Furguin Faces Murder

Sadly, this was not a dodo designed for unpowered flight. Its trajectory took it about two feet above ground and quickly back down to crash into the titanic toes of the murder monster. At first a similar wound to those inflicted by the urgh-bane broke the surface of the immense foot. A burst of corvids flew upwards scratching and whipping past Fürgůïn's face, but before the renling could escape, the avian shrapnel swung back down upon him as if razor-tipped rags of pure night. Flapping blackness sputtered out the light, the clamour was deafening with crows pecking and clawing at the intruders and beating them with their wings. It was like a nightmare of swarming, squealing black umbrellas frenziedly opening and closing in a small cupboard. Doggedly the renling fought to stay on his feet, waving his arms madly about his head to fend off the vicious stabbing beaks and hooked talons; the wretched dodo fell limp beneath him and flopped somewhere out of reach. To Fürgůïn's utter horror the monster thing was reforming, solidifying right around him, fluttering, whirring blackness stopping up every last flicker and chink of light. The last thought that the drowning renling had was why it had to be a murder of crows, why couldn’t it just have been an unkindness of ravens - that sounded far less harsh!

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