08-25-2008, 11:41 PM
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Zero, 'parthian' would refer to having one of the two be the distraction--in this case Gabriel--while the other goes in for the big damage. :]
indent There was the recognition. Gabriel’s lips pulled back in a hellish grin, knowing that this was how it was supposed to be. God had a plan, and His plan was that this boy should die today. He would pay for his crimes and he would pay for raising his hand against God’s Sword. His family was here too—Faolin, rushing behind the boy, blocking his path. Corona, with his daughter. Anselm, circling, waiting. The words his half-brother spat meant nothing. Andre was going to perish on these sands and his body would be cast upon their shore as a fell reminder of what happened to those who dare cross His purpose.
indent “Corona, don’t let him past you,” Gabriel was speaking as he began a slow, planned advancement. It didn’t matter what Andre heard now; there were four of them and he was one boy. Knife or not. “Anselm, parthian.” The code was one the two had developed over the past months. They had discussed military tactics in the little spare time they had, and his cousin would understand. Another step. “I’ll make you eat your heart,” he snarled, and then rushed forward. Keeping low, he aimed his teeth at the boy’s legs, planning to blow past him.
indent There was the recognition. Gabriel’s lips pulled back in a hellish grin, knowing that this was how it was supposed to be. God had a plan, and His plan was that this boy should die today. He would pay for his crimes and he would pay for raising his hand against God’s Sword. His family was here too—Faolin, rushing behind the boy, blocking his path. Corona, with his daughter. Anselm, circling, waiting. The words his half-brother spat meant nothing. Andre was going to perish on these sands and his body would be cast upon their shore as a fell reminder of what happened to those who dare cross His purpose.
indent “Corona, don’t let him past you,” Gabriel was speaking as he began a slow, planned advancement. It didn’t matter what Andre heard now; there were four of them and he was one boy. Knife or not. “Anselm, parthian.” The code was one the two had developed over the past months. They had discussed military tactics in the little spare time they had, and his cousin would understand. Another step. “I’ll make you eat your heart,” he snarled, and then rushed forward. Keeping low, he aimed his teeth at the boy’s legs, planning to blow past him.