Bar room Brawl Sasha versus Ash

Sasha turned around, just to see a stool flying at her like a comet. Her eyes went wide. And while it was not the first time in her fourteen years that someone tossed a nasty, chairlike thing at her, she was still a bit too dazzed to simply dodge.
She turned around again , curling up and hiding her head under her arm with a surprised shriek as the chair crushed into her back, splinters tearing open the back of her shirt, leaving nasty cuts as she slumped back on the table.

Ash grumbled, rubbing her stomach. "Oh, I'm not done yet. Get up." She grinned at the satisfying blow the stool had dealt to Sasha. Combined with the taste of iron in her own mouth and the throbbing pain all over, Ash was about six bottles of beer from calling this a fantastic night so far. And it had only just begun. Glancing back at the table Ash had been thrown into earlier, she smiled. Her gait was slowed a bit from all the hits she had taken, but Ash was not down yet. She approached the half cracked, toppled table. Grimacing for a second at the skull shaped cracks in it, Ash pulled her foot back and gave a solid kick to one of the table legs, splintering it. Taking it in both hands, she yanked it free from the table.

If Sasha had not caught up with Ash by now, wielding her makeshift table leg club, Ash would turn back toward Sasha. "Come get some." Grinning wickedly, she would advance on the Cossack Kid, charging in to try to swing it at her.

Sasha had already made her way to her feet, her legs felt a bit wobbly, which was silly, considering that her butt and lower back did hurt like hell. The kid was just plugging a splinter from left butt cheek, wincing.
She then turned to meet the charge of her opponnent, she grabbed a stool her self and suddenly tossed it toward the skull of the charging lady.

Ash's eyes shot wide as Sasha returned fire with her own stool. Instinctively, Ash brought the table leg to her head to try to parry the stool. The stool slammed against the table leg, slamming that weapon against Ash's face. "Gragh!" Ash growled in pain as she stumbled back and finally collapsed to the floor. Ash groaned, the table leg having fallen from her grasp in the fall. Ash would rise slowly, rubbing her face and trying to regain her senses, giving Sasha an opportunity.

Sasha smiled like a little wolf and she jumped up to a table with one fluid jump, the table shook a bit but she stretched her arms out for the sake of better balance.
Sasha then bend her knees some and then kicked off, jumping off as fast and as powerfull as she could, pouncing at Ash with all her fury to lean back right in the air, swinging her arms behind her head and thrusting her boots forth as hard as she could.
From that table, on the hard floor, Sasha went for a drop kick toward the chest of Ash!

Ash rubbed her aching, ringing head as she rose. On he knees, she finally took in her surroundings and became cognizant of the flying Russian aiming right at her. Her eyes shot wide in anticipation of the blow, but she had no time to do anything else. Sasha slammed into Ash, driving the air from the rocker and sending her falling, smacking hard against the floor, sliding a few inches before coming to a stop. Ash, clutching her chest where the Cossack Kid struck, would quickly try to bounce back and rise to her feet, but it was too much, FAR too fast after those last couple of shots. Ash would stumble back, falling to her hands and knees with a yelp of pain. "Gaah... Dammit."

Sasha, having a hard landing after her drop kick, her side and left leg hitting the ground with a loud thud, felt a nasty sting jarring her tailbone.
She gasped and then struggled to get up, taking a deep breath. She saw that Ash was in an even worse shape, at least for the moment....
The Cossack Kid wiped sweat from her left brow with the back of her left hand, trying to ignore the bruises and her own blood.
With a few steps she made her way to the bar and then jumped over it, looking at the bottles and then she reached out for a bottle of very expensive vodka from Russia, also grabbing a matchbox from the desk and then she walked around the bar and toward Ash...whisteling a Russian melody.

Huffing in pain, Ash would rub her chest and head, coming back with a smear of blood from a wound on her head. Shuffling to an upright table, Ash would help herself to her feet. The reprieve Sasha gave her was cause for concern. She glanced around... Sasha had helped herself to a drink. "Good idea." Ash muttered as she noticed, by fortunate happenstance, a bottle of beer set on this table. Popping the top off with a swift twist, Ash would chug it with considerable speed. "Aren't you a little young to drink?" Ash called out as Sasha returned. She did not notice the matches, or they did not register. The rocker remained leaning against the table, finishing off the last few drops of the beer bottle. The alcohol took the edge off. Flipping the bottle up, she would catch it upside down and brandish it as a weapon as Sasha drew near. Taking a wobbly step away from the table, Ash would assume a fighting stance with the bottle in hand. If Sasha drew to within a couple of feet, Ash would charge in, swinging the bottle at Sasha's head, and she would try to keep up with her if she dodged with a follow-up swing.

If Sasha kept her distance, Ash would do the same, curious as to what Sasha had planned, but mostly enjoying a moment to catch her breath.

Sasha heard the question from Ash and then made a step closer and said:"No Ma'am...not for me" And then she walked on, soon she reached Ash but suddenly Ash charged at Sasha. Before this had come, the rocker had finished a bottle of beer, right during a fight! Sasha was more or less impressed.
With eyes wide Sasha saw that Ash charged at her then, swinging the empty bottle of beer.
Sasha bobbbed back from the first blow but then came the back swing and it hammered into the kid's mouth from below.
Sasha's lips burst open, her head snapping back and she fell on a table, dropping the matches, the other hand closed around the neck of the bottle.

Ash grinned with satisfaction as the second swing caught Sasha with a gratifying smack. She did not even mind the beer-soaked handle slipping from her hands and clattering to the floor. "Ehehe... No shame in saying uncle, kid." Ash still did not notice the matches dropping to the floor. She smelt blood, she could taste it. Stepping forward with a deliberate pace, a little woozy from that last exertion, Ash would approach the wounded Sasha and ball her hands together, aiming a double axe handle blow against Sasha's stomach, hoping to smash her gut against the table.