Location: Dasratsel, The Clock Tower
The wind whistled, rushing through their clothing, and chilling their blood. They shivered reflexively, reaching up to rub at their bare arms. There was something off about the town. The moment they had learned of its existence, they’d rushed over filled with concern for their missing acquaintances. They hadn’t found anyone though, and had soon lost themselves in the winding streets. They huffed a little, before reaching up and pulling their hair back into a ponytail.
“When stuck try and see things from a different perspective,” they said quietly. They adjusted their gloves, double checked that their various weaponry was strapped down, re-tied their boots with a nervous sigh, and finally straightened up. A quick look around, just to ensure that no one was minding them, and they broke into a run. They launched themselves at the clock face, fingers and toes clinging to it for a few heart palpating seconds, before their knees got in the way and they fell backwards with a yelp. They thudded back onto the ground, and lay there for a few moments, glaring up at the sky.
They sighed gustily and stood back up, “fine then,” they muttered, “I’ll just fly!” No sooner had the words left their mouth, that the magic flowing through their blood was responding. With a screech they took to the air, feathery appendages beating the air into submission. They reached the tower top swiftly, hovering around it for several seconds, before they managed to perch themselves on the needle tip, like an ungainly weathervane. Their claws scraped plaintively, but they held, so they turned their attention towards the winding streets.
At first they were unsure, the eagle’s eyesight clashing with their own mind, but no, they’d recognize those clothes anywhere. They screeched, once, proudly, and then a second time before they took to the skies. They flew, a massive bird of prey heading to their unaware prey. Abruptly, they pulled back, wings back spinning as they saw their target step into a narrower alley. Without hesitation, they plucked one of their own feathers, and dropped the spell.
For a moment, they hung weightless, and then they plummeted. A scream was building in their throat but they turned it into a tuneful cry instead. Immediately, their body slowed, floating as slowly as a feather on a gentle breeze. The spell ended all too quickly though, the ground suddenly appearing in their vision. They hit it, tumbling for a few extra feet, before bumping into the wall. Scrambling up, they ignored the blood dripping down their arm and face, choosing instead to tear into the alley, yelling.
