Warre
Establishing Nation
- Joined
- May 13, 2010
- Messages
- 1,384
- Nick
- Warr
There was a great 'harrumph', as the boy rolled down the hill, having been thrown quite harshly down the incline by the larger boy. Blooded and bruised, he stumbled to his feet with a growl and clenched teeth. The blood dripping from his forehead matted his bangs against it- made it as red as the most stereotypical Lyric child from lore.
“Is that all you got, you fool...?” the little lad spat, “You have no Cehaath if that's all you got... I'm still standin' ain't I?”
And the big lump of muscle, hormones, and ruddy features from atop the hill charged then down it, fists balled tight with rage, tied together by boyish hate with more efficiency than the sinew tied bone knifes wielded by his forefather's forefathers. The raging bull-moose of a boy charged with a growl, with a howl, and when he finally got close enough to strike the other boy, he found a surprise. For the little lad had stood his ground, icy blue eyes dark with hate like the dubh that they launched, that contemptuous hate called a dagger by his people was strong in this boy.
With the slither of a snake, the smaller boy fell like a worm to the ground, and his foot rose like a rock launched from a catapult. With a hateful growl, he spat, “FATALITY.” and soon an earth-crackling resound came from the older, larger boy, who first grunted in pain, then whimpered, where the smaller boy's knee had slammed into the boy's genetalia.
So it had begun. An innocent schoolyard brawl by two children of a barbaric nation- or something more? The earsplitting cry of the older boy had brought forth older children and professors to check upon the scene.
Who was to know what happened now?
“Is that all you got, you fool...?” the little lad spat, “You have no Cehaath if that's all you got... I'm still standin' ain't I?”
And the big lump of muscle, hormones, and ruddy features from atop the hill charged then down it, fists balled tight with rage, tied together by boyish hate with more efficiency than the sinew tied bone knifes wielded by his forefather's forefathers. The raging bull-moose of a boy charged with a growl, with a howl, and when he finally got close enough to strike the other boy, he found a surprise. For the little lad had stood his ground, icy blue eyes dark with hate like the dubh that they launched, that contemptuous hate called a dagger by his people was strong in this boy.
With the slither of a snake, the smaller boy fell like a worm to the ground, and his foot rose like a rock launched from a catapult. With a hateful growl, he spat, “FATALITY.” and soon an earth-crackling resound came from the older, larger boy, who first grunted in pain, then whimpered, where the smaller boy's knee had slammed into the boy's genetalia.
So it had begun. An innocent schoolyard brawl by two children of a barbaric nation- or something more? The earsplitting cry of the older boy had brought forth older children and professors to check upon the scene.
Who was to know what happened now?