The throbbing and bleeding caused by the sudden, surprising earth attack continues to wreck your body. The pulsing is rhythmic, but deep, and your muscles tighten in protest despite the fact that they have been assaulted many times before. Despite the fact that you don't like him, you can appreciate that Rostislav's magic is powerful and dramatic. Clearly, however, you are showing him your own power. As you continue to shake yourself free of the remaining rocks and stones that are settled around you, you watch the Drunk's face turn from one of smug satisfaction to a gasping panic. Good. Let him suffer. But in time your magic effect fades and your counterpart is allowed to return to normality. You frown. A shame, really. You'd love to see him just gasp to death on the ground, flop about like a fish out of water, until he cannot move any longer. But ah, it is not an option. You're convinced you're the only one in this stupid herd that could do the duty- not because he's so much better than the rest, but because so many of the herd members are weak. Therefore, if the fool dies, you know you'll be blamed for it and subsequently relieved of your duty and home. Shame. In response to his first question, you obstinately lay your ears back and grunt, but provide no indication either positive or negative of your intentions. As for getting your army into shape... “Whatever.” But your voice is not biting or hateful. You hope nobody makes any mistakes in thinking you actually like him- you don't- but you've considered the possibilities if you don't try to get along and it doesn't make your future look bright. You decide to assign yourself a task, if only it will get you away from Rostislav. “The Glass Horn wants to train with the Throat. I'll set it up.” Furrowing your brow, you shift your body about like you're ready to leave, ready to go anywhere but here, but you wait to see if the Drunk has anything else to say. |
Please do not tag Oxy unless it is in an opening post