"...and the food, the food I hear is truly unique! Since the Ash Lands are infamously, well, ashen, they've had to adapt their cuisine to their environs. And that's without mentioning the cultural influences of the Ash Land Dvoryanin upon that selection, whose lifestyle is so oriented around horseback riding that..."

Tatalia was in the midst of one of her lectures, doing her best to be heard over the whistling wind. Her speech was either charming or mind numbingly grating to listen to depending on who you asked, but the little goblin was in the throes of sociological enthusiasm. She often had such moments when culture and history were concerned, lost in her own world which she tried to share with anyone who would listen. It did, at least, fill the silence that surrounded the elf and the goblin as they traversed the wastes of the Ash Lands in the early morning light.

The goblin was dressed heavily, having wrapped herself up with a cloak, multiple scarves, and a thick, baggy coat that went down to her knees. Her sash was bound tightly about her waist, but otherwise her identity was very much concealed beneath her garb. Not a bit of green skin could be seen anywhere, and the only odd thing about her appearance (well, besides looking like a tiny bundle of rags with a backpack and a sword) was the goggles hiding her yellow eyes.

Of course, it wasn't just something she wore to hide her identity. The other reason Tatalia had chosen such garb was because the Ash Lands were aptly named. There was ash thick about the air, and on a particularly windy day (such as that very day) those ashes could be dangerous to breath. Being so close to the Frost Gale, the region was fairly chilly, too... moreso than the humid Marsh Flats, at least.

But Tatalia wasn't worried about all that. She was well prepared for the trek, and was giddily explaining to her companion exactly what to expect where they were going.

"Besides the cuisine, there's- well, there's so much to be said about the Ash Lands! For instance," she began, waving toward the hills up ahead, "we're about to approach our first destination, the city of Darkveil! A fairly young city, but I'm sure you know plenty about it. Did you know they have a militia force named the Chimney Sweepers that's largely funded and manned by the Ash Cleaning Union? Ash cleaning is such an integral part of their culture that armed men with polearms wander the streets sweeping ash off the ground!" The goblin couldn't help but grin from ear to ear as she finished excitedly, "Isn't that just curious?"

The pair had made the long journey up from the Moon Glade to the distant shores of the Ash Lands, mostly because Tatalia had found an old text suggesting another ruin of interest was hidden somewhere in the Ash Lands. The goal was to stop at Darkveil City to resupply, and maybe to hunt for useful herbs along the way, but now that the pair had arrived, well... Tatalia seemed to be in rare form. She was always excited about exploring, but (as she'd admitted meekly on the boat ride) she'd never actually been to the Ash Lands... at least, not in any significant way. She was excited to really see what it was like.

"We're about to crest the hill! Oh, stars above, I can't wait to see this! The sun's still very low in the sky," Tatalia pointed out, gesturing toward the west, "which means we should get to see the lights of Darkveil in the twilight! Just one... more... step!"

Tatalia made it to the top of the hill, and she threw her arms out in a 'ta-da!' pose. But no more than a second had passed before that gesture fell, and the goblin turned to face the famous city with a gasp.

"Oh..." The goblin's voice cracked, and she pulled her goggles up to her forehead to make sure they hadn't deceived her. "Oh, no," she whispered, realizing what she saw was real.

The city of Darkveil was in shambles. The walls were broken; the streets were filled with grime and soot; carts were overturned; homes were ruined; splinters and stones littered every path and causeway; and not a soul walked the city that wasn't gripped with sorrow. The little goblin swallowed as she soaked in the scene with her eyes, and she glanced back over toward Elvira with a worried stare.

"I- I think we'll have to hold off on visiting an inn," she murmured, glancing back to the utter devastation that lay before them. "They need help. They need help," she repeated with vigor. "We can help."

Elvira had been listening to the goblin for hours. She rather enjoyed the speeches, honestly. It removed most elements of surprise from her upcoming destinations and gave her something to listen to. She usually traveled alone, but something had fascinated her about this particular wanderer. Perhaps it was the drive for knowledge, perhaps it was the passion she had for what she was doing. Either way, she was rather happy with having someone to speak with during her journeys. There had been times in the past where she had nearly gone mad with boredom.

The cuisine excited her, as she could rather care less about militias. Bloodshed was not her strong suit. She couldn't remember the last time she was in the Ash Lands, but she didn't have the greatest feeling. No good comes from tainted air, at least in her opinion.

As Tatalia crested the hill, Elvira paused, noticing her reaction. "What do you see?" She jogged up, peering just past her. "Gods... they truly need us. What has happened here? Desolation like this... it's not just every day one finds a city still surviving. We must make haste, I'm sure there are injuries... and worse..."

The priestess began to jog down the hill, careful not to trip over her robes.

Rena hums softly to herself, working her way through the burnt and ashen brush, one arm carrying her glaive in the crook of the elbow, silver eyes glancing around as the thing under her skin squirms.



Those same silver eyes spy a pair of figures atop the hill, and she frowns a little, picking up the pace and letting out a high, carrying trill to alert the others to her approach.



She only speaks once she’s almost reached them, glancing from one to the other, then to the desolated town with those almost luminous silver eyes, “...how in the frost did I miss that? Den’s only a few miles off, I should’ve heard something…”



She shoulders her glaive, moving to jog after the priest and letting out a vitriolic string of curses under her breath…something about ‘disasters on her doorstep’ and ‘ruining her hunting prospects’ and...hating having to scavenge?

Few things are as piercingly loud as a macaw's squall. Through the winds, suffering, and pains it can be heard. With weight on one foot and cane waving in the air, the aviankin Turjin cried to garner attention. 

"All injured with open wounds or inability to stand, head west, down the main avenue! There is a healer tent set up there! If you need help, lean on your neighbor! Those in need of medication for chronic illness, or a warm meal! Soup for the weary! Come here!"

The cane snapped to the ground with a large thwack as the bird began to lean on it in a struggle. He turned about to face the few spare hands he could muster. They were dirty, tired, scared, and so lost out of mind they'd follow the first loud voice that sounded like it had any confidence, for better or worse. A quiet moment of Meditation to himself and the pain was ablated momentarily. His beak clacked as his neck feathers ruffled before he shook his head violently before preening his neck with his free hand. 

"Strike harder," he began to a young man striking a mortar with pestle with an unfamiliar herb. "You're not going to break it. Roll it with your elbow, not your wrist. You'll wear yourself out otherwise. Once you have it down in a fine powder, and I mean damn fine, like flour, it should start to clump-- put it in a square of paper and fold it up as I showed you. The elderly are going to need that medicine." The bird hobbled back to examine what few alchemical ingredients have been scavenged. Roots, mostly, dug up from personal gardens. Turjin hadn't worked with any of these ingredients in over a decade. His practice with these rudimentary materials was rusty. Fortunately, so far it seemed those around him did not how to interpret his feral bird face expressions. 

While he struggled to stand he surveyed the horizon, trying to make sense of the hap-hazard social networks already forming between the broken and battered people, and how best to utilize them. He muttered in his squawking native nomad tongue, "Two, horizon. An Aviankin. Lost children, no doubt."

Surveying the damage from her place up above, Tatalia took stock of the situation. Wrecked structures, injured people, piles of ash all around, and more than bit of loose debris... It wasn't going to be a small reconstruction effort. The cleanup alone would take a herculean amount of time.

Still, Tatalia perked up a bit. She could absolutely render assistance in the way she knew best: using her brain.

"I think there's a healer down there," Tatalia began to say, pointing to the birdman with a cane. She smiled up at the priestess next to her. "You should help him! He'll need help with the wounded... and probably with the dead," she added more quietly, her smile fading. She paused, then reached into her satchel and removed a pair of cherry-colored potions.¹

"Here! In case your magic needs some alchemical assistance," the goblin said as she pushed the bottles into Elvira's palm.

Tatalia didn't wait for a response. She started jogging down the hill and toward the city to begin solving the problem of putting structures back together. She didn't have have the right tools for the job; she had a plan.

The disguised goblin made her way to one of the only structures that was still standing good and firm: one of the towers by the wall. There was all sorts of destruction around it, but the tower itself was in good condition. The little goblin leapt up and grabbed the wall, then climbed up it faster than a sailor up a mainsail.² Really, her speed was remarkable; and as soon as she reached the top she set her bag down and pulled out her many, many tools.

It wasn't a complicated process Tatalia had in mind, really. The clever application of wooden planks, multiple threads of spider silk, and metallic anchors allowed her to construct a makeshift pulley system in really no time at all³, and she slid on down the silken cord down to the bottom and attached the contraption to a nice, sturdy wooden cart on the ground. And with that, she had made... a sort of crane! And Tatalia hadn't asked for permission to do so!

"Hey!" Tatalia called out, waving over to another person she saw nearby. It was another bird-like person, sort of darkly feathered and feminine in shape. "Please help me load this up, would you? We need to move this stuff over to that roof!"

'This stuff' was some tools and spare wooden boards, the better to resupply the workers diligently trying to replace the roofing on a half-destroyed home. 

---

_{1. Major Health Potion; 2. Surface Scaling; 3. Creative Inventor.}

Elvira jogged gracefully up to Turjin. Her face was almost entirely covered by her religious hood and darkened gray hair, but her lips conveyed the emotions. She was clearly worried, confused, and nearly heartbroken to see so many presumably innocent souls in pain. A gentle hand reaches out and touched the avianfolk's shoulder as she looked him over. "Have you been wounded, my feathered friend? I know not what has happened here, but I know I must aid in any way possible. Point me in the direction I am needed, and my hands will heal those I can, or guide the lost spirits of those fallen from this travesty."

She had seen death, war, natural disasters, and the like. It never got easier for her. The children, especially, would pain her emotionally. She'd think about it for a few days before moving on to the next disaster, the next travesty, the next political situation gone wrong. To her, the world was filled with death. The least she could do was guide the lost spirits to their new home, hopefully in the hands of their respective gods. Sometimes she felt cruel, ushering the spirits away from their body must not feel good for those who previously had occupied it. She just hoped that Solaria and Lunala would treat them well.

Her mind snapped back to Turjin. "Anything you need, I will do my best."

Rena blinks, then nods, cracking her neck and moving to man the crane, silver eyes looking over the mechanism and cart carefully before she begins to load the materials onto the cart. The curse squirms under her skin, sending arcs of pain and hunger down her spine as she works, still muttering under her breath about how she could have possibly slept through such a disaster.

The crow trills softly, letting out a sharp whistle once she finishes loading up the cart with the tools and materials, silver eyes glancing at the goblin.

"alright, that should be good. send it in. what else needs done?" she glances around, a frown behind her beak as she surveys the destruction, then darts over to a house that looks to be on the verge of collapse, letting out a shriek of pain and determination as flesh tears and bones crack and break and reform mid-motion, and suddenly what was once a short, maybe four-foot crow woman is a tall, painfully thin and lanky, obvious frostbitten thing that lunges into a burning building...with a child visible through a window, crying and wailing for help, for mom, dad, anyone...

    The big bird's head turned as his vision followed the small creature darting for the tower with incredibly energy. He began to rifle through his coat and perch his glasses upon his beak when he felt a touch on his shoulder, causing a nerve jolt and the bird to jerk shakily in an instant before righting himself. Gentle or not, it felt the same to his body. Feathers visibly rose as he turned to face his accidental assailant, something he was used to these days. 

    "Wounded? What?" He began to look himself over, thinking maybe he had cut himself on debris. "No, I'm not woun-" The bird stopped himself and adopted a face of indignation, leaning heavy on his cane. He drew in a sharp breath before seething out, "No. I'm aid." Once more, he took a moment to steady himself and take a deep breath, ruffled feathers almost mechanically smoothing themselves out. 

    "If you're looking for injured, there's plenty to go around. Gorge yourself silly on suffering or wring yourself dry of mercy. Take your pick, hazard sites are always the same. If these lot were wiser, they'd be packing it in and walking as refugees elsewhere, but little chance of that, I suppose." The bird's gaze shifts over to the newly made makeshift crane. "No. They'll rebuild, again, and again." A few words are uttered in his squawking tone, probably more cynic rambling. His eyes looked over the destroyed town with the same expression a stern father might disapprovingly look upon a child's untidy room. 

    He took in a sharp piercing breath as his body froze like a board and every muscle tensed up at once. "AH! Ah. Ah. Ahhh-ha-ha ahh... Sorry, forgive me. I'm very tired. I've not had time to rest like I should, or source my medications. Sorry. I'm Turjin Falagar." He bowed his head slightly, ducking his shoulders down in a very regimented toy soldier way. "Forgive me for not shaking hands, it may cause me more suffering. It's an old injury. I'm fine, I assure you. No healing hands, please. Thank you for your offer. What exactly can you do in particular? I'm afraid my little bit of alchemy and... less than ideal lab conditions leave something to be desired. These folks need all the skills and talents they can get, and ideally applied in the right places."

Tatalia and her newfound assistant made good time with the cart and supplies, though moving the crane was a little more difficult. It was loadbearing, certainly; the spider's silk was more than strong enough for that purpose. But the construction itself was a little slapdash, operable as it was. Tatalia had to be slow and steady about maneuvering the crane's contents over to the target domicile's rooftop, but in the end, that was done. No fuss, no muss!

Just as bird woman below was asking for more instructions, though, Tatalia heard some sort of ear piercing scream. The goblin tensed up immediately. She turned and peered toward the source.¹

"Oh, jumping simians!" Tatalia piped, staring at what was very obviously another house having caught fire somehow. She blamed the Ashlands ash.

There wasn't time to think. Tatalia took one look at a spare wire of spider's silk she still had, and she grabbed it without a moment's hesitation. The adventurer-thief hastily looped that cord about one of the tower's merlons and made a sharp loop through the crenelations around it. With one quick tug to test its sturdiness, the goblin dashed along her own slapdash crane and leapt off of it.²

Am I the jumping simian? Tatalia thought to herself as she fell. Nevertheless, her surprisingly long jump distance jump and her sheer altitude gave her just enough of an edge over gravity. Once she'd fallen far enough, Tatalia threw her hand out and conjured webs from her wrist, shooting the sticky glands out toward the burning building.³ The made impact, and gravity made a pendulum out of Tatalia's body, sending her soaring in a downward arc toward the wall. She smacked against it painfully and hung in place for a brief moment.

"Ow," the goblin squeaked.

It must have been an absurd image to anyone watching. Somehow, some roughly ball-shaped bundle of clothes with arms had leapt out, fell, then bounced up midair and pancaked against a burning building. One of the goblin's scarfs floated to the ground in disgust, deciding it there had been quite enough shenanigans in its life and that it wanted to seek less green pastures.

Nevertheless, Tatalia still had work to do! She looked down and saw someone... frightening looking rushing up to save the child trapped inside the burning building, but she knew they'd need a proper exit strategy. Flicking her X-Ray Lenses over her goggles,⁴ the goblin saw there was a safe path along the burning floor to the window nearest to her. All she had to do was make sure that whoever the rescuer was had a good escape route out of the window, right where the child already was.

Well, there was another building nearby, and from where she was... Tatalia decided it was worth trying! She shot forth a little more web from her wrist once, twice, three times, securing it to different points across from her, making a sort of web net dangling between the houses.

It wasn't wholly secure, of course. One of the things holding the webby apparatus up was Tatalia, and she was not looking forward to having to hold up that strange, large person and a child with just her goblin self at the same time. Still, she thanked her lucky stars that her awful arachnathropic curse was actually proving useful for once.

---

_{1. Tracker Extraordinaire; 2. Hoppers; 3. Spider Silk Tattoo; 4. X-Ray Vision.}

Elvira listened to the cynical avian. While she wasn't one for cynicism, she did understand. She refused to judge one for having such views. If it weren't for her studies and her magics, she probably would have been cynical herself.

As he took the sharp breath in and groaned in pain, she quickly evoked some of her healing magic. Just before casting it to him, she paused. He had... denied it? Now, this... this she didn't understand. Her morals, however, did not allow her to cast any magic on someone unwilling to receive it, save for someone incapable of making their own decisions. Essentially the same as a doctor would. She looked to him with concern, her lips slightly opened in a worried look. "Are you sure..?" She sighed and let the spell fade away. "I'm Elvira, the Wandering Cleric. I offer aid where I go, and give proper burials to those slain across the lands."

Before she could explain further, the sight (and sound) of Tatalia smashing against a wall caught her attention. She sprinted over in a panic, worried that the goblin-in-hiding had harmed herself. As she approached, she froze at the sight of the webs. Taking a few steps back, she gave a confused look. "How many more surprises are you withholding from me?" With a sigh and a shake of her head, she looked back to her. "Have you managed to harm yourself once more? Given your history, you should perhaps stay away from walls."

The beast darts through the burning building, ragged feathers beginning to smolder from the heat as it follows the sound of prey/meat/food the child's cries, frostbitten limbs moving jerkily to propel the beast up the stairs.

The fire grows higher, licking closer to the child as smoke pours up and out of the window, their cries growing raw and ragged and hoarse from smoke inhalation.

not again/can't fail/save them/save them/save them. the beast lets out another shriek before listening for the answering cry of fear from the child. Not ideal to deliberately frighten an already scared child, but it needs some way to get a direction...

...feathers bristle as the beast jerks in the direction of the frantic, terrified cry, bone white eyes focusing and refocusing on the open door at the fare end of the hallway...that's about right to be the room with the window...smoke's pouring through, so there's airflow out...

mind made up, the beast jerks back into motion, darting across the hall and into the smoke-filled room toward the prey/meat/food/target, the child letting out a cry of terror as he sees the beast's jagged beak and bone white eyes appear out of the smoke mere moments before the thing scoops him up in bone-thin, frostbitten arms and leaps out of the window, heedless of its own safety.

    The bird had not blinked at the sound of a screaming child. At the bolting Eliviria, he started to twist his head to follow, but froze after feeling his body jerk and reel in complaint. A tired sigh and he straightened his person, and more slowly turned to look at the action he was missing. With a bark (more akin to a squawk), he gave a few quick instructions to those around him to continue in his stead as his cane rapped the ground. 

    "Can't anyone stay still or behave right in a crisis? All the bolting, panic, and running around is wasted energy." He heaved another tired overly dramatic sigh before bursting into his native bird clicks again.

Someone needs to lash the local authorities into shape. This recovery effort is barbaric. And that's coming from a 'barbarian'!

    His pace was slow and his gait was awkward, but he made time steadily. He fixed his glasses upon his beak to get a better view of what was happening around him, previously lost to his blurred vision, and stopped in mid-pace to observe the... spider web?

    "...That... is more clean up... Uuuugh... Theatrics...", he muttered crookedly. For a long moment the birdman considered turning around, back to his previous duties, and trying his best just to ignore and pretend he had not seen the story book chaos in front of him. No, no, he thought, it's better to be involved than let the mess grow. You'll be the one stuck with it, present to not, any how.

    So, the bird pressed on, with a hobbled rhythm in his steady paced step, to join the crude scene of what he could only imagine to be adventurers. 

Thankfully for the stressed out birdman, the goblin's webs weren't meant to last forever. As the absolutely terrifying beaked horror leapt out of the window, Tatalia couldn't help but let out a confused croak, eyes practically popping out of her head. Thankfully, she held the webs taut on reflex, and the strange creature and rescued child alike were caught in the net before they could hit the hard ground.

Tatalia had to very seriously consider what to do. On the one hand, the creature clutching the child make her skin crawl. But it had clearly just shown very real bravery, but Tatalia wasn't sure the city's residents would see things that way, and there were more than a few eyes facing their direction.

The goblin made a decision. She let the web fall apart, then quickly stepped in front of the child and the apparent monster to block outside view of them, just in case the helpful monster needed space to run away or something. The child, for their part, was still weeping and coughing from the smoke, and was all too terrified of their rescuer.

Then Elvira came about, and Tatalia cast a big grin over at her, shifting her position to give the strange being behind her a little bit of a shield, just in case. She stood in an overly casual stance, arms folded behind her back.

"Oh, I'm full of surprises!" the goblin answered, flashing a bright, sharp toothed grin across at the elf. She nervously shifted in place. "My face is fine! The wall had the worse experience. Um, we should put that fire out, don't you think? I'd rather not have to perform any more deeds of derring do today!"

As Tatalia said that, a large, burning timber crashed onto the ground beside her, and she yelped and leapt to the side.

Elvira smiles in response to the goblin, shaking her head softly. As Tatalia asks her to put the fire out, her smile weakens. "Our friends will have to play with the fire today. That is, unfortunately, something I tend to not test fate on. My skills lie elsewhere, according to my history. Back to the task on hand, however. I must check them for wounds."

Elvira gracefully runs to the child's side. Her teachings kick in as she kneels next to the child, comforting them as she checks their wounds. She found nothing but minor burns, smoke inhalation, and a few scrapes and cuts. For these, she used some of the city's emergency first aid to clean, disinfect, and finally bandage.

Then, the rescuer caught her eye. As she steps over to the odd creature, she tried not to show apprehension. The elf hid it well, but her movements were certainly not as quick as they were while aiding the child. "What are you," she whispered, admittedly a bit louder than she had intended. Something about this creature had seemed familiar. She felt that she had read about it in her studies, but she pushed that thought away with force. Now was the time for work.

She gently presses her hands on different parts of the creature's body, feeling for cuts, breaks, anything to give her a clue on the current health of the creature.

The beast stiffens a little, frostbitten fingers crackling with each little motion as it reluctantly allows the child to be pulled from its arms, burning eyes of bone white staring at the - prey/meat/food/flesh - cleric with its head cocked to one side like a curious...crow...

The thing's ragged black feathers are scorched, but it appears to be largely unharmed beyond being massively emaciated and frostbitten. It's beak is visibly cracked and chipped, almost seeming to be pushing out through a smaller beak that had been forced to unhinge.

The beast swallows once, then twice, tensing as the cleric places her hands on its...iridescent black feathers. And then the thing speaks, it's voice a horrible grating sound like broken, grinding bones and crackling frost, ".̶̨͝.̴̞̄.̵̹̑ẅ̶̠e̵̳̅.̸͈̽.̶͔̆.̵̱̌á̴̞r̵͚̆e̸̢̓ ̶̞̚h̸̨̀ů̴̺n̶̞͘g̸̟̎r̷̤̔y̴̱̆.̶͉̉.̷̹̓.̸͖̌"

...Hungry. Tall, lanky and emaciated, ragged and frostbitten...Elvira's heard of something similar, but she's never heard of a wendigo with feathers and a beak...