A lone bird spots you and glides in to attack. As you get close to it, you notice that while it's the size and rough shape of an eagle, it's not at all natural: its beak is made of bronze and its feathers are metallic and razor sharp. It attacks by launching feathers at you, or flinging its poisonous dung.
Hit points: 25 Damage: 5 each time attacked
If you successfully kill this bird, each party involved in the battle gets 10XP and rolls 1d100 to collect loot according to the following:
1-80: You gain nothing but the victory of having beaten this opponent. 81-90: Poisonous Dung: You manage to collect a vial of the vile stuff. It can thrown at an opponent once to poison them, dealing 1 damage for 3 turns. After this it is consumed and leaves your inventory forever. 91-99: Heart's Blood: You manage to collect a vial of the creature's blood. It can be used once to replenish 3 HP, at which point it is consumed and leaves your inventory forever. 100: Metal Feather: Once per battle, you can backstab with this small dagger. Add 2 to your final damage. This item is reusable, and remains in your inventory.
Different bird, same plan. Thin the ranks, make it easier for other Chosen to come and go as necessary, and also it was a chance to maybe gather some more experience. He couldn't always swing his sword like a baseball bat and hope to survive. Surely at some point skill would become more valuable than enthusiasm.
Surely.
Except that, swinging the sword with more enthusiasm than skill right now seemed to be the way to go. He hit the lone bird that had been gliding in to attack and sent it reeling from the impact; reeling enough that Mal was reeling, too. Quick stepping back in surprise meant that he only got a little scored for his pains, which was also a surprise.
Maybe enthusiasm was the way to go, and he ought to ignore the idea of skill entirely? Except that was too stupid and too obvious a way to end up in trouble against a skilled opponent... which, well, the birds kind of weren't.
He used the up close opportunity, as the bird floundered back to some kind of stability, as a chance to study the bird again. It wasn't a real bird. It wasn't any kind of animal that occurred in nature, despite the fact that it looked vaguely eagle shaped.
Mal HP: 50 -5 = 45 Boid: 25 - 12 = 13 Word Count: 214
Vaguely eagle shaped and cranky like an eagle, too; Mal had to dodge back and didn't quite get out of the way in time to avoid losing yet another tuft of fur. He really wondered about the coats. Maybe Prytaneum bought them in bulk? Or maybe gathering the furs for it would be another training exercise?
He hoped it would not be one that required the sword, although-- as he swung again (with enthusiasm, from the hips, like a baseball player expecting to hit a pop fly)-- he thought maybe he wouldn't mind that. At least he was hitting them consistently now, which was something to be grateful for. And he was hitting them reliably; this time less completely than the last blow, but he thought this one wouldn't last long, all the same.
He braced a foot against the bird's nearer, twitching wing, and heaved the sword out of where it had gotten stuck. Of course this meant the bird's nasty metal beak took a chunk out of his boot top, but hey, it wasn't out of his skin or his hide.
He could deal with that.
Mal HP: 45 -5 = 40 Boid: 13 - 6 = 7 Word Count: 402
He tried to vary his swing this time; after all, the not bird was already down even if it was still trying to bite. Each time it tried to bite and caught air, it made a heavy clicking sound that was less click than -- Mal didn't know how to characterize it. Clashing wasn't right, maybe a bit like symbols clapped heavily together?
No. Not quite. Still, his sword bit deep into the thing and Mal grunted with effort. It was taking more to drag the sword out of the thing than it was to hit it, finally, but he was still making a complete hash out of it.
Like the last several times, he was willing to bet he wouldn't get any kind of thing from the body of this one, either. It was a balance between skill and hacking the thing to pieces, Mal was starting to think, and he just didn't have that skill yet.
But he could hack them to pieces just fine.
xelhaspixiestix
Mal HP: 40 - 5 = 35 Boid: 7 - 6 =1 Word Count: 568
Except then, for his sins, his next strike wasn't as solid as the last. Not that it mattered so much, the bird was basically dead (or dying), but it was frustrating.
Maybe it really was a matter of not thinking so much. Not thinking, just concentrating on the movement? It would have helped if he'd had something to compare it to from his previous life.
And that was how Mal thought of it, as if the moment of that tap tap tap-ing was the end of one life, a life comprised of paperwork and gold shields and everyday things, for the start of this new, second life. A second life that he wasn't sure about yet, for all that he seemed to be embracing it well.
Seemed to be was the operative word, because there were still moments when he realized what he was doing (like planning on killing more birds to scavenge -- what, spoils of war?) and had a reeling moment of cognitive dissonance where all he could think of was that he sounded like a character in a bad romance novel.
Or a ridiculous romantic comedy movie.
xelhaspixiestix
Mal HP: 40 - 5 = 35 Boid: 1 - 3 = DED Word Count: 757
1-80: You gain nothing but the victory of having beaten this opponent.
Definitely a ridiculous romantic comedy. But then who would he cast as himself, as the lead? Or was he the lead at all?
Mal decided, as he poked the rapidly cooling corpse of the not eagle that he'd just butchered (in a literal sense, the pieces weren't even twitching), that he was probably the older brother of the protagonist, and that was pleasing.
That meant that Finn was due for a happily ever after, and Mal could deal with that. Alex was a good boy. He scooped up a handful of snow and wiped down his sword blade again before going back inside to wait for his next not birdly victim.
