straight at Rillitan, not more than twenty feet away and closing.

Rillitan slows down a slight, noticing Jared approaching behind him as he turns, staring at a Demarian policeman until he passes, he doesn't seem to notice Arnassis as he turns his whole frame around, waving a hand at Jared.

Malion walks out of the Spaceport Lobby with a sense of need in his step. The Weapon Maintainer has a single hand burried deep inside his pocket, seeming to grasp something inside.

Ren Arnassis doesn't seem too interested in the Timonae; after observing that the other being is in his path, Ren continues along it.

Rillitan continues to wait as Jared catches up, his hands find their accociated pockets and he taps one foot impatiently.

Jared makes his way up to Rillitan, "Hey Rill, feeling better?" he asks as he comes to a stop nearby the Tim.

Ren Arnassis brushes past Rillitan, face a scowl, as two taller felinoid Demarians put a premium on his personal space. "Comin' through."

Malion quickly turns on a heel and heads back into the lobby of the spaceport. The Martian mutters something about leaving something on the ship.

Malion heads into Spaceport Lobby . Malion has left.

Rillitan growls lightly to himself as he hears a familiar tone, his head turns and he stares at Ren as he passes, silent to Jared's question.

Jared's gaze follows that of Rillitan as well, brow raising just a bit.

Ren Arnassis stares back. "See anythin' strikes yer fancy?"

Ren Arnassis

Ren's bearded face bears two scars: A very light one on his cheek partially obscured by his facial hair, and another that runs from the bridge of his nose to disappear under a worn-looking fedora. His visage is all hard angles and shadows, from his blunt, squarish chin to the slight protrusions of his cheekbones. His nose is slightly crooked, and his bushy eyebrows protrude slightly to cast shadows over icy, intent blue eyes. Of slightly above average height and powerfully built, this pale-faced, bearded Lunite moves with somewhat surprising fluidity for the size of his frame.

He wears black trousers cinched with a belt, sturdy-looking black leather shoes, and a black T-shirt under the intermeshing dark gray ceramic plates of a flak jacket, giving his torso the matte segmented look of a machine or insect. Over the armor is a straight-backed black jacket with strategically placed padding at the elbows, shoulders, and ribs that hangs down to his mid-thigh. The jacket's collar is habitually worn up, combining with the battered fedora on his head to cast his face in shadow. A shoulder holster reveals itself now and again under his left arm.

Rillitan

Just under seven feet tall, thin and athletic with an animalistic confidence in his movement, Rillitan has the body of a gymnast or more accurately; a martial artist. Although he is bordering on stringy, his muscles are well toned to the point that they give no real clue as to his strength. Along his skin are shattered streaks of scars, especially down his arms, which seem to have taken their fair share of lashings.

His jaw is sharp and he is clean shaven, the Timonae has a thick scar running across the side of his neck and another similar looking scar running diagonally through his right eyebrow and jumping the gap of his eye to conclude at the top of his cheek. Cobalt grey clouds wisp around much darker browns in his irises. A bright while gleam runs down his right eye also, most likely stemming from the same cut. Rillitans naturally olive complexion contrasts slightly with his silver, almost white hair that has been cut short.

At the moment he wears a charcoal black Flak jacket over his chest, under which he has a plain black polo-neck shirt. His trousers are similarly black and hang loosely over his long legs. At his hip is a rather empty utility belt, designed to hold a number of knives, which seem to be missing. At his hip, almost slung like some sort of pistol, is a commlink.

Rillitan nods, "Yeah. Wouldn't mind stringing an ear of yours into a necklace.. Eh?" he sneers, "Maybe we could set a date."

"I'm free righ' now," Ren says. "You know somewhere we c'n go to settle this little dispute? I'm tired of threats an' posturin'."

Jared has disconnected.

Rillitan cocks his head, a little surprised by Ren's new outward approach to the scuffle, he grins, "There's the beach... Unless you're worried about getting sand in your toes."

"Works," Ren agrees, "But don' you think someone'll raise a fuss?"

Ren Arnassis and Rillitan are talking on the sidewalk.

Rillitan shrugs, looking down towards the seaside path, "Only if you start bleedin' all over the place." he says flatly before eyeing the inside of Ren's jacket. He seems to make a mental note, probably because it appears Rillitan himself is unarmed.

"Law round here reserves duels fer Demarians," Ren replies, frowning. "There's an alley down Sanctuary Avenue nobody'll be lookin' inta. I'll fight you there."

Rillitan nods, "If that's your choice. Fine." Rillitan says firmly, "We go there."

Ren Arnassis gestures ahead of him. "No more fuckin' about then. Let's go."

Rillitan follows silently.

A few minutes later ...

You head into Alleyway.

Alleyway - New Alhira - Demaria - 

This side-street runs behind a number of businesses, allowing for garbage trucks to pick up waste materials from the trash cans without blocking off the main boulevard.

Rillitan arrives from Brightstar Blvd . Rillitan has arrived.

Ren Arnassis enters the alleyway, casting a discerning eye around it for hiding would-be witnesses and any other hazards.

Rillitan does the same, exept his seems to be a lot briefer. Once done, the martial artist pulls at his shoulder, stretching his left arm across his body with a grunt.

Ren Arnassis rolls his neck one way, then the next, resulting in two satisfying pops. "You ready?"

Rillitan nods, pushing his feet out into a slightly crouched position, his arms come forward, bent in front of his chest, a basic pose, it would appear.

Ren Arnassis presses the palm of his left hand around the knuckles of his right and bows slightly, eyes on Rillitan; a practiced gesture. He steps forward into his own ready position, similar to Rillitan except his feet are both pointed forward and one is ahead of the other.

Ren Arnassis takes two quick steps forward, straight at the Timonae. His left hand feints a strike, then the other flashes out, directed at Rillitan's solar plexus.

Rillitan brings his torso back, feet bouncing into action as the taller Timonae brings a hand down to the side of Ren's, blocking it's route. He continues a spinning motion around the humans shoulder, aiming the palm of his hand towards Ren's lower back.

Ren Arnassis pulls his first striking hand back as he shifts, keeping Rillitan in front of him; bridging his forearm against Rillitan's, gauging the contact, he slides his hand down to grab hold of his wrist and *tug* ... and apply a palm strike towards Rillitan's shoulder.

Rillitan turns his body as Ren manages to get a hold of his arm, managing to nullify the blow to some degree. He pulls away from the attack, looking more like his pride was wounded more than anything else, he shakes off his arm, keeping his distance a moment before his stance changes again, one leg takes more weight, suggesting a focus on footwork. He strikes as soon as he can, hopping forward as he raises a leg to his chest, it straigtens in a flash, aiming to the chest.

Ren Arnassis steps in as soon as he sees Rillitan's weight change, anticipating a kick. His forearm snaps down and out to deflect the attack, but he isn't quick enough to prevent the kick from smarting; he grunts as it lands against his bicep. However, Rillitan is still on one leg. Arnassis steps in again and attacks with the blade of his palm, aimed at the Timonae's exposed ribs.

The vunerablilty is exploited well, though Rillitan makes an effort to deflect the blowm he does not and grunts as it knocks his chest inward, taking some wind with it. His leg drops down to the side as he counters immediatley, a quick jab towards the side of Ren's neck.

Ren Arnassis knocks the blow aside with a forearm, opening the door to Rillitan's upper body. His free hand returns the jab in kind, only his is aimed at Rillitan's more conveniently located solar plexus.

Both of Rillitans hands rise in an X-shape as he knocks Ren's attack upwards, keeping his shoulder safe. His hands fall again, pushing out into Ren's chest together as Rillitan pushes his weight forward.

Ren Arnassis receives the energy, pulling Rillitan's hands apart with his own; the Timonae's door open once more, Ren delivers the energy back to him, performing almost the exact same move Rillitan attempted against the Lunite.

Rillitan takes the brunt of the attack squarely on his chest, his size and weight making the counter seem futile. Rillitan pushes down, removing the hands from his chest before his other hand jabs forward, using the moment to try a high blow.

Ren Arnassis shifts, stepping to the side as his forearm bridges Rillitan's. His wrist flicks and he's trying to grasp Rillitan's forearm from the top, pushing down, while his other hand, from nowhere, sweeps upward towards the Timonae's bicep. If successful, the move's implications for Rillitan's elbow are ominous.

Rillitan pulls his arm back, using the other one to block the upper slice. He spins his shoulder, escaping the loose grasp before pushing back, gathering some space between the two. He grins, "Well, well, well." he mutters, remaining tense.

"Yer young fer a Timonese," Ren growls. He's got a thin film of sweat on his forehead, but his breathing is normal and controlled. "You shoul' be ashamed an' ol' man like me's puttin' you through yer paces. Hell, in Lunite terms, I'm ancien'." He takes a half-step forward, another half-step, as he talks. At "Ancient," he takes a full step and jabs towards Rillitan's chin.

Rillitan takes the blow direct on the chin, whether he expected it or not his head flails back and Rillitan stumbles slightly, leaning back onto one leg before spitting a gob of blood. His eyes narrow and he pushes forward again, leg jabbing low, to take Ren's legs out.

Ren Arnassis steps in as Rillitan does, lifting his leg to meet Rillitan's shin with his foot, deflecting the blow; maintaining that bridge, he pushes down with his heel in an attempt to drive Rillitan's knee into the ground, immobilizing him.

Rillitan leans his weight into the leg being forced down, foot landing firmly and able to carry the weight of the lunite comfortably, Rillitan moves on with another push, his palm shooting out to Ren's weakened shoulder.

Ren Arnassis steps back after his trap fails, batting down Rillitan's palm by pressing his own against the Timonae's wrist as he steps forward again to put his knee behind the Timonae's. "Kid, ya bit off more'n you coul' chew makin' trouble wit' me." His other hand comes up under Rillitan's shoulder as his waist twists, a throw that would knock Rillitan over his knee.

Rillitan wraps his hand quickly under Ren's, pushing back before the lunite has a chance to push him over, "Fuck. Off." he grunts as he lifts his foot away from Ren's knee before bringing it back down to push it over, thus taking out Ren's balance much like he tried moments before.

Ren Arnassis shifts to the side, perpendicular to Rillitan, moving to grasp his arm at the forearm and just below the shoulder and YANK the Timonae in the direction his momentum is already taking him, a sharp jerk, not a throw; if Rillitan can't break the grip, Ren will surely dislocate the Timonae's arm.

The tall Timonae once again uses his size to make sure he's alright, he drops to the side instead, weight leaning on Ren as he spins over onto his back, arm staying in tact firmly. He rolls over onto his front before flicking himself backwards, landing on his feet and moving forward with his momentum, he throws another jab at Ren, towards his shoulder.

Ren Arnassis once again bats the blow aside, this time with the back of his hand. Hands forming a right angle, he steps in and delivers a blow with the flat of his other hand against Rillitan's shoulder, intent on catching him still off-balance from the Timonae's outlandish acrobatics and throwing him into the trash cans lining the far wall of the alley.

Rillitan is caught off balance, very off balance, flying back into the trashcans with a muted grunt as corrigated metal hits the back of his head, another can falls on top of him, he doesn't move.

Ren Arnassis steps forward, nudging aside with his toe the can that fell on top of Rillitan. Still wary, he pauses to wipe the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand before kicking once at the Timonae's ribs, a grunt escaping his lips as he does so.

Rillitan remains motionless, looking rather serene as he lays there, discarded fruit peeling slowly sliding away from his eye socket.

Ren Arnassis chuffs, amused, rolling his bruised shoulder experimentally as he watches the Timonae. "You jus' hang out there wit' the other garbage a spell," Ren growls down at Rillitan. "An' steer clear a the Artemis an' everyone aroun' it from here on out." He winces at his shoulder, kicking Rillitan once more for emphasis. Turning, he offers finally, "There's meaner sonsabitches'n you in this 'verse. 'Member that." Without any other comment, the Lunite is gone from the alley.