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s-creations · 3 years

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Return the Flames - Chapter 14

All at Dead Bird Studios knew of Amos' (The Conductor's) ability. How the owl could suddenly erupt into flames if angered enough. When the studio first opened, Dominic (DJ Grooves) was told that Amos had his ability under control. Nothing to worry about. No possible loss of anything from an open flame.

A few years later however, and that control seems to have lessened to a dangerous degree.

It should have just been a simple, week long drive to fix the problem. It really should have been.

Dominic should have asked a lot more questions and should have been prepared for a twist ending.

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Fandom: A Hat in Time Rating: General Audience Relationships/Pairings: The ConductorXDJ Grooves Warnings: Eventual depictions of violence, slow burn relationship, named characters, attempt of an accent, being hunted down, a race against time (sort of).

Author’s Note: This is the final chapter for this story, but don’t fret! I have three sequel stories currently in the work for this AU. So there’s a lot more to explore with this pairing and story. Thank you so much for reading this!

It wasn’t cold…

It wasn’t warm…

It wasn’t bright…

It wasn’t dark…

Amos wasn’t fully sure where he really was. All he knew was, after touching that feather, he woke up here. Floating in...nothing. He wasn’t even sure where he was or how long he’d been there. Wherever ‘there’ was. Just floating in nothing. Unsure of what he was supposed to do.

Just as he felt himself going insane with nothing happening, Amos jumped in surprise when a bright light appeared before him. Warmth hitting him after so long. It was inviting, Amos started to move forward. Desperate for something else besides this nothingness that he’d known for what seemed like forever.

“Amos!”

He paused. He knew that voice. It sounded so...desperate. So sad. Why did it sound so sad?

“Amos, please come back… I need you to come back…”

Looking around, Amos was shocked to find the Moon lying below him. Glowing softly, almost gently compared to the harsh light above him. The heat is almost unbearable. Even more so compared to the calming cool. Without a second thought, he started to move towards it instead. Easily landing on the soft surface with a plume of dust being created at his feet.

It was comfortable, calming, on the surface. Amos somehow knew this was where he was supposed to be. That the light above was going to be the end of everything. Quite literally everything. The moon, somehow, feels like home.

“...Dominic?”

It was uncomfortably hot. Amos finding it very stupid that someone had decided to drap a blanket over him. He let out a low groan as he slowly sat up. Whipping the blanket off and moving to sit on the edge of the bed.

“What the peck happened…” Rubbing his forehead, Amos took his surroundings in. Quickly realizing he was back in the medical hut.

He was only able to have a few seconds to himself before the blanket in the doorway was pushed aside. Light spilled into the small hut as Dominic stepped through carrying a tray with food and water on it. His eyes on the ground with his posture showing nothing but defeat. The penguin, lifting his gaze up from the flattened dirt, froze upon realizing Amos was awake. Both starting each other down, Dominic looking absolutely stunned.

“...Uh… Mornin’?” Amos flinched when Dominic dropped the tray. All items break when they hit the ground. The owl had no time to recover or comment before Dominic kissed him. Full of desperation and want pushed into the action, Amos’ gripping onto Dominic’s shoulders to ground himself. The moment ended when the penguin pulled away and smacked his arm.

“Ow! What the peck was that for?”

“For being an absolute idiot! A peck neck if you will. You...scared me. Everything that is holy and decent Amos, you… I thought you were pecking dead.”

“I…” The owl frowned, fully taking Dominic in. The penguin looked absolutely exhausted. Hair disheveled, signature sunglasses off to reveal deep bags under his eyes, feathers unkempt. In all honesty, Dominic looked dead on his feet and the worst Amos had ever seen him. “How long have I been out?”

“...5 days.”

Amos swallowed weakly. “Oh… Do ya think everyone at home thinks we’re both dead?”

“You absolute peck neck.” Dominic laughed softly, sitting down next to the owl. “...How are you feeling?”

With the initial shock now wearing off, Amos realized the fire from within was… Well, it wasn’t as strong as it was before. He could still feel it burning. But he wasn’t in pain nor did he feel as if the power was going to flare up. After so many years, he felt as if he was the one in control of the burning power.

“Better...far better… The C.A.W. agents?”

“Ah, well, the majority of them fled…”

“Do I want to know?”

“Probably not.”

“Alright…” Amos let out a weak sigh, leaning against Dominic. “Do we just...go home?”

The penguin laughed again. “Don’t make it all sound so anticlimactic!”

“A near death experience wasn’t good enough? Can’t we just have one peaceful moment that doesn’t lead to almost disaster?”

The Elder walked in to find both birds clinging at each other while laughing hysterically. “I suppose this is where you release that built up energy. You seem to be doing well Amos.”

“I believe I’ve earned my ‘oh-my-peck-I-survived’ hysterical laugh.” The owl teased back.

“That is a fair assessment. All joking aside however, how are you feeling?”

“Better than I have in years.”

After a more than thorough medical check up (Amos swears his tail feathers weren’t laying properly afterwards) they prepared to depart. Bakle was thrilled to see Amos was awake and well. The owl easily caught the young Nomad who had basically launched himself into Amos’ arms. The large father merely gave a hearty clap onto Amos’ shoulder. A silent indication to show he was happy the other was alive. As the rental car was being uncovered, the Elder gave the request to have the duo return next year.

“Do ya think I’ll be in that poor of shape again?” Amos asked.

“Oh no, far from it. But it would be a good measure to make this a yearly pilgrimage. To make sure you don’t reach such a dangerous level again.”

Supposed they couldn’t argue with that logic.

It wasn’t before long that they were back on the road, one final goodbye before they started heading home. While the road in the jungle was still just as bouncy as before, there was nothing heavy hanging over them. Amos wasn’t unconscious. There was (hopefully) no one hunting them down. Just a wobbly, silent ride back towards the paved road and then a straight shot back home.

“Oh boy.”

Amos was pulled away from his thoughts, turning away from his window to look at Dominic. “Oh boy?”

The penguin merely nodded before them. An uncomfortably familiar scene was put on the road. Numerous black cars were blocking their progress. Instead of crows however, there were a number of different beings standing by said cars. The closest was a large eagle. All wearing black suits and dark sunglasses.

“If we’re startin’ this peckin�� dance again…” Amos growled darkly.

“Calm down...let’s just see what this is.” Slowing their car to a stop, Dominic put it in park and climbed out. Amos follows behind closely. The eagle pushed away from their own car and met the duo halfway.

“Gentlemen.” The eagle nodded to them both. His voice was deep and commanding.

“Are...we in trouble?” Dominic cautiously asked.

“Far from it actually. Merely here to take your statement.”

Amos huffed. “And who the peck are ya.”

“Agent Mobus. Department of Mystical Operation.”

“Are you with C.A.W.” The penguin frowned.

Agent Mobus shifted and cleared his throat. “No. They are actually who we need a statement about.”

The duo gave a raised brow exchange before Dominic replied with, “Are you...associated with them, in any way?”

“Far from it. They are an organization that claims they’re tied with the government even when they’re not. They have the mindset that those who are...different need to be removed.”

“What is your philosophy in all of this?” Amos asked.

“We look to preserve and protect.”

“You did a peckin’ great job.”

“Amos.” Dominic quietly berated.

“No, he is correct to question our motives and our actions in this matter,” Agent Mobus replied, “We’re normally able to follow their course closely and intervene before C.A.W. can cause any real damage. We couldn’t understand their sudden change in destination. Until we were then told of the dinner burning down.”

Amos crossed his arms. “Not one o’ my finest moments.”

“It still took us a while to understand what they were going after.”

“Even after the dinner burnt down?”

Agent Mobus’ mouth twitched, as if holding back a smile. “You’ll have to understand. Phoenix’s are rare. Even more so when it’s a child of said creature. This is a situation that...well, has never happened.”

“So,” Dominic slowly began again, “what do you need from us?”

“Merely statements, or at least a few answers. Do you know where the C.A.W. agents are?”

“No, they fled when things became a bit...heated,” Dominic tried not to smirk when Amos glared daggers at him, “But I will say that one agent...didn’t survive.”

Amos turned away, frowning deeply at what that statement meant.

“Which one?” Agent Mobus asked.

“What I assume was their ringleader? He was the loudest out of all of them, that’s for sure.”

“Do you know at least the direction to which the rest of the agents ran off to?”

“No, sorry.”

“Very well. We’ll be in contact if we have further questions. Enjoy your trips home.” Agent Mobus turned to return back to his car.

“Wait, that’s it?” Amos questioned.

“What else were you expecting?”

“Being arrested?”

Agent Mobus sighed softly and faced them again. “I understand your concerns. But, you clearly have a solution to your ailment. Unless you start using your ability maliciously, there’s nothing we can ‘do’. Or even have anything to worry about. Until that day possibly comes, enjoy your drive home.”

Nothing else was said. The group of black cars driving off. Even then, the duo didn’t get back in until the cars disappeared over the horizon. They shared a look, said nothing themselves, and drove off.

It was strange traveling home. It only took about two days with no interruptions or possibility of death looming. They stopped to pick up food, take small breaks, and slept in the car when they couldn’t stay awake any longer. Hand clasped together as they moved forward.

It was a relief when they entered the city. Sure, Amos found the towers and tall apartments a little claustrophobic, but the familiar sight was still comforting. The roads leading them back to the studio. A silent agreement between them that, with the rising sun, it would just be best to go there right away.

No doubt their workers wanted to know right away they had finally returned.

The parking lot was full. Very opposite to how they had left it. Amos even spotted his daughter’s car parked in one of the closer spots. Dominic pulled into his assigned spot, both stepping out. Eyes traveling over the area, neither truly believing that they were standing where they were.

“Well...shall we go in?” Dominic looked over to Amos. Who gave a deep breath and nodded.

“Yeah...let’s go in.”

Just as this entire trip, their hands connected and they entered into the busy studio.

1 Year Later

“And you will call me every step of the way. And no lying. I’m serious dad. You keep that cell phone on you at all times.”

Amos sighed softly but nodded to Amelia’s demands. Her eyes staring him down. “Aye, I will. Promise.”

Amelia, seemingly still unconvinced, looking over to Dominic. Who merely smiled back and nodded. “We’ll call.”

“Good,” she let out a small sigh with her shoulders relaxing, “Just be careful, please?”

Amos smiled softly, placing a gentle kiss on her brow, and they climbed into the car. The trunk was closed, two workers giving a wave before stepping away. The duo waves to all in the parking lot seeing them off. The duo waved to all in the parking lot as they left, the sun barely seen over the horizon and soon enough the city was far behind them.

As they exit the city, Amos pulls out a rolled up piece of parchment. One of the numerous that had been sent to them since last summer. Stories filling them from Bakle, the Elder, and many others in the small village. This final one being sent to inform the two that everything was ready for their arrival. “Think Bekal will like the present we got him?”

“Of course. Although, I’m sure he’ll just be excited to see us again.” Dominic commented. He reached over and took Amos’ hand. “How are you feeling, Sweetheart?”

Amos smiled back over, placing a kiss on the back of the penguin’s hand. “Absolutely perfect Darlin’.”

#A Hat In Time #discotrain #the conductor #dj grooves #ahit conductor #ahit dj grooves #s-creations #fanfiction #Multi-Chapter

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crossroadsfossil · 3 years

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Because @dadzawa-adopt-dabi reblogged that tree-eating a steak thing:

There are a thousand ways for a soul to become trapped. Hawks could list about fifteen off the top of his head, from spells to curses to hexes to blessings of protection. It was part of his hero training.

It was vastly incomplete.

There are other ways of binding a soul. Ways that the commission didn’t teach because there was no proven method to recreate, and so there was no proven way to break that binding. Methods that were written off as folktales and fairy stories.

Things that weren’t ‘real’.

It didn’t make them any less true.

He climbed the path and felt the ache in his muscles. Dabi was meters ahead, bounding up the side of the mountain as carefree as a goat. He didn’t bother offering Hawks a hand. To be fair, it was probably for the best. He didn’t want Dabi to look too closely at it. He might be able to see the discrepancies, to see that it wasn’t actually Best Jeanest in the bag. Hawks knew he was being paranoid- there was no way Dabi would be able to recognize subtle things about the top heroes, but there was always a chance he could or that he could have some item of power that would let him know falsehoods.

The path leveled out suddenly, and his field of vision was filled with the sight of a too-big tree. He’d seen trees like this only in children’s anime and books. It was massive, with moss and greenery growing over its limbs and bark. There were hollows pitted throughout the gnarled, looping roots. He wondered if this was where the league had one of their hideouts. It certainly looked like there could be tunnels under there. Dabi was sitting on one of the roots that protruded out of the ground. There were many that did, standing taller than most men and showing how deeply ingrained the tree was with the surrounding forest. He was hit with the feeling of how unreal this all was. At the same time, it felt too real to be a product of magic. It felt as old as it looked and that was a different type of magic entirely.

Dabi grinned at him, too wide and with too many teeth as he gestured to a spot. Slowly, the roots groaned and creaked and a spot opened up the length and width of a man. Just perfect for Hawks to dump the corpse in.

He grimaced and shifted the bag, watching as it fell loose-limbed into it.

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He could never find the tree without one of the LOV leading him to it. For the longest time, he wondered if there was a cloaking spell on it, but test after test revealed nothing. Eventually, Spinner cornered him after catching him running tests one day, catching him off guard. They stared at each other, one hand on his feather in case he needed to cut his losses and bail. Spinner sighed and sat down next to him, pulling out a makeshift grimoire. It was a tiny thing and was straining at the cords that held it closed.

“I have been trying for months to figure out what is up with this tree. Here- I’ll save you some time and maybe you can see if I missed anything.” Spinner said, cracking the book open. A puff of sparkling magic escaped, tickling his nose and setting off a sneezing fit that had Spinner laughing and teasing him about his tiny kitten sneezes for weeks.

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Dabi loved the tree. Dabi hated the tree. Dabi expressed the most energy and emotions when around the tree. Where Shigaraki thrived in the dark urban areas where things whispered and flitted about in the half-light of the street lamps, Dabi came alive as soon as they entered the forest where the tree resided. It usually meant that Dabi was faster in dodging Hawks’ attempts at small talk, walking faster than Hawks could keep up and still retain that casual, easygoing stride. Once at the tree, it usually meant that Dabi took to the branches to escape, and once there, no one but Shigaraki could find him when he didn’t want to be found. Even then, Shigaraki had a significant failure rate.

Research on the tree turned up nothing. Neither he nor Spinner could find anything about it. There was no mention of it in the records, both digital and paper. Trees that big and old were almost always noted, as they were places of power and ritual and, depending on the part of the country you were in, usually had some sort of seal on them. For a tree to be that big and for there to be neither word nor seal on it was unusual. It rubbed Hawks the wrong way and thrilled Spinner’s more conspiracy-like tendencies. Well, conspiracy if one followed the commission’s definition since there was a great deal of folklore on that list of potential answers.

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Hawks learned to love the tree. Despite the logical part of him warning that there was something wrong with it, that there were too many questions left open for it to possibly feel safe, he felt at home there. The nightmares he would be subject to faded as soon as he stepped foot on shared soil, and fatigue fell away like blown away leaves. The weather felt milder and the air breathed a bit cleaner.

It was home, as much as any wild place could be home.

The others seemed to share the thought. They would arrive and the weight would just fall from their shoulders. The conversation was lighter and touches were accepted, encouraged even, with them trading pats and hugs and casual affection. Much more than Hawks was used to and far more than he saw the league perform when they were in the city.

Even Shigaraki was content. He would bitch and moan on the way up, but once they were within the clearing, he’d make as quick a beeline towards the tree as Dabi did, often scaling up the trunk to his favorite perch while Dabi stood with a hand resting on it. If it wasn’t so wildly unlikely, he’d assume Dabi was talking to the tree.

It was one of the nights where they were spending the night in the clearing. It was beginning to get cold in the city. Out here, it was chilly, but not unpleasantly so. A few blankets were added to their overnight bags but aside from that, they didn’t need much else. Even a fire was forgone as they bedded down for the night.

Toga and Twice were closest to the roots, settling in a nook on the trunk just above where they started. Spinner was above them, tucked into a split where a branch veered off at a sharp forty-five-degree angle up. It looked uncomfortable how contorted and twisted Spinner made himself, but apparently, it felt better than resting in the hollowed spaces. Those hollowed spaces were where Magne and Kurogiri and Mister would stay. They had the most bedding out of everyone and would deck it out like a small tent in there. Ever so often he’d hear shouts as they awoke to find an owl or a fox had bedded down with them.

He didn’t know where Shigaraki slept. That man disappeared into the foliage and it was like he turned into the cobwebs that dotted the upper branches. Dabi either slept near the nest-like area that Hawks would build (so shoot him, it was nice being able to literally make a nest) or he would go the route of Shigaraki and just vanish into thin air. Most of the time though he’d sit on the same branch as Hawks, usually bringing something. A branch with leaves or a pad of moss or even dried, sweet-smelling grasses. All items that he knew could go into the nest. Should go into his nest. They went into his nest and Dabi settled further out on the branch and either watched Hawks fuss or would look out into the forest, seeing things even Hawks couldn’t.

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Some of the people from the liberation front had followed them to the tree. Dabi had been twitchy all afternoon as they hiked and they all knew something was off. The air felt too-thick and razer sharp, nothing like the usual ease that greeted them.

Lightning crackled and then struck the tree and they all realized the wrongness of the forest was due to one of their quirks.

The fight was quick- Hawks liked to think it was because of him that it was wrapped up so quickly. He had left them alive, tied up as they discussed what to do. Hawks’ eyes kept sliding over to Dabi, who was trying to hide how the fight had hurt him. He didn’t see Dabi take any hits, but he had a deep-rasping to his breath and there was a faint tremor to his hands as he gestured rudely when Spinner asked about it. As the night went on, Dabi didn’t get better. Shigaraki did his vanishing trick again as Spinner and Toga grilled their prisoners. Hawks watched Twice as he fussed, small plumes of colorful magic wrapping around the fire-user as Twice rambled at him.

Shigaraki appeared- not like he dropped down from a branch or he walked around the tree. He was gone one minute and there the next, wisps of mist trailing his heels as he strode over to Dabi. They wrestled for a minute, neither really trying to push the other too far but Shigaraki was worried and that usually meant he withhold physical contact and just made wider motions to get someone else’s attention. It happened to be Twice who took over, manhandling Dabi until his coat was removed and they could smell the sickly odor of rotting and burning wood and flesh. A black bruise-like mark covered his collarbone, moving across his shoulders to seep down his back. The edges glittered like dying embers while the rest looked like festered wood.

Shigaraki hissed and pointed at Hawks. Something flickered behind him. Something that wasn’t registering on his visors. If Shigaraki was a kitsune or something like that, he would have found out already, the tails would show up on half a dozen tools he had, and registered on at least three of the spells he kept running.

“You. Keep him here. Everyone else, follow me.” Twice, Toga, Spinner and oddly Compress followed after him, Spinner taking the lead just behind Shigaraki. Toga shot Hawks a look that promised pain for him, glee for her, if he didn’t do as requested.

He did as requested and threw an arm around Dabi, mirroring what the villain had done countless times with him. The pieces were coming together and he started to understand.

“What will help?” Hawks asked, as if he were offering to get Dabi a soda. He was staring at the men they had tied up. The initial plan was to return them to the front and make an example of them, but he was wondering if they would be better used somewhere else.

Dabi rasped a laugh.

“What are you going to do, hero?”

He gave a muffled warble, deep in his throat as he removed his arm and started down one of the roots. The men were tied up on the edge of the clearing.

“Well, you’ve been so sweetly helping furnish my nest.. I figured I could at least feed you in return, right?” He shot Dabi one of his charming Poster Smiles. Behind him, feathers zipped and zoomed, assisting with his task.

Dabi started laughing, soft and raspy, but laughing all the same.

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#dadzawa adopt dabi #My fic #bnha fic #more of my folklore bullshit #this time with one of the many man-eating tree creatures

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evolutionsvoid · 4 years

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This species is one with many common names, so much so it is a bit hard to decide which is the proper one to use in this entry. For those who live in the region it is native to, it is sometimes called the Bladed Prowler (or Bladed Prowler Bird). They may also be called Saw Beaks or Razor Vultures. Go more outside their native lands, and others refer to them as Iron Cloaks or Dagger Birds. Another name has arisen from the fact that these birds are a part of the siren family, so the name Razor Plumed Siren has become a bit more popular. But even that has given rise to the more light-hearted name of Siron (which is often used more as a joke than a legitimate name). Then if you go even farther away from the homeland of these creatures you will find the name that you already know I hate, Steel Dragon. I am pretty sure the Dragon Beast category was created solely to mock me, because goodness it is atrocious and quite inaccurate. Since there are a dozen more names to be used for this species, I am just going to pick one and stick with it for this entry. I will just ask the opinions of my guides and some local friends and use whatever they suggest. Bladed Prowler it is! As I mentioned at the beginning, the Bladed Prowler is actually a member of the True Siren family. You can easily see this with their six limbs and pair of external larynges, which is a staple of this family. This species is found on the arid continent, where they stalk the savannas, grasslands and forests. Much like Canyon Sirens, the Blade Prowler walks on all fours, while their winged pair of limbs are reduced to a tiny and flightless state. While they possess a vibrantly colorful face, most people's attention is drawn to their plumage. While they do possess feathers like birds, these ones have been changed to the point where they are more like scales! Instead of light, fluffy strands, these plumes have stuck together and hardened, creating a structure that has the density and texture of a chip of wood. They are light in weight, but they are in no way weak! They are quite resilient and are tough to break, which turns these hardened feathers into armor. The edges of these feathers are also sharp, which leads to all the names that mention blades and knives. Due to their special formation and the fact that they grind against the surrounding feathers, these structures are sharp enough to cut through flesh! So not only is their plumage a good defense, it also serves as a nasty offense! Speaking of weapons, they also possess long tail feathers that drag behind them as they hunt. Much like the rest of its plumage, these feathers are super sharp and have wicked barbs along their edges. Since these feathers are connected to special muscles, the Bladed Prowler has surprising control over them. Combine all these together and you got a bird that would put a swordsman to shame! While they have an intimidating appearance and names that suggest aggression (like Steel Dragons, ugh), the Bladed Prowler is actually an omnivore. It feeds on vegetables and nuts that it finds on the ground, and it may also reach low branches to collect fruit. As for meat, the Prowler is not a picky eater. Any small critters it can catch will do, but a lot of its meat is gained through carrion. Bladed Prowlers like to seek out fresh kills and will try to claim them even if the original hunters are still eating. Though it is not a fierce hunter itself, they are quite formidable opponents when it comes to a fight. Their feathers can protect them from tooth and claw, while they are also able to inflect nasty cuts. When the Bladed Prowler is agitated, the sharpened feathers will raise up, kind of like a porcupine. This changes their armor to a coat of daggers, which will mean serious pain to any who try to touch it. Their tail feathers will also be used in this angered display, as they will begin to violently quiver like the rattle of a snake. If someone dares approach while they are in this state, the Bladed Prowler will whip its body around, causing its razor tail feathers to lash out like a whip. This speed can give the sharp feathers the force to slash down to the bone, which is something nobody wants! As it fights, it will use its tail to lash out at opponents and inflict nasty wounds. If one can avoid the tail feathers, than they also have to deal with its talons and saw-edged beak. So in the end, the Bladed Prowler has the weaponry and strength to scare predators away from their kill. Some have equated them to the bullies of the savanna, strutting in and stealing what they want. Hunters who have strong numbers may be able to force the Bladed Prowler to back down, but they must be ready to stand their ground. Often enough, these confrontations are resolved without any fighting or blood, as one side admits defeat and slinks away.

One such species that they compete with are Savanna Devils, who are also scavengers of these grasslands. When a cackle of Savanna Devils are interested in the same carcass as a Bladed Prowler, then a standoff occurs. The Devils will often have strength in numbers, while the Prowler has its weapons to rely on. The Bladed Prowler will seek to scare them off with its display, throwing in throaty booms from its external larynges as an extra effect. The Savanna Devils will move to surround the Prowler, all while baring their shearing mouthparts and waving their forward most limbs. This confrontation is meant to show off who is superior. For the Prowler, it is about presenting enough of a threat to the life and limbs of the cackle members that they will not risk it. For the Devils, they try to outmaneuver the bird and nip at its tail feathers. While they are the Prowler's main weapons, the jaws of a Savanna Devil can snip them right off. If the cackle proves to be a threat to the Bladed Prowlers arsenal, then it will back down. In the end, one will claim victory over the rotten carcass. However, the Savanna Devils don't lose everything if the Bladed Prowler dominates them. The scavenging bird does not have the beak to crack open large bones, so they often leave them behind. In the end, the cackle will at least be able to eat the skeletal remains! The use of its feathers in its aggressive display is an example of how the Bladed Prowler uses its plumage for communication. While their vocal skills are just as incredible as other True Sirens, their feathers also play a key rule. Their hardened state makes them perfect for stridulation, as they can be clattered or rubbed together. The sharp sound that comes from rubbing their feathers together often means uneasiness or inquisitiveness. It is heard when they are inspecting something new or unknown. The loud clattering of their feathers is a show of boisterousness, often used in songs of victory or an attempt to impress a female. Then they have their vocal abilities, which are used quite often. Funny enough, these sirens do not use the hypnotic singing that their other counterparts rely on. It is probably because they are quite capable of getting food on their own and thus don't need such a lure. However, some suggest that they use a different type of song in their daily lives. Those who have been around a Bladed Prowler as its stalks about and hunts note that it tends to sing a low tuned song as it does so. They have also noted that they have felt strange sensations of dread and fear as it sings. This has led to the theory that the Bladed Prowler can emit a song that can instill a sense of uneasiness and terror in those around it. By doing this, it can cause prey to panic and make stupid decisions. Small critters who hide in nests and burrows may desperately try to flee, which winds up exposing them to the talons and beak of the Prowler. This song may also serve as a form of defense, as I can imagine predators would be hesitant to attack with such paranoia in their bodies. I have tried to expose myself to this song to feel its effects for myself, but I am not sure what to make of it. While I was studying a foraging Prowler, I did feel worried and uneasy. However, I had recently angered a local warlord, so I had some others reasons to be afraid! When mating season rolls around, it is time for the males to impress the females. The first step is to locate a receptive female, which is done by listening for her. When females are prepared to mate, they will constantly sing a special tune that will bring in males from miles around. They will rush in to win her approval, which is done with their own displays and songs. If competition is tight, some males may become a bit scrappy, and a some fighting may ensue. As they sing and dance, the female will inspect her options and decide which suits her. A sign of her acceptance is her singing along with the chosen male's tune. Once the winner has been chosen, the two engage in a sort of ceremony, where singing and dancing is plentiful. The pair will then be mated, and they will go off together. The two will prepare a nest for the eggs, and the female will sit over them once they are laid. The male will forage and hunt for food, returning to feed her the spoils. Once the eggs hatch, the male will slowly drift away from her, returning to a solitary life. The female will be left to raise and protect the young. The chicks will often hide beneath their mother as she strolls through the savanna, and she will become much more aggressive towards strangers and intruders. It is highly advised that one steers far away from female Bladed Prowlers when they have young, as they will be quick to lash out and slice you up! The absurd amount of names these creatures have already suggest a special reputation. They are intimidating sights to behold in the wild, and their displays have inspired many ceremonies and dances. The hardened and sharped plumage is admired and feared by many, and it has seen a lot of use in local cultures. Fallen feathers are collected so that they may be used as crude weapons or materials for armor. I have seen them used on shields, with some often ringing the edges to create a surprise weapon. Some regions have used the feathers to carve into special throwing knives. Their lightweight and size makes them easy to carry and conceal, and the right technique can make them quite deadly! Showing off your skills with these throwing daggers is a good way to boast and brag, and often a brew or two is added to the mix! And if turning them into tools is not enough, they are also quite popular in the field of Thericorium, as who doesn't want to grow their own layer of sharp feathers!? Since they double as armor and weapons, the feathers are often used as inspiration for those who want to be both lightweight and deadly. Often those who use the Prowlers for their transformations will use the feathers as throwing knives, replacing the removed blades with precise applications of powder. Of course many use their own blends and mixtures to throw more colors into these feathers and create their own personal displays. If your growths aren't a piece of art, then why are you even practicing this field? As much as the Bladed Prowler is seen as a sign of deadliness and prowess, it is also one heck of a nuisance. Their territories tend to drift towards towns and villages, and they like the plentiful food that those places provide. If allowed, they will root through garbage and raid gardens for any food they can find. The droning terror song they emit is capable of spooking livestock, which means trouble for any farmer. Once a Bladed Prowler is in a place it isn't supposed to, you will have a real hard time getting rid of them. When approached or irritated, they will go into their agitated display and refuse to leave. You will have to work real hard to scare them off, and you will need to do so carefully if you don't want to get flayed. Reminds me of a time one of these creatures wandered into my camp while I was cooking dinner. We came upon a peaceful agreement where it enjoyed my roasted vegetables while I did absolutely nothing about it. Chlora Myron Dryad Natural Historian ------------------------------------------------ Boy I love drawing up sirens and cockatrices, but boy do I hate drawing feathers!

#bird #siren #monster #creature #feather blade #art #drawing #armor

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