Takley stands up and teleports to the tree nearby, he lets out a 'loud' scream and begins to teleport towards the screaming. Almost forgetting about Jericho, he teleports back and picks him up, throws him, catches him, teleports and so on and so forth until they all reach the sight of the screaming.
Twas the night of the slaughter, when all through the deck
All the creatures was stirring, including the mouse.
The bodies were hung on the stakes with care,
In hopes that the pidgeons soon would be there.
The people were nestled all snug on their altar,
While visions of sacrifice danced in their heads.
And Veron in his ‘kerchief, and Jericho in his cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long, long winter’s nap.
When out in the sky there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the tree to see what was the matter.
Away to the camo I flew like a flash,
Opened the leaves and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to people below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a gigantic pidgeon, and eight massive more.
With a massive old leader, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be them.
More rapid than eagles its coursers they came,
And it whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!
"Now Dinner! now, Supper! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Courses! On, Cupid! on, on Don and Blitz!
To the top of the altar! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So up to the alter-top the coursers they flew,
With the packs full of knives and daggers, and Pidgeons too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the ground
The clawing and scratching of each little talon.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the knife on a man came with a bound.
It was dressed all in feathers, from its head to his foot,
And its feathers were all tarnished with blood and ashes.
A bundle of bodies it had flung in its beak,
And it looked like a Mayan, just opening its pack.
Its eyes-how they twinkled! its dimples how gruesome!
Its cheeks were like sythes, its nose like a horn!
Its droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of its chin was as red as your blood.
The stump of a pipe it held tight in its beak,
And the smoke it encircled its head like a wreath.
It had a sharp face and a little round belly,
That shook when it laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!
It was chubby and plump, a right jolly old bird,
And I cried when I saw them, in spite of the scene!
A wink of its eye and a twist of its head,
Soon gave me to know I had everything to dread.
It spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the altars, then turned with a jerk.
And laying its finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, the knife it plunged, straight into their heart!
It sprang to the sky, to its team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard it exclaim, ‘ere they flew out of sight,
"Happy slaughter to all, and to all a good-fight!"
((By the way Riacard, you don't want Takley stopping you, its not a question of if hes able to, its a question of if he hits))