Ivory's grim words about 'those idiots up ahead' struck a sense of dread into Zhusha's stomach. Both vengeful spats and
bumbling failures were unknown to the main group this far behind, but even without the knowledge of the chaos ahead, the crane felt a pang of anxiety for their safety.
"Trialgoers!" he called, trying to summon some modicum of positive energy for the journey ahead.
"We've made it this far--but don't let your guard down now! Keep up the energy, and help each other! Cooperation and community will forge our victory!" But his voice, cracked with the dry erosion of hours of travel in the Hydra desert, did not carry, and Zhusha could do nothing to alleviate the fatigue setting in. Even Warrior, the experienced hero, began to fall behind. Far ahead, the smaller groups were spread thin.
At least--for now--there was no visible danger.
burn me to ashes and scatter me in the flooding spring river
that i might drift with the fallen flowers to a place no one has known
Despite his previous bumbling failures, Captain was determined to prove himself once more! Now that the threat of the Eyehooks had dissipated, he could focus on catching up with all the distance he'd lost with his previous injury and falls. "ARRRR! LAND AHOY!" he bellowed to no one in particular, moving forward with a cheery demeanor despite his (befitting a pirate, perhaps) limp.
Attempting to move ahead
He did not think to slow down- or think at all, really- until the sounds of the vultures died down in the now-distance. He slowed down to catch his breath, but did not dare to stop. Momentum was all he had, and without it he was worried he would sink into the sand.
He had broken free of the thickest part of the crowd, which was.. surprising. He hadn't expected that- if anything, he'd expected to be left behind.
Maybe he was just lucky. Or maybe he deserved to give himself some more credit.
Whatever the case, he kept moving forward. It was the only thing left to do.
[One is moving ahead]
Jim frowned a little at Ivory's words, tired face drooping into an even more tragic state. Wasn't the lack of help available to those ahead something to be mourned, not something to mock them for for being 'idiots'? Perhaps they hadn't know exactly what they were getting into, or only wanted to get out of this hellish place faster, or were afraid of the danger a bigger, more visible group would bring. They'd made their choice, yes, but--he didn't want them to die for it, if it came to that.
Still... they had made a choice. And Jim didn't want to leave the group now, just to have the chance of helping someone farther ahead later on--not only would it put himself in danger, but there were vulnerable ones here, too, who might need the support of the group. And if he left--if they later fell into danger, and if Jim should have been there to help but wasn't?
He couldn't do that.
A flicker of magic radiated from his gem, but dissipated before he could sense what he wanted. Jim's frown deepened. Maybe the exhaustion was getting to him--maybe he'd be the one who needed help later on. No shame in that--but all the more reason to stay, instead of moving forward in hubris and thinking of himself as some kind of savior of the poor souls up ahead.
fox credit - dash huang on flickr
staying with the group
The world suddenly swarmed around Fiver: but it wasn't just flesh-hungry vultures, but massive beasts that rose up from the group to surround him. At first his snapping and snarling was turned on them, as frightened by Warrior and Galleon as he was of the winged things. He realized after no more talon or tooth descended upon him, however, that the two strangers had physically put themselves between him and the onslaught, saving him.
The land-shark barked a command, and with ringing ears, it was all he could do to obey. He scampered back the way they had came, frantically following behind the others down the narrow paths, nearly tripping over his own feet in the process. His brow bled profusely, crimson streaking his vision-- but at least he still had vision, still had both eyes. bumbling along with the majority of the others, he finally had a second to catch his breath. It was a grim thought that it might be one of his last, but, there was a sour note of hope to that as well. If he kept breathing, kept moving...
Ivory's voice, unfamiliar and sweet, pulled him from his laborious thoughts. The offer of a ride is alarming: it strikes Fiver as unfairly kind. He had caused others to be injured. Here he was, actively dying on a suicide mission, only to be pushing others to risk their own lives for his own, short, likely irrelevant, gain.
"Thanks, but.." Fiver said, with the hesitance of someone trying to figure out how to politely decline a social invitation that they really did not want to attend. The banana popped into existence, sparkling and delightful, and he could do little but accept his half. Still, as he held it in his teeth, his gaze drifted backward.
They were the "Good Group", Ivory said. The ones ahead had chosen death (how ironic, how he had failed to race ahead to them into his own death as planned), but the ones that were falling behind? He saw the stragglers, and among them was the huge, hoof-beast that had towered in front of him to try and shield him from the vultures. The magic storm of dust and shards of stones must have drained him: Fiver saw Warrior stumble, and he waved his paw to Ivory before scampering back the way they had come.
He squirmed up on to his hind legs, front paws clumsily grasping the banana to free his mouth. "Eat," Fiver said, "it'll help."
A kindness repaid with a kindness. Maybe it would be enough.
Fiver offers aid to @Warrior (falling back in place with him if necessary)
(also Ivory mention, not gonna tag Dark twice lmao)
Hymn had not expected Huntsman to be so aggressive about the whole thing. If he was really so annoyed about the whole music thing then shouldn't he just let him go ahead and out of hearing range? Apparently not. The ravine was narrowing, making every misstep a potential injury. He knew that if he lost the advantage of flight through a broken wing or similar injury, it might possibly knock him out. As Huntsman neared, Hymn pulled into a dive, folding in his wings to decrease drag as he shot through the narrow gap. He skimmed the wall, feeling a clump of feathers come loose and blown away behind him.
But it had worked. He hoped that it would be enough to leave Huntsman behind.
@Huntsman
(vis)
Despite the ongoing trial, leaving the vultures felt like leaving the worst behind. Maybe Whistle's opinion would change upon encountering the choking rancid air of the marsh ahead, but she was blissfully unaware of the final obstacles ahead - and still shivering from the encounter with such predatory animals. She'd never been delusional enough to think herself at the top of the food chain, but it was still a deeply de-stabilising thing to be made aware of.
Slow and steady wins the race - at least that what she told herself. She took baby steps downwards, paying great attention to the rock beneath. It would be even harder to escape any pitfalls with her broken wing, and while winning was an appealing idea, Whistle was wise enough to prioritise her own survival.
With no seeds left to distribute, the anteater made his way downwards. Perhaps it was a trick of the eye, or an anthropomorphic projection on the part of a witness, but something about the beast seemed a little... anxious. Even traumatised. He'd been through a lot already considering his troubled youth, but he hadn't encountered anything like the vultures before.
The sandworms had been gargantuan, but they'd writhed blindly. Only a few has been lucky enough to hit their targets, and even fewer had found themselves between their massive jaws. And even then, there had been no thought behind the attacks. They simply clamped to whatever flesh they felt.
The vultures were different. Even before the point of contact, they had their wretched gaze fixed on a specific point, a particularly cruel thing to target - eyes. The empty socket the starry dragon now sported was enough to inspire countless nightmares, regardless of who the audience had been.
And perhaps it was this experience that caused hesitation in the normally steadfast little creature. He had never seemed to keen on victory, but he was slower in his pace still.
Duck Duck was growing impatient with the endless obstacles. Before this, she had only known warm, oil-soaked days of lounging by wet, pulsing rock, curling up with her longer haired companion as they felt the cycles creep by. She had not seen it in a long, long while.
She charged down the Crucible, a risky strategy. Perhaps one that could pay off, if she was lucky? She wasn't exactly thinking this through. She skidded past the obstacles, the predatory insects, and a couple of her competitors - no sabotaging this round, just a sprint to regain lost ground.
Duck Duck is moving forward.
Galleon sighed with relief as she lost sight of the small coyote thing. And soon the flurry of pecks and scratches at her hide lessened as well. Galleo darted out of the knot of vultures on her, headed for the cliffs down once again. She wanted off these cliffs. She wanted back into the relative safety of the sands; though she knew that was far off now. With any luck itd be over soon, and she'd be right where she belonged once again. The thought refilled her with vigor. With a breath, she prepared herself for the journey ahead and pulled herself forward once more.
Galleon is moving forward