The tapping of Turjin's cane on the ground hastened as he came near, growing tired and impatient of his own steady pace. "Little sense, I think, in putting out that fire," he began with a pre-emptive grumble. "It won't burn much further, or shouldn't at least, and the valuable contents are either already scrap, or won't burn. Best to let it burn itself out. It shouldn't spread. Bucket teams are needed elsewhere, unless you have a quick way of putting it out."

    At the questioning of the emancipated creature, it was no great mystery unto him. "It's a bird. Or, half of what's left of one at least. The other half I'd dare not speculate where it was left behind."

    To Turjin's reckoning, the humanoid mammalian creatures often projected emotions onto aviankin (albeit accurately so), rather than truly empathizing with them. Most were not gifted with the full range of facial expressions as the smooth skins. So, he hazard to explain his own observations, "It's suffering. Near feral, and paranoid I'll wager. Not from this event. The folk here are shaken and shocked, but this one is near gone."

    He straightened himself up, fluffed his feathers to try and signal mutual empathetic distress to the creature, and attempted some archaic bird call dialects, seeing if any might strike a familiar tone to the bird stranger. "Mm. Let's see." The worn middle-aged bird reached into a coat pocket and produced a cracker ration wrapped in wax paper. Peeling it free, he took a very bird like nibble with pacifying coos. Then, leaning slightly, he offered it open hand to the dark feathered fowl. 

As the fire roared nearby, slowly dying down, Tatalia watched the elvish cleric and the cane-wielding avian attend to the needs of the child and the strange, gangly bird creature that rescued it. Perhaps Tatalia could have helped, but they were being gentle with their gestures and words, slow and steady. There was nothing that Tatalia could do to help more than they were. If anything, injecting herself into the conversation would only have a chance to induce panic.

And yet Tatalia couldn't quite peel herself away, either. Her keen senses¹ detected something strange about the monstrous being, something almost... familiar? It wasn't about who they were, though certainly something about that beaked face seemed familiar. No, it was about what they were. It was in their scent, in their very aura, like somehow Tatalia knew on an instinctual level what sort of demons plagued the creature. It was like the... the suffering was familiar.

Because they're like me, the goblin realized quietly. This person suffers like me. They're cursed.

It was an uncomfortable thought, one made all the more unnerving with how instinctual that conclusion seemed. Tatalia had never really known what it was like to look at someone inflicted with a violent curse. She had lived through such a curse, but to see someone else twitching with that familiar rage and with an anguish that seemed even more potent, well... it was a very poignant reminder of what the implications of her own curse were. She quietly wondered if she looked a little like the creature on the ground when possessed by the spider's hunting urges. Tatalia hoped that was not the case.

The goblin shook her head free of those thoughts. What was she even doing? She was just standing around... worrying! She could do so much more than worry!

"I'll send someone up to operate the crane," Tatalia told the others, grinning in such a way that the thoughts that plagued her were hidden from anyone looking towards her. "I'll see if I can't find the kid's family! I doubt she'd still be living there if they were gone, and I don't think they're trapped in the rubble."

Leaving the altogether too familiar cursed person in the hands of people who could help her better, Tatalia darted off to do exactly as she had said.

---

_{1. Tracker Extraordinaire}

Elvira had just taken her hands away from the creature after being satisfied with their bill of health, only to nearly fall over at the rather horrifying sounds of the creature's voice. She almost noped out, only staying due to the unbridled curiosity that had arisen within her and the fact that the creature had proven at least mostly friendly. She recovered herself after a moment of staring, standing up carefully so as to not alarm the creature. "I suppose I should ask better questions, hmm? Well, who are you and where do you come from? You seem... familiar, to say the least." Her voice carried mounds of curiosity in its tone. She wasn't commanding the creature to answer, merely asking it a question as one would of a stranger. Of course, there was an undertone of worry. She worried that the creature may hide more. It was obviously designed by whatever force had created it to kill.

In fact, she wondered just what had created this creature. Was it natural? Arcane? Divine? Hell, even some unholy force? It irked her that she didn't know. Years of study of both natural and unnatural and she still didn't have much of a clue as  to what kind of being lay before her.

"Well," she thought, "We will just have to find out using other techniques, won't we?"

The beast lets out a low trill, cocking its head to one side before letting out a low, rasping call...well. that's one Turjin hasn't heard in a while. Sounds like an old dialect of Crow. the thing gently takes the cracker in jagged, frostbitten talons before nibbling on it in turn, bone white eyes sliding shut briefly before it gently hands the cracker-ration back to the parrot and speaking in its gnarled, ragged voice once more, ".̴̞̕.̸͙̿.̵̯̃n̴̠͝ẽ̸̱e̵̳͂d̴̠̋.̴̭͘.̵͎̈́.̵̛̮m̴̪̈́e̴̋ͅâ̶͜ṯ̷͐.̷͙́.̸̛͉.̴͔̇s̷̯̏h̸̢͆e̸̠͗ ̸̽ͅw̵̬̉ǒ̷̜n̸̢͐'̶̞̇ẗ̸̰ ̶͈̈l̷̳͝e̸̤͗t̵͙̋ ̴͎̽u̸̙͋s̶̛͉.̶̥̏.̶̲̔.̷͈͐ḥ̶͗u̶̥͐ň̶͍ẗ̵͕́ ̸̙͝t̸͚̂ḣ̸͕ę̵̓ ̸̬̄c̶̘̃ḽ̶̊e̶̪͠v̸̯͗e̵͙͋r̴̙̊ ̵̩͗o̸͙̕n̶̪̾ë̶͕́s̷̘͆.̶̜͆.̶͑͜.̵̦̓b̶͓̔ú̸̱ț̶̔ ̸͇̀t̵̜͆h̵̪̀e̶̙̿ ̷̮̍ḅ̶̈́e̸̮͑a̶͇͗ṣ̸̀t̵̰́ ̸̦̀t̵͖͒h̵̟̔e̴̩͑y̴̼͂ ̴̠́ḳ̸̽e̶͙͊e̴͍͒p̶̫̃.̵͈̀.̶͔͊.̶̫̎a̵̢̓r̷̡̀é̵͕ ̷̢̓f̶̰̏á̴͈i̵̫̓r̵̹͑ ̶͕͗g̷͈̋a̶͍̽m̸̰̊ē̶̢.̵͎͠.̷̗̇.̸̳̂¹"

the great avian thing shakes itself, sending frost spraying from its feathers before it trills again, hunching in on itself and groaning in pain as its bones visible break apart and shrink and reform under its flesh, the sickening sound carrying through the street as the beast shrinks...and shrinks, going from eight feet of lanky, emaciated muscle and bone to four feet of familiar, relatively well fed and somewhat curvy crow. the last thing of the beast to disappear is the cracked and chipped beak, the massive thing sinking into its skull to allow the pair of jaws it had forced its way out of to re-hinge and close.

Rena groans from her position hunched on the street, her dress somehow whole. silver eyes slowly refocus as she straightens with several painful sounding pops and cracks, "...ach, 's always a pain t'do that...yl'ka ne'te d'vur¹..."

---

1. I'll need to eat - rough translation

   The old bird watched as the small gremlin-like entity scurried off, followed by the poor healer struggle to find a social footing. The drama amused him briefly before the fellow bird started to speak again and offer back the cracker. Turjin eyed it for a moment, germaphobia kicking in. He decided to simply take the wax paper and wrap it away to pocket for... later disposal. "That's a very old crow dialect. Very few still speak it, if I recall right. I haven't heard it in well over a decade now."

    Turjin's pragmatic approach to the world wouldn't let him turn away from watching the crow transform, bones cracking and all, but with every crack his feathers rose like a clockwork engine being wound. The hat on top his head rose with it, hopping once as the feathers rose especially high at a particularly rough sounding bone crack. He cleared his throat, quietly squawked, rubbed his feathers back down, and refixed his hat.

    "Right. Well... Always good to see another Avian. I'm Turjin Falagar--" He paused to look the crow once over after, unsure of anything after that disfiguring display of transformation. "--ma'am... Is... Are you... alright after that? The whole... bone cracking... thing? I don't mean to pry." Clearly, the macaw was at a loss. Never the less, he stepped forward and offered his free hand to help the lady to her feet. 

"Jania! Oh, my baby!" an older woman cried out. She came rushing out from behind the trio, clearly in her sixties or more, and rushed forward to grab the small child that had been rescued moments prior.

"Meema!" the child rasped back, coughing from the smoke she had inhaled. The old woman helped the child away from the scene, and a couple of other helpful residents of the city started tending to the child's needs. She was in good hands.

Tatalia, meanwhile, came right back over to the trio of odd people. The goblin in disguise walked on up beside the strange avian woman and offered a phial of yellow liquid.

"Try this!" she said cheerily. "It's a little homebrew cocktail of my own. Should relax your brain and your muscles, relieve stress, and keep any particularly aggressive urges to a minimum!"

Of course, the bottle didn't exactly have a very pleasant mixture inside. The yellow liquid that sloshed about had a foul, bitter taste and had smoke rolling about in the empty space next to the liquid. Still, Tatalia had used the same concoction to keep her own curse in check before. She hoped it would have a similarly calming effect on the strange avian woman she saw before her.

Other than offering that drink, Tatalia didn't interrupt much. Once again, the others seemed to have a handle on things, and she didn't intend to crowd or cause disruption. Instead, she surveyed the damage around her and started making a mental blueprint of what sort of work would have to be done to clean the mess up...

    Elvira jumped back at the sound of the bones cracking and snapping. Similar to Turjin, she flinched at nearly every crack, following up with a sickened groan. She felt the need to throw up, but had the inability to do so. Instead, all she could muster was a gag and a dry heave. After regaining herself and shaking her head for nearly a full minute, she finally stood to face the avians.

    Instead, however, she was greeted with a surprising scene. Tatalia had stepped in and handed the prone crow a bottle of the same fluid she had seen in her initial encounter with the goblin. She felt a bit confused, even more so after the explanation of the contents inside. Sure, it was similar to what she had said, but... how could she know it would help with this particular case?

    "Oh well," she thought, "no use worrying. Hells, it might be worth a shot anyways."

    Feeling satisfied with her thoughts, she stepped over to help lift the prone crow to her feet. "I would typically ask numerous prodding questions after witnessing a scene such as this one, but I fear we still have much more important work to do, and a lot of it too. We must check for survivors in other buildings and aid in the efforts to rehabilitate the city, or at least to prevent further damages and injuries. This city is not lost yet, but it is well on its way to being so lest we act!"

Rena shakes her head to clear it, tailfeathers flicking as she glances at the vial, silver eyes squinting at the contents, "...'m not sure if that'll help...only thing I've found that does is...meat," she shivers, then sighs, cracking her neck and standing, relaxing a little when she sees the boy with his grandmother, "...helped me save a life. that's something..." she murmurs, then glances around with those shining silver eyes, looking for anyone else who might need assistance.

It's then that she sees the crowd staring at her with eyes full of fear and distrust. She shrinks back almost instinctively from those wary, accusing gazes. Even the little boy she'd saved stiffens with fear when he glances back at her, his grandmother holding him closer as she murmurs soothing words.

"...of course," the crow mutters, "...every n'ta'fal¹ time, even after saving one of their own...just like back in the valley. an outsider's an outsider, a cursed is a cursed," and she lets out a soft sigh, glancing at the others near her, "...I'll help out as best I can, but the second they start throwin' rocks, I'm gettin' out of dodge. Even making things better isnae worth a beatin' if'n the pain can be avoided"

---

1. [expletive]

    Quietly the bird watched the scene play out with the child finding its parent and the short discussions amongst the actors of, what Turjin observed, the miniature drama. All until a few hopeful words were said by the elf, 

    "This city is not lost yet, but it is well on its way to being so lest we act!"

    At this, the macaw's feathers ruffled, he threw back his head dramatically, neck out stretching to make the back of his head press against his shoulders (in a way only a bird can) and even the wings beneath his heavy robe flap with a ruckus. The bird balked, "Not lost!? Was it ever had?! And if it were, by who?" 

    Before saying too much more, the bird rapped his cane on the ground and regained control of his outburst. Instead he merely muttered his avian whistles and grumbles under his breath. "I'm headed back. There's still food and medicine to be distributed. If any of you come across any food stuff, try to restrain yourselves. It's better put in a soup. It'll go further and last longer. For some reason I feel a deep seated doubt that the proper authorities are going to avail themselves to being useful in this crisis. That, or take a very, very, very long time looking at ledgers to determine whether this city is worth the expense of rebuilding."

    Turjin then turned on his heel and with a tapping of his cane, headed back to his previous engagement of organizing food and medicine while a proverbial dark cloud hung over his head. 

Tatalia really wanted to explain exactly why she knew it'd help. She wanted to tell the avian woman how absolutely certain they both suffered from something very similar, that she may have tried eating her best friend, and that maybe what worked for her could at least help the cursed bird woman a little bit. But...

But there was absolutely no way Tatalia was going to say all that in public. She'd have to find a time to talk to the woman in private later. Without any fuss, she tucked her vial away. There'd be another chance to offer real help.

"They won't throw anything!" the goblin gently cheerily assured the bird woman. "To be completely frank, they're probably too concerned with their own suffering at the moment to try anything too awful! I wouldn't want to be here a week from now, however," she added offhandedly, waving her hand in a circle.

"And if they do try anything, don't worry! Just between us, I know more about escaping angry mobs than, well... most people!" The goblin's oh-so-reassuring grin could not be seen beneath her mask, but it could absolutely be heard in her voice. "Trust me, I've already plotted several getaways in case of ill intent toward our persons! You'll be safe."

With those reassurances made, Tatalia turned her attention toward the other bird person, resting her hands on her hips and nodding over at the gentleman.

"Well, my cane-carrying curmudgeon, I'll be cleaning debris away from the roadways! Try not to get into too much trouble, now!" And with those final words, the bundled up rogue jogged away, found a nearby house that wasn't on fire, and managed to get atop it with surprising ease. Something about 'jumping high'¹ and 'expert climbing'² meant that she didn't have a single problem reaching the rooftop. Once she was there, the goblin started shooting conjuring strands of web³ to snag debris off the road and gather it into neat little piles.

Some adventurers just couldn't stop being adventurers at any given moment.

---

_{1. Hoppers; 2. Surface Scaling; 3. Spider Silk Tattoo}

    Elvira gave a surprised look to the cane-wielding avian. She wasn't expecting the outburst after her attempt to improve the morale of those assisting. Inside, she felt a little saddened. Refusing to let this drag her down, however, she replaced the pep in her step and looked back to Rena. "Come, my friend. Do not let those ignorant of your true spirit prevent you from doing good. Regardless of the external form, you have proven to be a being of good soul. The child will forever remember you despite the initial distrust. I am sure that the citizens of this town are merely in fear of more destruction. Do not blame them for their ignorance, it is rather easy to fall into a well of distrust after losing what little you had."

    She crouches and extends her hand with a smile. Though her outside looks were... rather creepy, being that her entire face was concealed save for her face, a warm aura enveloped her. "Let us get to work. The others will trust you soon enough, but I trust you in this moment. Perhaps we will find a meat to quell the hunger you have been afflicted with in our journey to aid the town. What say you, friendly crow?"

Rena tilts her head. this cleric was...strange, to her. she'd seen Rena's curse in action, and yet...didn't appear to fear her. perhaps not all was lost after all. The crow smiles a little, gently taking the cleric's hand with one of her own, "...thank you," then glances around, ignoring the crowd for the time being as she searches for someplace she can be useful...then she sees the looters ransacking an abandoned storefront. those silver eyes flash white as she darts toward them, ignoring the lingering ache in her bones form the recent transformation as she allows a pair of bayonets to drop from her sleeves and into her waiting palms.

She wastes no time confronting them "...you're doin' more harm than good, surely ye realize? I cannae let ye take from your fellow victims o' this disaster, when ye should be comin' together stronger than before," with those words she raises a blade to point at the looter in the back of the store, "...back in the valley, I'd be well within me rights t' kill ye and be done with it, maybe even get a reward from the shopkeep after presenting your heads. who knows, maybe that's how things work around here too. I could certainly use the goodwill 'round these parts"

    "Well, my cane-carrying curmudgeon--"

    The bird had to force himself not to grin at the jab, but he couldn't hide his attitude softening. Curmudgeon. That's a word he hadn't heard in front of his face for a few years now, and of all times to hear it in that tone. His deceased wife called him that from time to time, and with as much humor. Funny that littlest creature should remind him so vividly. He looked on in the distance at the soup line he had organized, and the busy little hands he had set to medicine. They didn't really need his oversight, it was just something he did to keep himself from feeling helpless. 

    He took in a deep breath, closed his eyes, and began to Meditate, and let the moment pass him with clear reflection and fresh body. "Maybe I'll spend a bit more time this side of things."  Then, as he turned, he felt his blood run cold as he witnessed the crow woman sizing up looters. He sighed audibly and tapped his cane in that direction. 

    "Ah, yes, the good will of cutting down the most desperate of the desperate in a crisis. I am sure their mothers will be oh-so happy to cast laurels upon you for serving up their children's foolish heads on a platter." The bird snorted, casting a gaze to the looters. "Leave them be. The only thing of value right now is food, water, and blankets. The rest, even the most precious of jewels, are of little consequence. If they could not earn it fairly, they'll soon be parted with it by their own hands, such is the way of the world, ashes to ashes and all." 

    Then, his cane loudly slapped the ground as he squared his shoulders and stood as upright as possible, staring to the crow. "But, maybe, almost certainly, you think me folly. Go on, kill them. Cut them to pieces. Feast upon their meat. I'll not stop you. I am sure you'll rend some sort of satisfactory reward, and I'll bear you no consequence, I assure you." The words were packed with an other worldly weary sort of venom. Judgmental, for sure, but also some sort of baited unseen trap, like an oracle crying beware, but did not really mean it.

The labor of leaning up the streets was arduous, and it kept Tatalia's focus because there was always more to clean. Even with her unique gifts, she found some of the debris was just too heavy and she had to hop down and help others manually move stone, metal, and wood by hand.

Still, Tatalia couldn't help but feel accomplished. Between the crane and helping with the debris, the goblin quietly calculated the numbers of man hours of labor she saved the city's residents, just for her own benefit, really, and... well, it wasn't an insignificant number. Of course, any such numbers could only be rough estimates, educated guesses at best, but Tatalia still felt glad to have contributed something. It was good.

Unfortunately, the very same focus that had helped Tatalia do so much work in such a short time had kept her from noticing the scene developing nearby. It wasn't until she had finished loading one last wheelbarrow of broken material and just happened to look over toward where she'd last seen the others working that she glimpsed Rena standing with weapons drawn in front of... what appeared to be a group of desperate looters. Her stance was a dangerous one.

"Lunala's locks!" cursed the goblin under her breath. She tried to rush over and intervene, but she was too far away to get there in time...