The crow secured its perverse talons around the strap fastened onto the plump water skin, dripping pieces of Rubicon in its flight, glittering the Gaul sky with the gall of one of Torus’ many leathery canteens. Hovering above the temple, the bird's eye caught six kobolds, motionless, with a draconic knight impaled by an orc’s javelin, like Dragonchess pawns captured and blissfully tossed to the side from grandmaster play. The feathered scout circled once more to obtain a better position over the inaugurating fumes, egressing from the enemy’s festered gathering.

Inscribed upon the edge of the sailor's wooly brows, survived wrinkles of knotty concentration, peering into grim smoke, exchanging sight between his pupils and that of the familiar’s, oscillating from fowl to fiend. And back again, as a female tyrannical voice uprooted within the occipital portion of his brain, gnawing and itching the noxious urges of the elder’s desire for mortality, his aspiring altruistic sacrifice to the oblivion. 
 
[i]Where flowers wither before they are planted.[/i]

Xaron remained ever interested in this spinal affair, relishing the marring distraction of bereavement, needless to say, as long as her currently bequeathed carcass, namely the aged pirate, remained intact and without peril.  Her existence imprinted a half-century of nirvana amidst repressive despotism, the combination of raw cruelty and sophisticated edification. However, the psionic bard’s dharma realized, if all garnered entry into the shrine, each individually would surmount impeccable odds, unless they could corral those within to retaliate against meekness, and reinherit Greenest, once again. 

[i]Or, alternatively, reunite with death and life’s realtors.[/i]

The smolder proved more abstruse to decipher than the prophetic after-glow of Socratic oracles, challenging the intricate perceptional relay of the raven with the senior's own glimpses, to biangulate the sacrilegious perpetrator before Brannor, Orchid and Kyra. The intention was to fulfill a promise of Cicero, to release an aquatic anchor upon a licentious life, the analogous guillotine to the remaining sycophant of Tiamat. Serendipitously, the feminine culprit was distracted by a rallying voice, engineered masterfully by the blue-haired Hin. The womanly shadow held its armed stance, before the three, within the obscuring mist, providing an opportunity to plunge the soon-to-be ice-filled mortar, as the golden-eyed Sylvan paladin prepared the next evanescent strike.

With quivering aim, the squawk released its message upon the earth below, hoping it would not harm friend, but only foe.

[hider=Mechanics:]
Torus will move into range so as to utilize [i]Shape Water [/i]on the falling waterskin. 
Unsure which rolls to use for this improvised attack. Perception? Of both Torus and the Raven? Disadvantage? Damage?

And, yes, the finishing rhyme was intentionally sublime.
[/hider]