The Piano cursed with a series of keysmashes as the jackal became apparently overwhelmed with terror and ran off in a random direction. It had been about to get everything under control! Really! And now she was darting off who-knows-where, terrified, leaving all her stuff behind, probably about to get herself lost in this desert cave before she came to her senses again! Or maybe get eaten by vultures first! (Was this a common occurrence for her? Was this why she treated death as so commonplace?)

Without hesitation, it rocketed after Fleas on three wheels, gritting its keys and curling its strings into mock-fists as every little rock or bump in its path sent jarring vibrations through its body. The cup, gems, and various other objects it had collected rattled and banged against each other inside it. "FLEAS." it called out in a waterfall of keys and resonating sound. "GET IN HERE! I WILL HIDE YOU." Dozens of metal strings extended from its side, waving at the jackal and gesturing toward its open lid. Get in, they invited. Get in!

@Heathen

Heathen

____________________________________________

Survival is awarded to the worthy

Uncertainty. It was uncomfortable, sending Heathen spiralling through too many thoughts in too little time. The creatures hadn't seen him. Now would be perfect, to steal, to sneak into one of their nests... Or to save. But the Piano was there already, its 'screams' keeping the predators from diving... for now. They were not likely to attack something seemingly inedible, but the jackal? That was fair game, even if they were to try and hide. How sturdy was wood when splintered by sharp claws and beaks? If he could break it, so could they.
Caves! Fine! If only for leverage.
Heathen crouched low, trying to make use of what little camouflage he was born with in the sands of Hydra, its dry heat suddenly very obvious without the distraction of rewards. They followed at a slight distance, trying to keep out of sight. The more of a jump they could have on these creatures if they dove, the better.
"I said over here, you bald winged rats!" Their voice whispered from beyond the top of the cliff again, trying to split the flock as much as possible.


"Spoken words!" And thoughts Compared to actions!

OOC Notes:

@Fleas

The awful shrieks of the vultures chased Fleas, and she swore she could feel the wind from their wingbeats on her fur. Fleas was not willing to die again. No no no! She would've kept running aimlessly, but The Piano's voice was distinct and sonorous enough to cut through. She flinched bodily, whipping her head towards the Piano, tripping over her ownlegs. The Piano..wanted her to climb in THAT? "In--In THERE!?" She shrieked. She'd seen how terrifying the Piano could be. Fleas shot unsteadily to her feet. "Like HELL I'm climbing in--" Fleas yelped at the sharp pain of something snapping through the end of her bald tail. "OKAY!"

Fleas flapped her wings desperately with the expertise of a fledgeling bird, but it gave her enough air to leap into the piano's open hood. And inadvertently putting herself in the line of fire of the remaining vultures descending on her. She felt claws and beaks tear at her, but with Heathen distracting the flock and The Piano covering her, she'd hopefully be safe enough.

The Eyehooks were no army; they had no general and no organization. Terrifying as a flock, yes, but most were circling aimlessly, somewhat scattered. While some dove and pecked at the Piano--unaware it was alive, searching only for a way to get at the jackal--others circled higher, spiralling entirely away or chasing whispers.

@The Piano

The Piano’s lid slammed shut as soon as Fleas made it inside, in a motion usually reserved for prey. This time, it thought ironically, it was on the prey’s side. Fleas would be in the dark, and not have much space to move around, but at least she was safe from the vultures.

Speaking of the vultures… The Piano made a faint grumbling noise as they pecked at it, leaving scratches down its formerly flawless ebony surface. The sensation was quite unpleasant. Not painful, but it could feel the scratching irritation of its inner wood exposed to the desert air, the intense dry prickle as the material endured this undignified damage. It would heal, but…. it was so irritating. Maybe they’d give up soon.

In the meantime, it wheeled itself back around and headed back as fast as it could. The sooner they got out of here, the less of this uncomfortable ordeal it had to endure. It paused by the pile of stuff Fleas had left—had she wanted to keep those? It had no voice with which to ask, for there was far too much junk (including a large jackal-shaped animal) piled up inside it to say anything comprehensible. It figured it’d grab them anyway, and somehow argue its way into Fleas owing them a favor or something later. In a flash, its lid cracked open slightly and strings shot out to stuff more inside its mouth before slamming shut again.

Get ready for the long bus ride home, it might have tried to say, if it was capable of uttering anything other than a muffled ”hmmmmm” through its overfilled mouth. It hoped Heathen would also have the sense to grab his finds and get out, without having to be reminded or rescued. Certainly it could not fit him too. It had not seen any vultures go after him, so that was a good sign.

Well, back to the Merchant they went, then.

@Heathen + attempted exit with fleas?

Heathen

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Survival is awarded to the worthy

Well.
Was that it?
Heathen couldn't help but feel disappointed. Not only was there no bloodshed, save for perhaps a spattering from Fleas' tail, but there was... no treasure. The Piano had recovered it all, leaving Heathen in the literal dust as it wheeled away. Unless...
Oh, it was a stupid idea. To anyone else, at least, including the Piano who wasn't even food to begin with. But...
The eyehooks were distracted and disorganized, looking for food in all the wrong places. Perhaps...
Deciding to make use of his stealth and the chaos, Heathen crept away, looking for an empty nest.
Just one good thing... that was all he needed. One good thing to win him his prize.

"Spoken words!" And thoughts Compared to actions!

OOC Notes:

The nests were at the very top of the plateau: a dangerous game to try and play. It would be a long, narrow path and at the top there was no cover: just broad, flat, open land exposed in the bright light. For Heathen to push that far would be very ill-advised.

The last two gemstones Fleas had found (wherever they'd ended up) were a fledgling-level Botryogen, looking rather like a dessicated twist of tangerine fruit; and a Pupil-level Ametrine, with shining purple meeting flashes of yellow-gold.

A few Eyehooks followed the Piano, harrying it with scratches and pecks, but eventually--after an uncomfortably long, hot time for Fleas--they would give up and head back up to the plateau.

@Fleas @Heathen

Heathen

____________________________________________

Survival is awarded to the worthy

Heathen did not make nearly as much progress towards, let alone up the slope as he had intended to before the eyehooks grew bored and gave up. Now he was really alone, and even more lacking in treasure seeing as the eyehooks had presumably all returned to their nests.
I'm not meant to go up there today, am I? The big cat silently grumbled to himself, turning back towards where the dust was still settling after the Piano's hasty escape. Fine then... But I'll be back. Stupid birds. Fates may have had their way this day, toying with him like a housecat with a feather on a string, but soon he would be back to claim all he had missed out on, with stronger spells to boot. It was just a shame the walking furniture hadn't left anything behind to tide him over... He supposed he could cast more magic into the stone upon his return, assuming it still needed it.

"Spoken words!" And thoughts Compared to actions!

OOC Notes: No more stupid games for today, it's Dreamer time!

/Exit Heathen, grumpily, to Awakening The Dreamer