Hammer to Fall (feat. Biter, Rebel, Doc)

Their bodies were blown violently in entirely separate directions.
The big gryph had taken flight and used itself as a toother battering ram against its biggest target -- ballista bolt sticking like a maliciously aimed toothpick out of its side. Biter had braced his feet and spewed white hot flame in Carrion’s face as he swooped in, attempting to turn him back, but the vulture did not heed the pain and collided with his harpia assaulter head on. Mouth open.
The ensuing battle was a violent blue of talons, beaks and screaming. Gneiss drew his sword and attempted to join in but was soon busy being nearly crushed to death. Carrion successfully drove Biter backward, pinning him against the rocky wall, and as the two struggled against each other not only did Biter’s weight press heavily on Gneiss but it also pressed heavily on the ballista. The largely wooden contraption splintered and cracked, but while it was mostly in tact it left Gneiss enough room to slip free of the saddle and roll out of combat entirely. He was nearly to his feet and in the process of turning around when the gryph buffeted his big wings. All at once Gneiss’ feet ceased to be under him. He felt the loss of control, then the drop, and everything became a painful, spinning blur.
The force of air blew him off his feet and sent him tumbling off the ledge he and Biter had perched on. Biter, shortly after, took the same trip.
Every muscle in Gneiss’ body knotted up as the realization flooded in. He wanted to grab at stones but the bouncing roll he’d entered into didn’t really give him the opportunity., The realisation he had come to was that they were battling in a volcano which was very much active, and that he was tumbling into it. If he reached the bottom, he would tumble, screaming, through the godless sea of dancing flames and into the slowly shifting maga that waited far below. That thought filled the spinning darkness for as long as he remained conscious. Though his head and helmet collided with several rocks, it was the landslide of rocks let loose by Biter’s tumbling body which eventually clunked against him enough times to bring his worrying to a stop -- knocking him out cold. This turned out to be at least somewhat helpful, as going completely limp helped his body to take less damage. It bounced around a bit longer, but was soon able to come to a slow, sliding stop not too far from his sword.
Creep and Aster were temporarily diverted from their attempts. Forced to land, the blonde knelt at his partner’s side and made vague, desperate motions which at least resembled medical assistance. The corva stood watch, prepared to fly in if necessary, but slightly thankful it was not.
Biter bounced and rolled for a longer time, screeching and rolling talons over tail. His collision with the ground was significantly more violent, and kicked up a large plume of ash and smoke. The bird’s white feathers were all smeared with soot, including his face. Biter had trouble opening his eyes to see, and was therefore taken by surprise when the gryph lunged down, mantling him, and snapping its beak. The harpia had to peddle fiercely with his feet and snap with his beak to try and get out from under Carrion.
Fortunately, he had help.
Just as Carrion had Biter pinned in a near hopeless situation, another black harpia swooped in. Different than his mother, who had been forced to retreat, this black harp was barely older than Biter with blood-red tips to the end of her wings. Directed by a shouting Seren, Rebel landed between Carrion’s shoulder blades and began worrying the flesh and feathers she found there like a mongrel war dog. Carrion had absolutely no choice but to stagger back and focus on dislodging her, which gave Biter an opportunity to find his feet.
Her son, a cream-bellied and black-topped harpia of Biter’s same size but a slightly leaner build, came to additionally torment the tyrannical buzzard. Undirected, but as angry as anyone, he made several passing dives as Carrion’s back, coming away with at least feathers and refraining from interfering in his mother’s work. The moment Rebel was shaken loose, Doc swooped in to cover for her. Assaulting the gryph’s face, redirecting him for long enough that the female harp could get up again and fly away.
It was a battle of giants. Two very large, juvenile male harps and a strong, still sizable female with a few years experience. All three focused on the gryph whose wingspan would have shaded a small farm.
For minuted the two dark harps assaulted, distracted and generally annoyed the buzzard. Rebel even went so far as to notice, grab, and pull the ballista bolt from Carrion’s side. She let free a small font of blood that further served to spur all three harpias. Perhaps none more than Biter.
The big bird had lost his saddle. He had lost his makeshift bridle. He had lost his rider. He was free from any and all fetters now, for what seemed like the first time in his short life. Still he waited. Waited for Doc and Rebel to force the gryph back, then bait him to stand. He waited through a second buffeting of wings that chased the dark harps briefly away, and threw the croaking, warbling, rattled scream that Carrion released in warning. Then he made his attack.
Biter pounced, in as much as a bird could do so. It was more like a wing-assisted hop, but it did the trick. He collided with the front of the gryph, sinking his talons deep into Carrion’s exposed chest. As the gryph bent his head to bite and peck the assailant free, Biter grabbed a mouthful of the bigger stryx’s long throat. His hooked beak sliced into it, and blood immediately began to stream out. It mixed with the ash and soot that already coated the previously white bird, creating a terrible and sticky ooze. Biter remained there -- refusing to let go -- as Rebel and Doc banked back around and continued to harry the gryph, who was now in a very difficult predicament all his own.