Kestrel
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Post by Kestrel on Jan 9, 2020 22:31:01 GMT
The End of Nothing ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Late Winter, 1490 DR
For a fortnight now the Trades Ward has had a new and unusual guest. A large, jet black crow wearing a leather collar has been seen perched every morning, almost like clockwork, on top of a fountain at the edge of the Virgin's Square. It stares at each passerby, ruffles its feathers, and squawks the same message:
"Seeking adventurers! Brave! Strong! Friendly! Reclaim a ruined city! Death, possible! Reward, likely! Thanks, guaranteed! No giants! No dragons! No problem!"
The harsh cacophony has become a bit of a nuisance for the locals but, despite a healthy amount of shooshing from city gardeners and the watch, each time the crow is chased away it always just flies right back to its perch and begins anew. In fact, news of the mysterious avian has spread by word of mouth across Waterdeep. Now every morning the crow is accompanied by a small crowd of bird enthusiasts, scholars, and curious onlookers (making the whole thing just that much more disruptive). No one’s approached yet, however, and so the crow still squawks at each of them in turn:
"Seeking adventurers-"
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The city was still asleep. At least…most of it.
It was early morning, the light of a hazy winter sun just barely peeking over the roofs surrounding the Virgin’s Square, but its stone pathways echoed with the bustle of a small crowd. That was not entirely unusual itself. Like normal, much of the square was already occupied by patches of dour warriors – veteran men-at-arms clothed in thick, dirty furs and bits of scarred mail, exotic mercenaries fresh off the docks with red fabrics and even redder liquor-touched cheeks, and a couple young nobles with pristine gilded plate fogged up pale like their faces – all early risers and looking to be hired for any kind of grim deed or fell adventure. That morning, however, they were far from the center of attention. It had been that way for almost half a moon now. Instead, the crowd was gathered around a small nondescript fountain nestled and almost lost in a far corner. There, braving the mists of the fountain and keeping its crudely carved maidens company, a handful of varied Waterdhavians milled around, rubbing their gloved hands and stomping their feet. Off to the side a couple halfling children giggled amongst themselves while clutching pieces of half-eaten bread, and a half-orc artist was busy setting up an easel and paints underneath a nearby scraggily tree. A lone member of the city watch leaned against the fountain itself and fiddled with the edge of his tabard. His eyes were set on the crowd.
For a moment, other than the trickle of water and the muffled clink of armor, there was a hushed, almost eager silence over all of them. Then, one of the children yelled and pointed at the sky.
“Is here! Pretty birdie is here!”
A cheer erupted from the crowd, a few of the closest mercenaries almost jumping out of their armor at the sudden noise, as, sure enough, a larger-than-normal black crow swooped from around a cluster of chimneys and floated toward the square. With a flutter of its wings, a quick peck underneath the collar it wore, and a lone squawk, it landed at the very top of the fountain and perched itself in a groove. The crowd gawked – a few whispered furiously between themselves as others exchanged pouches of coin – and the two halfling children rushed forward and began tossing chunks of bread into and around the fountain. Only the artist kept his focus solely on a mad scramble to finish his setup. The watchman, an older human with thick gray sideburns, sighed and lifted a lazy eye up toward the fountain.
“If I try an scare ya away I know yar just gonna come right back ‘ere, so as long as ya keep outta trouble ya can do yar thing, vermin.”
The crow squawked once and, chest puffed and sweeping its bright black eyes over the collection of humanoids, it began its shrill and routine cry.
"Seeking adventurers! Brave! Strong! Friendly! Reclaim a ruined city! Death, possible! Reward, likely! Thanks, guaranteed! No giants! No dragons! No problem!"
The watchman just sighed again.
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Jarovbees
Approved
Playing: Solstice (Paladin 6)/Umbrae (Sorcerer 1/Warlock 4)/Avren Wands (Rogue 2/Sorcerer 1)
Posts: 706
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Post by Jarovbees on Jan 10, 2020 0:41:40 GMT
Solstice's early morning routine was fairly set, after several months of living in Waterdeep. She relished the relatively peaceful period, when the night's sky began to fade but the city's daily activity hadn't quite begun. It was an opportune time for training, meditation or even just reaching the baked goods before the lines began to form. A scone or muffin in hand while she perused new city notices was always a fine way to begin the day, and though Solstice found plenty to enjoy about the rest of her day-to-day routine, the early morning treks were a favorite. It was too bad that a certain boy was entering those years in which he was not very much a morning person, but oh well. One can't have everything. At least he appreciated the baked goods she often bestowed upon her return.
Virgin's Square was a part of that typical routine, not far from her townhouse in the Castle Ward. She had lived in the city long enough to know the most efficient route and, given her size plus he quality of her armor/armaments, tended not to be harrassed. Of course, she new better than to test her luck in shadier areas, like certain parts of the Dock Ward or all of the Field Ward. The arriving crow was a welcome sight to Solstice's eyes, as the firbolg woman entered the area just in time to hear its spiel. She grinned, tossing back her deep red curls and striding forward with her usual confidence and warmth. "'Vermin'? Tsk, some people just don't know magnificence when they see it. You're a lovely one, aren't you? Would you like something more than bread?"
Reaching into a pouch at her side, Solstice withdrew a lump of seeds, nuts and dried fruit, holding it out in her cupped, gloved hand. It was typical trail rations, but she had a feeling that might suit the crow just fine. Plus, her greater height would give her feathered friend a nice living perch. "Come here and feast, aye? There's more where that came from...." She knew as she spoke that, thanks to her firbolg heritage, she would be perfectly understood. Hopefully, that would translate into a favorable response.
Persuasion, advantage: G2q3X0ks1d20+2 1d20+21d20+2·1d20+2
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Post by moralhazard on Jan 21, 2020 19:09:38 GMT
There were those in the city who were asleep, tucked snugly in their beds. Many of them slept the sleep of the just or the innocent, or at least the ignorant. Some had gone to bed early, but justly tired from a long day of hard work; some had gone to bed late, whether from chores or cheers, and the snorers were, by and large, among them. All the same, whatever their waking lives were like, in sleep they were (mostly) peaceful, one and all.
There were those in the city who woke early, whether for peace or for profit. They were, by and large, wholesome sorts; they were paladins who wandered the streets of Waterdeep to keep it safe, who passed the quiet, early hours in training and meditation; they were farmers, who brought their carts of goods through the gates before dawn to begin setting up their market stands; they were bright-cheeked adventurers, with sharp swords not yet too dulled by the disappointments of life.
And then there were those who hadn’t slept yet. Miri fell squarely into the last category. She sat perched on a large crate on the edge of Virgin’s Square, one leather-coated leg dangling, the other foot propped on the edge of the wood. She had a bun in one hand, and a steaming hot enchanted mug propped next to her. She had not ever asked exactly what the witch who made the mugs put in them, and she did not intend to; the brew perked one up magnificently, and the spell cast on the mugs vanished them back to the proprietor when the last drop was drunk (or when the brew grew cold). She ripped off another bite of bread, chewed industriously, and tossed the few crumbs to the pigeons pecking at the ground below, causing an abrupt flurry of feathers and a startle of excitement from a nearby cat.
Miri stretched her arms up over her head, her neck cracking audibly as she tilted her head from side to side. She yawned, fluffed out her hair with her fingers, and picked up her mug, taking another long sip of the hot brew. Her familiar was wrapped around her neck like a scarf; the weasel lifted his head, made a faint muttering noise, and laid his nose back down on his paws.
There was nothing wrong with Waterdeep. If you were bored in Waterdeep, you were boring; that was the simple truth of it. Miri was not boring, so, clearly, she was not bored; it would be impossible. And yet, of late, she had been conscious of a certain… malaise. Restlessness, perhaps. The sort of restlessness that led to late nights in the Dock Ward and subsequent early mornings at Virgin’s Square.
Miri drained the last of the mug, and set it down. She crammed the last bite of her bread into her mouth, and hopped off the high crate as the mug vanished behind her. She shoved her hands in her pockets, and strolled across the square, head tilting, and straightening up once more.
“Good morning, Solstice,” Miri said, cheerfully. “Always a pleasure to see your lovely self,” she glanced at the crow, eyebrows raising. “No giants, no dragons, no problem,” Miri grinned, a flash of well-kept white teeth against her dark face. “Do you think those are guarantees? I hope not."
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Kestrel
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Icon by @ArtByRue on Twitter!
Posts: 319
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Post by Kestrel on Mar 9, 2020 22:18:50 GMT
Both watchman and crow stared at Solstice, two sets of beady black eyes following her, as the crowd parted to let the imposing firbolg through. A lone woman from behind grumbled something or other about “damned foreigners” and a blocked view, while the halfling kids, still eager and giggling, were adding just a few missed chunks of bread to Solstice’s curls. The watchman snorted and scratched a sideburn with a gloved hand. The crow, though, sat a little up on the fountain and craned its neck at “magnificence”, “lovely one”, and especially “something more than bread”. It seemed very interested in that last bit.
“Hmph. Vermin’s vermin, lass. Don’t matter none to me what shape it takes.”
The man scratched again and spat, with practiced aim, a lob against a stain at the base of the fountain. He then grunted as the crow flapped its wings and dove to perch on Solstice’s outstretched hand.
“Wish ya lot would stop feeding the damn thing, too. My Gram always said these were evil, bless ‘er soul, and yar just keeping the greedy bugger ‘ere.”
While the watchman kept his post, and his narrowed eyes, on Solstice and her new companion, the rest of the crowd surged around them and gasped in delight.
“Pretty birdie! Pretty birdie!”
A few of the closest reached tentative hands up but, for now, kept a shy distance away. Talons digging slightly into the firbolg’s glove, the large bird – it weighed enough that someone weaker might have struggled at this point – began to peck in and around the seeds and nuts and dried fruit. After a short while it gave a muffled caw, almost disappointed, before gobbling up a few seeds. A quick scoot from a talon sent most of the fruit scattered across the ground and into the faces of a few annoyed onlookers. This close, it was easy for Solstice to see a small silver band around this same leg, as well as a leather collar partially hidden underneath the crow’s neck feathers. A metal tag jingled underneath.
With the arrival of Miri, the crow (kicking a bit more fruit and some nuts off) climbed its way up Solstice’s arm, gave the new human a cocked look, and then booped its head into the firbolg’s neck.
“No giants?”
The bird then jumped onto Miri’s head with a flutter of wings and again booped its head against hers.
“No dragons?”
It then looked between the two of them, bobbing its head up and down, before flying back to perch and nestle into Solstice’s red curls.
“No problem! Seeking adventurers!”
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Post by 3personal5me on Mar 11, 2020 2:49:11 GMT
Though it was early, Anthony had been up for hours already. When he was home, toiling in his workshop, his sleep schedule tended towards the chaotic. When inspiration struck, there was no time for sleep. This morning in particular saw the inventor shuffling to his workbench while the moon was still high. Clad in his sleeping clothes, he wearily rubbed the sleep from his eyes before grabbing a piece of charcoal to start sketching a design. Down in the basement, it was hard to track the time. By the time he had finished assembling the final components, the sun was almost ready to rise. And by the time he finished securing the capacitive crystals to the palms of the suit, morning had come. After the extensive process of donning the armor, he was ready for the first test. He held his arm aloft, staring at the stump intently as he began the process of initializing the Flash Forge and the Telepathic Translator. The armor hummed to life around him, and he watched with pride as the smooth metal plates shifted and changed shape to replace his missing arm. He flexed his fist several times, rolled the shoulder, and otherwise tested the artificial appendage. It worked perfectly. With the confidence one could only get from a successful test, he hurried upstairs to dress.
The armor was sleek and form fitting, easily capable of fitting under his day clothes. With clothing on and the helmet retracted, the only evidence of its presence was his steel clad hands. Satisfied with his attire and equipment, he resolved to find a suitable field test.
He left his villa early, heading for a nearby town square. The area was well known as a place to find work, and he was confident it wouldn't take long to find a suitable task. His wishes were answered almost immediately, when he stumbled upon the site of a talking crow making friends with a firbolg. He easily cut through the crowd, moving with the confidence of someone who expected others to move out of his way. Drawing closer to the corvid, he was surprised to hear it speak. "Seeking adventurers! Brave! Strong! Friendly! Reclaim a ruined city! Death, possible! Reward, likely! Thanks, guaranteed! No giants! No dragons! No problem!" It was fortuitous timing, the sort that a religious person may attribute to fate. He smiled at the firbolg, nodding to both her and the bird, assuming she was its owner.
"Anthony Allerton. Whats the job?"
ARMOR MODEL: INFILTRATOR
Lightning Launcher- simple ranged weapon, 90 feet/300 feet, 1d6 lightning damage on hit. Once on each of your turns when you hit a creature with it, you can deal an extra 1d6 lightning damage to that target.
Powered Steps- Walking speed increases by 5 feet.
Second Skin- The armor’s weight is negligible, and it becomes formfitting and wearable under clothing. If the armor normally imposes disadvantage on Dexterity (Stealth) checks, the power armor doesn’t.
INFUSIONS:
Replicate Magic Item; Goggles of Night
Enhanced Defense (Chain Mail); A creature gains a +1 bonus to Armor Class while wearing (armor) or wielding (shield) the infused item.
SPELLS PREPARED:
Detect Magic
Faeire Fire
Identify
Jump
Cure Wounds
SPELL SLOTS: 3/3 1st Level
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Jarovbees
Approved
Playing: Solstice (Paladin 6)/Umbrae (Sorcerer 1/Warlock 4)/Avren Wands (Rogue 2/Sorcerer 1)
Posts: 706
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Post by Jarovbees on Mar 12, 2020 17:34:37 GMT
Solstice calmly ignored the superstitious watchman and xenophobic woman, chuckling good-naturedly at the 'gifts' the halfing children left in her hair. She'd let it remain there just long enough to see if the crow was interested. If not, the crumbs would be gently brushed away for the pigeons to consume. She was grateful that her gloves were thick, certain that the crow's talons would have left a mark otherwise, and tried not to laugh as the crow's leftovers fell upon the faces of the unsuspecting. She noted the collar and leg-band with interest, trying to see if there was any symbol or magic to them. "Oh, aren't you stylish. I hope the one who gave you those treats you well. You deserve the best, don't you?"
The neck-boop is met with a chuckle and she perks up at hearing Miri's voice. "And a good morning to you, lass." Solstice sent the human woman a quick but bright smile, always glad to see a friendly face. As for the questions, she shrugged. "It sounds a bit too easy, doesn't it? Rather like the claims of some merchants offering a deal that's too good to be true. Still...guarantee or no guarantee, it sounds worth investigating. I like a good challenge. At the very least, if it's more trouble than it's worth, we can let others know so they don't fall into it themselves."
Looking over to Anthony as he approached and introduced himself, the firbolg woman nodded to him amiably. "Solstice. I'm not the owner or the quest-giver, just another interested party. At the very least, it seems like our curiosity will have some company. The more the merrier, aye?"
As the crow was done inspecting Miri and nestled in her own curls, she reached up to offer a scritch. "Well, you have the attention of three adventurers now. Is that enough, or should we wait for more?"
Investigation for the crow's jewelry, plus doing that Detect Magic as firbolgs can: RdvcTcOw1d20 1d20
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Post by pastels on Mar 14, 2020 2:31:34 GMT
Brave? There was a fine line between courage and foolhardiness, and Astra liked to believe she erred on the side of the former. Strong? Not particularly, no. Not since that wyrm shattered half of her. Friendly? Hm. It depended on the situation.
There were times an aging warlock envied their familiar, and on particularly cold days walking on uneven roads and split streets, Astra wished for Mitja’s wings. The raven scoured the city every day, returning at night with flecks of snow on dark feathers and an assortment of tales picked up from the unlikeliest places; she listened from under the sparse, greasy blankets which often smelled of a mix between rancid sweat and rat piss. The days blurred past. And one day, there—through the gloom and the warmth of her own breathing, she heard of the bird plaguing the Trades Ward. More specifically, what Mitja thought of it, and what it’s been doing for the local pigeon population that used to call the site their feasting grounds.
“Well, you’re right. It is bigger than you, at least.” There was a voice, strained from disuse and creaking with the grim weight of the unknown within an ancient mausoleum, and a figure shrouded in dark, threadbare robes swooped in from the crowd. A sigh escaped the dark fabric obscuring the elven woman’s face as the raven on her shoulder—indeed, much smaller than the one perched on Solstice—scoffed? The response sounded vaguely offended, and the other bird made a point of ruffling its feathers and spreading its wings as if to demonstrate that no, there wasn’t much difference. Astra exhaled and reached up to brush her scarf to the side. Her eyes briefly scanned the three strangers before landing once more on the most curious creature. “No matter. A ruined city, you say? Have you more details?”
Arcana, just to see if there’s anything magical about the crow, esp. if it’s a familiar too: XVfaLy5Q1d20+4
1d20+4
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Kestrel
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Icon by @ArtByRue on Twitter!
Posts: 319
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Post by Kestrel on May 8, 2020 22:59:36 GMT
Solstice: It is hard for Solstice to make out anything on the collar or silver band with the crow bouncing around as much as it is (even more so with its new hair nest), but her innate firbolg senses do detect strong magic coming from the silver band. It gives off an aura of Conjuration magic.
Astra: There is nothing especially magical about the crow itself – with her vast experience on black-feathered familiars, it is pretty clear to Astra that this is not one of them, or some other strange, crow-like creature. He is just a big boi.
Leaning into Solstice’s scritch with a short, approving squawk, the crow bobbed its head at both Anthony and Astra as they too pushed through the small crowd – the bird giving a few more tittering, almost mocking, caws at a puffed up Mitja – before its black eyes settled on the artificer.
“Adventure!”
Satisfied with this answer, the bird went back to pecking and pulling at a lone red curl. Astra’s own question, whether out of inability or just a lack of desire, seemingly left unaddressed.
By now the crowd had calmed down a little. With the crow even farther out of reach on top of an imposing Solstice, most of them had slowly dispersed to either pick a spot to sit and continue watching or just flittered out of the square to go about their morning business. Only the two halfling children – hunched together whispering and pointing at the firbolg and the bird, their bread supply well spent – and the half-orc artist remained close by. Them, and the watchman now giving the whole lot of them a growing stink eye as they played with the crow.
Craning its neck around, the crow noticed this and, with a flutter of its wings, launched off Solstice’s head. The half-orc grunted and began to furiously scratch out his canvas.
“Milil damnit! A worthy pose ruined.”
The crow then swopped around the group a few times before landing back on the firbolg’s arm, its talons latching firmly – if not a little sharply – into the thick fabric of her gloves. It began to heave. Once. Twice. A third time. With a flurry of wingbeats and strained squawks, the bird seemed to want to drag Solstice’s hand over toward…Miri? The closest of the bunch to Solstice, the crow was very intent on the two bridging that small gap between them.
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Post by moralhazard on May 8, 2020 23:06:52 GMT
“We know about as much as you do,” Miri said, chuckling, to the man who introduced himself as Anthony, and the woman who joined them a moment later – with a quick wink for the woman. “Miri Blackstone,” she bowed, and straightened up.
Miri watched, eyebrows lifting, as the crow nestled its talons into the thick fabric of Solstice’s glove, flapping its wings in an attempt to drag her hand… closer?
“Does it want us to become better acquainted?” Miri asked with the straightest, most even face she could manage, stifling the laughter in her voice. With a grin for the crow, she cheerfully stepped up and wrapped her arm around Solstice’s side – or, at least, as much of it as she could reach. If, perhaps, her hand was resting more on hip than waist, Miri hoped Solstice might somehow forgive her.
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Jarovbees
Approved
Playing: Solstice (Paladin 6)/Umbrae (Sorcerer 1/Warlock 4)/Avren Wands (Rogue 2/Sorcerer 1)
Posts: 706
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Post by Jarovbees on May 9, 2020 17:28:56 GMT
Conjuration magic...interesting, and worth keeping in mind. Solstice resolved to one day learn more about the arcane, if only to understand its practical applications better, but that was a half-hearted promise likely soon to be forgotten yet again. A paladin always seemed to have greater priorities, and now was no different.
Solstice made no move to dislodge her crow friend, not minding his playing with her hair. She chuckled, looking up. "Needing some for a nest, maybe? Just don't yank too hard, if you would." When he launched off her head, the firbolg woman shrugged and darted an apologetic smile at the half-orc artist. "Timing is a tricky thing, isn't it? But if you can recreate it from memory, I'd pay a fair price." How could she refuse to encourage the arts, especially when it was a reminder of a brief and beautiful friendship? She couldn't, of course.
When the crow's intent was made clear, she raised her eyebrows in amusement while complying. She's not shy, after all. "Eager, aren't you? That's fair...." Grateful for the thickness of her gloves -without them, those talons would hurt- Solstice grinned down at Miri. "It never does to underestimate the cleverness of the corvid kind, to be certain. I wouldn't be surprised if the heart of a matchmaker beats under those feathers. Though I also suspect if we keep stalling the adventure, it's going to do more than pull hair locks I'd like to keep on my head."
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Post by 3personal5me on May 10, 2020 2:07:07 GMT
Anthony watched the show with amusement. "I'm afraid she's right. As nice as it would be to stick around become better acquainted with each other, at the behest of the bird of course, I believe we should begin whatever job it offers us". He ran his metal fingers through his long hair, brushing it out of his face. "There will plenty of time celebrate afterwards".
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Post by pastels on May 10, 2020 9:36:54 GMT
A soft grunt eased out of the elf--a noise of resigned affirmation, of a small mystery solved. Fat. At ease that she ascertained the nature of the creature, Astra nodded back at the human woman, curt as usual. "Astra."
"... By the Seldarine, it seems twice the bothersome matchmaker you are," Astra retorted with dim amusement as the large crow attached itself to the firbolg, then flapping towards Blackstone. Her eyes raked across their surroundings--over the crowds dispersing in the morning gloom, the children murmuring in soft delight, and that one guardsman a little too annoyed by the call of duty at this early hour.
She turned her gaze back at the others, fatigue-ringed eyes sharp with resolve. "As the man said. I daresay the district will thank us to get the herald of this adventure well out of the way. I am ready." Mostly because she was bored and a ruined city sounded interesting, well... Far better than another day below scratchy blankets, at least. The elf tilted her head up at the bird. "Lead the way."
Mitja huffed and flapped its wings down, then repeated in a perfect mimicry of its mistress's voice--if not smoother and younger, just the tiniest bit livelier: "Fat."
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Kestrel
Approved
Icon by @ArtByRue on Twitter!
Posts: 319
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Post by Kestrel on May 21, 2020 6:49:30 GMT
The half-orc grunted at Solstice and flexed a well-muscled arm – his paintbrush, dripping a splash of black onto the stone below, was held daintily between two meaty fingers.
“Ha! A challenge I gladly accept! By my honor, fair maiden, it will be done.”
A second, quieter grunt.
“Though, perhaps a few minor alterations would make this piece even worthier? Perhaps…”
As Miri gracefully attached herself to the firbolg, the crow gave a small, almost pleased, coo as it fluttered up and out of the way. A coo that then became a cacophony of shrieks as it swooped around to see the rest of the group standing still. With a flurry of feathers the crow dove, latched onto, and began to pull at the edge of Anthony’s armor, its talons scratching thin lines in the direction of Solstice and Miri. A couple frenzied tugs. A few more screams. Then, another quick wingbeat. Jumping back off, the crow then swooped in to land on Astra’s one unoccupied shoulder – the bird, sparing an even louder squawk for Mitja as it landed, aimed a quick kick in the smaller raven’s direction as it quipped – and began to peck back and forth at the woman’s neck and, again, in the direction of their human and firbolg companions.
The old guard spat and hacked out a laugh.
“Now ya see, do ya? Vermin’s vermin. Say the word and I’ll yank the damn thing off for ya.”
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Post by 3personal5me on May 21, 2020 7:06:51 GMT
Anthony flinched as the bird suddenly dove towards him, latching onto his arm. The giant corvid tugged his arm, trying to pull him towards the women. the inventor arched an eyebrow in confusion, taking a step towards the pair. When the bird took off again, he took it as a confirmation that he too was supposed to join the party. He slid his metal arm around Miri's hips, praying to whatever gods may be listening that he was, in fact, supposed to be touching her. "I uh... just taking cues from the bird", he explained. He turned to Astra, offering his other arm. "May as well get in on the action".
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Post by pastels on May 21, 2020 14:13:04 GMT
Astra shook her head in silence when the crow, seemingly satisfied in its success drawing the two women together, dove towards a new victim. Why? Well, she had no ideas. Corvids were an intelligent kind, but prone to fits of petty fancy... though this was working towards an immediate goal she dreaded. Physical contact was not her strong suit. One could even say Astra went out of her way to avoid it. Yet as feared, the curious bird would not rest until the last link attached itself to the rest of the chain, so to speak.
"If this is what it takes." She hesitantly placed a hand atop the man's arm, touch light as could be. Astra's face was a carefully maintained mask of neutrality, though the image was somewhat spoiled by territorial cawing, the occasional wingbeat--and a very offended, comical yelp (?) as a passing claw struck true on the upside of Mitja's head, upsettling his balance, scattering her golden hair from its hastily-made bun as her familiar squared up for avian warfare. The mess happening in, oh, on her person didn't seem to perturb the woman much; in response to the guard, Astra shook her head again mid-peck. "I am fine. It just needs to send a message, I suppose."
"Mitja." The elf lowered her voice, and the tone carried with it the dismal warning promised by a stern schoolteacher. Her familiar, bristling from beak to claw, folded his wings and hopped off to Astra's extended hand, pointedly ignoring the other bird after sliding in one last insult in their unknowable bird language.
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