It is night. There's a lull, outside the hotel windows, in the wild attacks of the birds. It's too dark for anyone to go out searching for more missing people, and someone has managed to put together a makeshift bowl of soup, enough that everyone can get a bowl full. They gather in the main room, lit by candlelight and the fire in the fire place, and in a silent break in the conversation, Brynn clears her throat.
She has a plan.
"We have speakers. Five large speakers, with amps..." She hesitates a moment, flushing as attention is turned on her. There is dirt on her face, and a pack of tools on her belt, and she looks small and nervous but juts her jaw out in defiance, pointing to a woman nearby.
"Well, these birds remind me of something from the stories, the Stymphalian birds, which Hephaestus helped Hercules bring down with sound. But Diana, who does maintenance on the mountain, she says that there's also enough snow up there that a good few bass pulses could cause an avalanche. It will bury the lodge, but it should be loud enough, and violent enough, to drop these strange birds from the sky and bury them for good."
With that, she gestures. Someone brings out the speakers, and the problem will be immediately clear. They're large, heavy, clunky.
"The trick is just getting them to the points marked on this trail map, where there are emergency power supplies that we can use to turn them on, and then radio control them once we've brought in all the missing folks. So we need volunteers, to do the heavy lifting. Volunteers with weapons, who can face down the birds and get them into place. Are you new recruits up to the task?"
