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Date Posted: 08:09:16 12/01/01 Sat
Author: Laurel and Rowan
Subject: Time to make vulture shish kabobs
In reply to: Barry and Isobel 's message, "Approaching danger" on 14:22:18 11/30/01 Fri

Laurel laughed when Ravin hurriedly assured her his intentions were honorable when he slid an arm around her waist to steady them both. Well, she knew not every man had the same complete lack of morality her brother boasted of. In any case, Ravin was a very pleasant man, not unattractive, if a little unkempt. She would not mind in the least to share a roc with him, and wouldn’t think to accuse him of “getting fresh.”

She noted with only a slight frown that Erlic was riding with Isobel. Granted, he had only been attempting to save the poor woman from the clutches of Justin, but it was an interesting arrangement, nonetheless. Then again, she didn’t mind that either, though she had always been very poor at lying to herself.

Laurel leaned quickly back against Ravin, clutching his arm with one hand and another bony protrusion from the roc as the undead beast rose into the air at her companion’s command. She grinned when Ravin called to the others, informing them that they’d all meet up at the appointed location. He sounded slightly nervous, as though he wasn’t quite sure of his control over their mount. In truth, there was little she could do to prevent the creature from acting up, as she had no sway over undead minds, animal or not. But she had faith in Kazabet’s spells, so figured there was little to worry about.

Another pleased smile lit upon her face when Ravin professed a desire to learn how to spell his name. She was happy to hear him at least sound as though he wished to learn his letters. He’d accepted her offer earlier, but she wasn’t sure whether it had been merely out of politeness. Now that she thought about it, it was rather uncouth of her to sneak up on him and comment on his illiteracy.

“Well, it would be proper to learn your alphabet first,” she replied, turning her head back toward him so the wind wouldn’t whip the words right out of her mouth. “But, as you are so eager to learn, I don’t see why you shouldn’t learn to spell your own name.” She gave him a reassuring smile before taking his free hand, the one not around her waist, and hold it up, palm open. Slowly, with one of her fingers, she traced the letters of his first name into his palm, naming them and sounding them out so he could hear how they formed his name altogether. Lucky for him, he had a nice, phonetic-sounding name, with no complicated accents or diphthongs, like her own. But the truly grating “fun” of learning how to read and write was yet to come.

“Now you try,” she instructed, still holding his hand and indicating that he should trace the letters with his own finger. “Try to sound them out as we---

She was interrupted by a warning shout from Erlic, whose roc seemed to have a little life left to its wings, for it had managed to surpass their own to some degree. Quickly, she scanned the sky ahead, and was astonished to see several, dark figures looming towards them. In mere seconds, the figures revealed themselves to be mammoth vultures, their ugly, scrawny beaks clicking and screeching as they sighted the raw, undead flesh of the rocs.

“Heavens protect us!” she cried, reflexively clenching Ravin’s hand in her own before letting it go. Within moments, the vultures were upon them, and Laurel sent a multitude of prayers to her gods that she’d had the wits to bring her bow. The weapon was lying over her lap at present, for she’d slung it from behind her shoulders so it wouldn’t poke poor Ravin behind her. Like Erlic, she was relieved to note that the wind moved in their favor, which was a huge boon for an aerial archer.

With nimble fingers, she withdrew an arrow from her quiver, also thankful that she had taken the time to smear a druidic poison against the heads. She murmured softly to the arrow as she nocked it against the bow, igniting the spell as it sent a few visible green sparks into the air. She released the first, and it buried its head into the scaly-seeming neck of one of the vultures. The creature squawked as the weapon buried itself into the bird’s flesh, the spell working busily to infect the victim, clouding its mind with confusion and uncertainty. She had several spell-teased arrows, some to help drain the life more quickly, but only if the wound proved fatal. She released the bolts one after the other, and most flew true, for she was careful and conservative with her shots, not relishing the idea of wasting any arrows unnecessarily. What she wouldn’t give to have the same spell Jeremy had on his magic pack placed on her quiver!

“Lord and Lady!” she breathed, momentarily taken aback as Tristan dropped from nowhere into the battle, the dragon entering the fray with Marz still mounted precariously on his back! Yet she was too busy handling her own enemies to pay close attention to how they fared. She worried also for the lone riders, like Tia and Corum, and of course for her own brother, as well.

“I think we shall have to halt the lesson until further notice,” she muttered to Ravin as she carefully notched another arrow.

~*~*~*~*~

Rowan couldn’t help the disgusted look that came to his face when Jeremy approached him. He was still angry at the kid for the mess he’d caused with Marz. Somehow he even had the sneaking suspicion that Jeremy hadn’t really learned anything from the experience, nor was he truly sorry. Really, it was okay to have a crush on somebody, but the kid had to learn the difference between crushing and stalk-and-assault.

On the other hand, crushing sucks big time, he mused, watching with concern as Tia took to the air alone on her roc. Actually, he knew he didn’t have a silly crush on the girl, but he did wish she hadn’t run away from him earlier. It was kind of a big blow to his ego. Rowan just was not used to women running away from him. Didn’t help that he’d passed out on Sarra that same night, either. But neither would it have made him feel any better to know that she hadn’t even entered the room to see.

“Oh, just shut your trap and get on the damned thing,” he muttered, popping Jeremy on the back of the head and ushering him up. Quickly, he hopped up behind him, wrapping his arms around the boy’s waist and giving the undead roc a rough kick with his heels.

“Come on, boy!” he called, “Let’s get a move on already!” The creature responded, albeit somewhat slowly, as it lifted its emaciated bulk into the air, bits of feather and dead flesh falling back to the ground as it did so. “Well, this is gonna be pleasant,” he grumbled, relaxing his hold on Jeremy and pushing his face close against his young friend’s back to shield his nose. Taking long, deep breaths of the Cheeto and chocolate smelling scent Jeremy tended to exude was a helluva lot better than gagging on the rotten odor the roc gave off.

He lifted his head at Erlic’s shout, stunned to see the fast-approaching giant vultures. He cursed roundly, withdrawing his two swords without even thinking, though he thought it a useless gesture. Not only would a bow or other long distance weapon be more suited to this form of battle, but his swords were much shorter than the average blade, and would be even less effective. If there was one form of fighting he sucked royally at, it was the type that forced him to stay in one place! And remaining seated on the back of a roc didn’t allow for much maneuverability.

“Take you sword out, but don’t try anything stupid,” he ordered Jeremy. He sliced at a diving vulture, cutting the thing’s left claw before it veered away. It seemed they were mostly interested in the rocs, but wouldn’t mind putting up a decent fight for their meal. Rowan was unwilling to lose a dagger to the things, but if it came to that, he’d do it. A swiftly thrown blade to the eye would do the big beasties in for good, but as nice daggers weren’t exactly easy to come by (raiding and thieving were tricky jobs at best, and one couldn’t always be picky with one’s payoff), he would rely on his swords as best he could.

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