Bronze Castle's Spike

Chapter 1 : The First King's Decree

---

The dead speaks!

Or so the goblin shamans would have one think. While their predictions varied, from the end of the world, to an apocalyptic disaster on their beer production, there was enough doom from all of them combined that it seemed taking an action to allay those fears was justified, even if its just cursory acknowledgement. Now, rather than a simple room and a captain they took orders from, a pub was made instead, serving as the King's own tavern and eatery while hosting a bounty board with collated jobs, handled by a staff dedicated to it. A show that, yes, the problems of the Castle aren't being ignored.

The first of its kind, familiar to almost no one in the entire kingdom.

It was almost no surprise then, during the group's first actual summons into it, it was entirely empty save for one person behind the main job counter, listlessly wiping a mug clean.



"Name's Runem, from clan Dregaul. Might need that if this place ever gets off and ya come see me more." She took a glance at the empty board, still pristine and fresh. "Ain't got nothing on the board at all, though one of the kobolds did ask for help."

Runem slid a piece of sooty parchment onto the counter. It was badly written, but the important details were obvious. A farm on the outskirts needs help and they seemed desperate for it.

"Up to ya if you accept it, ain't my business if ya don't. Heard there might be another person joining in soon too, something bout introductions."

She turned to cleaning another mug, looking markedly disinterested in the group.

The first of (hopefully) many requests, the Spikers introduction to what would be their hub of operations seemed lackluster to say the least. But still, they had a request, and it wasn't too far away.

A good thing perhaps, for them to start getting to know each other better.

There was a rather small looking figure standing in front of the counter, its head barely situated high up enough to see what was lying where on the counter comfortably. A reddish, leathery looking hand reached for the piece of parchment. The style those humans, kobolds and whatever they called themselves employed to put down their words had not lost its weirdness towards Fyr ever since he had seen it for the first time, and still the demon was convinced that he would be able to teach them a more efficient one. If they'd only listen...

So a peasant needed help ? Fyr looked at the piece of bread in his hands he had just taken another bite off. Maybe they'd be able to get some particularly fresh one there if they'd do a good job ? The only problem was that the request was hopelessly unspecific, not stating any vital detail about the problem at hand. It could be a simple, boring one-man job or something that'd require a dozen elite warriors.

"I'd wish they'd do a better job at preparing those requests..." Fyr commented, sighing. "So, any takers ? If so, consider myself a companion for this."

The demon let go of a less than subtle grin. He knew that not everybody liked him. Some didn't by default, others only when he had pulled something off again that was flat-out wrong in their eyes. Fyr took another bite, then decided to stuff the humble remainder of the bread right into his mouth as well.

"Does anybody know how far this farm is away from us ?"

Smithing was good, honest work. Unfortunately for someone like Amitha, it wasn't enough to subside on. Most of the honest, simple crafts were easily handled by other smiths. Horse shoes were a nice, stable source of income. Unfortunately, such work was more often left to farriers who specialized in such a thing. The simple works were easily left with the other, cheaper blacksmiths. Long-term work was left to the smiths and craftsmen who could read contracts. This left her in a perilous predicament: unable to do meaningful amounts of both skillful and unskilled work.

However, her skills could perhaps be leveraged in other ways.

When news broke about jobs opening up to those who possessed special powers, Amitha knew she had an opportunity to make coin again. If she could get enough coins, she could finally sate her appetite instead of eating just enough to survive!

So there she was: at a no name bar which had just opened. Did they even serve food there? Maybe.

She was crouching in front of the bartop, her chin barely above the counter top.

"What say?" She inquired as her arm stretched to point at the piece of paper.

Feng had gotten a verbal message about a meeting point for Spikers for the King. A strange inn or bar where jobs would be posted and others would meet. Maybe even the King would show up at one point. The information didn't cause any noticeable excitement as he lumbered through the town to the building. It looked like any other type of inn, but served a greater purpose than sleep and food and drink. Possibly, they'd find out if it did or not.

Opening the door he held the upper part of its frame and ducked inside, and remained hunched somewhat. This was not a building designed with the more giant of the minotaurs in mind. It wasn't any different from any other building not specifically built by his kind. Luckily a strong back was something he had. His crimson gaze scanned the people within, a male demon, a woman with horns, and a half-breed. He scanned Runem a moment, taking in the small minotaur features she had.

A snort of steam came from him as he approached the counter. It was frowned on to produce half-breeds, but he had gotten his own fair share of shit for being different he wouldn't treat her the same way. She showed the ones present a piece of paper with frantic writing and vague details. Really just a cry for help and that it was one of the outlying farms. The half-breed behind the counter, Runem, mentioned another coming and introductions. Ugh...introductions...

The demon said he'd tag along with whoever went on the job., Which currently was only three people present that wasn't doing anything. The horned woman...couldn't read. He wasn't the most well versed in words upon paper but at least he could get the basics! He sighed while rubbing along the bridge of his nose with his hand. "It's a request for help from an outlying farm of the city." He rumbled down to the crouching goat woman. That voice sounded like it could crumble a mountain from how deep it was.

A Tavern for king, bad decisions, and community service can have you question your life choices in more ways than one. Now a tavern requesting persons to aid the kingdom wasn't the worst idea. Now one could find themselves becoming more confident in taking up a mighty task with a sip of alcohol or simply becoming too inebriated to realize what they were signing up for. Either way Tash's stature of stupid seemingly would make him susceptible to the tavern's manipulation.
Tash had passed the tavern before while it was under construction; he was being escorted by guards for a talk several months ago that led to a deal, "calm down on the hunts." He was let go, but as a additive to the deal he had to bring a deer to the local butcher shop "out of the goodness of your scaly heart." Now we was craving deer and the only way he could avoid trouble was to buy back the meet that he had bought the butcher. Fortunately the butcher caught wind of the coin that was being offered at the tavern. Tash pointed to the butcher asking him for work, but the butcher didn't need another had at the time.((acceptable?))

Now at the tavern, standing near the entrance door, a little too close, was Tash whom startled themselves. He had accidently shut the door behind them with a flick his tail after he entered. There around him were an assortment of strong looking individuals, that Tash felt a bit intimated by, but at least being in back made him feel more comfortable. Tash took note that the people in front of him; most of them were of races he had never see before. Were they like him Tash wondered recalling his odd past with waking up a naked lizard boi* in some abandoned place? Perhaps all of them had their own book and could help him understand how to pronounce 'cannybull's' for the "Cannibal's Curry" recipe.

He took note of the huge Minotaur that he had followed into the building and took a side step to the right clearing way of the door entrance incase someone else would come in during his stay. He took in the pub for the first time admiring the barrels of alcohol packed behind Runem. While the other's were asking questions and making statements, Runem was cleaning out a mug that made Tash ask, "Was someone drinking before we came here?" Tash realized he had made his attention known more so now speaking up from the back and started looking away from everyone trying to receive less self educed embarrassment. Tash Tucked his clawed hands into his pockets and leaned back against the wall pinning his tail and spike between his shoulder blades waiting for a response.

---

"That would be me." A voice replied to the inquisitive dragon-man. It was a soothing baritone, almost harmonic.

Unnoticed by the other patrons, perhaps due to his patient stillness, or more likely the fact he decided to wear a dark hood and sit himself in the corner of the bar, was a hooded figure, enjoying a mug of fruity wine clutched by a pale hand wearing a glistening gem-bearing silver ring. Leaning on the bar next to him was some sort of long blade, wrapped meticulously in parchment. Swiftly, he finished the rest of his drink, allowing the wine to flow smoothly into his throat before placing the mug gently onto the counter. Standing up, he removed his hood, his white hair shimmering with his movement, before turning to face everyone else.

A 6'4 Bright Elf bearing a mithril circlet and a soft expression. His eyes were closed, yet at the same time, it felt as if he were scrutinizing everyone else in the room. With a stroke of his chin and a nod, he lifted his blade up, bringing it to a harness attached to his belt. To those who were trained in the combat arts, it seemed that this elf moved with careful deliberation, almost efficiently. To others, he seemed... strange. Both fast and slow at the same time. Such was the nature of elves, whose entire body chemistry was slower than the younger races.

"Galain Jinn." He spoke, revealing himself to be one of the few raiders who once served that freak of nature who almost brought down the Bronze Castle once more.

"It seems that we are all gathered to this guild for the same reason. I'm sure you all have one of these, as well."

Pulling back the sleeve from his left arm, Galain revealed his ring to everyone else. It wasn't quite hard to miss, and didn't even require him to pull his sleeve back in order to show it. However, the gesture would soon make sense as the stone inlaid within the ring began to glow, causing his finger to bleed. Scarlet strands trickled down to his bear arm, revealing that this ring was more than it appeared.

Yes, it seemed the ring was spiked onto the elf.

Runem barely batted an eye at the strange ensemble of characters in front of her, not even the white minotaur. As the elf stood up, she turned her head.

"5 coppers for that fruit wine. Don't run off and leave your debt unpaid, Muzkaag."

Whatever else she was going to say was interrupted immediately by a loud crash into one of the windows. A moment of silence, before it opened abruptly and a feathery head popped in cheerfully.



An almost earshattering greetings for so early in the morning, but that was why harpies were often messengers; it was very hard to ignore one trying to tell you something. This one rubbed her slightly reddened nose, before bending forwards, letting the bag lower enough for her dexterous claws to rifle through the contents and picking out another sooty, badly scrawled letter.

"Clan Wolfbane would like to add more to the request they posted here. They need help very soon. E..Enm... Enimy? Will come soon. Please help." Flipping the paper to make sure nothing else was written on it, the harpy bowed and took a running hop before flapping into the air, presumably to continue delivering more messages.

"Hnngh... Why can't they just read the letters normally..." Runem picked up the cleaning cloth again. "Well, ya heard the bird. Sounds like introductions can wait. The farm is on the outskirts past the second tower to the west. Yeah, it's very out there, but one of them told me the soil was good there or something. Better get a move on."

Whatever they did, it was obvious at least that they had to go right now. It was not just about accepting the job after all, it was about the people here as well. That farm succumbing from whatever ails it would mean not only would they not get paid, but the produce that would have come from it would not be feeding any hungry belly in the Castle, including theirs.

When they made their way there, the well travelled, and well lived in looking areas quickly turned to jungle trails and thick foliage, filled with the usual cacophony of animals and creatures. The cool air and heady smell of the jungle, of the life living there combined to make a smell all of them would be familiar with. Here there was no civilization, only the cold brutal honesty of living. With nothing more threatening than a herd of armored rhinolike creatures scraping at tree barks with their forked horns in their path, they arrived at the farm with nary an incident.

They could hear the farm long before they arrived, the yips and barks of the kobold language readily apparent as they approached. The guard at the edge of the farm let out a series of short clipped barks as soon as it saw them, echoed by several distant kobolds as it finishes. Running on all fours at them, it was wagging its tail furiously as it greeted them.

"Hail friend. Come help? See note? Help us?" Every word was barked out, the guard looking hopefully at them.

Behind them lied the farm, a relatively wide flat area where small shrubs bearing purple hooked fruits was planted in a line. A furhook berry farm, it seemed.

Well, the explanation of the large cowman didn't help. It was just to help them. Still, the arrival of more friends was sure to make this job go weller! Weller? Gooder? Whatever, it didn't matter. When the elf-man put the ring on and injured himself, Amitha was confused. Why did he have a ring that just injured himself? Was he one of those mass of chists she heard people around town talk about? They liked pain, didn't they? Or maybe it was that they liked pans. Amitha liked pans too. Especially when they contained food.

The arrival of a screaming harpy gave more information. Now the call of an enemy? That was something she could handle. All she had to do was hit it! Easy, problem solved. She was especially invigorated when she realized that farm meant food. If she did a good job, then she could get food!

So she went with the rest of the group to the farm. Their journey was uneventful. The joyous guard kobold appeared to greet them when they appeared at the entrance.

"Yes! Here to help!" Amitha told the guard with a big thumbs up.

---

Galain had almost replied to the Runem regarding the payment of his refreshments, or lack thereof, if not for the sudden outburst from the harpy messenger. Among Galain's few weaknesses, loud noise was one of them. Cringing in pain, Galain leaned onto the wall with his bloodied hand in order to support himself up. As he had done so, noticing that everyone's attention was towards the bird-brain, Galain relished this opportunity to clean his dirtied finger. He began by wiping the blood off of it, dragging it on the bar's walls like some sort of barbarian... not that anyone could tell off this primitive construction, anyway.

"Ah... urgent, huh? I suppose we should get there quickly, then." Galain remarked, throwing his hood back on as he left for the door. Before he situated himself outside this not-so-fine establishment, however, Galain turned to the bartender once more, his fingers poised towards her in the shape of two pistols.

"Just put that drink on my tab." He said, as if proud of his cheapness. One could even swear they saw a wink from his closed eyes.

The trek for the farm was quite calming, if uneventful. Stereotypical of an elf, Galain quietly admired the more natural bits of the trail as they made their way into the wilder portions of the land. Birds chirping, leaves howling, horns scraping... An idyllic utopia came to mind in Galain's head, one where nature and civilization were one with each other. It filled Galain with a sense of longing to return to the Elf Kingdom.

In the end, however, his new place was here, among beasts and monsters.

Reaching the farm and meeting with the kobold guard, Galain nodded in agreement along with his horned companion. Was she a goat, or just a very strange minotaur? Eh, it didn't matter too much. He's sure introductions will be made more clearly as they completed their duty. Kneeling to the kobold, Galain scratched behind its ear reassuringly. He... still wasn't sure of the social norms of his monstrous neighbors, but he was quite confident in dealing with kobolds. He's owned a puppy before, after all.

"Yes, we've received your message. Who's a good boy? That's right, you. What's going on? What do you need help with? Did someone fall down a well?"

Feng's eyebrow quirked up when the harpy smashed into the side of the building face first. How she didn't destroy or flatten her nose he'd never know. Still more to the first message was given to the party, an enemy of some sort would be coming soon. I wonder how they know... He thought as the elf showed off his ring was in fact a Spike that did...something aside from just stabifying his finger. Then the half-breed spoke up to designate which farm it was, which was rather useful information since there were multiple farms with kobolds and other smaller races.

Ducking out of the inn his hand swept to the side and plucked up a massive stone axe that was promptly laid across his shoulder for easier carrying. It was like a sharpened rock tied to a small tree! But he didn't need to use it because the trip to the farm was uneventful, a boring quick pace to get to the farm before whatever this enemy was got there first. The sounds of barks and yips were heard, kobold language. Something he couldn't be bothered to learn, seriously when would he ever chat with a kobold that didn't know common?

The miniature guard came barreling towards them, looking hopeful as he asked if they were there to help and if they got the note. The horned woman replied positively, the elf replied positively as well and...treated the kobold like a common dog. A dull look turned to the elf before he shook his head. "What's the situation?" He questioned while looking down at the currently elf molested humanoid canine.

The elf in the corner of the room had taken responsibility for the dirty mug that Runem was cleaning. Galain Jinn had revealed his name and announced his possession of a spike. Tash would start smelling the blood coming from Galain's finger, Tash would become drawn to his voice that would soon be contrasted. "I'm Ta-" Tash manage to get out before being interrupted by a loud bird brain, calling out at Runem from a window. The elf would turn his focus, as well as Tash who had jumped a bit, to the new arrival. Tash was a little used to sudden loud noises thanks to all the kobolds, but Tash wasn't prepared for sudden birb. "Unpaid debt?" Tash said in a hushed town along with the harpy's talk making it near impossible to hear. Tash took note that Runem made a odd kind of reaction to the harpy. She interested Tash with the idea of her maybe maybe over indulging on something in the kingdom Like Tash had. . .

As conversation progressed the adventures found themselves going to their first mission, minotaur carrying quite a club, Elf day dreaming, and the sheep girl seeming focused on getting to the destination. Amitha shot a thumbs up at a kobold whom's face seemed to brighten. Tash look at Amitha and then her thumb and imitated it at the kobold 5 seconds after she did.

Tash was determined to also reassure the kobold things were going to be okay, but Tash wasn't sure how yet. The elf changed his tone to his elf-to-dogo accent. Weird thought Tash, but it would get worse as the elf started touching the kobold. Tash pulled back his hand with his tail becoming pressed to his left leg's side, spike holding on to the other side. Tash squinted a bit with a delayed twitch. Tash stopped to look up at the minotaur also watching the elf. Feng made a seemingly disowning face which to Tash so far seemed only slightly different from Feng's default face. Thumbs up, ear scratching, and a less excited response to the kobold. Tash spoke trying to recall how the harpy spoke, "Is there a an-emy here?" Tash didn't know the word enemy and let alone "Enimy".

The demon was used to loud noises from the hell he had been ripped out of, but the inhabitants of that place seldomly were so... croaky. The moment the harpy showed up and presented her kind of voice, Fyr already wished for the much more dark, thunderous and guttural tones of the other demons he had come to know in his past. They would have been more relaxing to hear for sure. However the way the harpy had bumped into the glass window made was good enough for a nice laugh which Fyr did not hesitate to release on the spot.

The message was far less amusing though. Enemies on the way ? That meant they'd had both to hurry and to stay there even after the initial task had been completed. Anything else wouldn't make much sense if the farm was overrun by hostiles just a few hours later and hopefully his companions would come to the same conclusion by themselves.

And then of course there was the jungle. Softer ground and small feet were not a good combination if one had shaped one's magic into the kind of incredibly dense package of a body Fyr had. He was digging deep into the ground with every step, thereby having to waste a lot of energy just to keep up with the others who didn't have to make that many steps in the first place. On the plus side of things he had not yet heard any jokes about his slight chubbyness and, unlike some others, he did hardly have to crouch, duck or crane his neck in order to get his head into an adequate position for talking to the kobold on halfway equal terms!

"I don't like to speak of the devil, but I think that some degree of haste is in order. As far as we know enemies are on the way, so what's the issue now ?"

The kobold's tail started wagging furiously as his tongue lolled out, pleased to be greeted like this.

"Yes. Yes enemy. Bad come to farm. Bad harvest with enemy. Come. Come now. Enemy soon."

The barks and yips of faraway kobolds could still be heard in various intensity as they followed the guard. The furhook berries shrubs they passed seemed almost ripe, with many already weighting heavy on their branches, ready to snag onto any furry animal. Once harvest comes, the kobolds would be running up and down the rows of shrubs, shaking off the berries onto a basket every now and then. Primarily used like a vegetable because of their sweet acidic taste, these would also be used to make a sweet mead the lamias seemed to particularly enjoy.

For now the farm only hosts apprehensive kobolds, with a particularly more well equipped kobolds standing out nearer to the main storehouse, wearing a thicker leather and fabric armor as well as a very well made shield. Even the rock axe he wielded seemed a step up from the rest of the clubs and axes the rest had.


From the way they were positioned and the way the Kobold Chief was arranging the men he had, it was obvious they were the frontlines. The other kobolds were positioned strangely however, staggered too far to make a holding line feasible. With yips and barks, the calls kept getting closer and closer, until two kobolds burst from the foliages in front of them, holding their weapons in their mouths as they scampered past the group. By now every single kobold in the farm had stood up, gripping their weapons at the ready, as the far away yips and barks were noticeably clipped and shorter in tone.

By now even those who weren't well versed in the kobold language knew what that meant.

Danger close. Beware friends.

With a mighty rustle of leaves and snapping of twigs, the danger in question leapt out into the opening.




The 2 foot tall beast let out a mighty honk.

The battle... begins?

---

The elf was pleased to be among the kobolds. They were definitely one of the easier monstrous races to get along with. If Galain had not taken classes regarding ethics and slavery, he would have bought one for himself to serve as his own companion. He ignored the silent judgment of his companions, primarily because they weren't saying anything, and continued to pat the kobold guardsman on the head comfortingly before they were all brought to the supposed "enimy."

Making their way deeper into the fields of the farm, Galain clutched his blade by its sheath to prepare himself, taking note of how organized these hounds really were. It was quite impressive, really, despite how primitively ill-equipped they were. The more Galain thought about it, however, the more it made sense. Kobolds were essentially just walking, talking dogs in the end, and dogs thrived in packs as they were social animals. To see them all organized in such a way was only natural. In the end, however, hounds were still hounds, and Galain took note of how they could improve upon their positioning.

Seeing the Kobold Chief as well as his retinue prepare for an attack, Galain also made sure to ready himself as well, holding his wrapped blade to his side and unraveling the thread that held its paper bindings together. With his dominant hand hovering over the handle of his blade, he watched carefully at the rustling of leaves. Galain poised himself to leap forward at whatever foul monstrosity would show its face at the group.

Galain's particular style of swordsmanship was unalike to much of his kin. Rather than flashy swordplay, it relied wholly on efficiency, making use of every movement one would make in combat. Among the many hallmarks of his style was the art of the draw. It's because of this that Galain chose a uniquely forged blade, one that would allow Galain to act as soon as combat began. For someone whose techniques rely primarily on defense, it was important for Galain to develop some that would take advantage of any openings he would find. And what better opening there was in combat than attacking before the battle even began?

However, even Galain was caught off guard by the appearance of... that thing. Galain knew that if the kobolds needed immediate help, it wouldn't be for something so mundane. As a matter of fact, they were right to ask for help! Its fear-inducing honk almost caused Galain to falter...

In truth, Galain was quite unimpressed. He decided to make it a point to approach the beast rather casually before wacking it across the side of the head with his sheathed blade.

With the beast slain thus, it seemed all would be fine and done. Of course, nothing was truly that easy.

But it was not so, true these small flightless birds were a menace to kobolds, and anyone who had experience with them knew that the rows of serrated teeth on its beak while able to tear through flesh was more for tearing through tough fruit skins. The real danger these birds posed would be through their legs, with powerful kicks able to bruise and even break bones if one was not wary.

That, and their numbers.

Almost immediately the brush broke into a flurry of honking birds, rushing towards the farms. By now the staggered formations of the kobold would have made sense; without the advantage of size and weight, a proper battle line would just result in them being knocked over and overrun immediately. Staggered, they could slay what they could, leaving those who rushed past them to those behind them, and hopefully thin them enough that none remained alive to reach the crops.

A wave of the birds crested over them, a veritable mob of angry honking and birds. Whatever tactics they used, it was clear they needed to thin the birds number quickly if they didn't fancy being kicked around.

---

No sooner did Galain realize what he had done was a mistake until after completing his initial swing. His sensitive ears picked up the rustling quite easily, but he did not realize such rustling was indicative of something much worse to come. As such, he was at the forefront of the horde of raptors. A disadvantageous position for sure had it not been for his proficiency with the blade and his specific quirk.

One of his eyes opened, revealing a glint of determination as he once again placed his hand on his blade. Like a flash of thunder, his blade withdrew from its sheath as he swiped at the oncoming wave of birb. To the kobolds, as well as to the rest of his party, the rapid swings of his blade appeared as if he was fashioning a silver net to contain a portion of the horde from advancing. In actuality, Galain was performing a simple swinging exercise, one that was meant to target every single potential opening from an opponent.

As he swung his blade, Galain also kept his feet rooted to the ground. He had chosen to rely not on his frail Elven toughness, but instead the passive ability of his spike. With a standing offense and a hardy stance, Galain was sure he would not be trampled by the likes of these feathered menaces!

Feng watched the interaction between elf and kobold before shaking his head. Apparently they knew when the enemy would be coming so they were led further onto the farm. Here they met the kobold chief, but was he the overall chief or just chief of the kobolds on the farm? Sighing they were led to the edge of the farm where more of the little furry yappers were positioned in a staggered line. Well that was smart, they didn't have big shields or a particularly powerful figure to hold up to a charge of...anything really. He always pictured kobolds to be hit and runners like goblins tended to be.

Still the kobolds were growing more agitated before two ran out of the bushes, weapons in maws to use their canine bodies to really scamper. Were they scouts, were they leading the 'enimy' here? What was their purpose? Whatever, the giants eyes turned back towards the foliage just to see this little dinky bird creature come out and honk. He'd sigh, but he didn't forget that kobolds weren't much larger than this creature. What would be little baby cuts on him could be life-threatening wounds on the canines.

The elf, Galain, approached the bird casually before whacking it across the head with his sheathed sword. Feng approached the downed animal and picked it up by its neck between his finger and thumb. He didn't get time to examine it when even more of the little feathered vermin rushed out of the foliage. Okay, the bird was a flock animal...a big flock. Dropping the first one to appear back to the ground his axe left his shoulder and was swept low across the ground with a single muscular arm.

That sweep alone took out four of the little rushing creatures. their bodies weren't cut in twain as if it were a sword or even a metal axe. They were splattered and broken from the force of the blow, the stone axe acting more like a cudgel than a cutting took. His hand shifted, turning the weapon at the end of his controlled swing before it came back for another powerful sweep into the crowd of honking birds.

"Anenome!" Amitha let out as her war cry.

However, she wasn't a warrior. She was a blacksmith. Even then, that was a tenuous claim. Usually, an intelligent fighter would perhaps funnel the enemy. Use their numbers against them. Deploy a form of tactics that would ensure that the line is held and the bird beasts are left dazed and confused.

So of course, what Amitha did was pick up the knocked out bird beast by the throat and swung it around as a weapon. She was a goat, damn it. Not a thinker. The only thing she could think about was how many of these birds she could eat when this was all over!

The elf took out the goose monster swiftly just to have a hoard-more spawn out of the bushes nearby. Kobolds in a line to defend, elf ran off to continue to flex his practiced talents, and Amitha armed herself with the recently knocked out goose. Tash watched Feng start shaking his head again and began to think it was some kind of thinking gesture, after all Feng seemingly kept doing it before some of his actions. Tash mimicked Feng before Feng ran off with the others. Tash ran in as some of the stray geese began getting really close to the crops. Running in a line between the billed birbs Tash reached out grabbing neck after neck creating a upside down bouquet under his right arm clamping on to their necks, collecting about five of them. They flailed smacking him and each other wildly while biting at what they could reach; arms and Tash's side. Tash's scales helped with most the pain, but it didn't negate not feeling little blunt smacks. The front of his shirt got scratched up where a stray webbed foot managed to get his chest, leaving a smol gash on his chest. It wasn't easily tolerable, but still noticeable, his belly side was not as rough as most of his body. A gooooose had managed to reach the crops began scooping up a onion, head to the sky, trying to let gravity make it fall into its gullet. Tash super man style stretched his left arm infront--- thumbs up while shaking his head, before leaping at the distracted birb with his mouth open catching the birb with his mouth with a forceful yet controlled bite locking it in place to not bite any further hurting it. "Gotcha enimey!" went through Tash's head has he was still flying off the ground goose shaking like a flag.

Unforchantely Tash landed sliding into the crops serval feet leaving a land trail with onions sprayed about. To make matters worse the muddy ground grabbed on to Tash's feet as his velocity slowed and suddenly had him fall front side. Tash heard a crunch in his mouth. Tash continuing to hold the bird dropped the one from his mouth to see he had killed it by mistake.

The jungle was not merciful to the weak, or those unable to work together.

Angry barks filled the air, with intermitted yips and yaps. The kobolds at the outer perimeters was already swarmed, though mostly from the birds rushing in a feeding frenzy rather than attacking them directly. The staggered lines hit them first, thinning their numbers, but there was still too much for the kobolds to handle, the final shield wall bristling with the better equipped chief and his retinue looking to be overwhelmed by the sheer numbers.

But that was why they were here. Spikers of a newly formed group, gathered for their abilities and their resonance with the strange magical objects.



The elf was classically trained, and certainly mere birds weren't any match for him. Beautiful arced swings flashed out, slicing though their small bodies with ease. In numbers however, they were approaching faster than he could kill. He took a hits here and there, from several birds, but with his robe taking the brunt of the damage, he would probably only be bruised if that.



Amitha was less refined, simply charging into the fray like an angry goat, swinging wildly at the crazed birds. Perhaps not the best of tactics, but it worked well enough for the birds as she simply plowed through them. Sturdy hammer broke bird bones easily, and swinging around another weapon, even if it be the body of another bird, ensured that any she hit with it will at least be stunned for a moment, easy prey for any nearby kobolds. Effective, but without a doubt a painful one as several birds managed to kick and bite her.



The minotaur was barely phased by any of the birds' attacks, with his sheer mass and his chitinous coverings. Blood and gore splattered in a crescent arc as he swung his massive stone axe through the horde. It was enough that the kobolds fighting around them tried to give him a wide berth. Like a rock against which the waves crashed, his resolute presence was enough to cow even the frenzied birds, slowing down the rush in his area.

Tash didn't fare as well however. Falling down onto the mud after killing one, he was immediately trampled upon by the horde of birds with no more resistance. At least the birds were more interested in the crops than actually tearing him apart.

The tide was holding for the moment, but it now seemed that the farm was more in danger of being trampled rather than being eaten by this point, as the sheer number of their enemy threatened to simply wash over them.

"Snagtoothed bill. Grows frenzied when small flocks amass, triggering a change to lead them to devour everything they could before breeding and laying eggs before dying."

A clear voice rang out from behind the Spikers, as a snagtooth flew through the air, crashing onto a group of them so hard their bodies ruptured.



A small figure just a bit taller than the average kobold walked carefully past the chief's shield wall.

"Killing them all would be a monumental endeavor for this few men. Fire would both frighten and repel them."

A helpful revelation, and indeed there were a few extinguished campfire as they entered the farm, but those now was filled with angry honking snagtooths smothering any chance of it being ignited in the chaos. Would it be worth leaving their front and risking the kobold lines be overwhelmed to light up the fires, or would they just stay and try to weather out the horde of birds? After all, surely there can't be that many birds?