|
Post by Eve Vardell on Jun 4, 2008 12:20:16 GMT -5
It was nearly midnight as Eve dropped over the low stone fence into the town’s old cemetery, and the hateful yellow moon shone down on her from directly overhead – bright and round, mocking her. It might have been her imagination, but, as she glanced up at it through the branches of the naked trees, she felt sure she could feel the wolf stirring inside of her. It had been nearly a year since the creature had last taken control, and over three since she’d allowed it to roam. It was hungry, and it was restless… but with any luck this would be the last night she would have to hear its call.
The winter night was predictably cold, and Eve shivered, ducking to retrieve her shovel before tugging her baby blue zip-up hoodie tighter around her shoulders. The sweater wasn’t the best color to wear while sneaking around dark graveyards, she would admit, but it was the warmest she had, and if she was going to be digging up graves – she smirked at how nonchalantly she’d managed that thought – then she was sure to be out here for a while.
But it would all be worth it, if she really found Wheton’s Shield. If it really worked as she hoped that it would. If, for the first time since she was sixteen years old, she could return to her home and be just a normal girl again. A rush of warmth flooded her chilled body at the thought – of waking up at dawn instead of dusk, of falling asleep every night in the same bed, of going to school and worrying about homework and make-up and other inane teenage issues. Of seeing Anna again…
Wheton’s Shield could do all that for her. Fashioned in the 1800s by the formidable Hunter, Daniel Wheton, and blessed at the tomb of Christ himself, the Shield was an amulet that was said to null the threat of any supernatural spell, curse, or entity that came the way of its wearer. Once Eve retrieved it from its resting place within Wheton’s own grave and slipped it around her neck, she was sure that it would be able silence the voice of the wolf, that cursed piece of her soul that had made her life a lonely hell for three years.
The graves were beginning to thin out, but Eve felt sure she had not missed the man’s name amongst the moon-lit stones. After nearly half an hour of searching, she was about to double back and check again anyway, when she heard the sound of movement behind a wide copse of waist-high bushes ahead of her. Ducking low, Eve inched forward to see who, besides herself, had decided to disturb the peace of the dead.
|
|
|
Post by Kasen Rowe on Jun 4, 2008 16:24:44 GMT -5
The light of the moon glinted off the silver shovel as Kasen stabbed it down into the dirt and he wondered again why he’d decided to do this on the brightest night of the month. The hole he dug was in a secluded area away from streets and prying eyes, but that didn’t nullify his worries. The sound of metal on wood greeted the thrust and the man started in surprise, honestly not sure if he was pleased or not. He looked around to ensure that he was still alone and turned his attention back to the grave he stood in, a shiver going up his spine that had nothing to do with the cool December weather.
Crouching down, Kasen wiped his sweaty hands on his jeans before reaching out to brush the dirt away, uncovering the wooden coffin of Daniel Wheton, a man dead nearly 200 years, but who might just hold the key to preventing something he’d feared for the last two years. If the item were here, he would be immune to the supernatural control of others over him. If one was to believe the rumors anyway. He scoffed as he worked, his skeptical side resurfacing. He was digging up a man’s grave on rumors.
That’s when faces of the dead flashed unbidden to his mind. Faces of people he’d murdered with his own hands while under the control of his demon worshipping, spell casting brother, their expressions etched forever into his mind. Guilt, anger, and fear strengthened his resolve and he continued searching the coffin for the clasps that would open the lid. Finally his fingers, quickly becoming numb in the cold hard soil, grasped the small rusted clasps and forced them open. It took him another minute to find the proper place to stand in the small space and then he pulled open the lid.
Inside was what was left of the decomposing Daniel Wheton. Kasen put a hand to his face in a moment of disgust and examined the body, hoping again that he had not just defiled this man’s resting place for nothing. Wheton was dressed in a faded black suit and his hands were clasped over his stomach where Kasen spotted something that didn’t have the same dull, decomposing colors as the rest of the corpse.
He pulled a small flashlight from his jeans and stuck it in his mouth, aiming the beam at the body. Gingerly, Kasen lifted the clasped hands and spotted the item he’d been searching for. With a triumphant smile that nearly made him drop the flashlight, Kasen pulled out a small ruby colored amulet wreathed in gold.
Taking the light from his mouth he examined the amulet more closely, sure he could actually feel some sort of aura emanating from the depths of the jewel in its center. Then he stored the light in his pocket and looking down to the corpse with apologetic eyes.
“Sorry, man,” he replied quietly. “But I’m pretty sure this thing will do me more good than you.”
Kasen looked the corpse over another moment out of respect then closed the lid with a sigh. Mission accomplished. Now he could fill in the hole, go back to his room, wash up, and maybe get a hot chocolate. He managed a smile at the thought and the safety he now felt with the item in his possession. He gripped the amulet tightly in his right hand as he lifted himself out of the grave...
|
|
|
Post by Eve Vardell on Jun 4, 2008 22:48:25 GMT -5
Eve could barely believe her horrible luck as she spotted, behind the bushes, the deep trench that had been dug before a secluded gravestone. She could hear the sounds of the grave-robber’s movements from within the six-foot hole, and, inching cautiously around the bushes in hopes of a better view, managed to catch sight of the man, himself. Or, at least, she could see the very top of his head, luckily turned in the other direction, toward the grave’s headstone.
The moonlight shone down on chestnut-brown hair too short to get mussed by his hard work. That and the fact that he had two perfectly intact ears was all Eve could manage to tell about his appearance from her angle, but that was enough to worry her. This was an old section of the graveyard, rarely tended to by whatever caretakers watched over the front-most sections, and months’ worth of fall leaves were scattered across the ground like miniature land bombs. If she accidentally stepped on one, and the dry crunching managed to catch the grave-robber’s attention… Well, whoever was crazy enough to want to play Dr. Frankenstein with some poor, hundred-year old corpse probably wasn’t someone she wanted to face off with if she could avoid it.
Frustrated, Eve shook her head and wondered whether she should just leave, and come back for Wheton’s Shield another night.
Wait… Wheton’s Shield… Suddenly Eve’s heart was pounding in her chest, fast and hard enough that she was sure the sound would alert the grave-robber all on its own. She narrowed her eyes, trying to make out the name carved into the distant headstone, but even the glaring moonlight wasn’t enough to allow her to make out the weather-worn inscription from her distance. Still, she felt sure that the stranger, down there in that grave, was in the process of stealing away her salvation.
After all, what else would prompt someone to this graveyard so soon after the information about Wheton’s resting place had come to light? The Shield was probably about to end up on some collector’s shelf, a pretty prize, collecting dust and doing even less good than it had been while cocooned under layers of dirt alongside its maker… unless she did something to stop it.
Another shuffle of movement from within the trench, and a pair of hands braced themselves at the edge of the grave. Now or never…
Eve tightened her grip on the smooth wooden handle of her “borrowed” shovel and rose to her feet, taking several quick, careful steps, avoiding the leaves as best she could. As the grave-robber pulled himself out onto the winter-brown grass, she pointed the metal tip of the shovel at him, braced like a spear and ready to shove at him if he made a threatening move. Steadying her nerves, and trying hard to channel her inner Buffy, she flashed a smile projecting confidence she didn’t remotely feel.
“Oh, good. A big, strong man did all the heavy digging for me. So, how ‘bout you hand over the amulet and this doesn’t have to get messy.”
|
|
|
Post by Kasen Rowe on Jun 4, 2008 23:56:20 GMT -5
His first surprised thought was that the police had found him. Then logic kicked in and not only did he register that it was a shovel being pointed at him rather than a pistol or a night stick, but he grasped the meaning of the words. This person knew about the amulet. She wanted the amulet.
Almost unconsciously, Kasen bent his wrist and subtly tucked the amulet up into his long sleeve, forcing it under one of the bracelets he wore. It wasn’t a tight hold, but he hoped it would last long enough to fool his attacker to its absence.
Still crouched he slowly he lifted his hands in a non-threatening manner and looked to the end of the shovel (too clean to be his, he noticed), up the shaft, to the person that held it. His eyes widened just a little when he saw she was little more than a kid. No, strike that. She was no kid, but a young woman with a dangerous pointy object and the demeanor of someone not to be taken lightly. She didn’t really look like the type to rob graves, but then again, he hadn’t thought himself the type before tonight. He honestly wasn’t sure what to make of her. Deciding he shouldn’t make her stand there too long without an explanation (for his own sake), he spoke.
“Well, I guess I should thank you for the compliment, but I’m not really that big. Or that strong... As for the amulet,” he made a slight motion to the grave behind him. “It’s not there.”
He shrugged his shoulders and gave an annoyed frown. “All that work for nothing.”
And then his years of responding to sarcasm with sarcasm took over before his better judgment kicked in. “But at least you didn’t have to ruin your little blue sweater, huh?”
|
|
|
Post by Eve Vardell on Jun 5, 2008 0:27:32 GMT -5
Not there? Not... there? Eve did her best not to gape at the stranger as he spoke, not wanting to believe his words... but then, she didn't see the amulet, around his neck or in his raised, open hands.
Was it really possible that she had been given false intel... again? She'd been so sure this time - the wise woman who'd sought it out for her had seemed so sincere. Then again, Eve had always been a little off on judging people's character, tending to believe their word when she'd be better off doubting.
That thought prominent in her mind, she pursed her lips at the other's "little blue sweater" comment (if she'd thought she'd be getting into a fight that night she would have definitely chosen her dark-green and black ensemble: less warm, but definitely more intimidating than the baby blue) and raised her shovel so that it was leveled right at the stranger's throat. She probably wouldn't be able to bring herself to make the jab, but he didn't have to know that. And if he was lying she'd only find out if it looked like she meant business.
"You sure it's not here," she questioned lightly, blithely, trying hard to veil the desperation she felt writhing inside. "You and Danny have been spending so much time together tonight. You must be good friends by now, right? Why don't I just send you back down there to ask him again?"
|
|
|
Post by Kasen Rowe on Jun 5, 2008 9:45:32 GMT -5
Kasen noted the look on her face after he’d lied about the amulet’s absence. It was a look of something deeper than disappointment, but before he could decipher it, it was gone, hidden behind a stern frown at his sarcasm. The shovel lifted toward his throat and Kasen winced back, trying to decide if he wanted to attempt swatting it away or not, then quirked an eyebrow as she spoke.
“Danny?” he questioned before he recalled the maker of Wheton’s Shield. Watching the shovel wavering toward him he replied. “I’m pretty sure that guy would be more angry with me than anything for messing with his resting place, but yeah, I’m sure. I can say with certainty that there is no amulet in that coffin anymore. If there ever was.”
He lowered his hands a little to a position where they’d be able to protect his neck if she decided to strike at him, but was still slow about it so as not to make the girl nervous. He was still hoping to get out of this without a fight, but there was no way he was going to get back down in the grave while there was someone up here with a weapon. The last thing he wanted was to be knocked out and buried alive like some sort of horror movie victim. Especially by someone who didn't look like a crazy axe murderer. If it weren't for the shovel in his face and her mask of seriousness, he'd say she looked quite the opposite. Then again, what did he know? He swallowed hard and looked back up at her, deciding to wait.
|
|
|
Post by Eve Vardell on Jun 5, 2008 12:47:08 GMT -5
That definitely wasn't the answer she'd been hoping for. Sure, she was a girl, a nineteen year old girl, dressed in a shirt the color little kid's cradles were often painted in, but she was still holding a dangerous makeshift weapon at the man's windpipe, before an open grave. There were few people who would be able to lie with a straight face in that kind of a situation.
So... he was telling the truth? Which meant that her best hope had vanished, yet again, and she was back where she'd been before she'd flown in from France - a nineteen year old girl in a baby blue sweater with a wolf clawing its way up inside.
She was on the verge of lowering her shovel and just letting the man go when the moonlight, her perpetual enemy until this point, glinted against something golden peering out from the edge of his right sleeve. The tip of a golden chain.
Her eyes hardened as she realized his lie, but she still couldn't allow herself to stab the stranger with the metal tip. Instead she twisted the shovel like a long staff, bringing the wooden end around toward the side of the kneeling man's head.
|
|
|
Post by Kasen Rowe on Jun 5, 2008 22:54:19 GMT -5
For a moment he thought he would be let alone. He’d moved his hands only a little, getting ready to get up, when something in the girl’s eyes changed. He cringed as the shovel moved, thinking to be hit by the metal before realizing it was the wooden end that was streaking towards him. Instinct combined with experience had him lifting his right arm to block while bending down with his left for the shovel. The impact hurt more than he’d expected as the shovel’s handle slammed the bracelet and the amulet’s sharp chain into his skin. With a grunt of pain Kasen swung his shovel out between himself and the girl, more to distract her than as a strike and using the momentum to help him get to his feet. The amulet slid out from his sleeve then, dangling from the bracelet it had become tangled on and shining in the moonlight. Kasen glanced at it a moment, his eyes hard and determined, before turning intently back to his enemy.
“I don’t know who you think you are, but I need this. It’s more important than you could understand,” he replied firmly, trying to sound both reasonable and threatening as he grabbed up the item and trapped it between his hand and the shovel, the quickest way to get it out of the way. “So just leave now. I don’t want to hurt you.”
|
|
|
Post by Eve Vardell on Jun 7, 2008 14:49:32 GMT -5
Eve winced as the wooden handle collided with the man's arm with a sharp crack, and pressed her lips together to halt a reflexive apology. It wasn't as though she hadn't hurt anyone before - try living on the streets for three years, running into more than a few antagonistic Hunters, fellow homeless, and not to mention the actual honest to God vampire she'd met in London the year before, and not getting into a fight - but it had always been in self defense before now. Somehow, attacking someone who was unarmed, however desperate she was to get her hands on that amulet, felt like crossing a line she'd much rather stay far to one side of.
She paused for a moment in guilty indecision, giving the stranger enough time to grab his own shovel from the ground and aim a wide swing at her. She darted back, the metal blade swiping the air only inches in front of her belly. So much for an unarmed opponent...
He stood up, holding the shovel and sliding his feet into a stance just like the fighters in every action flick she'd ever watched. He clearly had some idea of what he was doing, and his threat, however how calmly spoken, raised her hackles (so to speak). She swallowed and slid her right foot back, finding a comfortable pose that she hoped mirrored his easy stance.
"I don't care how 'important' the amulet might be; find something else for your little collection. You have no idea how long I've looked, how far I've come..." She cut herself off, realizing that her words were on the verge of exiting the realm of witty rapport and moving on into soap opera weekly. Hardening her voice again, she snapped, "I'm not dealing with another month like this, so if you don't want a fight then just hand it over. I'm not walking away."
|
|
|
Post by Kasen Rowe on Jun 7, 2008 18:45:45 GMT -5
If it were another time, another place, Kasen might have taken the time to better consider her words. As it was he just didn’t understand, didn’t want to understand. He had his reasons for this amulet, both selfish and not, though having it as part of a collection had never been an option. He had no idea why this girl didn’t want to spend another month as a girl with a shovel and baby blue sweater and he didn’t let himself care. She’d attacked him after all. She’d started this fight, not him. Letting his throbbing arm remind him of that fact he sighed and leveled the shovel, long wooden handle still forward.
“Fine, but just remember I gave you the choice.”
As he spoke, his mind was racing through the options. He was in a secluded graveyard. Experience doing battle with longer ranged blades was a strongpoint of his and though staffs (or shovels) weren’t quite the same, they weren’t very different. On the down side, he had just finished digging through several feet of not-quite-frozen earth and he was tired. All this he considered in the few seconds it took him to remind her of his warning and at the end, he came to his decision.
He shuffled forward, his right side leading, and swung his shovel’s leading wooden edge high towards her head then revealed that it was a feint and reversed the direction of the swing and came back around for her midsection.
|
|
|
Post by Eve Vardell on Jun 8, 2008 18:57:24 GMT -5
"Fine, but just remember I gave you a choice."
Eve sighed softly as the last, practically insubstantial, hope of getting out of this without a serious conflict faded with the man's words. Well, she thought encouragingly as she braced her makeshift staff in both hands, maybe at least he's a really terrible fighter, and will trip and fall on his face as soon as he makes a move.
No such luck. In a second he had darted forward, and she lifted the shovel with both hands to block the blow that appeared to be forthcoming toward her head. As soon as she began the upward motion she realized her mistake, but had no time to change her arms' direction and block the wooden tip sweeping toward her midsection, instead. She sprang backward, leaning into her rear, right leg and bringing herself just out of range of the pole's reach. As the shovel swung by her, Eve released the power coiled in her bent leg, springing to her left with a tight, practiced back spin and landing with her right foot forward. As she landed her arms continued toward the man, carried by the force of momentum and her own strength, to thrust the blunt, wooden end of the shovel at his chest.
If she could only just force him back a step or two, into the hole, she would have every bargaining advantage and this fight could end nice and quick.
|
|
|
Post by Kasen Rowe on Jun 11, 2008 17:16:51 GMT -5
His opponent's pole streaked towards his chest. An awkward position actually, but one that he had been forced to overcome after hours of painful training in a college weapons club. Granted that had been some years ago now, but there was something about that attack that now had an instinctual response.
As the handle came close, he straightened his own make shift weapon so that the pole was more vertical and moved it across his chest in a vicious block, following through to throw his enemy's weapon wide. He came back around intending to slam his pole into her stomach.
As his hands shifted on the pole however, the amulet slid, coming loose from both his grip and the bracelet. As he finished the move, the item flew through the air towards the ground close to his opponent...
|
|
|
Post by Eve Vardell on Jun 12, 2008 13:18:50 GMT -5
Eve grunted as her strike was knocked aside, but instead of fighting the motion she went with it, allowing herself to be led into a second, tight spin. Not for the first time, she marveled at how useful her years of ballet tended to be when she was forced into a fight. The training had given her strength, balance, and an instinctual understanding of movement that would have come far more slowly, otherwise.
As she turned, she twisted her arms so that one hand was positioned above the other before her chest, bringing her weapon vertical in anticipation of a blow she knew would be forthcoming. While she wasn’t sure which way the stranger would strike next, a vertical sweep with the long staff-like pole would be able to block a strike from nearly any angle.
The harsh crack and buzzing vibration of wood on wood in her hands validated her theory even as her eyes managed to register his movement. His blow had been straight forward toward her chest, mirroring her earlier strike... but he was stronger, and even with all of her momentum behind her Eve had barely been able to force aside his blow. She would never win in a battle of brute force with these weapons... in fact, ideally she would just be able to find an opportunity to rush in, grab the amulet, and run.
She drew back a step, waiting warily for his next attack, and noticed at the corner of her vision a gold and ruby-red glint on the ground before her feet…
|
|
|
Post by Kasen Rowe on Jun 12, 2008 17:05:03 GMT -5
Crap.
Kasen hardly even noticed the controlled spin of his opponent. He’d dropped it. He’d dropped the Amulet.
The long wooden handle of his shovel slammed into the girl’s, surprising him only momentarily that she’d gotten it up in time. By her movements, he could tell that she wasn’t accustomed to fighting this way, but she had experience in something, perhaps dance or a form of martial arts. She looked surprised at the force of his strike, but she also didn’t look like she was going to call it quits. And that’s when she noticed the Amulet. He met her eyes for the briefest of moments then swung his weapon in a quick sharp arc toward the left side of her head (her right side).
She was a highly balanced and maneuverable individual. If she did manage to get the block up in time, he would shuffle in and come back around to her left with the shovel. This would either force her back parallel to Wheton’s grave, or they’d both be in kicking range but too close for much maneuvering with the shovels. Either way she would have a hard time reaching down for the Amulet.
Another thought came to mind as he swung. What if she ducked the strike? She was maneuverable after all, and pretty fast on her feet...
Kasen watched his opponent carefully. If she ducked, he’d be somewhat vulnerable from the waist down if she decided to strike, but if she went for the amulet....
If she went for the amulet, he just might have enough time to bring the long pole back around in half a figure eight and slam it down to her exposed back.
Well, they’d just have to see...
|
|
|
Post by Eve Vardell on Jun 16, 2008 11:39:01 GMT -5
Yes, yes, YES.
Someone out there must have really loved her... or at least, must've been starting to feel guilty about the horrible way it had been treating her these past years. Eve's optimistic side whooped and urged her to dive straight for the amulet - as far as it was concerned, the battle was won. The more realistic part of her, the part tempered by her experiences on the road, told her to slow down and think. After all, this man was hardly likely to give up without any more of a fight.
Her suspicion was proven right as he sent the shovel swiping through the frigid air toward the side of her head.
Too easy - he should have gone lower. Eve ducked into a crouch to avoid the sweeping blow but, as she felt it cut the air inches above her head, a thought occurred to her that really should have come much earlier. Her blood was suddenly filled with the chill of the night, and her mind seized up around the thought, panicking.
She could be knocked out in this fight.
No, it wasn't the thought of being killed that struck Eve so profoundly - she'd understood that possibility from the moment she'd spotted the grave-robber within the trench. The idea of imminent death wasn't anything particularly new to Eve - though, of course, one not particularly pleasant. What did scare her, though, was the possibility of changing, and if she were to be knocked unconscious now, if she lost focus, lost control over her body for even a few seconds under the brilliant light of the full moon, then the wolf would seize the opportunity and claw its way out.
And however little fondness she might possess for this stranger, she also couldn't bear the thought of being responsible for his death.
Her body continued its intended motion even as her mind seized up in horror, ducking down, releasing her shovel and sending it flying at the man - an attempt to startle him, to buy a few seconds, and nothing more. Her newly freed left hand went out to sweep up the amulet, while the right braced on the ground and then shoved off, giving her momentum to roll backwards, out of immediate reach of the stranger's shovel.
As she came out of the roll she raised both of her hands, one still clutching the glistening amulet, and suggested in what she hoped, but doubted, came out as a calm, nonchalant tone, "Hey, look. Any chance we could just call this a draw until sunrise?"
|
|
|
Post by Kasen Rowe on Jun 16, 2008 18:09:59 GMT -5
She was good, he had to give her that. If the outcome of this encounter hadn't been so critical, he might have smiled at the challenge.
Throwing the shovel had been unexpected. It was interesting what a moment of panic- for he was sure that was what he'd seen in her eyes- could make you come up with. He had been surprised by it, the only reason he hadn't been able to come back down at her quick enough before she rolled away. Going with the momentum of his swing had been the best thing to do. He swatted the girl's shovel to his right, sending it spinning down into the open grave.
She was on her feet now, offering a draw. Kasen had to hide a laugh. Wait until sunrise? When the cops or other passers by would be more likely to see them duking it out near the defiled grave? Yeah right. He could see that going over real well. Not more than a moment after she's suggested it, Kasen was stepping in again fast hoping to catch her off guard. He didn't like that she was weaponless, but then again, she's already proven herself capable of defending herself. That was his only consolation as he stepped in quick, jabbing his end of the wooden shovel straight in toward her stomach, hoping that she hadn't had the kind of practice against this angle as he had.
"Sorry," he replied as his weapon streaked in.
|
|
|
Post by Eve Vardell on Jun 17, 2008 12:31:31 GMT -5
Alright, so maybe she shouldn't have dared hope such a strange request would be taken seriously. Maybe if she'd said "Hey, be careful when you attack me, alright? 'Cause if you knock me in the head too hard then I'll go Hyde on you and tear you into little, bitty pieces" then it would've gone over better. Yeah... right.
She had, at least, hoped that her suggestion would make him pause for several seconds, draw out a verbal response, and allow her to get her bearings back and maybe even break into a fast retreat. He was too smart for that. He moved almost immediately after she'd spoken, driving the pole forward a second time, toward her chest. Eve gritted her teeth and darted left, twisting her body as she did to give the man a smaller target area to aim for.
Maybe the hasty roll had left her dizzy, or maybe she was still suffering jet-lag from her flight in from France, but Eve's body didn't respond quite as fast as she'd hoped, and the wooden edge scraped hard across her belly as she spun. It wasn't enough to knock the breath out of her, but she was sure she would have an angry welt in the morning. Grimacing, she grabbed the pole as it extended before her with both hands, in order to keep it from sweeping wide and coming in at her again... and also to help keep her balance. Then she lifted her front leg into a strong snap-kick at his side.
|
|
|
Post by Kasen Rowe on Jun 18, 2008 17:51:22 GMT -5
The girl spun away to the side taking only a glancing blow. She grabbed onto the handle. Feeling the weight she put on the weapon, he simultaneously lowered and extended the shovel to his right to open her up and throw her off balance and side stepped in closer to the leg she'd already lifted to kick, giving her little room to follow through.
Less room or no, the kick struck out, painfully hitting his side. On impact Kasen twisted his hips only slightly, having the desired effect of slipping the foot towards his back. With a grunt of effort Kasen bent forward, his entire upper body cracking like a whip, arms and the shovel the girl had grabbed onto forcing her backward and toward the ground in a single fluid motion...
|
|
|
Post by Eve Vardell on Jun 21, 2008 18:44:04 GMT -5
Eve didn't have long to savour the victory of the impact. If it had hurt the stranger much he didn't show it, and, taking advantage of the brief loss of balance the move had cost her, he forced her backward. There was little she could do to prevent the fall, but she was able to soften it, holding tight to the shovel even as she tipped towards the ground. Holding on with her left hand, which still gripped the sizable amulet, was difficult, but she managed to keep her fingertips locked around it. When she hit the ground with a soft thump and an exhale, she tugged the shovel in, its wielder with it, and pulled both knees up against his chest, ready to kick him as he stumbled in.
|
|
|
Post by Kasen Rowe on Jun 23, 2008 17:31:48 GMT -5
Up came her knees and Kasen dropped into a controlled fall to his knees at her side, out of immediate kicking line. Keeping hold of the shovel, he pressed it down tightly against her body, using his weight to keep her hands trapped on her chest just above her chambered knees.
"Say uncle," he demanded, hoping they could end this now.
|
|