ooc: small amount of pp
Angel took up the stick, inspecting it closely. It was a gnarled thing, but solid, the branch had been still live when it had been cut off so it was springy too. Sticks? Surely this was too easy to be true. Pulling a few lumps of bark away from one end of the stick, Angel made himself a handle, something that would scrape against his hand like the bark would. He swung it around a few times, attempting to get a feel of the 'weapon'. This would be an easy game, he'd used spears and the like many times before, especially when he'd learnt to spear fish. Which included standing in the shallows, shaded by a tree and obviously speared the fish. It wasn't a skill he used very often at least recently, but he prized it for it's usefulness in Southern America. And over all it was a skill that may one day be called on again at to Angel that was what was important in the grand scheme of things.
The Catalonian picked up on the insult, his large black ears zoning in onto the words, deciphering them in seconds. Without warning, he struck. Swinging the top of the stick up towards his face and when he raised his own staff to protect his face, Angel swept the stick into the side of his legs, knocking him down. Stepping back, Angel smiled. He hadn't even used full force, if he did he'd break the boy's bones.
.angelSie {
width:389px;padding:1px;border:1px solid black;background-color:#000000;margin:0 auto;
}
.angelSie .inner {
width:387px;
border:1px solid black;background-image:url(http://i910.photobucket.com/albums/ac30 ... 65c1f7.jpg);background-color:#000000; }
.angelSie .text { text-align:justify;
margin:10px;
font-family:
Verdana;
color:#8EA0A5;
font-size:10px;
height:250px;
overflow:auto;
background-image:url(http://sleepyglow.net/souls/75pct_black.png);
padding:5px; }
</style>[/html]