Storm Fury's page

Storm Fury nuzzles against Ouroboros’ head, evidently thrilled to see the tiefling looking better, his feathers now somehow clear of any and all traces of the annoying and clingy sand, glossy black and possibly an even darker shade than they already were -

Then the tiny thunderbird goes rigid, whipping his head around to stare fixedly at a single clear point of sky. Every feather rising to stand on end as the fledgling puffs up into a threat display, a sound Ouroboros has never heard him make before ripping through the air, something between a growl and a hiss, full of the unmistakeable promise of violence.

Something is coming. Something scary enough that Storm Fury - who barely reacted to the horde of combusted - is afraid.

A faint rumble of thunder - and a black shadow passes overhead, dark clouds now billowing into existence around it. The bird circles, and this time lands flawlessly atop Ouroboro’s shoulder, lifting ebony wings in a triumph that banishes what remains of the corpses in a rolling tide of air. With the end of flight the rain stops, but the now roiling clouds remain a moment longer, casting both rider and bird into deepest shadow, only slowly being cast down by the beating sun.

Storm Fury is in the air once more. Careful now to only flap his wings enough to stay aloft and not create the massive downburst of before. Seemingly doing this to avoid the fire - the same way as any other animal might - Storm Fury’s concentration on not crashing is having a marked effect of his own supernatural abilities.

If fury, joy or triumph create sparks, if frenzied reflex spawns harsh winds - what then does a Thunderbird create in focused uninterrupted flight?

Rain.

Not a great deal at first. An incredibly localised drizzle at best - but formerly wispy clouds around the young bird are turning darker with every passing second. A noticeable pitter patter of droplets beginning to pockmark the ground.

Ouroboro's head is swiftly enveloped in black sandy plumage as Storm Fury triiilll!!s his approval of being picked up and hugged. Though the question itself gains little more than a blank but happy stare before he firmly clamps himself onto Ouroboro's shoulder once again. Occasionally shaking himself clear of(and coincidentally covering the tieflings head in) more sand.

Storm Fury is either flying very badly or falling with impeccable style. Either way his panicked cries don’t seem to be interfering with the natural instinct to keep his wings open as gravity slowly attends to its usual duties. He’s about halfway down the length of the cable (Ouroboro’s and crew have long since reached the floor at this point) when the mewling subsides. Storm Fury apparently realising that he is not in fact going to die.

An experimental tilt of a wing sends a now curious fledgling into a swooping curve around the circumference of the cable, turning into a clumsily executed figure 8 as he alternates sides, experimenting with what he can do. Evidently pleased with these new discoveries Storm Fury KRRREEEEEEE!!’s out a cry of victory that sends blue sparks spitting in all directions, a faint contrail of wispy but dark clouds slowly forming in his wake.

Fixing his sights on Ouroboro’s Storm Fury attempts to come in and land once more atop the Tieflings shoulder.

In this, he does not succeed.

The young bird overshoots his mark by a good few feet, now finding himself on a collision course with the sand another Squack! of panic ensues as Storm Fury tries a desperate new tactic to avoid disaster.

He flaps his wings.

An unmistakable crack of thunder shakes the air as the downbeat generates far more pressure than it reasonably should. Sand blasts outwards in frantic, twisting patterns, rocketing upwards in a huge and messy cloud of fine particles that encompasses the entire party on the ground. A plaintive and confused keeeeeeh!!! can just about be heard as vision temporarily vanishes.

...

It only takes a few seconds for the sand to begin to settle, leaving a fine layer on everyone it covered and revealing - at the centre of a rather impressive sand crater - a throughly unimpressed and very very sandy tiny thunderbird. Which slowly and grumpily begins to doggedly waddle back to Ouroboro’s.

The drop down seems to exhilarate the young bird. Storm Fury gives a passionate Skree! that reverberates with faint thunder and spreads his wings with glee-

And can only squack! in sudden shock as the dramatic increase in surface area rips him away from Ouroboro’s shoulder and into the chicks first unplanned and ill-experienced flying attempt.

Nuzzles against Ouroboro's head, then opens beak. Plaintive cry for food.

A little lightning bolt accidentally shoots into the tieflings shoulder - though it is no where near strong enough to do him any damage.

Tiny Bolt: 1d4 ⇒ 2

The tiny bang produced by the spark startles Storm Fury, almost causing him to fall off the shoulder. Two large black wings spring open and flap desperately to remain in place, accidentally clouting Ouroboro's in the face in the process.

There is a faint - but unmistakable - rumble of thunder. A few wisps of cloud spiral up into the air.

The little bird regains his footing, gives a little trill of happiness. Resumes demands for food.