As the darkness settles over the house, Erimeyoma wonders if the nearby fisherman were truly afraid of an oncoming meteorological phenomenon, or this more supernatural one. Gripping her quarterstaff tightly in both hands, she steps tentatively closer to the house, turning her head slightly from moment to moment trying to catch more detail from the sounds. The moon makes the collection of scales near her eyes and neck glisten green, contrasting with the pale skin. Ouriana notices this oddity; not quite a Dragonborn as one might expect, but certainly not Human…
Sliding a dagger from its sheath, Ouriana palms it quietly and then pulls her hood back, trying to get a better idea of where the loud footsteps were coming from before they disappeared. She breathes deeply, taking in the salty sea air, allowing her mind to process the clues. It seems the footsteps were going towards the house, and are somehow connected to this shadowy shape that’s now enveloped the house.
The two can still make out details of the building, but it’s noticeably darker than the other houses. Coupled with the creaking going on after that bang, everything seems to be pointing towards this house. Not derelict, but the house looks unoccupied at present.
Ouriana begins stalking towards the shadowy house, getting to within a few feet and taking around a minute to creep from her position at the edge of the village to the side of the house; the creaking slows and eventually stops.
Silence. The wind is gone, the sound of the surf is gone, and the tavern posing as a net shop is quiet.
The window shutters of the house all thrust open, banging on the wooden sides, clattering and splintering with the force. Inside one of the windows stands a pale woman, gaunt and elderly, staring directly at Ouriana. The shutters swing closed, shudder and shake open again slowly; there is no woman inside the house.
The rooms appear furnished, but there are no signs of life in the front room. Two doors can be seen from this room, and from the looks of the house there is perhaps a bedroom and a pantry.
The wind gives a gentle whistle high overhead. Recovering from the fright, Ouriana moves to the front door. Erimeyoma brings attention to herself as she steps into a puddle, revealing her similar intentions to Ouriana. The pair share a glance and a nod, and the pale white Tiefling proceeds on to the door. The door has a handle and no apparent mechanism – pushing it open, it swings inward. The hinges strain and groan, as though the door was too heavy for them. The air inside is freezing cold, and she can see her breath hang in the air. A small skittering shape moves across the floor between two hiding places.
One of the doors in the room on the far side, apparently the bedroom door, is now slightly ajar. Within, a faint tinkling of a gnomish music box can be heard. Feeling every muscle tense, Ouriana scans her eyes over the main room. Taking a tentative inside, dagger in hand, she finds herself taking in a sharp breath and dropping to the floor before her she even registers herself what it is her eyes saw. Erimeyoma, being some feet behind, gets a warning by the pale demonblood hitting the deck, and immediately ducks into a crouch, one leg splayed out ready to push off into a run. A furious flurry of ebony feathers and harsh winds blast out of the house and into the air above their heads, furniture in the house splintering and crashing in the wake.
The creatures, four pitch-black ravens, swoop up and hover about a dozen feet in the air, and one then speaks. Its voice a high-pitched volley of coughs and gags, it is a strain to pick out its words clearly.
[In Infernal] “Mortals to torment! More for Beghazul! More flesh for his armies!” At this, the ravens swoop down and appear to begin their attack. Erimeyoma, being the closest to them and the furthest from the house, appears to be the first target. Without hesitation, the green-flecked hermit thrusts her right fist towards the nearest raven, her left hand pressing into the strange tattoo on her forearm. “Haestakkis!” her voice booms and echoes loudly, a waft of cut grass smell bursting from her as time slows for Erimeyoma. Her eyes are locked on the raven, its wings slowly flapping downward, beak open in a squawk and eyes black as the night. She feels a warm embrace from behind, as though a close friend were nearby. She feels another hand wrap firmly around her tattooed forearm, and breath on her neck. The hairs on her neck and back stand on end, and her heart flutters. Bringing her mind back to the raven before her, the warmth coalesces to a point between her shoulder blades and moves along her arm. She feels the cool air around her again, and time speeds up. The warmth zooms along her arm and hits her fist, which crackles with blue-green electrictiy. Her hand glows from within, the energy sparking from knuckle to knuckle, between her finger joints, and an arc as thick as her arm shoots from her fist at the large bird a mere foot away. The avian flaps wildly and collapses to the ground at Eri’s feet. Absently kocking the creature over with her foot, she sees that the smoking shape is no longer a feathered raven, but is in fact bat-like beast. A humanoid shape with jagged features, clawed hands and fleshy wings.
The remaining three beaked terrors break away, turning sharply to avoid becoming the next victim to Erimeyoma’s bolts. The flock together, lifting themselves high and turning in the air. Standing quickly and stowing her dagger, Ouriana, pulls her bow from her back. Glad that she strung it before reaching the house, she quickly nocks, draws and realeases an arrow in one fluid motion, quickly tracking the raven that spoke. The arrow streaks through the gentle wind, shifting only slightly. Ouriana, trained as a marksman, compensated for this and her strike hits true. Slashing across the chest of the raven, her arrow continues, arcs over and falls somewhere near the bay. The ravens turn and dive downwards towards the two investigators, approaching for another strike.
Roll for initiative (1d20 + your dexterity modifier). What do you do?
The ravens are almost 50 feet straight up in the air. As they sped by, Erimeyoma gets the opportunity to hit one of them with an unarmed strike. Make a melee attack roll (1d20 + your Strength modifier). This deals 1 + your Strength modifier in damage.