KORBIN
And round about his home the glory
That blushed and bloomed,
That blushed and bloomed,
He couldn't say why he chose to do this. Even as he threw the punch and she blocked, he began to regret the decision. But the crawling was still there under his skin, suffocating the air from his lungs. A disease of the mind overtaking the body, and he needed to vent. Or maybe find some retribution, a bit of punishment for what he had done.
Korbin stepped into her kick, so that her thigh connected with his side rather than the knee to his chest. It hurt like a bitch all the same, and he grunted from the impact, twisting his arm in her grip to free himself or at least bring her out of balance. At the same time, he tried to hook a leg behind the foot she carried her weight on, meaning to sweep her off her feet and into the snow.
Without much hope that it would actually work, mind. He ostensibly liked the concept of weapon fighting, the forms and motions, but against real opponents - and especially compared to Weaver - he'd always been second rate. It was difficult getting good at something you didn't really enjoy.
Korbin stepped into her kick, so that her thigh connected with his side rather than the knee to his chest. It hurt like a bitch all the same, and he grunted from the impact, twisting his arm in her grip to free himself or at least bring her out of balance. At the same time, he tried to hook a leg behind the foot she carried her weight on, meaning to sweep her off her feet and into the snow.
Without much hope that it would actually work, mind. He ostensibly liked the concept of weapon fighting, the forms and motions, but against real opponents - and especially compared to Weaver - he'd always been second rate. It was difficult getting good at something you didn't really enjoy.
Is but a dim-remembered story
Of the old time entombed.
Of the old time entombed.
