Criss takes aim at the biggest Vulture as Ormiz throws his bomb. Pulling the bow up in front of himself, and slowing his breathing, accounting for the wind. At the last moment his previously healed shoulder twinges and his fingers slip, letting go too soon. His aim is off.
"Maybe they won't notice," Staryth thinks as his compatriots try to drive the things away.
Criss's arrow pings off the stonework, engendering a few squarks nut little more. Ormiz sends his bomb sailing forward, missing terribly, but with the concentration of the carrion birds his bomb still manages to catch two in its blast.
The creatures shriek in protest rising up into the air as one, some scattering, some simply launching themselves upwards, but a good dozen are clearly intent upon feeding upon fresher meat!
hp 6 (1d8+2)
Fort +6, Ref +3, Will +1; +4 vs. disease
"Oh. Oh that's not good. That's not good at all!"
Not overly surprised at the vulture's aggressiveness, Grimward considered his options. Sheathing his falchion he instead begins channeling primal energy, preparing to release the magic at any incoming birds.
Ranged Touch attack: . Miss.
Vance doesn't really seem surprised that the birds have decided to switch from scavengers to carnivores. He just shakes his head, draws his pistol and fires off an unerring blast.
Criss shoots again and this time hits one. "Pull back to us after you next throw Ormiz!"
Aiming for the centre of the birds Ormiz lets fly and
At Criss' words he looks back to find he has overtaken his friends, and heads back towards them (and away from the pyramid) at speed.
Staryth breaks into a ditty made on the fly encouraging his allies who are already springing to action.
And if one is in range, he fires at a vulture when he can
His shot is pathetically wide.
Gwen drops her shield to the ground, knowing that it would only hinder her at this distance. She takes a few steps forward as she draws her gun and brings it up to her eye level. The distance makes it nearly impossible to truly aim the weapon, as the bullet flies unpredictably from the smoothbore pistol. At close range, it does not make a large difference. As the distance expands, so does the unpredictability. She squeezes on the trigger, trying to minimize her jerking as she takes the shot, and finds that Staryth's little song actually helps her focus. The pistol barks flame with a crack of noise, but no distant vulture falls; the bullet must have missed. With her hands free, she quickly starts reloading the pistol with gunpowder and caps it off with a packed bullet.
Screeching discordantly the vultures fly forward, though two caught by Ormiz's bomb and burned turn tail and flee clearly wanting no more part of these interlopers. As they descend upon higher steps of the pyramid their fellows turn upon them and they are soon torn apart in a fury of feathers.
The ten remaining birds smash against the group seeking to overwhelm them with numbers! Their beaks seeking tender flesh, most are avoided easily, or thwarted by armor, but one sinks its beak into Grimward's wrist coming away bloody, and two descend upon Staryth tearing viciously and sending the unfortunate bard crashing to the ground blood pooling beneath him!
hp 6 - the one on Vance and right hand one on Criss are at 4hp.
Fort +6, Ref +3, Will +1; +4 vs. disease
Grimward waves his hands violently as the birds lunge at him. One claws and bites at his arm, causing a minor wound. Cursing at the vultures, he unsheathes his blade.
Then he sees Staryth fall.
Bellowing and spitting in rage, he moves across to cut down the bird (he believes is) responsible. His wild swings are far from controlled, but one of his blows manages to catch the bird in its chest, cutting the creature down violently.
Pleased with his kill but far from satisfied, Grimward glances about for his next victim.
Vance dodges a viscous talon, and sweeps his gun across the flock, pulling the trigger to release a rapid burst of eye-shattering light.
Staryth has fallen with an odd look of surprise on his face, his last thoughts before falling into the realm of the black?
Not the flesh eaters I pictured finishing me off...
and his life blood continues to leak out upon the soil.
Criss sets his feet and braces against the charging vultures with his bow. Swiping out in front of them he manages to keep them at bay. He then pulls out an arrow and fires point blank into the body of the one directly in front of him. It pierced the bird through it's chest and it fell to the ground dying. Seeing Staryth fall he runs over to protect his body to stop the vultures from finishing him off. While moving he flicks his left wrist dropping a dagger into his now empty right hand.
The vultures caw their protests and snap at Criss with their vicious beaks but he easily avoids them all before downing a bird with ease.
Gwendolyn puts her pistol into its holster without clipping it into place. While the shield is good to be thrown down, she knows better than to leave her best weapon on the ground. Her hand drifts towards the dagger in her boot, but she decides to use the longsword instead. In the blink of an eye, she has the longsword drawn and slashes at the nearest vulture. She cuts into it with a spray of foul-smelling blood. The deputy pivots to face the next vulture, ready to hack her way through the vile pack.
The scintillating colors streaming from Vance's gun send one bird toppling unconscious to the earth, but the other merely blinks its beady eyes unimpressed.
Ormiz continues to run around, screaming "get it off me! Get it off me! "
Still long dint of being harassed has taught him the most important rule - survival - and his hands throw a quickly mixed Flash bomb beind him as he dumps his coat and runs.
The vulture badly injured by Ormiz's bomb takes flight self preservation instincts kicking in as it flees away from its peers. But the rest of the ugly birds seem largely unperturbed snapping at the group with harsh discordant squarks. Both creatures attacking Grimward come away with great chunks of flesh in their powerful beaks, but the others cannot penetrate the greater defenses of Gwen and Criss just deflecting one's lunge with a parry from his dagger.
Severely injured, Grimward suddenly reconsidered his situation. He knew he could take down at least one more flying beast but then he'd surely fall. What use will I be to the others on the ground? With a groan he felt the surge of energy fall away, leaving him aching and tired. He then stepped backwards to heal himself.
While feathered chaos continues all around him, Staryth lingers on, and holds.
Overwhelmed with vultures Criss is forced to take a step back to avoid their attacks as he brings his bow up again and fires an arrow at one of the already wounded.
Criss' shot finds the bird he wounded before in the meat of its thigh and the creature hops back obviously looking to flee.
Vance moves next to Grimward and lets loose with a blast of flame from his gun.
Gwen carefully takes a step back, as the vultures are beginning to surround them. With practiced speed, she slips her sword into its sheath and draws her pistol again in one smooth motion. Taking the briefest of moments to aim at one of the vultures scorched by the flames from Vance's gun, she squeezes the trigger and watches as the bullet rips through the carrion bird. It collapses with a squawk of pain and terror. She spins and grabs the shield she discarded when they were further away, picking it up off the ground and readying it for action. "What sort of ammunition is that?" she asks Vance.
"It isn't really. The gun's still loaded." Vance says with a wry grin. "I just never really liked wands."
As Gwen's shot fells another vulture, and two of their number still smoulder with Vance's flames the vultures break beating an ungainly retreat.
There is a furious squark from the ziggaraut and a single vulture flies down to the lowest step transforming as it touches the ground into a tall lean woman brandishing a gnarled wooden staff and wearing a cloak of black feathers which are obviously from the vultures.
"Go a way! This is sacred place, go a way! Go a way or my children will tear you into strips of meat! Go a way!" She cries in thickly accented common.
She would be strikingly beautiful if it were not for the seemless flesh where her left eye should be, still she is an attractive woman six feet tall with high cheek bones and a head of inky black hair that spills down to merge into her feather cloak.
Shaking his head in disbelief at the appearance of the strange woman, Grimward staggers over to Staryth, "Do ya mind if I stop my friend from dying?" he grunted.
Without waiting for a response he casts an all-too-often used spell on the unconscious bard.
Staryth's eyes flutter open, "Where..oh.. well, that was an sensation... let's not do that nearly dying thing again, shall we Staryth ole boy?" Weakly he gets to his knees, "Thank you, Grimward. No offense to the others, but you probably now have top spot for favorite lost cousin." he gives a weak smile, then turns to see the lady, and raises a brow, "Pardon, good lady. I seem to have awoken in the next chapter of life's little tale. Always awkward that. I'm Staryth, and you are?"
Ormiz kicks his unburnt coat a few times with his charred shoes, then picks it up and starts to head back to the others in a foul temper.
The woman narrows her eyes,
"I am Jadwaya, protector of this place for this time. It is not to be used! Now go a way! This is not some abandoned ruin you may plunder for spoils."
Well, lying created more trouble than it was worth earlier... let's tr the truth for novelty's sake.
"We come not to plunder, but to learn, and perhaps assist. We have heard troubles, more than usual, have struck this land. Rumors of a missing holy priest, rumors of war brewing between two tribes. I know you have little reason to trust strangers, but perhaps you could tell us more of this rumors so we might do some good in this land?" He inclines his head.
Protector of this place 'for this time'... What does she mean by that I wonder. Grimward stares intensely at the strange woman, trying to determine if she's hiding something.
The half-orc takes note of the tone of Jadwaya's voice and watches her eyes carefully, but can determine little of her motives.
Jadwaya's lips thin,
"I have doubt there is anything you can do, but I hold this place only because everyone wishes it I must take chances. I cannot truly keep the Karoun a way, I only give them an excuse. But their pride will not let such a slight stand for long."
"I am a watcher of this place, who collects up the babes the foolish Karoun judge worthless - I was one myself long a go. I saw the ancient priest priest vanish into darkness in the day time, from a far and I followed to see what became of him and after many minutes I saw two Karoun men fleeing him, but I could not see the old priest. One man was strong and tall with a great scythe strapped to his back, the other was lean and oily and wore a priests regalia to..."
Ormiz breaks in, seeing a clue to the puzzle. "Hadeer? You saw Hadeer? And someone with a scythe fleeing where he was? Could it have been Yandeer the Reaper?"
Hadeer? Yandeer The Reaper? Did I miss something? Grimward looks at Ormiz quizzically, his mouth open as if about to ask a question, but thinks better of it.
Jadwaya shrugs,
"I have little care for the Karoun, they are all scum. But yes, I think I have heard the ancient one called Hadeer."
The current leader of the Karoun is named Yandeer Toothless, and in his late fifties he still wins in the arena, though he now only accepts a single challenge a year. He is Toothless because his teeth are fused into one solid mass that gives him something akin to an internal beak which he uses to devastating effect in battle. His chief rivals are his son Yandeer the Reaper, and the eight foot giant known simply as Bloodgore.
The tribe is controlled on a more daily level by a sect of Erastil worshipers who are strongly patriarchal and perform ritual scarifications for various rites of passage. They oversee the wardship of women in a system where the strongest men end up with veritable harems. Their current leader is Ancient Hadeer, who is close to two hundred years old if tribal legends are to be believed. A young priest called Randebe who negotiated the deal to drink a number of dinosaurs over and oversaw their transport has recently gained great prestiege.
"Into the darkness, you say ?" The bard hopes for a few more details on direction "We hope to find and retrieve him, any details could be of great use to us in preventing needless bloodshed."
"We come here to investigate the rituals that have been happening here. Are you the overseer?"
Jadwaya hisses at Criss's words,
"I do not oversee these rituals, they are barbaric, I only help take the babes to a new life away from the barbarous scum that cast them a way. I have no more details for you, they fled into the hill lands. Once the globe of darkness vanished there was no old man, I do not know what became of him, but my birds could find no sign."
"Can you show us where the globe was?"
The vulture woman waves a hand irritably,
"It moved with them, blacker than night like it was solid. They rode, but slowly only for a minute or two and then it was gone as was the old one."