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  Several minutes earlier.

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  Down on the ground, away from the conflict, mass hysteria has broken loose in the city. An enormous egg shaped object emerged from the sky and is falling down. Frightening noises and weird magic are causing people to convulse on the floor and animals to lose their minds. Some parts of the city reverted to robbing and stealing looking to set themselves up with a head start after moving. The city guards were onced ordered to guard the gates and stop the people from leaving. At the gates, violence quickly took over the peaceful citizens of Thesian. They started off waiting for the guards to pass out writs of leave. These documents would gather information on who was leaving, their property, social standing, land, etc. This started off well but after the last fear causing magic attack people no longer wanted to wait and started fighting to get out. No one was safe from the frenzy, not even the guards. Casualties stacked high even before the object dropped from the sky.

  In a dark alley, a man started to rouse from his stupor from off the ground. His clothing, once charming with elegant threads of white, red and green, is now a mess to behold. Mud stains ruined his clothing and mood. After getting to his feet, he looked down onto his clothes with disgust and anger. His cloak was now dirty and tattered. He went to check his pocket for his handkerchief but found it missing along with his money pouch. Panic struck him at once and he looked around on the ground while still checking his pockets. Luckily, he never walked around with all his money, but what was in there could keep a commoner living comfortably for a year. The man continued to look around before giving up and cursing to himself. The last thing he remembers was something exploding in front of him causing him to black out.

  “Where the fuck am I.” He said as he looked around still hoping to catch a glance of where his money went. His talons tapped the brick road with a clacking noise as he thought to himself. He looked up in the sky and cursed as he saw the object a lot closer than it was before. It seemed like it was several hundred feet from the ground and there were translucent layers keeping it in place. It had smashed through a lot of the magical layers already and had a few left before it would be unhindered. There was what seemed to be a man in the sky with the object. Some of the other city folks said it was the regional guardian wizard. Nickolas Granfry was Known as the strongest wizard alive and he was up in the sky alone trying to prevent a catastrophe.

  “I hope he is as strong as the rumors make him out to be, ” he said to himself. The shear size of the egg object could easily destroy one third of the city just coming down. The amount of damage so far prevented from Nickolas was untold at this point the city and even more might have been wiped away. The man didn’t care if Nickolas won or not. He just wanted him to keep that egg at bay till he was gone.

  Jaquawe jumped up and shed the green and white cloak he was wearing. Blue feather wings with white tips spread appeared from his back and he took flight. His wings were a separate appendix to his arms allowing his hands to be free. He was an Alofrian, which was a race of bird folk that mostly lived up north, up in the Gymiekah mountains. That mountain range belongs mostly to dwarfs and Alofrian. Jaquawe was tall and slender and had rough skin made of tough keratin.

  He took a moment to study his surroundings. A couple streets over was a huge explosion site that seems like the cause for Jaquawe’s black out. There was what looked like a person in the hole but he wasn't completely sure. He also wasn’t sure how the man came to be there or create that much destruction. Jaquawe decided to check it out after he grabbed his wife. Every second counted and he didn’t have time at the moment to be nosy. She was unable to escape and he was her only hope.

  Jaquawe desperately endeavored to keep his extraordinary ability to fly under wraps. The manifestation of death loomed in the skies above, maintaining secrecy about his unique racial traits became a secondary concern; survival was far more critical than discretion. Being part of a bird folk race often made him coveted by the wealthy elite as exotic pets. Jaquawe often faced the ever-present danger of being captured. Demi human variants such as his made people not fully view his race as equals. With no legal protections in place for beings like him, he had learned the importance of masking his true identity.

  As he soared through the air, scanning the expanse of the city beneath him for his hidden safe haven, Jaquawe darted about with urgency and precision. After what seemed like mere moments, he spotted his sanctuary—not because it was near, but due to his remarkable flying speed, which allowed him to traverse the entire city in barely a minute if he truly wished to. Yet, even with the chaos unfolding around him, he refrained from such reckless haste; drawing unnecessary attention to himself was a risk he could not afford.

  As soon as his feet hit the ground, he sprang into a sprint, his heart racing like a wild drum in his chest. He saw townsfolk swarm past him in a chaotic blur, their faces etched with fear and urgency. The crowd jostled him relentlessly as he fought to reach the elusive latch that secured the entrance to his hidden refuge. In the chaos, he was knocked to the ground, feeling the weight of bodies pressing down on him. Desperate, Jaquawe struggled to rise, instinctively brandishing his dagger to ward off those around him. Blood trickled from his mouth, pain radiating through his battered body. His wings were smudged with dirt, evidence of the footsteps that had trampled over him—some, he suspected, with intent. With a cautious backward step toward the alleyway, he kept his dagger raised, ready to defend himself against the swirling mass around him. However, a wave of horror washed over him when he arrived at the spot only to find a massive chunk of rubble as big as a wagon blocking his way. Jaquawe stood frozen, paralyzed by a wave of hopelessness that threatened to consume him.

  But then, a flicker of inspiration ignited in his mind. Just before flying in search of his hideout, he had spotted a sturdy man—the figure had been caught in the devastating crater that marred the ground. Jaquawe struggled to recall details about him, but he distinctly remembered the man’s muscular frame, which exuded strength and resilience. Perhaps this unfamiliar ally could aid him. He shook off the despair that gripped him, compelling himself to seek this man's help—it was imperative now that he ascertain whether he was even alive.

  With determined resolve, Jaquawe took to the skies once more, scanning the chaotic landscape beneath him as he searched for the merchant district. After what felt like an eternity, he finally located it, and his heart raced with hope as he began to scan the scene below. He was in luck—the quick flash of color caught his eye. A cart, laden with an assortment of half-broken bottles housing a kaleidoscope of vibrant potions, stood abandoned among the fray. Although he did not possess extensive knowledge about potions, he understood instinctively that any kind of medicinal aid could prove invaluable.

  His heart sank briefly upon noticing the cart’s owner, who lay motionless a few paces away, a heavy stone resting mercilessly upon his face. With the shock of the situation fueling his adrenaline, Jaquawe ripped the cloth that served as a makeshift awning for the cart, fashioning it into a knapsack. He hurriedly gathered as many bottles as he could, his mind focused solely on the potential life-saving contents. Then, like a bolt of lightning, he shot back into the air, zooming towards the crater where he hoped to find the orc still lingering in the shadows of unconsciousness.

  As he descended into the wreckage of the crater, relief washed over him when he spotted the orc, still alive but wounded and barely stirring. Jaquawe’s heart swelled with a mixture of fear and hope as he approached. The orc lay there, gasping for air, his body a terrifying patchwork of injuries—mangled limbs, a tusk broken clean off, and an arm bent at an unnatural angle. Sitting there, it was apparent that survival would take every ounce of strength this man possessed.

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  Setting his precious knapsack down, Jaquawe rifled through the collected bottles, grateful to find them labeled. He seized a couple that appeared promising and, without waiting for permission, tried to force the burly orc to consume their contents. The orc gagged and sputtered at first, yet Jaquawe was steadfast, ensuring not a single drop went to waste. After several agonizing moments during which the orc fought against the intrusion, his eyes snapped open, locking onto Jaquawe’s.

  With incredible force, the orc shot out his arm and sent Jaquawe reeling backwards. The display of strength was astonishing, particularly given his numerous injuries. Jaquawe marveled at how, even with a broken body, the orc managed to exude power that could easily overwhelm him. Slowly, the orc began to rise, grunting in pain as he forcibly repositioned his limbs while letting out a guttural yell that resonated like a war cry—a call to rally against defeat, fueling his recovery.

  What was most remarkable was how fast Jaquawe recognized that the potions took effect.

  “Who are you birdman?” Bucrok questioned the man before him. His guard was up even though he did owe the man for saving him. Jaquawe took a step towards the orc and stuck out his hand.

  “My name is Jaquawe Bloom and I need your help. I am sorry for the rude awakening but it was urgent.”

  “How long was I out?”

  “I don't know how long for sure but if it was relative to the falling calamity above us then not long.” Bucrok stared at the hand and grunted with a nod.

  “Bucrok.”

  “Bucrok?” Jaquawe awkwardly retracted his hand and stood there examining the orc. He looked mostly healed and was currently looking around. Jaquawe guessed he was trying to see where he had landed.

  “My name is Bucrok.”

  “Right. Right. So about helping me-” Jaquawe started to ask before looking confused at Bucrok. Bucrok wore a twisted face and his muscles tensed up. He stayed like that for a couple seconds before letting go of a big breath. He did it again and tried jumping but nothing was happening for him.

  “What are you doing?” Jaquawe asked, wondering if there was something wrong with the orc’s head.

  “Trying to fly.” Bucrok casually said while a determined look was plastered on his face.

  “Orc’s can’t fly.” Jaquawe said beginning to question if he was wasting his time trying to ascertain help from this particular orc.

  “There was a spell on me to fly. I need to get back up there and fight.” Bucrok said looking at Jaquawe like he was an idiot. Jaquawe looked up and saw the lone magician and put the pieces together. Sensing the desperation of time, Jaquawe dropped to his knees and Bucrok looked at him with alarm.”

  “Look, I could really use your help. I’m desperate. My wife can’t save herself and if I don’t do something she will die. I can’t lose her. It will only take a minute of your time. Surely you have someone in your life you love dearly. ”Jaquawe pleaded from the ground.

  The sense of duty vs the empathy of the heart balanced in Bucroks mind. He knew all too well how Jaquawe was feeling but he also knew he had a mission to accomplish.

  “Ghaah. Fine as long as it’s quick." Bucrok relented, taking in a deep breath.

  Jaquawe shot up with glee and hugged the mountain of muscles. Bucrok struggled for a moment to gain his freedom from the weird bird person. Jaquawe sprung in the air after being thrown off and did an aerial loop before diving and picking up Bucrok.

  Grabbing him underneath the arms, he lifted him off the ground and began a laborious ascent towards his hideout. The flight was arduous, considerably slower than before, but it was still more efficient than any desperate sprint through the debris-strewn streets below.

  Upon reaching his destination, Jaquawe gently placed the orc down on the ground to examine the rubble that obstructed the latch. Citizens pushed and shoved trying to get through, but against Bucrok it was like a boulder in the water. Jaquawe stood behind Bucrok as he effortlessly shielded him from the hoards of people trying to escape the city. Bucrok walked through the crowd over to the alleyway blocked of with a massive piece of rubble. With a gleam of determination flashing across his face, Bucrok grinned, exuding an invigorating energy. In a show of raw, unyielding strength, he swung his massive fist with explosive power, shattering the boulder blocking their way into a cascade of fragments. The sight filled Jaquawe with awe and renewed hope.

  The towering figure of the orc known as Bucrok effortlessly hurled massive chunks of stone aside, tossing them left and right with an ease that resembled the casual act of tossing laundry onto a line. Jaquawe, standing nearby, was left utterly astonished by the sheer display of strength that Bucrok was showcasing; it was an extraordinary testament to the orc's might. Suddenly, a deafening boom reverberated from above, startling Jaquawe and causing a cascade of snowflakes to slowly drift down upon the city below. It was an unexpected sight, for winter had officially come to an end, and yet here was this bizarre, almost dreamlike snowfall that fell as freely as rain on a warm summer’s day.

  Jaquawe instinctively looked up, his eyes widening in disbelief as he observed a brilliant explosion of silver snow tumbling down from the heavens—a phenomenon that seemed almost magical in its beauty. He quickly shook off the momentary daze and noted the source of this unusual weather. The lone mage suspended in the air above him was most likely the instigator of this enchanting yet bewildering snowfall, conjuring a powerful spell to counteract a giant egg that hung ominously in the skies. Jaquawe felt a momentary thrill at the thought of such raw, arcane power, tempered only by the urgency of the situation.

  Bucrok, who had also shifted his gaze skyward, wore an expression that was a mix of determination and concern. He knew he was meant to be up there alongside the wizard, engaging in the battle against the colossal, mysterious egg that loomed over them. However, much to his dismay, the magic that had once buoyed him in the air seemed to have dissipated, leaving him grounded and unable to fulfill his duty. With a focused effort, Bucrok resumed clearing away the rubble that cluttered the area, his powerful arms swinging with practiced ease.

  Just as Bucrok heaved aside the final piece of debris, Jaquawe seized the opportunity. He sprinted toward the hatch, lifting it with urgency before disappearing swiftly inside. The interior of the small shelter was dim, almost claustrophobic, with shadows dancing in the corners. Jaquawe's excellent night vision gave him a clear advantage; he had come to know this dimly lit space quite well. The meager furnishings were sparse, the highlight being a humble straw bed pressed against one wall.

  Upon that bed lay his beloved, motionless yet radiating a tranquil beauty, her delicate form wrapped in stillness. The soft flutter of her magnificent red and purple wings was mesmerizing as they rose and fell gently with each breath she took. Her ebony hair framed her face, a stark contrast to her ethereal features, enhancing the delicate doll-like appearance that captivated Jaquawe’s heart. The soft, light purple dress she wore complemented her stunning wings perfectly, wrapping around her like a soft embrace.

  Overwhelmed by a wave of affection, Jaquawe moved closer, almost reverently, as if approaching a hidden treasure. He knelt beside her, the weight of love and longing flooding his heart once more. Gently, he pressed a tender kiss upon her forehead, cherishing the moment as his heart swelled with emotion.

  “I’m back my love. We need to leave.” He whispered.

  With care, he gathered her into his arms, holding her softly against his chest, feeling the warmth of her body against him as he stepped back outside to where Bucrok was waiting.

  The orc paused for a moment, taking a moment to study the pair before him; his expression seemed to communicate respect for Jaquawe's sense of responsibility. He understood the urgency of their situation, and knew they needed to move quickly. Bucrok determined that the best course of action was to safely escort his family out of the city, intending to enlist the help of the birdman. He only wanted the safety of his daughter and wife amid the unfolding chaos. At the rate the battle was going above there was no way to stop that egg’s descent.

  Streams of terrified people were still trying to force their way past Jaquawe and Bucrok, causing them to have to navigate through a relentless wave of bodies, each person vying for escape. The clamor of fear and desperation enveloped around them, creating a palpable tension in the air as they fought against the tide, determined to make it back to the tavern.