The towering form of Laenariel tumbled backwards to the ground, kicking up bits of dust and dirt.
He grunted sharply from the impact, a sharp pain shooting through his back as he landed on a somewhat large rock. He had to take a good moment to reorient himself, his torso moving upwards in a nearly-sitting position. He used his left arm to prop the top-half of his body up, his hand finding a somewhat comfortable patch of grass to rest on. The fingers of his right hand gingerly probed his back, specifically around the location of the pain, which was slowly ebbing.
He patted around for blood, before stopping in horror as he felt something wet his groping fingers. He quickly brought his right hand around and up so he could get a glance at this warm liquid, before a wave of relief washed through him as he found it only to be a bit of water. A wound working in tandem with the thick-skulled demeanor of his young ox would have caused the young kelvic to give up entirely for the day, figuring the fates just wanted him to wallow in his own slight despair.
But he'd have to return to the task at hand, it seemed, as he wasn't unlucky enough (or is it lucky enough?) to be wounded to the point that he'd only have to rest for a few days and forget all about the annoying bovine during that time.
The brown-skinned man looked up at the snorting, skittish ox named Bobo, his eyes narrowing slightly. He had half a mind to kill the damn thing now and then pull his wagon along as a bear; Caiyha knows he could do it, but.... Then he'd have to pull the damn thing along to keep with the quick-paced Drykas, and he knew that he wouldn't last long even attempting to do so.
So he sighed, resigning himself to try to get this creature to look at his owner like a friend, and not a bloodthirsty predator. He clambered to his large feet, his well-weathered boots squelching slightly in a spot of mud. His hands went to his hips, his right foot a bit forward compared to his left that gave him that "sassy" stance that wasn't an uncommon look for many people.
It was like a battle of wits, a clash of fortitude, a war for dominance. Beast versus.... Beast morphing man thing. Irritated master versus the new and stubborn servant, and the master's patience was quickly waning.
It was Laenariel that made the first move, grabbing both ends of the yoke that was near Bobo's head. He pulled, trying to force the creature along and bend to his will. Bobo, on the other hand, had better ideas.
He tilted his head back and made the long, low moo-scream that ox often did. He dug in his hoofs, pulling back with a surprising show of strength. Laenariel's muscles bulged, veins popping into view around his arms as Bobo's natural muscle bulged even further. With a better center of gravity but no will to move in any direction, Bobo pushed the battle into a stalemate, with man grunting and bovine moo-screaming.
He grunted sharply from the impact, a sharp pain shooting through his back as he landed on a somewhat large rock. He had to take a good moment to reorient himself, his torso moving upwards in a nearly-sitting position. He used his left arm to prop the top-half of his body up, his hand finding a somewhat comfortable patch of grass to rest on. The fingers of his right hand gingerly probed his back, specifically around the location of the pain, which was slowly ebbing.
He patted around for blood, before stopping in horror as he felt something wet his groping fingers. He quickly brought his right hand around and up so he could get a glance at this warm liquid, before a wave of relief washed through him as he found it only to be a bit of water. A wound working in tandem with the thick-skulled demeanor of his young ox would have caused the young kelvic to give up entirely for the day, figuring the fates just wanted him to wallow in his own slight despair.
But he'd have to return to the task at hand, it seemed, as he wasn't unlucky enough (or is it lucky enough?) to be wounded to the point that he'd only have to rest for a few days and forget all about the annoying bovine during that time.
The brown-skinned man looked up at the snorting, skittish ox named Bobo, his eyes narrowing slightly. He had half a mind to kill the damn thing now and then pull his wagon along as a bear; Caiyha knows he could do it, but.... Then he'd have to pull the damn thing along to keep with the quick-paced Drykas, and he knew that he wouldn't last long even attempting to do so.
So he sighed, resigning himself to try to get this creature to look at his owner like a friend, and not a bloodthirsty predator. He clambered to his large feet, his well-weathered boots squelching slightly in a spot of mud. His hands went to his hips, his right foot a bit forward compared to his left that gave him that "sassy" stance that wasn't an uncommon look for many people.
It was like a battle of wits, a clash of fortitude, a war for dominance. Beast versus.... Beast morphing man thing. Irritated master versus the new and stubborn servant, and the master's patience was quickly waning.
It was Laenariel that made the first move, grabbing both ends of the yoke that was near Bobo's head. He pulled, trying to force the creature along and bend to his will. Bobo, on the other hand, had better ideas.
He tilted his head back and made the long, low moo-scream that ox often did. He dug in his hoofs, pulling back with a surprising show of strength. Laenariel's muscles bulged, veins popping into view around his arms as Bobo's natural muscle bulged even further. With a better center of gravity but no will to move in any direction, Bobo pushed the battle into a stalemate, with man grunting and bovine moo-screaming.
