Yeva rushed to collect each item, grimacing as she wiped away sludge from the alley and stuffed her belonging in her bag. A sense of uneasiness and pounding heart made it difficult to think, and her footsteps thundered back to the street, her red hair bobbing as she shot fearful looks over her shoulder. What had they been looking for?
It was time to make a choice - go back to Dukharn's and find Caelin or try to make her own way back to the tavern - she chose the latter. Yeva wanted to get as far away from the sight as possible, and raced up the street towards main, taking a right - they had taken a left earlier, right? She couldn't remember! - But it looked right. Other Almund citizens took notice of her running, shooting her disdainful looks, which made her shy away at the idea of asking for directions. She took another turn, towards the sounds of dock bells ringing, but the further she walked, the closer she thought she made it, the darker the shiplap buildings became. Grime thickened on the street; the smell of booze and rotting fish lingered , and... was that the sound of someone retching in the distance?
Yeva's feet slowed and she looked over her shoulder, staring at the shadows uneasily. No one walked these streets and she searched for a familiar sight - a pub or tavern. The mouth of another alley stood on her left, and at the end of its narrow passage, she thought she heard a woman's laughter. A couple, a man and a woman walked by the other end of the street and a bit of hope ignited in her chest. Yeva ran towards them, swallowed up by the shadows and took her first steps on the street.
She opened her mouth to call out, searching.
Pain shot through her skull, her vision flashed white and she dropped to the dirty stone. She clutched her head. Blood, like hot and sticky tar, pooled from her crown, and someone grabbed her ankles, dragging Yeva back into the unseen darkness. She tried to register what was happening,
"S-stop," Black threatened to consume her vision, she tried to sit up but what shoved back to the ground, a hooded figure climbing atop her as fear began to clear the fog of her mind.
She was being attacked.
"Stop," she said again, a bit more strength in her voice as she tried to claw at the assailant's arms. They grabbed, slamming her wrists back against the ground, rearing back and slamming a gloved fist into the side of her face. More pain, Yeva tried to recoil, twisting, kicking. Another blow. She cried out and then a hand found her throat, squeezing. Weight pressed upon her as she was pinned. The figure loomed like a shadow of death, the opening of the hood round and dark, a gaping maw of darkness.
Yeva felt her chest burn as she bucked wildly, boots smacking loudly. She couldn't turn her head, desperately trying and failing to inhale. Her eyes felt like they might burst from her skull. She continued to yank at the assailant's hands, tried to push the person back. Without light around them, the experience was disorienting, shrouded.
Why?
Her consciousness flickered. The assailant paused, Yeva focused on breathing. On screaming. Both were neigh impossible.
My windpipe, she realized, panicked. Crushed or damaged? Yeva writhed, another blow landing, this time upon her breast bone. She fell back. Coughing.
Damaged.
Trying to drag herself away and failing. Her ragged breathing sounded so loud - louder than anything else - choppy gurgles and wheezes and silenced screaming. He grabbed her again and she swung with her released hand. Her fist hit blindly, connecting with a muted thud and pain in her knuckles. The attacker grunted. The sound was a deep tone - a man - and he cursed under his breath in Scalveen as something metal went skittering across the cobblestone.
A knife? she realized, swinging again,
He's going to stab me.
Why then go through all the trouble to choke her? Had she been too unruly, he had opted to change his method for a quicker disposal?
Why?
The question faded from importance. Yeva had to focus on survival. Her adrenaline fed into her. This was her chance. Wheezing, Yeva saw his head turn and she threw another blow, hearing a satisfying crack from beneath the hood. He cursed and growled, struggling to hold her and clutch his face. Hot blood sprayed and upon her face and neck and he released her. The medic shoved and kicked at the opening, throwing him off.
Help! she tried to scream. She crawled towards the alley's mouth, pushing up to her knees.
Help me! Please!
ooc notes
Unarmed Combat
Take Every Opening to Attack, There Might Not Be Many
Damage to the Windpipe Is a Great Disadvantage
How to Break a Nose
Not Every Fight Can Be Honorable When Survival is Top Priority.
Unarmed Combat (Wrestling)
Getting Pinned By A More Experienced Opponent
