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Why do people keep throwing him around?

Songbird slammed against a smooth surface and crumpled down on the ground. His elbows and shins smarted from the impact, but it could’ve been worse; if Martini’s bubble dome didn’t hold, he would’ve been sent flying into the arms of the undead outside. However, remaining in the same area as the others presented a brand new dilemma. The item hunter rocketed up again when the earth shook and pillars burst out from under, and in doing so came in contact with a few floating wisps. 

“My hat!” The nobody’s screech was so high-pitched that it even jarred the witch, who was already convulsing enough as it is with those multiple stabs to the chest. The black headgear was taken off and dropped to the ground where it immediately stiffened to a chunk of rock. Songbird didn’t mind his second fall as much as the fact that one of his beloved (and trademark) clothing apparel was now petrified; that hat had been with him since he was born! 

Meanwhile, when their companion had been hurled across the better half of the domed battlefield, Fluffy and Stuffy scurried over to a prone figure near what would be Songbird’s landing site. The two fluffballs slithered under the flat boulder pinning the person down, and used their combined leverage to tip it upwards. In doing so, they gave Avian arm room to crawl out from under the debris. “Thank you,” He murmured as the pets squealed in unison, and then winced when he started to walk. Great, a limp, not to mention that his body was sore all over thanks to that seism magic. 

“Hey beefcake! A little help here!”

The dragoon heard a voice from the near left and limped over to it. Songbird was stuck between a log and a rock pillar, so Avian pulled him out and the two collapsed on the ground from the effort. “My back hurts,” The item hunter whined but the soldier pulled him up anyway, the latter pointing to a certain object and then saying, “Is that yours?”
Upon being reminded of the sad loss of his hat (it was roughly equivalent to how important Lesley’s hand was to him, poor darling) Songbird grimaced. “Why are you asking- Whoa whoa get your hands off my hat!” The item hunter tripped over a vine and landed flat on his face when he attempted to nab his beloved hat away from Avian, who was inspecting it from side to side. “It’s the perfect shape,” The dragoon declared before snapping- gasp- what used to be the plume on the side, then dropping it. He now had a medium-length, jagged piece of rock that could be mistaken for a neanderthal’s dagger if it didn’t have those telltale feather marks on it. 

Witch’s head was in the air.

“You really like throwing things, don’t you?” Songbird muttered as the soldier swung his arm down and then threw the piece in a lower curve. The flat rock sailed over the distance, whirling around steadily like a disc, and hit the witch’s bleeding neck. The tip of the hag’s nose touched a black wisp as it tilted half an inch higher in the air from the impact with Avian’s rock, before descending quite marvelously back to the ground.

That ought to take care of it; even from this distance, both Avian and Songbird could see the start of an icky grey pallor reaching up the witch’s face.