A congress of shadows manifested upon the two opposing surfaces of a cliff, various sorts of shapes and sizes counted amongst them, the dark silhouettes casted seed far from being as defined and deep as they should be, even as a bright sun casted heavy light from far above, their obscure shades remained sowhat hazy, seeming to be slowly fading away of their own volition.
The largest of them, flanked by a lanky shape on one side, by a tiny shape on the other- Seed to stir, all others paying attention, close attention.
"Can you sense it as well?" asked Tilmiel, her words of death tongue ushered so low that they were barely more audible than the steps of an ant on cushion, but the whole flock understood clearly.
Although not all of them felt it as quickly as their leader did, there was sothing odd in the air, even if not even of consequence, sowhere close-by… The heat was greater than it should be, warmth was always rather high in the Western Cliffs, today, the sun was being especially crue in that regard, with no clouds standing in the way, its rays battered the surface of the small plateaus. Discover more content at My Virtual Library Empire
The ravines were typically much cooler as they were scoured by cold breezes, but currently, at least for the one all nightbirds surrounded, the sun was perfectly placed to cast its incandescent light directly within.
Tilmiel and group had encountered many false alarms as they moved through the region, simultaneously searching for the hiding livings, but also taking samples, observing the local fauna and flora, especially the bottom-prowlers and the deep sludge, there was no reason to be in a hurry, anyways, the nightbirds were first gatherers of intelligence, assassinations ca closely after.
"Greater temperature can be a sign of a group of livings…" the lanky nightbird next to Tilmiel said, leaning to the side as she spoke, sporting a linear bowl cut decorated with a few brown feathers, hair completely covering the upper portion of her face whilst the lower was wrapped in bloody bandages.
Back covered in the sa brown feathers, the upper portion lined with white feathers instead.
"...And I can sll so recently deceased creatures… Mmmmh… So of those drylurkers, amongst the bigger ones, ripe with fat…" she added, her expertise in such a thing was especially high, which was why Liotra had been titled as 'The Vulture'.
"There is this slight sugary taste in the air… Like sweat, no drylurkers or bottom-prowlers we have seen rely on sweating to evacuate heat…" Topi, the hummingbird, added imdiately after, both of those nightbirds were the most trusted followers of Tilmiel, the corvid.
Squatting down, Liotra looked further into the chasm, the sight of all present here was exceptional, and yet, she saw nothing out of the ordinary, a ravine just like the previous hundreds they had scoured, only the life forces of the creatures at the bottom were to be sensed, and there was no mistakes to be had here, their particular energy signatures were very distinct due to their proximity to the deep sludge, but the westerners were renowned for striking from unseen positions, the problem was not that they could hide from the nightbirds, that much was acceptable, the problem was how they were concealing their dwellings.
Tilmiel had gotten word of the thod the feasters had devised for them to erase their presence and everything that could give away their position, but she doubted that such a an had been delivered to the westerners, after all, Irlke Combuscrus had confirùed that Maulerd had only given him basic als, the sa was probably true for the west.
'If Topi can sense the sugar in their sweat… Then they have to be incredibly close-by, and since Liotra can sense recently killed beasts, that ans that they are hunting on the plateaus as well… Hunting drylurkers and probably getting water from cacti on the surface- They have not changed their way of life?' unsheathing the blade upon her back, Tilmiel ushered a few words.
"Gather up, girls" all of the nightbirds quickly agglorated near their leader, the majority of them sported cloaks of feathers without any clear consistency concerning what those feathers belonged to, only a few carried a title relating to a specific bird, denoting additional skills and abilities compared to the regular nightbird.
"Be ready"
Loimos often said to be simultaneously aware of an undead's capabilities and immunities whilst also rembering that it would not be absolute at all tis, the dead were said to be immune to ntal attacks and illusions, this was mostly true and one too many believed that the exception was if they carried so life-aligned energy, it could also depend on just how that illusion or mind strike was set up.
"Liotra, would you traverse the gap over there? Make sure to do so in a single leap, without changing direction at all" the vulture nodded and did as he was asked, the corvid raising her blade as she told all the others to get into position.
'Mmh…' focusing on shaping a battle art, Tilmiel took a few steps closer to the edge, the sword becoming enshrouded with mana, pulling in death force alongside its flow, a minuscule amount that would quickly co undone, launching it through the air, sowhat at a downward angle, aid at absolutely nothing in particular, yet, the blade dissipated as though it struck sothing.
'That was lucky' she remarked to herself, sensing a life being extinguished, and as the death force created from this chance kill travelled to her, the near perfect illusion collapsed into nothingness, like a curtain being pulled.
The suspended village of the west appearing out of nowhere, alongside its people and a decapitated corpse, a shocked expression etched on their visage, a group of four livings falling to their knees toward the center of the area, each of them having limbs that definitely did not belong to them, that of what appeared to be bottom-prowlers of a kind the nightbirds had yet to encounter.
'So they transplanted limbs to gain this illusion ability?' that was the most logical explanation, transplantation was the way they had discovered to increase their strength, and as one might expect, the replacent of one of their eyes was but the tip of the iceberg.
The illusion was shaped like a sheet thrown over a piece of furniture, more-so being a sowhat physical firmant casting an image of what was behind rather than sothing that directly affected the onlooker.
The small suspended village of the westerners was exposed, quickly counting the numbers of different life forces, Tilmiel realised that there were very few livings.
All nightbirds remained still, their enemies confused, unaware that Loimos had rendered all agreents null.
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