[Cheapest] Personalized Elvis Presley tumbler

Personalized Elvis Presley tumbler

Three more charged him the next moment, staves whirling dangerously in circles. It looked impressive to an outsider, but it was easy to disrupt as he jammed his staff into the wheeling wooden spokes. One strike to the chest and the fellow grimaced with pain. Another on his toe with a crunch that probably meant his toenail was cracked and would fall off in a few days. With the staff held before him, Paedrin disarmed the second and third attackers, a series of dizzying blows that were too fast to follow, let alone defend. Crack—crack—clatter. Another staff down.

Paedrin spun on his heel, bringing his weapon over his shoulder and dropping a silently approaching fourth opponent. Personalized Elvis Presley tumbler The fifth and final Bhikhu charged him, face twisted with vengeance. Paedrin planted the end of his staff, took in his breath, and lifted himself up on the pole, swinging his body around it once, his foot clipping the last fighter in the temple, dropping him; Paedrin proceeded to swivel around the staff, coiling around the upper end like a lizard, balancing on it like a pennant of flesh. He made a perfect stance, shoulders back, legs locked, arm extended for balance, fingers raised up. He clung to the top of the staff, held his breath to keep his body floating, enjoying the feel of the sun on his neck and the sweat trickling down his back.

Buy it here: Leesilk

justablinkfashion

They set up camp within the shelter of the woods, Annon and Hettie both working side by side to put up a ring of stones and gather brushwood for a fire. Paedrin was at a loss for what to do, so he separated from them slightly and began practicing some of the complex forms he had learned in the Bhikhu temple. He did Five Animals and Five Elements along with Snapping Crane. Each was a series of intricate moves, which, if broken down into the parts, could be used to fight or subdue one man or many men. It was like a dance. A dangerous dance.

The crackle of flames alerted him that the fire was starting to take. He turned and saw Hettie was gone. Annon fed chips of wood into the growing fire.

Where to buy it?

Paedrin hissed a low whistle to shut him up. It would go on for hours that way. He spun around again, slowly this time, full of restless energy. The staff was part of him, a tether, a kite string that kept him from floating away when he gathered and held his breath. He started rising again, slowly, gracefully, until he balanced on the end of the staff, his feet pointed toward the sky. He loved that feeling—the almost-flying feeling of being a Vaettir. He was the only one in the temple who was orphaned as a boy, unclaimed by any Vaettir family in the city. Peculiar, for certain, but Paedrin did not care. The temple was his home and his family. His lungs burned and he slowly exhaled, his body coming back down to earth.

Who she was, Paedrin had no idea. She had appeared at the temple orphanage, wearing woodcutter’s garb and keeping mostly to herself. How old was she? Paedrin guessed she was his age, or maybe slightly older. Twenty, perhaps. The curl and sneer of her lip made her seem older. As did the disdain with which she treated everyone and everything within the temple. She had dark hair cut past her shoulders, thick and heavy and slightly curled. She was Aeduan, he thought with a snort, nothing to be so proud of. Yet she walked with all the confidence of a Vaettir, as if she belonged to the orphanage as its overseer and not as a guest who could not afford lodging in the city beyond the walls. That was the only reason someone chose to sleep on the floor, on an uncomfortable mat, on hard flagstones, day after day.

leesilk blog