Between waking and dreaming, there is a moment… and in that moment, that heartbeat, that eternity, is a space. A space between night and day. Between life and death.
A space where the soul isn't quite alive or dead. Where the mind isn't awake or asleep.
It is in this space of shapeless unreality that nightmares roam. It is in this space of fleeting eternity where ghosts and shadows live. The deeps of the subconscious psyche. The playground of deities and demons.
The Space Between.
Dot... I live again!
Biter is'ing to Dot as well! Now Biter is'ing to have to change Biter's profile!
Rath sits in lotus on the brig's floor with eyes closed, considering his and the mission's fate. Killing the witch, Imogene, had been the right decision regardless of the Peace Bond between the Pathfinders and the Prisoners. He smiles to himself. As a former Pathfinder, he didn't consider himself a part of the Pathfinder 'contingent' any longer and, therefore, not subject to the idiotic solution Brycen had enacted. It was splitting a legal hair but Rath was comfortable with it. Needless to say, legal hair or not, Brycen wasn't about to tolerate Rath's blatant insubordination particularly when he dumped the witch's body into a latrine pit in front of the prisoners to emphasize the new power structure.
The trial was brief and suitably idiotic, filled with legalistic niceties that simply didn't work in a fledgling colony struggling to survive. Rath was found guilty and now sat awaiting the determination of his fate. It would roll as one of three ways: Exile, Imprisonment at Hard Labor, or Death. Given the apoplectic look on Brycen's face and the controlled rage, it wouldn't be Exile - the one sentence Rath would have been overjoyed to hear. The discontented murmurings from some of the Pathfinders and a few of the colonists at the guilty verdict underscored the fact that Brycen was part of the problem not the solution.
So Rath sits and considers how best to complete the mission before making his exit... and ponders how others will assess the options as well. It comes as no surprise to the monk when the guard hits the floor with a loud thunk and the large goblin drops onto the unconscious body. The pupil-less red eyes regard him with interest as he pulls picks from the bits of armor on his green body and begins to work the lock.
"Times it is'ing now to go, Friend Rath?"
Rath smiles at his small friend while waiting for the goblin to free him. "Time almost, Friend Biter. First, need to get rid of liabilities to colony success."
The lock springs open. Biter holds up two clawed fingers. "This many li'bilties?" Rath responds with three fingers, to which the goblin grins. The two friends sneak out of the hold and get about their bloody task...
Brycen and Gray die in Brycen's cabin sharing a drink as they discuss the monk's fate. They barely have time to realise that the monk and goblin warrior are the ones handing out the judgments this night. Brycen knows the horror of being gnawed upon while Gray chokes to death with a spell on his lips. Harrolayne's death is no more pretty, but it is slower. Rath and Biter are obliged to swim over and kill several of her vaunted bodyguards on their way in.
After diving overboard, they steal a longboat and head down the coast. There is really no question of staying. Some of the law-bound colonists might quietly applaud the necessity of the murders but they wouldn't countenance them openly. And really, Biter and Rath have no reason to remain. They had joined the mission to get away from Avistani rules, not spread them.
So our heroes travel fast and far exploring this new world, seeing parts of the continent no other Avistani eyes would view for several generations...
Biter and Rath leave the palatial jungle-bound far Southern city of Kaerkarkorum, taking a small boat down the M'bobiana river. Their travels and experiences have profited them greatly in so many ways. They've seen wonders that the learned of the Avistani could scarcely dream... and this latest adventure would add to the collection.
Biter moves excitedly, rocking the boat. "Is'ing good to searchfind Sorcerer-King Putnapuanti! Him is'ing elusive." He emphasizes the last word, his new favorite human term - so unsubtle and ungoblin.
Rath nods, "This Planescape Gem, I would like to see."
The two friends paddle down the meandering river for days, spreading a thin mesh netting over the gunwales while they sleep inside the boat to get some reprieve from the unrelenting swarms of gnats. While the bugs can't penetrate the skin of the stalwart Goblin, their buzzing in his ears at night is an unwelcome irritant. On the evening of the 9th day, the narrow river widens and they paddle their boat into a small lake. On the far side of the lake, they see a glimmering castle - a thin spike of ice and air rising a hundred feet into the sky. All thoughts of sleep leave them as they boldly paddle across the lake to their objective.
The moon rises swiftly, casting its light upon the surface of the quiet lake. Too late, the warrior and monk sense an eldritch air. While the moon shines down, it casts no reflection in the water. It is a calm sea of blackened glass. They look into the water and see only the stars... and they, along with their boat, drop into that night sky.
As the boat tumbles through the endless night, Biter and Rath hold on to the gunwales - if only to retain a sense of perspective - so the starscape, not they, appears to be spinning out of control. They don't have to bear the odd sensation for long. The boat begins to split and fragment as if blasted by a hurricane. In seconds, the boat is nothing more than a lashing mist scouring the travelers who themselves begin to lose cohesion. It's like being whipped with unending trails of fire and it lasts far too long before darkness takes them.
Some time later, Biter's mind drifts through a kaleidoscope of strange images: ships with flaming sails cutting a path through an ocean of blood, demons covered with babbling mouths and rolling eyes sprouting long blonde tresses, a massive feast where every tasty morsel insists on talking to him, and finally a spire-like castle of ice that melts into the form of a dragon's head which rots down to its skull and then blackens and smokes. The smoking skull roars silently then lunges at Biter. Its fangs dig into the mighty warrior's chest as the smoke winds around the goblin's body and begins to choke him. Biter struggles against the strangling snake-like smoke. He spins, twists, and slashes. The smoke relents and loses its grip.
Biter roars his triumph and opens his eyes as he plummets out of a brimstone-stinking cloud of turgid smoke... to an unimagined vista. Around him is a pure blue vault of sky, broken only by the long column of smoke he plunged through. Below him, and to one side, is the gaping maw of a massive volcano. Glowing red as blood, smoke belches from the hole, lit by an ocean of lava hidden in the bowl. Directly below him is air - vast and empty - to the arid valley floor thousands of feet down. The volcano is an impossibly jagged and twisted spire of black and brown rock, its crown rising 3000' above the valley... and Biter is above that... at least for the moment.
Biter spreads himself out, like a spider, hoping to slow his meteoric plunge. A stray puff of wind catches his outstretched body and blows him sideways, just a bit. His fall to the valley below is checked. It now looks as if the stalwart Goblin's remains will streak the unforgiving volcanic rock instead. Biter takes a last look around at this strange place. He notes a winding walking path that slithers its way up the volcano between the sharp spires. Small, square, stone buildings dot the trail at uneven intervals - possibly rest-stops. He also notes the unconscious Rath, spinning like a rag-doll, falling in a course parallel to his own. The wind kicks them both sideways again.
The ground approaches too quickly. The mighty Goblin warrior looks down one last time to get a feel for where he's going to crater. It looks like he won't slam into the vertical face and become a grated, bloody streak spread over a half-mile of sharp rock. Below him awaits a bit of winding trail, some relatively flat ground, and one of those buildings. He consoles himself with the thought that his remains will all be in one place...
Had any pilgrims been on that winding trail, on that day, near the summit of the Holy Mount of Kitsukuri - they would have been greeted by a strange sight.
As the smaller sun is about to set (some hours before its brother would) and the light shifts to evening gold, a small green figure smites the ancient half-dome of the final Meditation Hall on the Pilgrim's Trail. Stone gives way to flesh, as the goblin crashes through the dome and augers into the sacred mosaic at the hall's very center, creating a 10' crater of shattered tile and stone. The force of the impact sends a tremor through the building and the trail surrounding it. Shards of stone crack and fall down the nearby precipice, creating an avalanche of rock and dust. The ancient dome, having suffered one too many indignities, collapses inward with a roar and a vast gout of stone dust. Silence overtakes the volcano for a long moment.
From the Hall's entrance (a 10' square hole carved from a single piece of stone) amid the building's exhalation of dust - a hacking cough emerges. From the shadowed recess beyond, a small brown figure with red eyes staggers from the ruins. Biter tosses away a loose piece of masonry that somehow ended up in his clawed hand and hacks up the sacred dust from his lungs. Some 20' away he sees an impact crater that obliterates the trail as it winds up towards the peak of the volcano. A familiar foot is sticking out of the depression - the toes wiggling experimentally.
The dust-covered goblin takes a few standing jumps as means of checking for injury. Yep… yep.. every damn piece of me hurts. He watches the single foot wiggle its toes for a few seconds -- making sure it's not a death-twitch. Convinced Rath is alive, he looks up at the darkening sky for a few seconds before shaking his entire body like a dog slinging water from it's coat. The resulting dust cloud completely obscures everything within ten feet of his tiny body.
As he stalks from the cloud -- slightly less dustified -- he tries to disentangle all his gear from it's current level of disarray. "Friend Rath…" the goblin grunts as he tries to yank his longbow from the tangle of cloak and pant, "Biter was'ing to hit the ground first." He stops, one foot on the lip of the Rath-crater as his red eyes peer within; then shrugs. "That'ing means Biter wins." One clawed finger carves a tally in Biter's "win" column in the air.
He can't help but look around while he waits, trying to ascertain where they are.
Biter snuffles and surveys this new world - for that is what it must be - with two smaller suns replacing the single larger one of Golarion. Even the air smells different beneath the volcano stink.
As Biter stretches, jumps, and breathes deeply to get a feel for his body's condition, he feels a poke and a pinch in two spots on his chest. He brushes the residual dust from his armor to see the mithral breastplate has two parallel divits in it. The first depression pushes the armor in a solid inch. He can feel the metal pressing against his chest. From the second, 'pinchy' divit, he pulls a small, blackened, dragon fang that has punched a hole through armor and scratched his chest. It seems there was some reality to that dragon-dream after all.
Lying in his crater, Rath enjoys the contoured-to-his-body feel of the pulverized rock beneath him. He assesses the apparent lack of damage and tests his conclusion by triggering individual muscles groups, starting with his face and ending with his toes. All good. He takes a little time to enjoy the feel of the sunshine through his closed lids as he hears Biter hack, jump, and shake himself.
Only when the goblin claims a point in their 3-year on-going match of 'I win' does he crack open an eye and moves a balled hand in a gesture that erases Biter's tick mark. "Hmm... Wasn't awake to see who hit when. Can't say who first. No witness... no point."
The monk rises slowly and dusts himself off casually as he awaits the anticipated, spirited protestation from his little green friend.
Biter pauses in his scrutiny of the small dragon fang long enough to shoot a murderous look at Rath, "Friend Rath's lazy is notting a reason to calling Biter's point off." He sends a shower of dirt down on the lazy monk with a little kick. "Notting to complain when Biter is'ing to win. Friend Rath shoulding put on big-boy underpants and getting fvcking up."
He tosses the dragon claw down to Rath, "This was'ing stuck in Biter's armor." He points at the spot in his armor. "Biter was'ing to have dream-thing where dragon was'ing to bite Biter… only dream-thing was notting to be a real dream, then, huh?"
Still waiting for Rath to get his lazy butt up, Biter squats down -- looking like nothing so much as a child rocking back and forth in the dirt -- albeit an ugly, scarred, red-eyed child -- as his red pupiless eyes continue to scan the volcano, sky, and sparse valley and possible forests beyond. He begins chewing for a second before sticking one finger into his mouth. Rath has to concentrate to understand the goblin -- not because he switches to speaking the goblin-tongue (a habit he's always had) -- but because his words are slurred as his finger roots around his maw. "I don't have a clue what's going on here. Is this some enchantment we're under from Putnapuanti? Maybe we're both in some kind of shared magic-sleep from that black glass-water we fell in? Though I hurt too much for this to be a dream. But if we're really here, where is here? And how can we fall from the sky and not be hurt? Would have been nice if you had been actually awake to use that slow-falling ring, by the way, lazy-butt. How much water do you have? My waterskin's full. I think we may have a problem finding water until we can find more hospitable land. Those trees in the distance look promising in terms of hunting and water."
His red eyes land on you as he makes one final, decisive pull with his fingers out of his maw. In his stubby little fingers he holds one triangular, razor-edged tooth, and Rath can barely make out from his vantage point that the tooth is cracked nearly in half. The small warrior shrugs and tosses the now-useless tooth aside as he spits out a glob of dark blood. Whatever gods, evolution, or cosmic accident it was that created all the races -- goblins must have been formed from at least one part shark to have all those ever-replacing, vicious teeth.
Rath rolls his eyes heavenward, as if imploring the Gods to spare him from the rants of small green warriors. "Sissy-cheater, fine." He replaces Biter's air tick mark in the "win" column. "Now, score at Biter 169 to Rath 168."
He catches the tossed dragon-tooth deftly as he leaps lightly out of the crater. After three years together, Rath's Goblin-tongue and Biter's Vudrani are easily better than either of their broken attempts at Common. And their conversations often switch jarringly from one language to another by some unspoken set of rules.
Rath's gaze sweeps the area while he digests the Goblin's information. His eyes alight on the ruined Hall. "You broke building, Biter! Goblin skulls harder than stone - maybe as thick too. Hope you got moneys enough to pay for it."
He smiles and switches from Common to Goblin. "I have a full wineskin and almost a week of rations. As for where this is... I don't know. Maybe this is part of the journey to find Putnapuanti? All that old manuscript in Kaerkarkorum said was Travel the Great Snake... which we found was the ancient name of the M'bobiana river ... until its head you reach. Challenge its Fangs and Putnapuanti, Sorcerer-King, you will find."
He thinks for a moment while looking down the precipice - 3000' give or take - adjacent to the destroyed Hall and the trail. "Maybe this is the 'Challenge of the Fang' or maybe Putnapuanti is here somewhere and this bit wasn't written into the legend." Rath leaves the view and pops his head into the ruined Hall before returning to where Biter rocks on his haunches. He hands back the dragon's tooth to the small warrior. "I think this is a pilgrimage trail. If it's like the ones in Golarion, some of these little houses may provide water and shelter."
"So, we have a choice. We walk the trail, hopefully learn a bit more from passing pilgrims, and trust that our water supply will last or that we can resupply at one of these huts... OR... we take the 'fast way' down." Rath smiles and taps the red sash around his waist. It's clear to Biter that he is talking about a 3000' free-fall along the precipice with a theoretically soft landing using the mystical power of his sash.
He stares at the tooth in the goblin's fist. "I had a dream too. No dragons, though. I saw the strange ice-spire castle on the lake and at its base was a crappy little hut of mud and straw. The door was open and light was coming from inside."
Score of their eternal game settled, Biter continues rocking as he listens to Ravarath. At mention of Biter paying for the destruction for the temple, his only response is to deftly dig out his last four gold coins, sending them tumbling past each other in a quick juggle before slipping them back into the folds of his leathers. "All I have," he says as he continues listening.
When Rath finally gets to the choice, Biter's face splits into one of his classic manic grins, toothy maw covering half his face. "So we take a crazy-long walk, having to deal with possibly nosy strangers wondering why we broke their building, hoping our water doesn't run out while we hope they left water out for strangers, and generally being bored." He peeks over the lip of the fall, "Or I put my life in the hands of my ole buddy Rath, hoping he knows enough to keep me from becoming a cratered puddle of splat." A fist slaps into his other palm to annunciate the point.
He stands up, kicking a rock over the edge as he slips back into broken common, "The fast way is'ing always the fun way, right?"
He stares at the tooth in the goblin's fist. "I had a dream too. No dragons, though. I saw the strange ice-spire castle on the lake and at its base was a crappy little hut of mud and straw. The door was open and light was coming from inside."
"So I fought a fog dragon and you saw a cabin. I don't have a clue… "
Rath gives Biter a smile and a thumb's up. "You're never boring, I'll give you that."
The monk wanders along the edge of the precipice, looking for a rock-solid jump point over a relatively straight drop while he removes his sash and ties it around his wrist. He picks a good spot and kicks some loose rocks out of the way to give himself a clear path to the edge. Rath takes position about 10 paces from the edge, tightens his bandolier, and gives the pint-sized warrior a ready-when-you-are look. Biter scampers up the monk's back and, after some discussion, lashes himself low down to keep their combined weight roughly centered. Biter wedges his feet through Rath's cloth belt and hangs on to his bandolier like it's a set of reins. As ready as he can be, the goblin slaps the monk on the back.
Rath takes a couple of bouncing steps getting used to the new center of balance before his legs pump like pistons - rocketing them at a breakneck pace towards the cliff's edge. He shoots the little goblin a grin and hurls them both into the chasm of open air... The monk's arcing leap carries them over 60' from the cliff. With only a single flip and a bobble or two, Rath settles into a splayed position that lends some control over the fall.
Hopefully, it's enough. Bouncing us off this wall would not be good.
Once Rath is stable, Biter sits up carefully (mindful of their balance) and enjoys the ride, feeling like a jockey on a strange plummeting steed. He listens to the wind's howl and watches the wall racing by - a slate-colored blur. Rath slowly pays out the red sash. It's tail whips past them like a trail of blood and fire.
A winged shadow passes over the falling friends, drawing a set of red eyes upward. Biter sees a large eagle gliding high above them. In the clear sky, a grey storm cloud begins to form above the eagle-like bird. Then it folds its wings with a snap like thunder and dives on the free-falling duo. It plummets very, VERY fast... Biter realises this creature is far larger than he imagined. Its wingspan is probably beyond 40'. The wind rustling its feathers rumbles like thunder and blue sparks of electricity dance along the edges of its tucked wings. It shrieks like a banshee as it stoops on its prey.
ORDER:
170|170
110|110
Rath feels three taps on the top of his dome, and he looks up to see Biter pointing back over his shoulder at the plummeting bird of prey. Over the constant roar of the wind and flapping of cloth, he can just hear Biter's voice , "WE BEING HUNTED!"
Tiny feet tapping to their internal soundtrack, and scarred grey-green dome punctuating the THUN-DER! with a double-head-bang, Biter works feverishly to prepare for the clash of the sky-borne hunters. The adrenaline of the fall rushes through his system at the thrill of the impending impossible fight. His right hand yanks one of his custom-made stonebiter arrows from its quiver, quickly slipping it into Rath's belt sash and entwining it a time or two for good measure. He yanks twice to test its grip on the monk with one hand as the now-clawed fingers sever the line that was previously holding him to his friend's back.
Then he looks up at their hunter and savors the thrill of the moment. His adrenaline-laced blood pounds out a a perfect counter-beat to the screeching wind.
The warm wind roars up the cliff's face and buffets the monk's ears, making him all but deaf to the threat above. He watches the sheer wall become a slope, punctuated by the meandering walking trail that cuts back and forth as it winds its way around the volcano.
Rath considers the length of the serpentine trail and the endless hours it would have taken them to walk it... a thought cut short by the more immediate concern of the expanding slope below. Their initial leap was not enough to clear the full distance. Unchecked, they'll hit what looks like a steep section of rock and probably roll down to the trail below it. Not fatal, but definitely painful. Experimentally, the Vudrani base-jumper adjusts his arms and legs - managing a wobbly glide further away from the slowly encroaching cliff-face.
Better.
Focused on the task of controlling their plunge, Biter's movements register as only a shifting variable to the monk - one that must be compensated for to keep them flying level and moving away from the wall. The tap on his skull comes as a surprise. The sight of the massive stooping bird silhouetted against a storm cloud is even more so.
Rath eyes the creature as best he can over his shoulder. It looks familiar but he can't put a name to it. He yells to Biter over the wind-roar, "I don't know what it is! If it's hunting US, then hunt it BACK! I'll try to keep us off the rocks and out of its gullet! Hang on!"
The monk pulls his arms in to cast a spell, setting the tied figures into a series of gut-churning, uncontrolled, somersaults through the whistling air. Their fast-steady fall becomes a headlong hurdle earthwards. Only unwavering focus enables Rath to trigger the spell that sheathes him in magical protection before splaying himself wide again to regain control of their descent.
ORDER:
170|170
110|110
FREE:
STAND: Cast Mage Armor
The massive eagle-creature tucks its wings further and power-dives at its elusive prey. The beast looms larger and larger to Biter. But so fast is their descent that it can't quite catch them yet. Biter feels the hair on his body stand up. Electricity charges the air. He gets a whiff of ozone as a few drops of rain patter down. It's like standing on the edge of storm about to burst.
The eagle shrieks its frustration. The blast of its cry sets Biter's and Rath's teeth on edge as it echoes off the mountainside, starting avalanches of stone as the weak rock trembles and peels away from the face, tumbling down after our heroes.
Unused to anything that can elude it in the air, Tweet snaps its wings out and claps them together. Biter can see the pressure wave punch aside the rain-haze around the creature. Thunder tears the sky and a bolt of lightning slashes out like a jagged whip. Biter grasps onto the monk's leather bandolier and kicks his legs free attempting to change their course as the surgically precise bolt (along with its attendant thunderclap) slam Rath in the back. Our heroes tumble briefly before righting themselves. The rain sizzles on the still cooking flesh along the Vudrani's ribs. He grits his teeth and says nothing.
ORDER:
190|190
67|110
"HOLDING STEADY, FRIEND RATH!" Biter yells as he torques his body around to face backwards, bow coming from it's sheathe. The arrow rests against his cheek for only a breath before its release -- speeding toward the huge attacker.
Rath's motions are too violent for Biter to get off a decent shot. "SH!T! BITER SAID'ING TO HOLD STEADY!"
Biter's arrow enters the turbulent storm surrounding the creature and is quickly blown off course, shaving a horse-sized flight feather.
"SHOOT STRAIGHTER!"
Not for the first time, Rath debates whether he should have studied more offensive Ninja magic. He was, he hated to admit, all but useless at this range and in this circumstance. How do you close with an enemy while falling at terminal velocity? was not a question posed at the monastery or in the dojo. Right at this moment, it seemed a serious hole in the training program.
Seeing the large rocks picking up speed as they tumble and crash down the face in the wake of the companions, Rath turns his attention to gaining distance from the wall and the avalanche. He glides smoothly away from the wall and the shower of rocks, while slipping a shuriken from his sleeve. The valley floor was approaching very fast and he'd need to be ready for it.
ORDER:
190|190
67|110
Rath and Biter fall fast, but the enormous bird of prey falls faster. In seconds they are engulfed in the storm that presages its arrival. Rain pelts and electricity dances across them. Howling winds come from the bird itself, threatening to push Biter off Rath's back while shoving them both towards the wall of unforgiving rock. Then from the rain, mist, and tumult of clouds comes the winged shadow that eclipses the light, the unearthly shriek, and the huge seeking talons...
Rath snaps off a shuriken but it bounces harmlessly off the heavily calloused talon. A blast of wind and rain rocks and blinds him momentarily. When he blinks the water clear, Biter is gone... and the silk rope connecting them is paying out blindingly fast. Water whips off the rope like there is a swordfish running on the end of the line.
ORDER:
174|190
67|110
MODS: MW, airborne, range
HIT:
DAM:
HIT:
DAM:
GRAB v CMD30 (Rage):
The monk has only a moment to watch the rope before it stretches taut. Oh no...
For Biter, it all happens so fast...
One second, he's seeing claws the size of a small hut coming for him. The next second, there is a set of Mithril-soft and sword-friendly 'pinches' that dig into his body. The second after that, the claw snaps shut with an implacable crushing force that drives the air from his lungs. And the second after that, he's seeing the dark figure of Rath recede in the distance as the massive bird angles sharply and dives away from the rock face.
Rath grabs for the stone-biter arrow and line, hoping it doesn't snap or that he can catch the trailing end of it, if it does. But 'down' becomes a wicked sharp-left turn far too quickly. The rope thrums under the strain but holds... barely. Rath is yanked sideways, the rope binding around his waist ferociously.
"Be more trouble than you're worth.
-- Chapter 3: Being the meal"
Biter -- still roaring his battle cry -- takes a moment to check back on his friend, but all he can see is the rope stretched taut and extending back into the maelstrom. At least it's taut, he thinks as he spies his opportunity.
When the great bird tucks its talons up under itself to level out, it brings the tiny grappled warrior dangerously close to its underbelly. Big. Mistake. Biter does his best to burrow his way through the predator's feathered hide and into its soft insides using tooth and claw.
Biter takes a chunk out of the massive avian knuckle as it grabs him and pulls him up towards the feathered and well-fleshed keel of the bird or, as Biter thinks of it, the delicious light-meat... And this bird clearly has a lot of that.
Like a steam-powered buzzsaw, the grey goblin slashes into the belly of the creature. Feathers, flesh, and blood fall away from the horrendous wounds he delivers. The bird's battle shriek turns into a more chicken-like sqwauk as the ferocious warrior practices the fine art of feather-plucking.
A pendulum at full arc - Rath hangs for a moment behind the massive eagle and then slings forward and beneath it - through rain intermixed with blood and shredded feathers. The monk grins at Biter's handiwork and takes a quick look down. 1200'... more or less.
He looks up at the 40 or so feet of wet, wind-whipped rope. This, I can handle.
Faster than a Hasted monkey, Rath scampers up the length of the rope using hands and feet. As he scrambles into the shadow of the bird, it spies him. It's wicked sharp beak lashes out and comes away with a chunk of shoulder meat. Undaunted, Rath continues to climb until he is next to the talon holding Biter. He pulls the Stone-Biter arrow from his belt and slams it into the tendonous joint. He gives the arrow a quick tug to ensure it's well buried.
He grins at the wet-feathered and blood-encrusted goblin. "You are ugliest baby bird, have ever seen."
ORDER:
174|190
41|110
The initial pinch of its prey doesn't bother Tweet. Most meals struggle for a few moments. But then there is the burning feeling and the horrid ripping into its belly flesh. The pain is intense. Tweet's avian brain considers that it may not have softened this prey sufficiently - assuming the goblin's small size meant an easy meal.
Dropping dangerous prey is almost a reflex action. Tweet's talons piston open and the goblin falls away into the storm. The massive bird pivots to keep the prey in sight and brings its lightning-charged wings together in another explosive thunderclap, blasting Biter sideways.
The Goblin tumbles to the end of the rope, about 35' from the monk and the Stone-Biter arrow stuck in the bird's knee-joint.
ORDER:
122|190
41|110
Biter begins to reach back to pull out his bow before his rage-filled mind remembers that he dropped it while digging into the great bird. Well, crap! he thinks. So… play dead or get mauled trying to climb the wet rope?
Biter slumps as if the wave of power from the bird's wings has killed him, letting his adrenaline ebb.
Rath wraps the rope around his wrist, hangs onto the embedded arrow shaft, and drives a series of stiff kicks into the bird's wounded breast. The erratic flight throws more than a few of his blows aside.
MODS: +1, Ghost-Touch, Power Attack
HIT:
DAM:
SAVE:
HIT:
DAM:
HIT:
DAM:
HIT:
DAM:
HIT:
DAM:
The giant bird screeches, arcs on a single wing, and descends on the small meal that has more fight left in it than it pretends. The talons slam into the small goblin like a battering ram and lock on.
Only slightly less intense that the predator's shriek is the roar of thunder rolling among the vortex of clouds. A single flash of lightning tears the sky, arcs past the bird's wing, and lashes the monk. Rath tries to use the bird leg for cover but it does little good.
ORDER:
99|190
25|110
HIT: <-CRIT?
CONFIRM: No
DAM:
GRAB v CMD28:
Reflex DC:22
Next Bolt
Biter/Rath