Great birds of prey float lazily in the sky, turning in concentric rings above a giant caldron shaped bowl.
The bowl is a natural formed crater of an ancient volcano. Arched openings line the inside of the crater spiraling up the sides like the circling birds above. In these alcoves are nests adorned with gold silver and gems, the insides are lined with the finest silks and furs collected from thousands of miles.
Hot steam rises from the small lake in the center warming the roost against the harsh mountain climate and providing the perfect temperature for incubation, it has been like this for millennia.
But something has changed.
The chains and trinkets dangling from the nests begin to resonate like wind chimes as tremors rise jostling the large multi coloured eggs beneath their mothers. Ripples form on the normally mirror flat surface of the lake but nothing has been thrown into the sterile lake; the source is an all too familiar phenomenon, Earthquakes!
From a small cave at the bottom of the crater emerges a small deformed Aarakocra, his wings tiny and twisted. He has been cursed from hatch to be tethered to the ground and therefore has been charged with practising the arcane arts thus that he may divine future threats and defend the roost from magical attacks. Cocking his head back and opening his twisted beak Grak Tra Kaw emits a screech that is amplify upwards by the shape of the crater. It's a call specific to one individual, his brother Arrachon.
From among the descending swirling mass of bird men emerges a distinctly coloured male who lands gracefully beside his brother and promptly begins preening.
Grak begins emitting a series of chirps, caws and other sounds distinct to their language, as more begin landing in a circle around the young mage.
Twelve in total stand in council and begin deliberating the best course of action to stop the threat to the colony and feathers are plucked, grouped and then drawn.
One must sacrifice himself to the outside world, the one to draw the shortest feather: Arrachon.
