RP:First Leg: King of Birds
Background
This is part of the Anders' Expedition story arc.
Anders and his companions finally take off on the first leg of their journey, unwittingly making much too much noise and awakening something unpleasant when enraged. What awaits them remains to see.
In the Xalious Mountains
As you look around you notice the beauty of this mountain range. Further north the mountains look like a deep blue, like steep clouds hugging the land tight, and creating marvelous peaks. Trees cover the mountains here and further north, though not as thickly as the great Sage Forest, but there are more of the beautiful evergreens here. The gods truly must like this part of the world, you think to yourself, Xalious, the god of magic, must be very proud. The path itself begins a steep incline, and is the only thing unenjoyable about this place. To the north the path continues to some highlands, while to the south the path leads down to the south and further to a rather rough range. Of course east and west are two directions that are impossible to travel because of the sharp and steep mountains that line this path.
Players:
- Anders - Leader
- Cornelius - Dandy
- Veriun - Guide and Advisor
NPC's:
- Anathras - Magican
- Archibald Smith - archaeologist and anthropologist.
- Bob - Knight
- Cutty Stabber - Rogue and Treassure seeker
- Methras the eagle eye - Ranger
- Reginald Swertzein - Outcast warrior
- Phil
- Roc - King of Birds (Played by Veriun)
Veriun strode onwards at a pace one could easily call confident. His scarf floating in the air somewhat in the wake of his course. He was headed in a clear direction, up the road, with an equally clear objective and understanding of where he was going: towards the mountains now enveloping them on three sides, Yet they were quite not there yet. Although far from the elven forest, they were not within the true depths of the mountains. Following close behind the avian; the two elves, Methras and Anathras, followed in a mood that had gone from excitement to a state of near-mental hibernation, having gotten none of the expected excitement so far. Further behind was the human Reginald, holding a firm grip on the reins of the mules pulling the supply cart and with a much more attentive attitude then the two elves. Always on the lookout. And finally: the gnome. Having found the patience for her scarce during the entire morning (it was now near mid-day. The group having been on the road for at least 5 hours) she was carving something on a piece of bark with her dagger, placed away snugly among the sacks and bags on the cart.
Anders is calmly walking behind the two elves, unbothered by the lack of excitement, and indeed it would seem that it is the way he prefers it. The Necromancers gaze is regularly drawn to the sides of the road, hinting at vigilance akin to that of the human warrior. The knight that had joined them the previous day walks silently behind the cart, acting the role of rear guard of the party. That his hand is constantly on the pommel of his blade is the only outwards sign of vigilance from the knight, and beyond that he holds himself in a way that suggest a casualness, as if the vacant road was akin to a stroll in the park on a starry night. The zombie, Phil, is merely following in his master's footsteps, quietly keeping his eyes on the others, the two elves in particular. He kicks a small rock off of the road, grumbling something inaudibility. Beyond that, the three are in complete silence.
Cornelius is privately grateful for the presence of Veriun, if only because Archibald had decided that the Avian was a font of potentially hidden and ancient knowledges, and was currently continuing his crusade of asking question after question about day-to-day life in Armantium's heydey. Cornelius didn't have a chance to get bored, as his eyes continuously search for potential sources of danger or ambush. He once again has his grappling hook and cord hitched around him like a sash, the grapple seated almost-comfortably by his right hip. Cornelius has positioned himself close to the front of the procession, trusting that the knight knows what he is doing.
Veriun wasn't particularly bothered by the curious youngster, if at all. Although providing only vague or unspecific answers as to the questions, not quite as if he was being evasive as much as finding those answers to be sufficient for the time being. At least that's the impression he gave off, not that he couldn't pay more attention to the person asking: the avian gaze was fixed on the road. The elves however seemed to pay attention to the inquisitive man. Admittedly not all too happily so. One could suppose his stream of seemingly trivial inquiries annoyed the brothers some, if not to a greater level.
Anders || The zombie hurries his steps, passing his master as he approaches the Archeologist. When he arrives within reach, the zombie places his hand atop the archeologists' shoulder. "Will ya shut up, already?! I've been listenin' to yer babbling the last few hours, and enough is enough. Shut up or I'll have you hogtied and gagged if I so will have to carry you myself." and indeed, it seems like the Archeologist's never-ending flood of questions has been the source of the zombie's irritation as well.
Cornelius stifles as smile as Archibald turns and blinks at the zombie. With exaggerated dignity Archibald brushes the zombie's hand from his shoulder and says "My quest for better understanding of ancient civilisations shall -not- be thwarted, you, you, you..." His tirade is cut short by lack of an appropriate pejorative, and there is an embarrassing second where he searches for one and fails. Still, ever ebullient, the strangely attired lad rallies his morale and finishes with "...well, anyway. Put some cauliflower in your damn ears or something if the sharing of knowledge offends you!" Archibald tries not to breathe too heavily as he stares stubbornly at the undead a moment before disengaging to hurry after the avian. After a moment the questions continue, albeit at a slightly lower volume. Archibald keeps a wary eye out for the zombie after that point though. Cornelius doesn't intervene - at this juncture the security of their progress wouldn't be greatly affected by the lad's ramblings, given the overall level of noise created by the group's passage as a whole.
Veriun continues answering in the same manner as before as Archibald resumes his questions, having paid little attention to the conflict between the man and the zombie. Less then he did to the conversation. At least visually. The elves however exchanged amused expression while listening to the anthropologist's response, although they said and did nothing to aid eighter side. Meanwhile, Reginald seems to be experiencing a rising feeling of unease. At least until he's woken up of his attentive coma by a nearby exclamation from the gnome in the cart: “My masterpiece is finished! Admire the amazingness that is us, captured upon this bark: Nature's parchment!!” where after she turned it from its position held up above her head to view it herself “I should be a artist! ...if I wasn't already so good at what I do! Oh yes!”
Anders speaks, interrupting Phil, who was seemingly on the verge to ask the elves for rope. "Leave him alone, Phil." the zombie turns. "but Boss-" The necromancer raises an hand, interrupting the zombie. "If his ineccant babble is indeed unbearable, join Bob at the rear. We need no conflicts within our party, and his expertise on ancient ruins might prove useful in the future." The zombie looks unsatisfied by the solution, but stops just at the side of the road, letting the party pass as he takes position beside the knight. The three continue in silence.
Cornelius smiles. Just a little. Archibald, seeing his newfound nemesis retreat to the end of the line, relaxes somewhat.
Veriun turned his gaze towards the northeast quite suddenly, as if having noticed something. The human having done the same earlier as voices were risen. A few birds had taken off at the racket, and now the same thing seemed to happen further up the mountains quite a bit away. This, of course, did not help in the humans vary mood. “Hey you, people..” he started at, but didn't finish the sentence as he was forcefully engaged in a one-armed wrestling match with the gnome trying to 'show' him her artwork by shoving it in his face.
Anders looks at the warrior as he speaks up. He then sees the gnome's 'assault' of the human. "Ms. Stabber, if you do not mind, I'd like to see your masterpiece." This act seems to be a effort to distract the gnome, if only for now. The knight seems to have noticed the distubances as well, as he nudges the zombie with an elbow, and points in the direction of the birds escaping.. something.
Cornelius gaze locks onto the departing flock of birds in the distance. He loosens the sabre in his scabbard, just in case, and carefully examines the skyline for silhouettes above the clifftops. Archibald remains oblivious to it all. He comments to the goggled youth "Archibald, dear chap, prepare yourself for possible trouble. Your studies can wait until we are certain the next stretch of road doesn't contain an ambush of any kind, wot" Archibald adjusts his goggles and pulls a length of leather from one of his many pouches, and loosens the latch to another. The leather quickly unfolds into the shape of a sling, and the lad is quick to fetch a couple of sharp rocks from the path.
The gnome now snickers at the necromancer “Oh that! I know! Just a monster noticing us or something; promise!”. And while she spoke, the spread out birds gathered in large numbers, a swarm like hubbub of be feathered creatures whirling around in the air, soon to be joined by the ones everyone were now waiting for. People and birds alike.
Anders silently waits, his hands now clutching twin fangs, looking as if taken from some large sea-creature. They are triangular and shaped alike a spearhead, and if anyone would perform a closer inspection, fine runes have been carved along their surface, both the fangs are identical. The zombie has resumed his position diagonally behind his master, now holding the mace in his hands, gazing in the direction of the birds, and the knight still lets his hand rest atop the pommel of his blade, but he now looks more tense than before, as if prepared to do battle.
Cornelius looks back at the procession "Can someone with magical abilities tell me what in the blazes is going on over there? Who's taking control of the mules in case they panic in an attack? How many of us have ranged capabilities? Those who don't should make themselves useful in the event our supplies are the target of an ambush" Archibald points at his sling and starts to speak when Cornelius snaps "I can see you have a sling, dash it all, just be ready to use the deuced thing" Cornelius, right now, is wishing he'd had the time to wait for Taikahn's commission to be completed prior to this little hiking trip.
Veriun quickened his pace to the north, and kept doing so gradually while speaking. From walking to running. “I suggest we get the cart into the caverns as soon as possible. Those who cannot keep up with it, Get on it.” he stated rather simply, pulling the silver bow of his back as he took off onwards. The elves pulling forth a bow and a staff while the Reginald and Cutty remained on the lightly loaded cart. As if on que, a truly gigantic figure arose off the cliffs to the east, among the gathering of birds. Oh; it was a bird, make no mistake, but not an ordinary one. The king of birds and master of the winds. It's wingspan throwing a shadow large enough to cover a small village; Roc. This majestic beast arose with a shrill cry into the still air and took off at the gathering at a blatantly amazing speed. Carrying wind and destruction under it's wings and a swarm of it's lessers behind it's tail.
Anders mutters on some arcane language as he starts running. The necromancer moments later releasing the fangs, sending them hurtling towards the Roc, and more specificly it's eyes, with keen accuracy. "Go for the eyes!" he says as he continues running for the aforementioned caverns. The zombie is quickly on the heels of his master, replacing the mace in his belt. Who'd be stupid enough to use a mace against a roc, anyway? The knight also picks up the pace, his heavy armor rattling as he runs, and he places a well-aimed slap on the buttocks of the closest mule as he passes, attemting to get the thing moving as quickly as can be. Phil grunts while running. "Bleeding cow carcass, a roc! Flogging way to start out!"
Cornelius swears profusely for a good ten seconds, a stream of salty invective picked up directly from his crew of bastards on the Wave Cleaver, even as he charges at the steep incline to the path's side, scampering up it in a display of practised agility. With a thief's knack for finding hand-and-foot grips, alternatively pulling himself by strength of arm or launching himself with leg muscles made springy from decades of fencing and less-than-legal activity conducted on his family's behalf, he makes rapid progress. He shouts out to Archibald "Distract the damn thing, would you? Hit it in the bloody head with a rock, blow it a kiss, but get its attention away from me. I'm going to show this bloody thing who rules the damnable roost!" He rapidly reaches the top of the incline and unhooks his grappling hook. Archibald whirls the sling around, and casts a stone which bounces off the Roc's beak with a solid 'whack' sound.
The Roc made a rapid approach, but was much too far away for the necromacers attack to be accurately aimed. At the point where it was fired, anyway. Now it was close by. Close enough to send massive waves of air onto the victims below as it passed over the rear of the group once, blatantly ignoring the stone striking it's beak. It had it's eyes on the cart which was rapidly approaching the cave, already having gotten quite far away from the rock, driven by Reginald. Avoiding arrows shot from the elven archer with it's surprising speed and withstanding a blast of concussive force from the hands of his brother the Roc speeds above the path, following the wagon intently. Incidentally passing underneath Cornelius' high ground as it did so.
Veriun had stopped running and now stood on the back of the wagon with his legs slightly bent, peering intently at the Roc approaching him and his road-racing companions. There was something cold and calculating about him. But for now, He did little to nothing. The gnome was as busy holding onto the bouncing wagon as Reginald was busy driving. The elves now doing their best to follow the Roc on it's path. Anathras chanting with a deep concentrated voice while his brother stopped, raised his bow, and aimed a lethal looking shot.
Anders once more prepares twin fangs, these too identical to those he sent at the roc previously. He gazes at the cave while muttering. He then turns, and once more sends the sharp monster-teeth at the roc's eyes. The zombie and the knight, having no ranged weaponry, and nil magical skill, could do little but run towards the cave, occasionally turning their heads to look at the fel bird that seems to have decided to use the supplies for a snack.
Cornelius has, during the Roc's approach rapidly added a couple of strange knots to the grapple's cord, his hands moving with a sailor's precision. As the Roc gets closer, he readies himself. Archibald meanwhile grabs hold of one of the panicking mules, hauling it in the direction of the cave, and away from the precipice.
Cornelius makes a leap of faith. A leap of faith in his own abilities and luck, bolstered by the kind of courage that only the truly insane or stupid can normally muster. Any who glance his way may see the mad cheshire grin spread broadly across his face as he leaps, the manic gleam in his eyes as he descends, mind swiftly calculating the eddies and currents of air as he casts out the grappling hook. If his calculations are even slightly accurate, as his feet contact the Roc's back with a sailor's balance, the rope and grapple should have hooked back to where he can loop it back around the rope and through the not, securing it as a lariat of sorts around the Roc's neck.
The Roc had managed to make it past another set of fangs as the necromancer fired at a point that was it's eyes when he aimed, but not when he fired as the King of Bird sped up when it took up the chase of the wagon. It had dodged fangs and arrows, even withstood magic. And now found itself mounted. This was far below it's self appointed stature and therefor invoked what you would expect from such a proud creature: rage. It dove against the road only to snap upwards again in a sudden jerking maneuver, turning up-side-down and then twisting onto proper sides. Tossing like a wild horse, but airborne. And much much larger. While this transpired, the birds arrived. They were like a swarm of giant rabid flies. Diving and clawing at the enemies of their lord. Flying in the way of the elves arrows and spell as well as the avians direct field of vision. Focusing their numbers on the archer, the mage, the undead, and that dreadful dandy treating their master as a untamed mount.
Veriun had stood up as Cornelius' stunt turned out to be a success and turned to leap across the wagon and land on the drivers bench next to Reginald, extending a hand to the wildly running Archibald, as the mules were now fully under the warriors control, despite his continuous flood of cursing suggesting otherwise. The Roc had lost trail off the wagon now, and the elves were able to pass beneath it, making their way trough the swarm of clawing birds by means of a spherical shield around them, summoned by Anathras, pushing the flesh-rending plights away from the two brothers.
Anders takes two handfuls of bones, small, shrapnel-like things that he then places in rotation around himself, and alike a whirlwind of razors they would shred any of the birds getting too close. Indeed, the feathers fly wildly as wings are perforated by sharp shards of bones which are then ripped loose to continue their rapid orbit around the necromancer. The knight wholly escapes the touch of the birds, the plate armor he wears proving sufficient to withstand the pecking, scratching and clawing of the birds. The zombie, on the other hand, would not be so lucky. He curses loudly and viciously, in a manner that might just get the average (non-pirate) sailor to blush as he flails at the birds with his arms as their assault onto his flesh continues.
Cornelius || From up above, in snatches borne down by wingbeat draughts of wind, comes the sound of mad, gleeful laughter. Cornelious cavorts and contorts like an acrobat around the rope, kicking at whichever birds brave such close proximity to the Roc, and otherwise treats the experience like the time his Maestro had made him spend a year training alongside apprentice trapeze artists, ropewalkers, and other circus acrobats. Years subsequent to that spent free-climbing ropes and ships' rigging have given his arms and shoulders a wiry, tendonous strength which, albeit barely, prevent his shoulders from getting popped out of their sockets. At certain precise moments of gravitational inertia, when the twist of Roc and rope permits it, he hauls himself in closer to the Roc, screaming at it "Listen up, you oversized Eagle, I have an appointment with Satoshi Asakhaer in Frostmaw, and you are going to damn well take me there, if I have to bore you into submission with talk of flower arrangements! You're not the first deuced bird to give me lip and try to kill me!" Down below, Archibald is still keeping a loping pace next to the mules, paranoid lest they pull cart (and, by extension, his precious pack) off the road in a moment of fright from the Roc's presence. He gasps out a brief "I can...look...after...myself!" before focusing on the task at hand.
The roc took to the sky. Straight upwards. Climbing higher and higher at amazing speed, followed by the hurricane of birds, Now all intent on eradicating the blemish that is Cornelius. The King of Birds has his prides. And being threatened with flower-arrangements was far far far far oh so FAR beneath this pride! It spun progressively as it rose into the sky, putting more and more pressure on the human clinging onto it as the birds slowly started catching up.
Veriun gave Archibald a crooked smile and took off right before the wagon passed in under the covering stone-roof of the cave tunnel leading to the northern roads. While Reginald halted the mules best he could and tried to regain control of the animals and Cutty cackled like a woman stuck by utter insanity the avian shot trough the sky towards the Roc and Cornelius almost leaving a white haze behind him. Meanwhile; Anathras released the shield around him and his brother, sending all the remaining birds away and upwards in a massive shock-wave, before raising a hand upwards and chating aloud. Bright runes appeared around him as his brother raised his bow and aimed towards the hurricane of birds, arcane energy gathering between the elves and the mid-air battle.
Anders enters the cavern, now in a pace less hurried than before as the birds that seemed so keen on eating him ali- uh dea- (well! you know what I'm trying to say here..) had disappeared to chase after the Roc and Cornelius. The knight folowing him, holding a raven in his hand. The bird hangs lifelessly in the knight's gauntleted hand. After the knight enters the zombie, who seems a lot less unscathed by the event. His left eye has been ripped from its' socket, and now hangs from the nerve cords, dangling a good bit down his face. The right side of the cheek has suffered injury as well, with a piece of the skin missing altogether, revealing the musculature beneath. The zombie has also suffered a multitude of other cuts, scattered over all the zombie's revealed skin. The zombie is still cursing loudly, calling the mothers of the birds' some quite colorful things as he takes the dangling eye and pushes it back into it's socket.
Cornelius grits his teeth, the strain of the Roc's upwards ascent forcing his smile into a rictus of pain and concentration. Slowly, with the strength of will that kept his mind largely intact through three centuries of imprisonment within a cage of stone, he suppresses every complaint his body throws at him. With grim determination Cornelius hauls himself upwards inch by inch, hand by hand, muscles straining and burning even as he is buffeted by winds and the odd falling feather the size of an umbrella. His arms feel as if they are on fire from the strain, but Cornelius persists, having mastered his body's demands many years ago. When the Roc eventually reaches the apex of its flight, as Cornelius knows it must, he uses the shifting inertia as his opportunity to pull himself directly to the Roc's neck, quickly unsheathing a dagger and placing it between his teeth as he takes position like a reversed rider, arms gripping the rope and head of the lariat, legs moving to grip the neck only at the very moment it begins the plunging dive Cornelius expects. It will also be at this moment that Cornelius prays to They Who Watch that this is not the stunt that ends his life.
Veriun had become almost invisible as he took up a speed that seemed to be quicker then an untrained eye could catch. And before anyone had time to react he was standing on the tip of the beak of the Roc. It was now that the situation became very very strange. Everything around the King of birds, and on it, slowed down. No, more than so. It came to a halt, floating painfully slowly in the air as if underwater, as if time was slowed and gravity taken away. The ancient then spoke “Are you prepared, Cornelius? The decent starts now.” and portrayed a strange almost twisted smile. At this moment, Anathras shouted something out loud down on the solid, safe, surface of the world. And up came an arrow. Passing trough the frozen storm of birds and stopping somewhere between it and the Roc. And then came the lightning. It flew in a straight line into the arrow from the runes around the brothers and then out in 8 different branches, jumping from bird to bird until all of them were part of the 'tree' and finally formed a stem: a very large bolt of collected thunder which slammed into the slowly floating roc with a fizzling sound, but somehow avoided Cornelius after only a brief shock (at which point the avian smiled even wider). At this point, the winged man spread his arms wide and let himself fall backwards and downwards. Down towards the earth again. Surrounded by the dead birds and followed by a now, at least temporarily, paralyzed Roc.
Cornelius || With a serrated dagger between his teeth, Cornelius doesn't bother trying to speak. He simply nods, uses the opportunity to get in the most secure and workable position possible, and mentally steels himself for the drop. Far down below, Archibald is dabbing a hankie at cuts and gashes on his cheek and neck. His eyes, fortuitously, were quite adequately protected by his habitual goggles. The moment the wagon is secure he leaps aboard to double-check the integrity of his pack.
Veriun fell at an unchanged speed, watching the elves below run for the cavern to get out of the crashing zone before he spread his wings wide and twirled mid-air into an upright position. He then held out a hand, palm upwards, and started moving it slowly aside, at which point the fall of the Roc (but not the birds) Slowed gradually until it came to a complete halt just above the ground with the avian himself, who then clenched the hand into a fist, resulting in all three of them falling the remaining short distance onto the ground with a heavy 'douff!' sound.
Cornelius || The moment Cornelius feels the descent slow, he chances a glance at the ground below. With a grin, he eases his grip, and adopts a more comfortable position, jumping at the last moment to avoid the thump of the landing, before once more alighting on the Roc's neck with a lesser 'Oomph' of his own before seating himself upright and facing forwards,a s if astride a regular horse. "I have to hand it to you, Veriun old bean, I think your plan has worked rather a bit better than my own. Nice work, my good man."
Veriun brushed off his sleeves in an almost disturbingly cassual manner while Cornelius spoke. Peering at him from beneath the brim of his hat as he answered “It comes with the age, I'm afraid.” and turned his gaze to the two elves heading towards the others in the cavern “Old men think too much.”
Cornelius pats the paralysed Roc on the neck "I wonder if the old bird has a name. I rather plan on convincing the thing to let me fly with its assistance." Archibald, by this point, has come out to investigate the grotesque splattering sound caused by the plummeting flock of birds. A tinge of nausea colours his features as he sees the red-and-feathered pancake of bird-gore spread out around the Roc. He gapes at Cornelius' words, stares at the dandy with a stammered "You're a... you're a bloody madman, you are!"
Anders exits the cavern after Archibald, closely followed by Phil, who is still trying to make his eye fit back in it's socket. The necromancer seems unphased by the gore, and quickly assesses the scene. "Well done." He looks at cornelius steadily, and then offers the elves a recognizing nod. "You two, as well." He then steps up to stand beside the paleing (or is it sickened?) Archeologist, and pats him on the shoulder. "Madness has it's uses, young one." The necromancer's voice carries intonations of cheer as the statement, that he a day ago recited at the recruiting of the gnome, came in handy once more. And a noticable detail is that the necromancer's hand is light, well beyond what seems normal, or even healthy.
Veriun turned as the others approached, caring little or at all of the mess about them, and nodded briefly at Anders words before turning back to Cornelius and the Roc. ”As for a name, I do not know.” he said, taking a few steps towards the grounded giant bird. ”As for persuading this creature to assist us, I believe I have a trick which might suffice.” While the avian spoke, the elves gathered with the others. Cutty shooting over to the group and coming at Cornelius in a tackle, cackling like a madwoman in excitement, Leaving Reginald to tend to the mules.
Cornelius is alerted more by the cackling than by the gnome's movement, and braces himself by applying pressure to the Roc's neck with his knees as his hand shoots out to intercept the small gnome's path: his intention as he leans his weight to counter her momentum being to take hold of her by the shirt on the moment of impact in a manner similar to a mother cat catching its cub by the scruff. He shifts his glance to Veriun for a moment "A trick you say? I'm all ears old bean!" Archibald is still in something of a state of shock, and merely nods mutely at Anders' wisdom.
Anders walks over to the roc as Phil finally manages to plop his eye into place. The eye is, on the other hand, placed crookedly, something that the zombie cursingly corrects. The necromancer stops at a safe distance from the bird as the mad gnome flies past, an action that seems to have surprised the necromancer as he takes a step in the other direction. Bob leaves the cavern after checking on the supplies, and rubs his gauntleted hands together. "Everything is still here, my lord." The necromancer turns to the knight. "I am not a nobleman, so 'sir' will do, Bob." The knight nods respectfully. "As you wish, sire."
Veriun didn't provide much of a reaction to the gnomes 'assault' nor the failure of it as she's caught by the dandy. “It'll have to wait until it wakes up, however.” he answers Cornelius question as if uninterrupted. At this point Methras took a step forward, calling on attention that way. “Wait a moment. You want to tame it? Here I thought we had an expedition on the road.” he said, looking between the avian and the madman on the Roc, Ignoring Cutty's exclamation: “It's a shortcut!!”
Cornelius quickly realises that his arms are still damn sore from the tumultuous ride, and rather than maintain his grip on the gnome, unceremoniously deposits her on the Roc's neck in front of him. He responds to Methras "I should jolly well hope so. I've an appointment with Satoshi Azakhaer, and it would be quite poor etiquette to arrive sans aerial mount. Admittedly, I had initially planned for a smaller model, but why look a gift-roc in the mouth, wot?" He pokes the Roc "Wakey wakey! Wakey Wakey Monsieur Roc! There's fresh bird stew in it for you!"
Anders gazes over the full length of the Roc. "Let's waste no more time. Bob, make sure to get the mules out of this cave. If we can indeed use this roc as a shortcut to our destination, we should not linger further than neccesary." The knight nods again, and turns to join Reginald within the cave. The zombie looks at Veriun. "Oi, not to be disrespectin', but how the hells do you plan to tame that.. monster?" The necromancer chuckles at the words of his minion. "Veriun has his ways, Phil. I'll find it interesting as well to see how he will do it."
Veriun shook his head slowly while turning towards the two undead. “While taming it is possible, Using this proposed shortcut would be unwise. While we could indeed make it to the cave much quicker, I would, in personal opinion, not risk approaching the valley itself from the air. And thus the supplies would prove a problem.” he said in the same tone of someone confirming the blue color of the sky. Meanwhile, The gnome joins Cornelius' attempts at waking the King of Birds, with so far no success.
Cornelius grimaces at the Roc, and calls to Archibald "Be a good chap would you? Quit gawking and fetch my pack." Archibald hastens to assist the 'lunatic', if only to avoid provoking further demented behaviour. Cornelius, in the manner of a gymnast on a beam, pushes himself up before getting his feet under him to walk down the Roc's neck. When Archibald dashes back, he hops down to a less-wet patch of ground and quickly reaches into his pack, pulling out a vial of green, viscous liquid. "Didn't want to use this except in an emergency, but I am in a deuced hurry.” He pulls out his dagger, opens the vial, and dips the dagger's tip in the mixture. Without further ado he pricks the Roc between the eyes with his dagger, only deep enough to ensure the powerful stimulant interacts directly with the blood. Quickly re-sealing the vial, Cornelius stows it once more into its assigned place within its pouch, commenting "That stuff's been known to wake an unconscious ogre. Shouldn't take long for the feathery bastard to come to, wot." Archibald is once again saved by his goggles, which hide his 'the man is a bloody loon' expression.
Anders looks at veriun, and then turns to watch Cornelius' efforts to wake up the Roc. "Then what do you suggest we do, Veriun? I believe the roc is massive enough to carry both us and the supplies a good chunk of the way to our destination, and would rather see it so than to walk. And even if we cannot be carried all the way there, can we not use the bird to land us as close to our destination as possible?"
Veriun turns and watches the dandy's crafty approach towards waking the giant beast, wearing a thoughtful expression. “Perhaps..” he says after a moment. “However, We cannot know for sure if there is a suitable place to land a creature of this size any closer to the choke-point. Nor do we know weather or not we need any special provisions with regards to this creature. Or if a group of our size can find suitable methods to hold on during flight.” he continues in response to Anders question while the elves watch the Roc with interest, awaiting the effect of Cornelius' concoction, even the gnome remains still in anticipation. And true enough, soon the eyes of the majestic beast move. Peering at the gathering with great ire, although no other movements are made. The paralysis seems near total.
Cornelius smiles broadly, and steps in front of the Roc with a slight bow, boots causing a slight splashing sound as blood and gore are pushed to the side by the pressure "Pleasure to make your acquaintance, old bird. Cornelius Von Penzance at your service - and I rather hope the reverse shall also be true." His grin widens as the Roc's eyes take on an ambience of sheer rage and frustrated malevolence. "Yes, yes, I can see we shall get along nicely. Firm friends, and all that. I've a parrot too, you know. Percy, his name is. I get along well with birds, dontcha know." Archibald backpedals rapidly when the Roc's eyes open, demanding from Cornelius in a slightly panicked voice "How can you stand that close to it? It'll eat you, you maniac!"
Anders merely watches the display, but as the archeologist raises his nigh-panicked voice, he turns to gaze at him. "It seems likely that the roc is paralyzed temporarily, and will remain so for a while. There is no need to worry, as if that was not the case, it would likely have slain him already." Phil shrugs. "What the boss said."
Veriun walks past Cornelius and the excitedly gesticulating gnome (Currently retelling the tale of it's fall to the Roc in question, with quite the amount of exaggerated detail) without a word and raised a titanium clad-hand towards the gigantic bird as he approached, putting said hand on the side of the creatures beak. At that very moment, the avian and the giant version of his races' namesake made eye-contact for but a brief while. And the Roc calmed. Veriun tilted his head and the Roc blinked as if responding. The avian then took his hand off the beast, turned, and started walking towards the cave containing the cart and supplies “It is done.”
Cornelius turns and looks at Veriun, eyebrow raised "Impressive, wot. Now, if you can pull the same stunt with enraged women in general, I think I have a way for you to make a mint, old bean." He returns his gaze to the Roc. "If you can understand what I am saying, eat the gnome." The Roc continues to glare at him without showing indication of actual understanding. Cornelius sighs, then pulls a small whistle out from a hidden pocket behind his belt and blows into it to no obvious effect - except that the Roc's eyes squint, as if the giant bird is momentarily in pain. It's possible that, if there were ghosts from the numerous bird corpses splattered around, they would currently consider haunting the hell out of Cornelius. For a bird, and dogs, possibly even mules, the sound is rather distinctive and unpleasant. In response to any inquisitive looks, Cornelius will simply say "Getting myself a translator, wot. Won't be a minute, the feathery little bastard has instructions to stay within whistling distance but out of sight."
Anders gazes at Cornelius. "Calling for the parrot you mentioned earlier?" The zombie, that now seems to have grown bored, and is still somewhat angry at the big bird that still lies on the ground, starts performing a macabre tapdance on the bird corpses plattered onto the ground. After becoming satisfied with the display, he spits on them. "Teach ya to try to eat me, frocking winged maggots!"
Veriun joined Reginald in the cavern. Most probably explaining the situation. Back at the site, however, Cutty was reprimanding the dandy “It can't eat me if it can't move, stuuuuupid!!” she jelled and twhacked at the 'dumb dandy's' leg with a stick. Anathras was eyeing Cornelius curiously while his brother laughed aloud at Phil's 'revenge'.
Cornelius smiles as he deftly removes his leg from the gnome's assault, timing the defensive movement to face Anders as if it had been an unplanned coincidence."Indeed I am. Not sure how, but the feather duster has a real knack for speech. I originally figured I got a bargain until the first stream of invective Percy greeted me with. Still, Percy and I have got the old pecking order sorted out, and he'll do as he's told." A moment later, as if on cue, a bedraggled and particularly displeased parrot flutters in to land on the Dandy's shoulder. It appears that the parrots' feathers have been dry-dusted with some kind of cosmetic treatment, paling the colour of its plumage close to white, giving it a rather drab appearance. On cue, Cornelius states "Percy, allow me to introduce you to my current travelling companions", and proceeds to point out and name those present. He then continues, pointing at the Roc "And this, old bean, is your new colleague. You are to properly introduce me to it, and tell me its name." If a parrot can cringe, Percy is doing so now, as he squawks out "Rarkin' Hell, Cap'n. You raaarkin' fer real?" Cornelius glares. "Tell it my name is Cornelius Von Penzance, obtain its name, and explain that I wish to work with it to take to the skies. I wouldn't try any tricks either, dear chap, as it's as likely to eat you as otherwise." Percy, for the moment, just stares at Cornelius in a fashion that adequately conveys horror.
Anders lets his gaze flow over the parrot for a moment, but then returns it to the dandy. "I'll leave it up to the two of you to come to an... arrangement with the roc." He turns, and starts towards the cavern. "Phil. Keep an eye on that bird." The zombie grunts, and nods, and then places an boot-clat foot on top of one of the small bird corpses, before twisting it, causing the carcass' bones to break with a series of nastly cracks. He chuckles slightly, seemingly finding the completely unneccesary defiling of the bird entertaining.
The elves resumed their merry laughter at the dandy and his parrot. It was simply that silly. And it didn't become less so when the gnome decided the be amazed at the talking bird and (without putting real effort to it, which is obvious to anyone who has seen her truly jump) hop around Cornelius trying to get at the bird “Talking Parrot! I want it!!” reaching no higher then around chest-level of the dandy.
Cornelius manages to keep a straight face, and directs his gaze to the Roc's rage-fuelled eyes while Percy, in an uncharacteristically subdued fashion, squawks and chirps at the Roc. The Roc's response begins with an annoyed hissing noise, before it progresses to a discordant ululating vocalisation which reverberates around the cave. Percy hops in closer to Cornelius' ear, away from both Roc and Cutty "Farkin'ell Cap'n! She aint happy. Atahensic's her name. Said she'd follow commands. Percy wants to go now." Cornelius nods. Whatever Veriun had done, it had worked. Still, he'd need to find a better way of communicating, and soon. "Seems to me, folks, that at the moment it would be best not to be thinking of using the Roc as transport. Methinks it shall take some time before this partnership shall bear profit. Percy, accompany the Roc, and advise it I order it not to eat any of this party, the mules, or yourself. When I need you both, I'll whistle. Have fun, old bean."
Phil is looking at the two of them. "So, is that it? they're just going to fly away and we'll be walking along as if nothing happened?" The zombie seems to be slightly disappointed by the turnout, but seems to at the same time be relieved that he doesn't have to fly. Anders enters the cave to see what progress has been made with calming the mules, and make sure that they'll be moving on swiftly.
The elf brothers follow the necromancer while speaking inwardly on a difficult tounge, by now ignoring the others as the situation had more or less resolved. Cutty, however, remained and waved her arms like flags “Go! Fly! Take to the sky! Cloudwards! FOR GLORY!!”
Percy lets loose a stream of outraged invective at Cornelius, ending in "...yer eye sockets wiv maggots!" Unimpressed, Cornelius points to the cave entrance. "Percy, you and Atahensic are now crewmates. Get bonding old bean, and do so away from here." Percy glares at Cornelius, before squawking in what one could swear was a -polite- way to Atahensic. The Roc shakes its head, as if to wake up, and starts flexing its pinions, fluttering its wings, and otherwise making sure everything was in working order. With unsteady movements, Atahensic wheels around and makes for the exit, one talon scraping a mark in the stone right by Cornelius' feet. The dandy offers a slight bow, and Atahensic leaves in a disgruntled fashion, Percy hesitantly fluttering after the Roc "Raaarkin'ell, Cap'n, whistle soon!" As Percy leaves the muttered phrase "...give her glory...pieces of bloody eight!" can be heard. Cornelius turns to the rest "Well, on the bright side, we didn't get killed by the damn thing, and we still have all our provisions, wot. I suggest we head off"
The zombie nods. "well, I'll tell the boss we can get to it now." He gazes up into the skies after the roc, and shudders. "bleeding fowl.." He then turns and walks off towards the cave as well.