The Godbird
The shepherd pushed through the trees, drawn by the plaintive bleating of the missing sheep, and stopped short at the edge of the small clearing. An intricate structure of bone and webbing greeted her eyes, a skeletal basket basket the size of a house adorned with carefully placed flowers. The vivid oranges and purples and yellows of the floral decorations popping against the stark ivory receptacle.
Her body swayed back involuntarily while her mind processed the woven bone nest. A mewl broke through the shock, yanking her gaze to the side of the nest where her missing sheep had been twisted and forced into an open pocket in the ivory lattice. Movement around the sheep drew her eyes, as translucent wormlike creatures with bright red spines flowed around the animal and burrowed into its flesh.
A screech drew her gaze to the top of the nest, where she met the cloudy eyes of the Godbird now perched there. True to the tales, her legs gave out and she sank to her knees, breath caught in her throat. Her hands came together, fingers intertwining, the shepherd now a mocking vision of a penitent worshiper. The huge chimeric monstrosity leapt down from the nest, wings flaring for a surprisingly gentle landing. She could do nothing but stare into its eyes, hands clasped. It bent its head down to sniff at her, the oversized beak brushing her hair. The inner set of arms, with their two-thumbed hands, reached out and enveloped her head. The encapsulation was so complete that her senses were cut off - she only recalls an overwhelming scent of juniper. It squeezed her skull for an interminable moment, such that she thought it would crush her head like an overripe berry…when suddenly the pain and pressure ceased. It released her head, large hands pulling her to her feet.
The thing turned away, and clambered unhurriedly up the nest - pausing halfway up to delicately adjust the position of the sheep, now quiet and partially stripped of flesh and wool by the worms. Where clean bone showed through, shiny new silken threads connected the new addition to the surrounding ivory wickerwork. By the time the Godbird settled in the hollow center of the grim aerie, she was gone - sprinting blindly through the forest as fast as her legs would carry her.
In her retelling of the experience, Aneska seems far less distraught than I would have expected. In fact, she sounds almost wistful. Before I left Arbhout, I heard from the headman that every few months Aneska takes a sheep out to the woods. She returns without it after a day. The headman shrugged when I expressed concern, and no more was said on the subject.
— Account of Aneska, Rykolti sheepherder near Arbhout, recorded by an unnamed Worldsinger; 263 Yrs. following the War of the Martyr
Ornitodrakon by Sergey Averkin
The godbird is a six limbed avian-beast hybrid, with rear legs bent like a hound’s and two sets of arms protruding from its torso. Fully grown, it is the height of two men at the shoulder when standing, with a muscular tail extending from its rump for balance. The larger pair of arms ends in huge hands with claws the length of one’s hand, while the inner arms are smaller and similar to the arms and hands of a person - albeit longer and with two thumbs and six fingers. It is possible that the smaller set of arms were placed there by the artisans of the depths as an homage to themselves, and are likely used by the godbird for acts of fine manipulation (perhaps it uses these hands to pick and arrange the flowers that adorn its nest?).
A lightly furred body gives way to dark wings like that of a massive bird. A feathered neck and head, akin to that of an oversized corvid with milky white eyes, culminate in a wickedly long beak. Its coloration is a lesson in contrasts and is representative of the sharp boundaries so commonly seen with creations of the Guiding Hands. The more bestial body is an off-white, not so different from the bones that it builds its nest from, while the feathers of the avian features are an oily black.
Those who have observed the godbird note that it doesn’t seem to fly so much as take huge, flapping leaps to pounce on prey. An opportunistic creature, it has been known to consume plants and animals alike, even content to eat carrion when better prey is not on hand. It is unclear how it determines which prey are to be eaten and which are suitable for nest building - the locals squirm uncomfortably when asked about the nests, adamant that being eaten is a mercy. It is well-documented that the gaze of the godbird can cause people and animals to drop to their knees as if in supplication, hence the moniker given to the creature.
Interestingly, as supported by the account of dubious accuracy from Arbhout (Worldsingers seldom miss an opportunity to embellish or insert their silly little flourishes), there are multiple stories of a godbird capturing prey only to release it unharmed. Uneducated locals may attribute this to divine intervention or pure dumb luck, but I believe that their ancient creators instilled the creatures with particular preferences regarding the bone structure, organs, or health of their prey. It is difficult to say without further study of nest construction materials and the prey that contribute to it, as well as those deemed unworthy by a godbird who made their escape. I have yet to meet anyone who has been released in such a way, but local legends claim that such folk are forever able to pass through the godbird’s territory unmolested.
The creature typically brings prey back to the nest alive, and then carefully twists and snaps the animal or person into the proper shape before fitting it into the nest like a morbid puzzle piece. At this point, the spined worms which maintain a symbiotic relationship with the godbird clean the prey down to the bone with circular mouths filled with rotating teeth. As the boneweavers (a name I thought fitting for the wormlike animals) eat through the corpses, spinnerets in their brightly colored spines leave a trail of adhesive webbing behind and bind the bones to the rest of the nest. This keeps the skeleton in roughly the same configuration that the godbird contorted it into. It is assumed that the nests are built in order to attract a mate (reminder to self to compare the godbird to other suspected creations of the Guiding Hands which are able to reproduce), with an attractive nest being built from a wide variety of creatures and woven together in a pleasing manner with decorative elements from the local flora. Interestingly, aside from godbird nests, boneweavers are have only been sighted in underground locales; a phenomenon to investigate in the future.
Addendum: In the past week, accounts of a godbird nesting behavior have reached me from Arbhout of all places - perhaps the offspring of the creature mentioned in Aneska’s account from nearly thirty years ago! The construction of a bone nest is a rare opportunity indeed; I estimate that it only happens once in the lifetime of a mature godbird. A rare event for a rare creature. I will set out for Arbhout tomorrow and update this entry with my findings upon my return. I have full faith in the defensive tactics I have developed from my research.
Revisiting an Abandoned Setting
On a whim, I drew a map and did a flurry of worldbuilding about two and a half years ago, and am only now coming back to the setting. For whatever reason, the world of Arytus has my brain itching again and it seems like a good time to start building on it in order to turn it into a real gameable setting. Around the same time, I had come across a really neat and unsettling piece of art that inspired me to create the Godbird (Ornitodrakon by Sergey Averkin). While I don’t have it statted out for any particular system, I’d likely make it a 5 HD creature with two claw attacks that can leap up to its movement speed and has a paralyzing gaze attack.
There are references in this post to factions, places, and historical events that I hope to expand upon in future posts. Future plans also include turning my hand drawn map (below; Arbhout is just to the West of Machces, across the Degargent river and south of the Shivering Forest) into a gameable hex map. Once I delve into that process, I hope to post about how it goes.
