Battle in the Skies

The Manticore swings about, a bit unsteady from one too many wounds. He growls in rage, slashing claws flailing about to strike at the approaching Hippogriff. His attack misses, instead passing through a harmless cloud of vapour as the horse-bird disappears into thin air. The summoned animal cannot help them any longer, he thinks. It’s time had come to an end.

The presence of the Hippogriff had been unexpected, and had nearly cost the Manticore the battle. The Druid will be the first to die the next time, I will make certain of it. I will rip his flesh, and those of his friends. I will feed on their bodies for days to come. I will chew on the guts of the Dwarves, and tear the arms from the Orc-man. And the Elf…the Elf I will keep alive as long as possible to relish the delicious and savoury Sylvan blood. Then, I will slaughter the people of Bingley who dared send these interlopers to hunt me.

But first he must escape, to lick his wounds and regrow his tail spikes, the same ones that would pierce the hearts of these foul man-things. He swings about, aiming to slip through the narrow gorge and make his way to safety. He glances at the adventurers, cheering and shouting from the edge of the cliff. Enjoy your brief moment, you pathetic worms. I will be back, and I will strike at you from the darkness of night. Your bodies will be picked from the cliff face, and dashed to the rocks below. He marvels at the arrogance of the man-things, who seem to be dancing in victory. Their celebrations are premature at best, for this beast is not dead yet.

Abruptly, the Manticore is slammed from above by something massive—another Hippogriff! The meddling Druid had called another one! He spins out of control, barely maintaining his flight as the horse-bird veers away. Blood flows freely from a deep wound on his back. Fear and alarm enter the mind of the Manticore, for he is now the hunted. He must escape to fight another day. His only hope is to outrun the winged adversary, for the man-things could not follow him and this summoned helper cannot last long. With a final resolve, he spreads his wings and heads for the open sky. In moments he would be clear of the gorge and away from the scene. I will come back and kill all of you...

On the cliff edge below, Torrig pulls back his bowstring, grimacing as he stretches the weapon to it's limit. At this range, a hit would be a miracle. The arrow launches through the sky and high into the air, sailing across the void towards his chosen target. Like a death knell straight from the heavens, the projectile pierces the heart of the Manticore! The scourge of the forest gives one final howl of pain and defeat, then falls in a tailspin to the valley floor below.