Jareen makes sure he's well covered by his cloak, ostensibly from the sun and heat, but he also makes sure to keep at the opposite side of the caravan from the feathered men.
"The ones with the feathers are Templars, from Draj."
"Good to know," says Furio. "Maybe they know stuff about the moon. Wonder what's in their wagon?"
"I would guess a prisoner, or some form of dangerous animal. My money would be in the prisoner, care to take a bet?"
There is a lot of shouting from the merchants, guides and guards, and grunting, groaning and lowing from the various beasts of burden. The caravan organises itself into a line and begins trailing out of Altaruk, heading north. The band of adventurers form the advance guard, leading the way on their crodlus.
They reach the point where the road splits three ways about a mile outside town. Continuing north is the route to Tyr. It heads over a low saddle in the foothills to the south of the mountains and, out of sight, dips down into the dunes beyond. To the east, the road skirts south of the mountains on its way to Gulg. In between, aiming straight for the jagged, arid peaks to the north-east, is the road to Urik and the cities of the north.
Taking this path, they find road begins to rise as it heads into the dusty hills. Low scrub clings in a few places but otherwise the land is barren. The way begins to meander as it winds about rocky promontories and climbs the increasingly precipitous slopes in switch-back fashion. The rounded hills of the morning are by afternoon jagged, knife-edge ridges of dun stone running up to the peaks above.
perception
"Let's have a careful look at what's exciting those birds."
Too concerned with wondering what the Templars are hiding, Irivis is entirely unaware of the birds until Jareen points them out.
"We're on point, let's go and find out."
The group ride on along the road for perhaps another mile. They hear the croaking of the squabbling kestrekels before they see them, fighting over something beside the road. Close to, these are big, scruffy-looking birds with black, greasy feathers and ugly bald heads. Their heads and beaks are currently smeared with blood as they feast, the press of their bodies obscuring what it is they are consuming.
Irivis rides closer, waving her staff as a deterrent and possibly hoping for a roast kestrekel dinner as well.
The kestrekels don't want to give up their meal, and many leap to attack the interfering new arrivals.
Cursing quietly, Irivis makes her usual stately preparations for battle.
Jareen pulls a dagger to hand, but prepares to use Magic if need be.
Init:
Furio's tired and sore.....he's not feeling like working today; lol
and I use Battlefront Shift on Th'kal, because i know he wants to chop up some birds
Arakan puts his palm to face at Irivis' actions and realizes that now they will have to chase angry interrupted carrion birds.
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mmmmmm Kentucky Fried Vulture. Everybody needs a little K.F.V.
f 15.
net to Furio, in H/I-15/16
Jareen concentrates on the birds, and then quietly speaks a word of power.
I guess I meant fg 15/16 derrrp
"get back here, lady!" Gart yells, gesturing with his carrikal.
"Doing my best. I don't think this thing knows how to reverse."
Irivis backs her crodlu awkwardly back down the path to make way for the weapon wielders. A well phrased curse forms in her mind.
Affected by Jareen's spell, the kestrekels can do little more than flop forwards towards the party. Some of them drop to the ground and simply lie there, but others seem to recover and squawk angrily.
"Kill them while they are unable to resist!"
Th'Kal spurs his crodlu into action and charges the nearest mass of birds.
Figuring the front line will be filled with Thkal and Furio, Gart draws his dejada and loads it.
Arakan still doesn't have much of a clear view as to what's going on ahead, nor the distance to do too much about it. His curiosity getting the better of him, he decides to ride up closer.... but not too close to where he isn't safely behind Th'Kal.