Jaral Cribler had been observing the nearby undeads, not expected one to suddenly unleash an attack to what should have appeared as just an empty cliff, he and his people had had sightings of these very same undeads passing in the distance, they had followed a rather unnatural path to end up here, but even then, he had been confident, the four who had taken on the transplantations necessary to create this illusion, when working together, could achieve incredible results, their combined work to shield the people from detection was so refined, that even none could even approach and actually touch a construction or such, as they were subconsciously diverted from their course without realising.
What the western warking had no expected, was for Tilmiel to give precise instructions to confirm her suspicions, when one was dealing with what they believed to be an illusion, it was of importance to be thorough and precise, and when she had told Liotra, the vulture had not followed the directives, making an odd movement in mid-air, something that wouldn't be strange normally, all nightbirds tended to not make predictable movements, which was why they would never go in a straight line or let the inertia of their initial jump carry them into a path even a child could follow and predict.
Witnessing this slight derivation, and without Liotra taking notice that she had done so, Timiel had known that something was off, launching a single blade of mana intertwined with what little death force she could forcefully stir alongside it using battle arts to try and dispel the illusion, taking someone's head off was not ideal, as she would have preferred to at least try to maintain the false illusion that the vows were still in place.
This living had been in the wrong place at the wrong time however, and honestly, it wasn't that much of a loss to the corvid, she knew how to read in between the lines, and when one of Loimos's personal spies informed her of this development, carrying his words… Tilmiel had understood it as a challenge they had to overcome.
Having already been informed of the future role the nightbirds would have in Ourlon's conquest of that other realm, she saw the fact that they were left to deal with this region on their own as a test, and if Loimos put them to it, then it meant that it was something they could accomplish.
And indeed, the westerners were very few in overall numbers, and that was also counting those that could not actually fight, their strength lied in their incredible marksmanship, knowledge of the terrain, and of course, the very Western Cliffs themselves were nearly impossible to manoeuvre for the other regions, allowing Jaral Cribler to rule and maintain this small population as the sole inhabitants.
He had understood that in a direct conflict, the west was the weakest on Belliste and as such, when the threat of undeads that cared not for the environmental hazards of his region had been brought to his attention, he had moved to prepare for a way to never have to even engage them in the first place.
'Well… There is no other choice now…' he wouldn't have considered running away anyways, as there was nowhere else for him and his people to go, but currently, they were surrounded by the feathery undeads.
He assumed their leader to be the big, bulky skeleton with oddly beautiful hair, not that it mattered much…
"We are under attack!" someone shouted out despite everyone already being well aware of it, warriors and hunters took up their bows and arrows, feathers falling as the undeads did not wait around, whoever stood in the way was killed with frightening precision, rising his own bow, Cribler fired shots in quick succession, managing to hit a few of the attackers, but even if his shots were precise and quick enough to even strike the nightbirds, they remained undeads, there were no vital points to target.
"Gather up! Don't show your back!" leaping up on the roof of a small hut, his shots could at least disrupt and prevent more from being slayed, some of his arrows aimed at projectiles thrown from the edges of the cliff, many more nightbirds had yet to jump down, including Tilmiel, who was analysing the area carefully, not willing to believe the warking had no contingency plans in case a fight broke out.
Sand erupted right next to her, followed by sparks as a blade clashed against the corvid's, a slight cut appearing upon Tilmiel's cheekbone, mark that a living had, somewhat, successfully snuck up on her.
At the same time, Cribler went on the move, running, jumping and sliding with disconcerting ease and speed, upon bridges that were not supposed to be ran upon, leaping over empty space, the slightest of mistake would result in his death, and yet, even as corpses swung and aimed at him, he was unbothered, firing arrows through the nightbirds and helping his people, he quickly reached a wide and stable platform.
Allowing them to properly regroup without getting immediately killed, the undeads being awfully rapid and hard to see coming, a few who had thought themselves to not be targeted as been instantaneously killed as blades were lodged in their napes, one nightbird even landing directly on one's shoulder and breaking his neck with nothing but her feet and a slight spinning motion, flipping his lifeless body into another, setting them up to be paralysed and killed as another undead stabbed them right in the lower back, perfectly slicing their spine.
"Chief! What are your orders?" a young huntress managed to reach him alongside a few others, all forming a protective defence around their king using their bodies without thinking.
"We have no choice, we need to go all in! Go release the-" he did not get to finish his sentence as two undeads appeared out of nowhere, seemingly manifesting as feathers exploded into miniature clouds.
The taller of the two wielded hooks the likes of which one would expect a feaster to be familiar with, running one through the stomach of the nearest person, slicing up his stomach and pulling out all intestines as they were stabbed through as well, making for a bloody spectacle as everyone around was splashed with blood and covered with entrails of someone they had known.
The smaller of the two latched onto another's back, pushing her pitifully small knees against his back, and somehow, a loud crunch followed as this action somehow neatly broke, so strongly that one would need some sort of leverage to even hope to realign this poor fellow's spine.
"-Just do it!" the warking shouted, quickly rushing to get the attention of those nightbirds, who he deemed greater threats than the rest of their flock.
The huntress did not hesitate and took off running.