The impact upon his chest sent a horrible concussion through his form and pitched him back several fulms. Berrod hit the dusty ground with a series of thuds, rolling roughly before he came to a stop with a crunching skid. Dust covered him, and he was almost sure that his chest had caved in from the blow. Agonizing coughs pressed from his diaphragm, each one repeating the shock of the strike. It would be sure to leave a vivid bruise. Still, he held on to his only weapon against his opponent, who saw it fit to release a joyful ululation of his victory.Â
"KWEH."
"Gods...damned...shite-headed bird..." The Highlander grunted as he got to his feet. With his free hand he held onto his aching chest, while the other clutched a somewhat wilted bunch of Gysahl greens. "Yer damned useless! Hold still so I can ride ya back ta town." It hurt to breathe, and that propelled him into further irritation. Boldly, he began another approach toward the large, yellow Chocobo. Thunder was its name -- appropriate enough. The mount had been given to him by the Maelstrom as a reward for his services and good behavior. The more Berrod thought about it, however, the more it seemed like they wanted to palm the damned hellsspawn off on him.Â
"Reward my arse," He grumbled. A few fulms closer he drew to his ward, which decided to stand its ground. The Chocobo planted its talons firmly in the hot dirt, craned it's neck toward him and hissed.Â
Berrod was unable to help himself from recoiling; did the stinking bugger just hiss at him? It did! He didn't even know the damned things could hiss. Unfortunately Thunder noticed his hesitation and took it as another mark of victory. The beaked, feathery head reared to proclaim another assertive "KWEH."
For some reason that was the thing to render Berrod's temper to nothingness. He would not have some bird rule him, not at all. In a fit of anger he hurled the wad of greens at the thing's head with all the force his arm could manage -- a significant amount. Thunder reflexively tried to snap at it, but it had been flung too violently. Though it managed to catch the greens in its beak, it lurched backward and had to flap desperately for balance.Â
Never before had a feeding been such a declaration of war. After taking the time to make sure that the greens did not go to waste, the affronted Chocobo leveled a beady eye on the Highlander with gormishly savage intent. "Kwuh."Â
No further warning than that was given, the fearsome mass of yellow feathers and scaly talons burst forward, ready to engage the man in a battle to submission. Berrod barely had time to react -- instinct and reflexes guided him. With a loud cry and a kweh they met; Thunder with a lunging peck...and Berrod with a reactive wheel kick. His heel came down hard on the top of the poor bird's head, augmented with his considerable body weight. They both went down in a plume of dust...but only Berrod stood up again.
Thunder, it seemed, had been knocked out cold -- there was a brief moment when Berrod feared that he had killed the dirty great thing, but that was dispelled when he saw it stir. Dusting himself off, the Highlander stood victoriously over the crumpled mass of feathers and talons. "Take that, y'lil bugger."
It took him only four ragged breaths to realize what he had done. He aimed a slow squint downward at the wretched thing and nudged it with his foot. "'Ey. 'Ey, wake up, ya gotta carry me back ta town."
Thunder breathed, but did not wake.
"...damnit. Wake up, ya sack o'bird shite, c'mon."
No response. The sour irony had begun to sink in, and already embarrassed anger reddened the edges of Berrod's ears.
"...I'm...gonna have ta carry ya back ta town. I'm. Gonna have ta carry a bleedin' chocobo. Bugger me."
"KWEH."
"Gods...damned...shite-headed bird..." The Highlander grunted as he got to his feet. With his free hand he held onto his aching chest, while the other clutched a somewhat wilted bunch of Gysahl greens. "Yer damned useless! Hold still so I can ride ya back ta town." It hurt to breathe, and that propelled him into further irritation. Boldly, he began another approach toward the large, yellow Chocobo. Thunder was its name -- appropriate enough. The mount had been given to him by the Maelstrom as a reward for his services and good behavior. The more Berrod thought about it, however, the more it seemed like they wanted to palm the damned hellsspawn off on him.Â
"Reward my arse," He grumbled. A few fulms closer he drew to his ward, which decided to stand its ground. The Chocobo planted its talons firmly in the hot dirt, craned it's neck toward him and hissed.Â
Berrod was unable to help himself from recoiling; did the stinking bugger just hiss at him? It did! He didn't even know the damned things could hiss. Unfortunately Thunder noticed his hesitation and took it as another mark of victory. The beaked, feathery head reared to proclaim another assertive "KWEH."
For some reason that was the thing to render Berrod's temper to nothingness. He would not have some bird rule him, not at all. In a fit of anger he hurled the wad of greens at the thing's head with all the force his arm could manage -- a significant amount. Thunder reflexively tried to snap at it, but it had been flung too violently. Though it managed to catch the greens in its beak, it lurched backward and had to flap desperately for balance.Â
Never before had a feeding been such a declaration of war. After taking the time to make sure that the greens did not go to waste, the affronted Chocobo leveled a beady eye on the Highlander with gormishly savage intent. "Kwuh."Â
No further warning than that was given, the fearsome mass of yellow feathers and scaly talons burst forward, ready to engage the man in a battle to submission. Berrod barely had time to react -- instinct and reflexes guided him. With a loud cry and a kweh they met; Thunder with a lunging peck...and Berrod with a reactive wheel kick. His heel came down hard on the top of the poor bird's head, augmented with his considerable body weight. They both went down in a plume of dust...but only Berrod stood up again.
Thunder, it seemed, had been knocked out cold -- there was a brief moment when Berrod feared that he had killed the dirty great thing, but that was dispelled when he saw it stir. Dusting himself off, the Highlander stood victoriously over the crumpled mass of feathers and talons. "Take that, y'lil bugger."
It took him only four ragged breaths to realize what he had done. He aimed a slow squint downward at the wretched thing and nudged it with his foot. "'Ey. 'Ey, wake up, ya gotta carry me back ta town."
Thunder breathed, but did not wake.
"...damnit. Wake up, ya sack o'bird shite, c'mon."
No response. The sour irony had begun to sink in, and already embarrassed anger reddened the edges of Berrod's ears.
"...I'm...gonna have ta carry ya back ta town. I'm. Gonna have ta carry a bleedin' chocobo. Bugger me."
![[Image: tumblr_ojgu7zoaag1robwlio1_540.png]](https://68.media.tumblr.com/80be4033cdf57fb6268473ef9ce37db6/tumblr_ojgu7zoaag1robwlio1_540.png)
