Zlaw’s Echo

“Can I pet your bird, Sir?” The Rider, leaning against a wall next to his tall two-legged mount, looked down at the small child that had asked the question. He smirked. “I’m afraid not, kid. His feathers are razor sharp. That’s why I wear gloves like these.” He held out one of his hands, safely wrapped in the finest of chain mail, and wiggled his fingers. The same discreet protection was also on most of the outside of his long jacket, and covered the inside of his trouser legs. The child’s eyes widened. “What would a bird need feathers like that for?” “Well, see, my bird isn’t just any bird: he’s a War Bird. Legend has it that at one point they were given the choice between fight and flight, and they picked the former. They could have opted to soar high up in the skies, away from the world’s problem, but instead, they decided to stand tall on the ground against evil and injustice. They say that’s also why they’re so big.” The bird squawked and tilted its head, as if in agreement...