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Noctua has been enjoying nice weather for several nights, and small signs of spring are cropping up everywhere. The nights are getting less cold and beautiful early spring flowers can be found in the brighter parts of the forest; buds are swelling and sap is rising both in Cold and Not Cold. Small birds are collecting twigs and dry grass for their nests and the less observant ones are promptly snatched up by lovelorn Sentinels and offered as mating gifts.

This night looks like a fine one for hunting and gathering. Clouds hiding the sun grant the early-rising Sentinels a few more hours of pleasant evening light, and many take advantage of this. The Thunderbird can be heard as it stirs in the distant mountains, but thunder is only another sign of spring so the early warning goes unnoticed. Most are glad to hear the signs of the oncoming rain - the forest can use some rain to help the vegetation along. It has been a long winter, and if it is a dry spring then the prey will lack food, and the Clan will also go hungry.

What sounded at first like nothing more than one of the small thunderstorms of spring soon starts to look far more threatening as the calls of the Thunderbird grow stronger and closer. A wind picks up and is soon joined by rain.

As the rainfall turns from a cold drizzle to a heavy curtain of icy rain most sensible Sentinels decide to look for cover. It’s hard enough to fly in hard wind, or with soggy feathers, and no sane Sentinel will try to fly longer distances in driving wind and rain. Those hollows and sheltered trees that had always been considered to be too small to become a proper territory suddenly become highly desirable shelters for Sentinels caught out in the storm.

There's definitely a very good reason that these shelters have not been claimed as territories, but tonight there is no time to be picky - the closest shelter will have to do until the Thunderbird stops roaring.


Roleplay Spotlight

While nothing worse than a slight case of ruffled feathers (figuratively speaking) is happening in the Dense Stand of Spruces, the subject curretly being discussed there is actually turning the heat up (figuratively speaking) back at the Dead Chestnut Tree.

Remember that creaky old tree that seemed about to topple? Well, things just took a turn for the worse. I don't think that's what "Ladies first" is supposed to mean!

I'm sure you've heard the expression "collapse like a house of sticks." No? Oh... nevermind, then.

Aww, look: little babies! But where could the mommy be? Oh, no, wait... there she is.



Finally, the unsupervised fledglings have gotten some company. Although that little aberrant girl is looking a bit worse for wear...

Whoa! The late-comers are advancing quickly! Can you keep up with the tree-thread? (And will this strange habit of refferring to oneself in the third person turn out to be contagious?)

Poor little companion... Not much compassion to be found, here. But at least the tree does't seem to be about to fall over.

Meanwhile, it seems like the gang at treetop level are doing quite fine, in spite of the nasty swaying, whereas THIS is the reason why one should never, ever take shelter on the ground!!



Things take a scary turn in the Abandoned Hollow. What is that in the distance? Is that feathers among the smell?

Ruffled feathers in the Smaller Classroom. Is everyone going to be okay? Or will words hurt more than bruises?

Watch out! Make sure to cover your eyes!

Story time for the Hatchling's Crib. Gather around and listen kids!

Looks like we have a visitor!



Things are starting to heat up in the Twin Trees. Has the little lost fledgling caused more trouble than the Thunderbird himself?

Meanwhile high above, Olohan's missing his mus! Will the little guy be alright?

Questions of love in the Lightning-Blasted Old Tree, Ooolalaa...

Tension rises with the fledglings , as the storm grows more and more fierce.

Do we have a uninvited guest in the Dead Chestnut Tree? Uh-oh!



There is something creepy going on in one of the minder nests. What in the world is that?

Meanwhile, something small and squeaky seems to inhabit the tiny hollow Brightling and Featherflit found.

What is that smell? Did your companion eat something that didn’t agree with its stomach?

I’m sure you’re all wondering where Merlin's lovely female flew? Why she found a not-very-cosy cave to hole up in. Meet her new and slightly more tolerable shelter mates: a no-nonsense Elite, a level headed Gatherer and a... uh... Ename.

Uh-oh... I hope they are all right.

To end this on a happier note I hope you are pleased to learn that all is well in the hatchling's crib. At least some of the Sentinels in this storm are warm and entertained.



Merlin, the hunter, was thrown off course by a gust of wind and he crashed. Remember: fly safely, and try not to fly at all in this kind of weather. The worst part? The lady he was wooing got away...

Far out, close to the borders, Hazel makes a startling discovery. Is that pieces of egg shell? White ones? That Spectre chick hatched from a completely white egg, and where there's one there might be more...

In the west, near the Great Western Open two hunters have found refuge in a ancient chestnut tree. What they don't know is that the tree is inhabited, and that the creature living in the tree is not keen on visitors.

Meanwhile in Deep Woods, a little fledgling is in trouble. But don't worry! A rescue mission seems to be on its way.

And while we are on the topic on missing fledglings Twistumbler is getting frantic with worry for Nica - the fledgling he was searching for before the storm hit. Nica is safe, or as safe as any aberrant fledgling can be in the company of Sly... but Twistumbler doesn't know that. The fledglings he was tending before the storm have no way to know where Papa Twist went and are naturally worried. gonk

This early spring storm may have started in a slow and gradual manner, but it appears that the Thunderbird is interested in making a dramatic exit. Just when it seems safe to assume that the worst of the storm had passed and his eye has wandered to the lands beyond Noctua, he returns. Suddenly, and with a vengeance.

The sky is rent by brilliant flashes of lightning, lit up bright as day by the multiple and successive blasts. It seems as though the bulk of the Thunderbird's attention is upon the Deep Woods at this time, but the fury of his attack can be seen and heard across all of Noctua. Safe within their shelters, the Sentinels ride out this final assault with the same grim determination that bore them through the great wars.

And finally, after darkness has fallen once more and the rumbling overhead fades into the distance, silence falls upon Noctua. The clouds begin to thin, and those Sentinels unfortunate enough to have taken shelter in the canopy can see the stars twinkling in the rapidly-clearing sky. Silence reigns, the empty sort of silence that fills the forest with its presence. Slowly, the Sentinels emerge from their shelters. Spring has finally arrived, it seems, and it has entered with a bang.

Literally. A sudden sharp crack fills the air, followed by a cacophony of crashing and groaning trees. Somewhere, in the heart of the forest, one of the ancient trees has fallen - and taken one of the great platforms with it. The aftermath is only heard and felt within the Deep Woods proper. We can be sure, of course, that Bards will tell tales of how the loss of one of the great platforms was felt throughout all of Noctua.

The storm is finally over, but the work has just begun. It is time for the Sentinels of Noctua to assess the damage and start picking up the pieces.

Thanks for participating, everyone! Here's a little token for all of you - hang onto them, 'cause these little owls have the potential to turn into a Sentinel some day!