11-19-2018, 03:07 PM
▹▹▹▹It was perhaps possible to say that Atticus was part of a 'gang', though 'gang' would not have necessarily been the right choice of words. He had been raised as a warrior, as a fighter, from the day he was old enough to start carrying the weight of a blade and copy the older men (and women) in his group. They were not so much a gang as more a city, a culture, like the rest of these Clans he now found himself involved in. His fighting ability was close-hand combat, and he had learned over the years to be alert and act instinctively, to always have a plan a, b, and c, as quickly as they could be mustered. But in this fight, he was left with very few options. Now that the pain was radiating through his body, even with a fair bit of adrenaline that helped to numb it, he knew he had to move, he had to do something before it was too late for him against this creature. He needed an upper hand, but how? He needed to end him- but when?
The thoughts did not truly cross his mind as he heard the creature - for he hardly deserved a name anymore - laugh at his pain and his misery, growling lowly as his body seemed to sag with some relief as the weight was lifted off of him, even as his paws caught in scales of his armoring, his body yelling as he felt the weight being displaced. Move. It urged him, even through the pain dazzling across his body, his body shifting awkwardly as his gaze caught sight of the daggers, the first narrowly missing his spine and grazing across his back instead, the second digging in a bit more, but not sinking as it instead gashed into his body, and the third thudding into the earth as he made the attempts to haul himself back up to his feet, almost making it back up to his paws until a large paw slammed back into his shoulder and halted his efforts. Move! His head swung to grab one of the blades that had thudded into the ground and attempting to sink it into the creature's paw that held him down, giving a good shove with his shoulder at the same time to try and displace him, refusing to be kept down.
The thoughts did not truly cross his mind as he heard the creature - for he hardly deserved a name anymore - laugh at his pain and his misery, growling lowly as his body seemed to sag with some relief as the weight was lifted off of him, even as his paws caught in scales of his armoring, his body yelling as he felt the weight being displaced. Move. It urged him, even through the pain dazzling across his body, his body shifting awkwardly as his gaze caught sight of the daggers, the first narrowly missing his spine and grazing across his back instead, the second digging in a bit more, but not sinking as it instead gashed into his body, and the third thudding into the earth as he made the attempts to haul himself back up to his feet, almost making it back up to his paws until a large paw slammed back into his shoulder and halted his efforts. Move! His head swung to grab one of the blades that had thudded into the ground and attempting to sink it into the creature's paw that held him down, giving a good shove with his shoulder at the same time to try and displace him, refusing to be kept down.