#lassar

new doctor who self insert to selfship with mr finch x3

Loucademia de Polícia (Dual Áudio) HD 720p Torrent

Dados do Arquivo

Ano de Lançamento: 1984

Duração: 1 Hora e 36 Minutos

Gênero: Comédia, Policial, Crime

Idioma: Portugues, Inglês

Legenda: sim

Tamanho: 788 MB

 Qualidade de áudio e vídeo: 10

Extensão: MKV

  Sinopse

O prefeito resolve mudar a lei, afirmando que fatores como sexo, peso e inteligência não devem influenciar nas aplicações para a força policial. Liderado por Carey Mahoney, um grupo de…

Lassar

Anglese: leave, let

Espaniol: dejar

Francese: laisser

Italiano: lasciare

Portugese: deixar

Lassar had felt the weight on his back become a little heavier and assumed the boy had slipped into unconsciousness.  He wasn't sure if that was the best way for him to be or not, though even if he did know, there would be nothing he could do.  Lassar brought his thoughts back around to concentrate on the ride - although there was little left that could go wrong in this leg of the journey, he wasn't risking it.

Honestly, Lassar had always had a sneaking suspicion the creatures his elders had told him were stories to scare small children into staying away from the wastes.  There were no current stories.  No one alive in his clan for the past few generations had experienced anything of the six-hundred thousand scales that coated Ular, the snake behemoth, or the screeching maw of Tikus, the mole which created the very dunes that pocked the otherwise smooth landscapes.  He'd have to see something with his own eyes before truly heeding what were otherwise mere legends.

Lassar watched as the boy's body began to lurch and he realised that he was holding back coughs - one sound and they could be dead.

It took him a few moments of careful but swift consideration.  Leave now, save himself...it was the safer option...

He pulled his mask up over his mouth as the winds began to pick up, bringing swift, soft tornadoes of ash skittering across the delicate Waste surface.  He could feel in his bones that they didn't have long.  Taking a lower stance, Lassar rolled forwards to close the few feet between him and the boy, positioning himself behind the cub in one quick movement.  Grabbing the cloths that hung over his shoulder, he brought his arms around the cub and pulled the cloth tight over his face, restricting his breathing and eradicating sight.

He couldn't tell the boy the purpose of this action right now; it was detail he'd never taught him in hope that it would never have to be known: Lassar felt a bubble of apprehension form in his throat.  If the boy panicked, didn't trust his mentor, it would be the death of both of them.  

The aim was to stop the boy's face from moving.  If he blinked too much, the grit caking his lids would scratch his eyes, and render him blind.  Breathing through the thick cloth, although difficult, lessened extra ash entering the airway and also dampened the sound of coughing.  Lassar could only pray that the boy had not swallowed too much ash, or he could drown before they made it back.  Elbowing the useless weight of the cub onto his back, Lassar took a second bolt of cloth and tied it in a cross shape around himself and the boy, knotting it at his chest, tying the boy tight to himself.  He began the careful journey back to the riding-bear, feet sliding through the ash, mimicking the sound of shifting dunes, legs aching under the weight of an additional body.  

Lassar pulled back on the rope, causing the bear to halt, massive paws sliding through the ash as they slowed to a stop.  Pulling the protective cloths back over him and grabbing spares, wrapping them about his shoulders, Lassar rolled off the bear's back and landed crouched, keeping his balance perfectly.  One had to move slowly in the Wastes: rolling from the bear's back meant one fell with less speed than jumping, resulting in a lighter landing.  Everything counted.  

Lassar reached up for his spear and unhooked it from the bear's side, where the Nita's feet had rested as they rode.  Multi-purpose, like everything the Kodiak tribe made.  Wrapping the rope rein of the bear around his forearm, Lassar began to step quietly towards the boy's shape in the ash, wind pulling at his face mask.  The riding bear itself knew the rules and slid its feet through the ash instead of stepping.  Monsters slept below the ash, deep in slumber, only awakening when sufficient prey disturbed their bed.  Lassar had soon reached the boy.  He turned his spear so the blunt end was forwards, and poked him with it from a distance.  If he was dead, they could leave.  Have a ceremony back at camp - taking the body back wasn't worth the risk. 

The bear they rode had four large clay jars slung about its neck which sloshed with clean, clear water.  The movements of the snow in the peaks meant that water there was often cleaner than any rivers that ran from the peaks, through the Wastes and to the coast: every week, two members of the tribe would venture through the Wastes to the peaks and pack the clay jars with snow and then bring them back.  This had been Lassar's and Torbjen's job today - Torbjen's first.

Lassar spoke in a low growl.

"You're lucky this trip has been uneventful.  It's the last stretch, hold on."

Lassar began to shift, leaning down against Torbjen's back, pushing him down flat against the bear with his chest and staying there.  He grabbed the cub's hands and thrust them into the carpet of their mount where the rope that held the clay jars was tied taut.  He did the same with his own hands, squeezing tight on the rope.  

"Ready...?"  

It was less a question and more a demand.