Prophecy Approved Companion

Book Two Chapter Twelve: Flitter Folk Intro

After circling over the griffins’ heads for a little while, the Chosen One swooped to the ground, picking up Squiggles, and then immediately zipped back up into the sky. The others followed without question, spreading out in formation behind the Hero. Definitely Bad Guy and Sewer Bard looked like naturals, with none of the rather wobbly course correction the Chosen One had to occasionally do — any movements they made looked smooth and controlled, like they’d been flying all their lives.

Sexy Screamy Spider Lady, however, didn’t manage to pull off the flying thing quite as gracefully. Her body hung strangely, some of her limbs snapping into a straight line and then wildly windmilling, other limbs seeming to shudder in place and stretch before snapping back. Qube thought it looked exceedingly painful, but the Hunter remained stoic and uttered no protest.

Tilting his wings, the Chosen One shot ahead and twisted past a stray lightning strike coming up from the clouds below them. Bursting through a black bank, they suddenly came across another mountain top. This one, however, was far busier looking than the flat surface the griffins had been sunning themselves on. This was a full village. Hundreds of giant nests were built into various alcoves in the mountain, but all of them were empty. In the middle of the mountain there was a giant wooden wall, sealing off what looked like the entrance to a cavern.

The group landed relatively gracefully, only the Chosen One stumbling forwards a few steps before steadying himself. Qube reluctantly released him as he dropped Squiggles onto the ground. She looked at his slowly fanning wings with envy and vowed that, when she returned to Cobbletown, she would get the Chosen One to go to the Royal Observatory, find the least strange one to agree to be [Heal]ed, and make them figure out how to get the wings to work on her.

But maybe they would leave Sexy Screamy Spider Lady behind. Just to avoid any more… oddities, in the workers.

The Chosen One, not privy to the envy of his childhood friend, reached forward and touched the wooden slate before them. It towered over them, easily as tall as the biggest manor in Cobbletown. Far above them, a section slid back, and a beak poked out.

“Who’s there?” it chirruped aggressively.

“I’m here to save you… probably,” the Chosen One called up. The beak disappeared, the section slammed shut and there was an outburst of furious whispering, whistling, and song from behind the wooden wall. The Chosen One turned around and looked at his party.

Sewer Bard shrugged slightly, his wings making the gesture look downright majestic.

“Little is known about the Flitter Folk,” he said. The Chosen One raised an eyebrow.

“Flitter Folk?” he said incredulously. “That’s like calling humans ‘walking people’ or some such thing.

“There’s nothing wrong with Flitter Folk,” Qube said. The Chosen One rolled his eyes.

The section that had opened before reopened, then swung even further and a large segment unhinged high up on the wooden wall. A small, puffy bird perched at the edge of the opening.

“Come in,” it ordered, before flipping around and jumping back into the cavern, disappearing from view. The Chosen One sighed, and scooped up Squiggles before presenting his back to Qube.

“Come on, let’s go,” he sighed. Qube, nothing loath, wrapped her arms around him and tried to hold back her squeals of delight as he sprang up, his wings snapping as they lifted off. Aside from him accidentally missing and hitting the top of the opening, it was very smooth flying.

There was a moment of shuddering disorientation as they entered the cavern, and then a hidden world unfolded before Qube. The giant glowing mushrooms of the Water Temple were present here, glittering like stars in the night sky, but they were dwarfed by yellow cages filled with shining golden feathers. The light of the feathers reflected off the golden polish of the cages, refracting and multiplying a thousand times until the light seemed to be bigger than possible from such a small source.

In the middle of the cavern there was a strange diamond-shaped structure made from hundreds of thousands of twigs. Several round holes were woven into the pattern, from which dozens of other small birds would flit in and out.

One particular bird, which looked especially fluffy, was standing on the ground next to the twig diamond. It raised a wing, and flagged the party.

“Hoooi!” it called to them. It waved its wing back and forth, jumping from side to side. After a few seconds, it stopped, and regarded them first with one eye, then another. “Hoooi!” it repeated, and started waving its wing again and hopping back and forth. The Chosen One stopped, and hovered in the air. He looked down at the fluffy bird. The fluffy bird stopped, and looked back up at him.

“Hoooi!” it said, and began dancing again.

Sewer Bard, perhaps tired of watching the poor little bird try to attract their attention, landed next to it. The Chosen One, seemingly not noticing the Bard’s rebellion, was too busy looping around the bird, forcing it to slowly hop in a circle to keep him in sight.

“Chosen One, please stop taunting the small fluffy bird,” Qube sighed in his ear. He chuckled, but obliged, landing with a thump in front of the bird, and releasing Squiggles.

“Greetings, fine feathered friend,” Sewer Bard said, sweeping the little bird a flourishing bow.

“Charmed,” the particularly fluffy bird trilled.

“As am I,” Sewer Bard replied, beaming at the direct address. The bird hopped a bit more, its little beak pointing first at Sewer bard, then at the Chosen One.

“Metal Feather,” it said to the Chosen One. “Greetings, greetings.” Flit, flit, flit, it went, jumping back and forth. It looked at Sewer Bard and tilted its head inquisitively. “Charmed too?”

There was a pause as the group tried to figure out what the bird had meant. The rising inflection in its voice as it looked at Sewer Bard had almost made it seem like it was asking his name…?

“I am Sewer Bard,” Sewer Bard said eventually. He glanced at Qube and the Chosen One, as if seeking their input. Qube shrugged, while the Chosen One was preoccupied with trying to persuade Squiggles to climb the structure.

“Not Charmed?” it asked, ruffling its feathers. It peered at him disapprovingly. “I’m Charmed,” it added.

“I am, naturally, charmed to make your acquaintance,” Sewer Bard replied. This seemed to confuse the bird even more, and it increased its jumping.

“But what if there’s treasure up there?” Chosen One was asking Squiggles, who seemed more interested in trying to get inside the giant nest structure. Chosen One picked her up and put her against the twig wall. “Just climb!” he said, “and carry me up with you!”

Squiggles flailed unhappily, and Qube practically teleported to the pair’s side.

“Chosen One! Please stop pressuring her to be irresponsible! I don’t want you being a bad influence! She’s still a baby Deep One!”

Squiggles reversed her tentacles, several of them wrapping them around the Chosen One’s arms, two more hooking around the back of his neck, and the remaining launching her off the wall and flipping her over the Chosen One’s head, wrenching his arms behind his back with two sickening pops.

The Chosen One made a strange gurgling sound and dropped like a stone.

“Squiggles, no! [Lesser Heal]!” Qube knelt by the Chosen One as the spell took effect on him. He stopped writhing in pain and lay there for a moment, catching his breath.

“Chosen One, I’m so sorry! Squiggles is sorry too, aren’t you Squiggles?” Qube nudged the sharktopus, who crouched low to the ground and slorped gingerly over to the Chosen One. She bonked him gently. The Chosen One slowly dragged himself up, and staggered over to a blue glowing Save Point. As soon as his hand had passed through the ball of light he stood up straighter, revitalised by his connection with the devs.josei

He turned and looked at Squiggles sternly.

“Never,” he said emphatically, “do that again. That was extremely unpleasant.”

Qube was in awe of the stoic nature of the Hero. She didn’t know anyone else who would describe having their arms ripped out of their sockets as “unpleasant.” Truly, the modifications that had been made by the Golden Prophecy to his body were beyond anything she had ever imagined. For some reason, this instance of his resilience hit her differently from the times she had watched him take multiple deep wounds in battle. There, the adrenaline of battle was designed to carry him through, but this had been just a peaceful moment between the Saviour of All Human and Human Adjacent Beings and his pet sharktopus.

“Metal Feather,” the spokesbird for the Flitter Folk said, seemingly giving up on its conversation with the Bard. “I’m Charmed.”

“Of course,” the Chosen One said, adjusting his shoulders. Even though Qube’s abilities had perfectly fixed him, he still seemed slightly uncomfortable. “I’m a charming person.”

The bird did not seem impressed by this.

“Save us,” it ordered, in a presumptuous tone. “Griffins attack. Cat steals. Sky awakens.”

“Yeah, okay,” the Chosen One said casually. He looked at Sewer Bard, and sighed. “Is there any more backstory you wanted to give us?” he asked longsufferingly.

It turned out the bird had a lot more backstory, all of it delivered in short, staccato bursts. Piecing it together was somewhat difficult, and, from the glazed look in the Chosen One’s eyes, it was clear that he was merely suffering through this to please his party members.

Sewer Bard, at least, was very pleased with all the lore.

The Flitter Folk had come across a cat one day. It had been a tiny bit smaller than them, very young and as fluffy as a newborn chick. The leader, Charmed, had taken pity on it, and brought it back into their nest. As they fed it, however, it grew and grew, and some of the timider members of the Flitter Folk had become nervous. The leader had reassured them that the cat was no threat to them. It loved them, and only used its powerful claws to help it grip as it would leap from rock to rock, forever striving to keep up with its fellow chicks.

But it had kept growing. And growing. And while the rest of its body grew coarse fur, its tail remained scaly. And, while it had grown a full mane like a proper cat, they noticed that feathers had also sprouted around its face. It was wrong, that a cat should grow so much bigger than it was, and that it should seek to be both cat and bird.

It had become almost… griffin-like.

And there were few who knew better the damage a griffin could do than the Flitter Folk.

So they had banished the cat, with its potential for violence and non-bird tendencies. And it had sat at the bottom of the mountain top and cried, then at night climbed into their nests and stolen their feathers for its dark, cat-ish deeds.

“Did you try asking it what it wanted your feathers for?” Qube had asked, via Sewer Bard. Charmed ignored her, and continued its tale.

The Flitter Folk had retreated into the mountain, and thrown up wooden walls. Quite how they’d managed that with wings was a bit of a mystery, but Qube had to imagine they had magical abilities to help.

And then the mountain had awoken and they were trapped, waiting for the storms to pass so they could once again travel down into the woods to feast upon the insects.

“Remove cat. Remove griffins. Remove storms. We reward,” the leader chirruped. The Chosen One refocused at the prospect of loot.

“Was there anything else you wanted to know?” he asked Sewer Bard. The Bard gave him a grateful bow.

“That information is quite sufficient for the epic saga I am writing, Noble Patron,” he answered. “But I thank you for your patience.”

The Chosen One waved off his thanks.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said. He looked at the rest of the group. “Anyone else want to ask anything?” He caught Definitely Bad Guy’s eye. “Anything that normal people wouldn’t consider at least mildly threatening?”

Everyone shook their heads. Qube was smiling at him. He really was learning how to be a proper leader of their little group! He grinned at her.

“Can’t have people saying I don’t take care of my party members,” he said. He added in a quieter voice, “no matter how boring all the lore is.” He coughed, and drew himself up to his full height.

“Right!” he said, pointing to a small exit on the other side of the mountain hollow. “Time to find a confused cat-bird and defeat it!”