The day star was just peeking over the horizon as Dani strolled into the square again with Peter stumbling along trying to keep up. Pham approached from the direction of the inn, tucking a small brass item into a bandolier strung across his chest as Peter finished lacing up his bracer again.

“I trust your preparations went well?” Pham looked pointedly at the fresh dirt stains on Peter’s clothing with a smirk.

“Well enough, I suppose,” Peter replied as he tried to brush off the marks. “Are you ready to rock and/or roll?”

“Hell to the yes, let’s pwn some mobs.” Pham’s enthusiasm was infectious and soon they were all making their way down the dusty road, eager to pick a fight.

Even in the morning light, silhouettes of the farm hands appeared to be struggling to harvest, gather and tie the hay into sheaves as they were harassed by dark winged figures. Peter shuddered as a momentary flashback took him to the fight in Averton’s square, but as the light grew it was clear that these were crows with feathers, not leathery imps.

Still, they were making quite the nuisance of themselves as they dive bombed the farm hands cutting the hay, picked apart the cords tying the sheaves together and rooting around in the remains before flying off with stalks for their nest or field mice for dinner. Yelling at them, throwing clods of earth or stones, even running after and trying to hit them with the farming implements did nothing to discourage the flock.

“Gie awa’ fro’ eet ya daft corbies!” screamed a man in a red bandanna, lobbing his billhook after a particularly persistent bird. Spitting on the ground he turned and waved at the approaching players. “You thar! Ye ha’ the look o’ a Traveller. Cannae ye lend a hand? We be o’errun wi’ these menaces.”

Dani stepped up and clasped forearms with the man. “John McColloch, you know I’d never turn down an honest request. These are my friends, Peter and Pham. We’ll happily sort out your crow problems. Do you have a contract for us?”

Pham muttered something under his breath about “damn RPers”, but John held up his index finger and ducked over to a flatbed cart where a couple of sheaves were already piled and reached under the seat. He returned with a rolled up sheet of paper and presented it to Dani. She in turn unrolled it, scanned the writing and pressed her thumb to the bottom and passed it to Peter.

Protect the farm hands until they can harvest sufficient sheaves of hay to fill the cart.

Success: Five copper coins.

Failure: Loss of reputation with Citizens of Averton.

Bonus (Carry ten sheaves of hay to the cart): Five copper.

“Seems pretty straightforward,” he commented as he pressed his thumb to the mark to accept the quest and passed it along. “Is this the normal way you get non-questboard jobs?”

Pham accepted the quest as well and passed the sheet back to John. “Meh, sometimes,” he conceded. “There’s other ways too. Find a quest anchor item, inscriptions on cave walls, sometimes it’s just a verbal assent and it goes into your quest log. Contracts for work are pretty common though. You ready to do this thing?”

Dani and Peter nodded emphatically, Peter pulling out his scythe and Dani assembling her little crossbow from parts extracted from various pockets. Pham pulled a short stick from his sleeve and shook it, causing the tip to glow ominously.

“You know magic?” Peter asked incredulously, and not a little jealously. “Where’d you pick that up?”

Pham used the glowing tip to draw a sigil in the air, and a thrust to send it at a nearby crow, which burst in a puff of feathers. “I didn’t. This is a wand I picked up in a dungeon, it fires a little missile made of pure magic. It doesn’t do much damage and only has a couple of charges so I figured it was just vendor trash, but since it cost me nothing and these mobs don’t have much health I figured I’d use it instead.”

Crestfallen, Peter let out a sigh and stationed himself near the tied sheaves to fend off the attacks there. “I was hoping you could teach me, like Dani did.” He swiped at an approaching bird but missed.

“I’m guessing Dani has the Mentor skill then. I don’t, I can’t teach you anything except in general terms.” Pham burst another crow, showering two struggling workers with feathers. “The best I could do would be to show you something I know and let you figure it out yourself.”

“Are you two talking about me?” Dani called from over at the cart. She had laid herself over the stacked sheaves and rested her crossbow on her crooked elbow. The ground in front of her was littered with corpses, each with a bolt through it. She aimed right at Peter, causing him to cringe, but when the string twanged a crow fell at his feet. “Watch your back Petey!”

Peter waved his thanks to her and gave up trying to hit the flitting targets. Instead he slung a sheaf over his shoulder and hauled it to the cart, trusting his team mates to keep him safe. It was a strange feeling, knowing someone had his back while he worked.

Dropping the sheaf next to Dani, he looked over to where Pham had been. As they watched, the wand sputtered halfway through the sigil and no amount of shaking would reignite the tip. Pham let loose with a string of words in an unfamiliar language and threw it at the crow he’d been aiming at. When the stick whistled harmlessly past, he pulled one of the brass devices out of his bandolier, twisted the top and bottom halves in opposite directions and threw it. It too flew harmlessly past the bird, but an instant later it exploded and whipped what looked like brass wires in all directions, catching several birds in the radius. “Booyah!”

Dani nudged Peter. “He’s still weird. But that was kinda neat.”

Peter smiled and got back to work. The weight was nowhere near as bad as the bolts of cloth he’d hauled for the seamstress, but they were still exhausting. This time however, every time he received the notification that he was overworking himself, he stopped and took a break, throwing rocks at any crow that came close. I must be getting pretty good at it, he mused, I’ve had a few tingles from my Mark and I’m starting to hit a few. Dani and Pham seemed to be having fun too, Dani still working the crossbow to pick off individuals and Pham breaking up the flock when it congregated. They were both careful not to hit or even come close to the farm hands.

It was about mid-morning by the time the crop had been harvested and all the sheaves were piled on the cart. The crows had been steadily thinning out, roosting in the trees around the field instead of coming in to pester the workers and be killed by the Travellers.

As agreed, John paid them each five copper coins, with Peter picking up an extra five for helping move the hay. “Well done ye, we couldnae ha’ done it wi’out ye help. Thank ye.”

“Whelp, that’s me for the night,” Pham sighed. “Damn teacher gave me a tonne of physics homework and the midterm exams are coming up. I gotta run. Dani, nice working with you, guess you’re not as cray-cray as I thought. Peter, catch ya laters.”

Peter and Dani watched as he logged off right there on the side of the road. Peter shook his head, “I’ll never get that. I’d much rather log off in private, you know?”

Before Dani could reply a scream from up the road grabbed their attention. The cart that they had loaded had pulled away while Pham was talking and was now being attacked by a swarm of crows led by a massive one with glowing red eyes. The scream had come from John where he sat in the driver’s seat as the oversize bird rent his arm with its claws.

Dani took off running, leaving Peter to follow as best he could. “Damn him,” she yelled, struggling for breath. “Your mate look off at just the wrong time.”

Swallowing a retort, Peter leapt up onto the back of the cart and scrabbled over the pile. He missed a handhold and tumbled onto the driver’s seat beside John in a tangle, the flat of the blade of his scythe slapping against the haunch of the draft horse pulling the cart. The poor beast reared and whinnied loudly, then lumbered into a gallop.

Down beside the cart, Dani dodged out of the way of the massive wooden wheel that threatened to crush her. “Oi! Watch it!” she bellowed as she jumped up and latched onto the side of the cart.

The giant crow’s wings beat hard against the air, keeping it aloft just above their heads as it continued to try to rake at John with those wicked sharp claws while he did his level best to keep the cart on the road. With each spread of the wings it revealed feathers that stood out a vibrant purple amongst the black. Though the colour was different, something about it reminded Peter of the mottled fur of the monster bunny he had encountered. He shivered at the memory.

Levering himself to his feet, Peter wedged one foot under the seat and balanced his other against the hay pile. He was able to get a firm grip on his weapon and begin taking swipes at the attackers. “John, is this the sort of thing that happens every time you make a delivery to the mill?” he shouted jokingly over the wind.

John had taken the bandanna off his head and was using it to bandage his arm where the blood was flowing freely. “Yon corbies oft get a mite stroppy wie us in the fields, but this bugger i’ a new ‘un. Yer get us tae the mill safe an’ I’ll put in a good word wie the mayor, see inf’n we can get yer summat for yer troubles. Deal?”

“Deal!” Peter shifted his grip further down the shaft and took another swing at the hovering monster. It was enough to connect with the foot and leave a glowing red line, eliciting a pained squawk and causing the crow to pull back higher. It spiralled higher in the sky as the lesser birds dove in, a mass of black feathers and razor sharp beaks and talons.

Mindful of the training he had done earlier in the night, Peter paid careful attention to the approach of each bird, selecting one at a time and timing his swing. Instead of the wild swings he had employed to disrupt the bigger crow, he allowed himself to focus on connecting with each strike. Not every swing was effective, but for each one that was resulted in a small burst of feathers or a tumbling corpse. Besides, the pain from the bites and scratches from every miss was a good incentive not to.

Dani was not idle during this time, having hauled herself up on top of the hay and settled into a comfortable firing stance. She had swapped the standard bolts she had been firing to a set of bulbous headed ones. Her excellent aim ensured that every bolt reached the intended mark, but instead of immediately killing it burst into a green cloud. Any crow that flew through the cloud instantly turned on its’ compatriots, tearing into them with a fury. More importantly, any crow that survived the onslaught would in turn begin to attack its’ fellows. The monster crow alone seemed impervious to the effect, neither turning nor being attacked itself. It took the opportunity to swoop down and peck or claw Peter from behind when his attention was wholly taken up by one of it’s minions. Occasionally it was successful in the attempt, but so was Peter, managing to land one or two heavy blows with the butt of the scythe.

The squawking cloud began to thin, then vanish as the combined efforts took their toll. Dani had swapped back to the standard bolts and was sniping the big one whenever it flew up high, adding to the damage Peter managed to inflict when it came down low. When the last of the lesser crows fell from the sky with a bolt sticking out of it the beast turned on a wing and flew off over the fields. John reigned in the horse to a more sensible speed.

Peter half-turned to where Dani was and gave a wide armed shrug. He had feathers sticking out of his hair and a dozen cuts and scrapes all over his body, some bleeding freely, some merely oozing. “Well, that wasn’t so bad,” he chuckled, wiping a trickle from his eye.

Something about the sudden widening of Dani’s eyes made him throw himself backwards, just in time to avoid having the black snapping beak tear through him. Instinctively he thrust down with his wings, barely managing to keep himself from falling off the cart and under the spinning wheels. They weren’t much, but the small amount of lift they provided enough force that Peter toppled onto the seat with half his body hanging out into space. John took both reigns in his damaged hand, sacrificing some control over the cart in order to grab Peter by the front of his shirt and yank him back onboard. “Not today, boy. We be almost there!”

Pulling himself firmly onto the driver’s seat, Peter scanned the sky for the beast. “Dani? Any advice for this one?” he called over the noise. “You knew about the were-vixen thing.”

“Nope, this is a new one one me,” came the reply from behind him. “There’s something weird about that bastard though. Did you see the feathers?”

Spotting the monster lining itself up for another attack run, Peter braced himself as best he could. “Sure did,” he acknowledged without looking away, “there was a vicious rabbit on my first day here that looked similar but with green. My first death, I think. Look out!”

The black shape sped towards them, but this time instead of trying to bite or claw at the occupants of the cart, it swept its’ wings forward, both thrusting itself backwards and releasing a spray of feathers. The feathers flew like arrows, quill first, burying themselves in flesh and wood with equal ease. All three screamed in pain, but Peter took the brunt of the attack.

Enraged beyond reason and in excruciating pain, Peter felt the cold tingling again. The same as he had first experienced back in Averton when facing the armoured bastard, but this time much more intense. It spread from his head to his feet and out to the tips of his wings. He felt the cold of the void, the world between worlds where his body was reconstructed every time he died, ripple through him.

No longer concerned with his balance, he drew himself to his full height and stood firmly on the drivers seat. Instead of wondering about the sensation, he embraced it, welcomed it. The cold muted the pain, silenced the screaming wind, darkened the world. There was nothing but him and his tormentor. Boy and bird. He felt power pour into him.

An explosive downward thrust of his wings bore Peter into the air. As they reached forward to beat again he could see from the corners of his eyes that they now reached well beyond their previous size. Bone white feathers left iridescent trails in the air with every movement. The leading edge was capped with a protective armour plate so reflective they burned the eyes to look at.

The wind from his ascent whipped at his cloak, now midnight black, and knocked his compatriots flat, but he had no time for such trivialities. In his hands he held his weapon as it had appeared to him in his vision, all brass and onyx and hungry for blood.

YOUR SOUL IS FORFEIT, he intoned in a voice that was at once a sepulchral whisper and yet boomed over the wind. He rocketed at the hovering monstrosity. With a single two handed upwards swing he ripped the blade through the beast’s body, leaving a glowing red line bisecting it neatly.

The two hung in the air for a moment, motionless, glaring at each other. The glowing line winked out and fear gripped Peter and twisted his stomach. Whatever power had been flowing through him vanished, leaving him mid-air with no means of support as his wings had reverted to their normal dimensions. Gravity re-exerted its primacy and Peter accelerated downwards.

His opponent still hadn’t moved. Not a feather. Black against the sky, the immobile silhouette stood out. As Peter fell he watched the bird’s chest ripple, then burst. A black sphere expanded out, consuming the winged body, before contracting to a ball the size of a fist. It zoomed towards Peter as though magnetised and, just as he slammed into the road, it smacked into his chest. It felt as though an icicle had been rammed into his heart and sent tendrils down his left arm to wrap around his Mark.

“Peter!” Dani screamed and leapt from the cart. She knelt at his side, tears falling freely. “What did you think you were doing?”

Staring up at the rapidly clearing sky, Peter tried to lift a hand to see what the black ball had done to him but couldn’t summon the strength. “Cold.”

Dani took up his hand and squeezed it. “How did you… you looked just like…” She held his hand to her face. Her lips were warm, as were the tears that flowed across them. “You’re a… Oh, Avatars, I have to find Mother. No, I have to get you to a healer. Uh...” she cast about until she saw where John had managed to wrestle the horse and cart to a stop. She began to try lifting Peter’s larger form onto her shoulder until he cried out in pain.

“Ghah! Just stop, please,” he wheezed, letting himself flop back onto the hard packed earth. “I’ll be back soon. Mnnnh, that hurts. How about you meet me for… for a cup of tea. You know whe…” The last of his strength fading, the world faded with it. Dani was left staring into the imprint of his body in the dirt.