Lazily circling over head I easily saw the clearing they were headed for. Just to make sure all was safe, I winged in larger and larger arcs away form the clearing. There was little prey in the cold lands, and the prey that was there was difficult to find and kill. I spied some ground shrews, shaggy in their fur. A hunter such as I has no need to hunt prey that stupid. It is beneath me.
As the elf and my master emerged into the clearing more elves melted from the edges of the forest. I gave a shrill cry. These elves I had not seen. We're they prey or more friends of my master? With a few beats of my wing I gained altitude. Dipping my right wing I turned in a tight circle and shifted to streak for the elves and hunt with my master once again.
But these new elves were not prey. They began to speak in their language again.
"Jorvik. Part man. Part elf. You have been found wanting. You claim the snowcaster elf heritage yet you do not seek us out. You travel with your jagwida and southern friends. Even a goblin. Even after the gift of your mighty falcon you choose their life over our life.
"For this crime, you are no longer considered a snowcaster elf. We cannot remove your father's blood from your veins, but hence forth you are on your own and will receive no more aid from us."
My master looked as if he wanted to hunt prey. I was ready. Ready to fight alongside him once again. Then he stopped. He seems to do the unnatural. Surrender. This was not a fight he was going to fight.
"My father you say? Does he live? Is he here? Is he ready to face me?"
Again the first elf spoke. "My apologies. He is a thick headed as he human. Best way to teach him is to beat it out of him."
The elves all began to hunt at once, pulling long spears out of no where, plunging it again and again into his naked body.
I pulled my wings back in hunter's mode. To hunt once aging with my master, to fight against all odds. We win. We always win.
I did not see the elf to the side so transfixed was I with my master, nor did I see the half score of arrows shot so perfectly from elven bow. First my right wing lost power. I tried to beat my left to compensate but I knew it was no use.
More arrows thunked into me. Master. I had to get to him. To save him. To hunt.
With my last remaining strength I beat wings that would not move, and willed my body to go that last few yards. I landed hard on his pierced an bloody body, but at least I was with him, shielding a small part of him. Hunting one last time.
Heafoc streaking form is waylaid by this second tier predator. With the merest of touches, Heafoc can feel the strange magic ebb her life force from her.
Her wounded "Aayyyyiiii" resonates deep within the snowcaster elf below.
She turns her head and bites with all she has at this new menace.
Heafoc at the most primal of levels is a hunter. Though she allows Jorvik to acompmany her occasionally on hunts, it is her job, her life, what she was created for.
Staring at the white witch that had caused so much pain to her human, she gives a loud, "Shreeeeecccchhhh" before diving in to peck and rake.
Heafoc, seeing her master dispatch with the fey, flies over to help the large stone man. Again her razor sharp beak seeks the soft, jelly like eyes of the dawn piper.
Kicked out so I have a little posting time. Sorry about the hot mess last night. :)
Taking to the skies Heafoc looks at her companion, if a huge, deadly hawk could look surprised one would think she would. But no. Opening her beak she gives a shrill "Ierrrreeaaa"
Circling, gaining a bit of height, she flies upward until she can feel the warming currents lift her up. Turning her head, a predatory look upon her face, she banks sharply and follows the group over the crowded markets and through fares of Whitehrone.
Her sharp eyes can easily distinguish between the different folks shuffling about, her anima listing brain quickly categorizing between predator and prey. Noticing the migratory pattern shift the prey moved away from the mass of well arm and organized trips advancing, predator.
Another group of predators emerged on the other side of the prey, this one the same, but different. This one moved more fluidly, in concert.
Pack Hunters she though. Deadly and dangerous are these
The predators met in rippled, uneven waves. Noise, human though they were, Heafoc recognized the cry of pain, despair, death. One killed or one died. Down there many are dying.
She turned her head to glance at her human, to see if they would kill anyone of these predators.
But no. He continued on a different path. Larger prey. More deadly prey. This will be fun.
Before finishing her thoughts the four legs pours forth.
Too loud. Show offs. Trying to scare their prey. But this time their prey are predators. One that don't care or don't scare.
The wolves torn into the beasts and the bloody meele continued.
The companions tumbled and floated toward a thorny dome.
An hour old chicklet is more grateful.
As the approached the dome, the pip human sped up.
Fool!
Amazing the girl was swallowed up. Perplexed Heafoc orbited her human waiting for commands.
Heafoc takes to the sky, screaming quickly as she gains altitude. She circles high above the combat, waiting for a chance to dive and attack the dragon.
Was 30 ft from dragon, flew 80 ft at an upwards angle, should be 70ish feet above where she started/
Heafoc readies her razor sharp beak an claws should Logrivich attempt an escape.
Though she is beautiful to behold, Heafoc is still an animal, a beast, a creature of nature. In front of her is a foe, and one that she intends to kill.
Again lashing out, she pecks at eyes, and rakes with talons so sharp they can rend through steel and flesh.
Hearing the shrill whistle of her master, a brown blur streaks out of the sky. Diving right towards the soft eyes of the wolf, she flares out with beak hoping to peck out an eye.
Screeching as she sees Jorvik wounded, Heafic again takes flight and attacks the witch. Her eye sight better than the humans, she sees no resemblance between the two.
Beak:1d20 + 5 ⇒ (11) + 5 = 16 love me some 16s. If he doesn't have fly ranks he should be flat footed and she might hit. Hope hope
trick wrote:
The animal companion flutters wildly around any enemy it would normally attack with the attack trick. It makes an attack roll against that enemy. On a hit, the enemy is shaken for 1 round.
Diving almost faster than the eye can see, she heads straight for Sertane's face.
Beak vs FF AC:1d20 + 5 ⇒ (20) + 5 = 25
If she 'hits' she does no damage:
Distract (DC 20; bird only)
The animal companion flutters wildly around any enemy it would normally attack with the attack trick. It makes an attack roll against that enemy. On a hit, the enemy is shaken for 1 round.
Streaking from the sky, the hawk files directly towards Jorvik.
Skimming the branches, she unfurls her wings, and decelerates at an alarming rate, landing lightly on his outstretched arm. Her razor sharp talons grip his protective leather glove tightly.
