"So-" Tyrion gulps down a mug of ale as the little group sits together in the guild hall, pointing his finger to a map on the table. "The ostriches typically live south of here in the Vesper Woods. If they're moving out in large numbers, it is probably a case of rival flocks pushing for territory."

"Breeding grounds for a whole new generation of angry birds." Comments Anna, sipping a glass of milk. "So whadda we do, just make em go somewhere else?"

Somehow I doubt they'll listen." Retorts Hope. "You may have to just go for a brute force approach, but I'd rather not eradicate them all if we can help it."

Amadeo sits silently, soaking in the words of the others before holding up a finger. "If we can get them all in a tight group and have people ready and willing to escort them out, we may be able to get away with minimal casualties. I can cast a spell at the center of the bunch, and anyone within twenty feet will take a nice nap. If they're all in that radius, even better. That being said, they'll react better if they're a bit on the wobbly side already. That is to say, we need to hurt them a little bit for it to have a better effect."

"So put in some hits and hopefully they won't bite back hard before they go nighty night. Seems kind of risky, but I don't think we'll find a better plan without some thought, and this seems like a mounting problem in need of rapid care." Hope sighs. "So we'll go with that. Is everyone ready, then?"

The other three stand, Tyrion finishing his ale and hopping down from his seat. "Right then. Onward to glory, hm?"

They exit out onto the streets of Mysthaven, the rain now a fading memory as the sun shines bright. They head for the southern edge of town, taking time to stock up on some things at the market; Amadeo and Anna each acquire a few knickknacks, and Tyrion refreshes his load of ball bearings. Hope, for her part, mostly just follows the others around and looks at various weapons and armor, though she makes no purchases.

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When shopping is complete, the party departs through the southern gate, traveling for nearly an hour as they head down the road, a river babbling to their right along the slope of a hill. Tyrion scratches his chin. "Any ideas, then? I'm no tracker."

"But I am." Hope kneels further up the road, fingers gingerly tracing lines and tracks in the ground. Her nose twitches and wrinkles. "I smell birds. Big ones, judging by the stench." She points left, to the east. "They crossed from there to drink from the river, then returned to their nests in the forest. See the tracks? These are fresh, last couple hours or so. You can tell by the way the mud molded to their feet in the rain."

Anna looks out over the river, her eyes catching something in the shade of the trees. As the clouds give way to sun, she shields her eyes for a moment. But when she looks back, the sight is gone. "Did anyone-"

"All right, let's go. I'm ready to take care of this job and get some real good lunch." Tyrion licks his lips, delighting in the thought of piping hot soup.

Amadeo nudges Anna. "Come on, best not to space out in the wild." The elf shakes her head and looks around. "You didn't... Nevermind."

The party trudges into the trees, which seem to grow thick with scratches and chopping marks as they proceed. "They're definitely here. They like to sharpen their beaks on trees. Chop em down too, make little hideaways for their nests." Tyrion rubs the wood of a tree where a thick cut sits. "If this is what they do to wood, you don't want to see what they do to a body."

"Their nests. Do they look like ten foot squares about one trunk thick on each side?" Hope asks, hand finding its way to the hilt of her short sword.

"Aye, or triangles." Tyrion stops, the realization dawning on him. "Oh...Oh dear." He turns left and right, catching sight of the nests. All ten of them.