ORIGIN

Full Version: [Quest] The Trials - Part III
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Chaos rang out in its wake — the sounds of sandworms lurching from the earth and gnashing their teeth together in a desperate grapple all too close — but the Garnet pressed ever-onward. Unless the Eyehooks snatched it up and carried it asunder, or it fell from the cliff face, the Champion would not stop running. Its ears had grown deaf to the screams of terror long ago, and its eyes had grown blind to the crimson that often stained these grounds.

All of life was war.

Keeping the Reaper's instructions in mind (and the other Gembound careening toward the labyrinthine Crucible) Garnet Five-Seven-Nine launched itself stone-to-stone, persistently keeping its sights on the skies above — one could never be certain when the glint of talons would come, when the eager call of an Eyehook would be the only thing you could sense among ceaseless pain.

It did not look back, did not hear.

Garnet Five-Seven-Nine will be advancing.

Asimona limped forward, one of her legs slowly oozing blood, but that wasn't what she was concerned about. She continued to glance back at her wing, where the sandworm had torn a hole into the delicate membrane. She had a sense of almost helplessness. If she couldn't fly...she was nothing. She wasn't a dragon anymore. Just some creature. A beast without wings.

Her eyes closed, but life was returning to her. Her defeat, so easy, disturbed her greatly. She had given up in the end. She had been ready to die, all the fight gone. She couldn't do that, she couldn't afford to do that anymore. She had kids at home waiting for her. Or, at least, she hoped they would. As her resolve strengthened, a sheet of thin, but cold and sturdy ice began to form over the hole that the sandworm had made. She had to fold her wing in a bit uncomfortably to keep it from breaking, but it would work. Hopefully.

She bounded forward to catch up with the champion and huffed with faint amusement, although there was nothing funny about the situation. "I'll keep that in mind." And in fact she did, taking more careful steps and even lifting her wings a bit to steady herself as she stepped quieter. "I'm Asimona. What about you? Do you have a name or just a number?"

Asimona tried to speed up her pace a bit, as the champion said. Despite seeing it hatch in front of her, Asimona had a feeling that this gembound was old. Very old, as were the others. They knew things about these trials. She gritted her teeth. "I fear worse things are lying ahead. This was just the beginning."

The question caught her off guard and she almost stopped moving. "My horns?" She moved her eyes until she could see the very edge of one of the curled growths. "Uh, no, I would never. They're more useful then you'd think, after all. Plus, they're a part of me. I couldn't."

They'd finally reached the bottom of the ravine and Asimona looked up. Most of the others were far ahead. "Alright. I'll fly this time. I'll stay close, though, in case something happens." At last, she unfurled her gigantic wings and leaped into the air, immediately thrusting down, creating a great gust of wind. She glanced at the ice holding the shredded membrane together and it seemed to be working for now. So she continued on, careful not to stray far from her new friend.

"Can you hear their voice?"
"Find the one who'll guide you."
To the limits of your choice.

tags:
notes:

Asimona is pushing ahead to catch up with Ru.
DESERT ROSE THIRTY-FIVE
here's to my yesterday

Determined, Thirty-Five didn’t even respond to the cries of death ringing through the desert. This was life, and, well, life wasn’t particularly kind. Among the cries, though, it wasn’t any that Thirty-Five recognized. An ear flicked back as the only acknowledgement of the call that two had died.

A fool to give out his position. As Thirty-Five neared the crucible, the large dragon took a moment on the top of a dune to turn and try to pinpoint who had spoke.

Ah. Some ugly thing in the sky. Of course it wouldn’t be one of the champions. Good riddance to the two who passed, really; they couldn’t mess up Thirty-Five if they wanted to now. They were now dust in the expansive wastes of Hydra.

No matter. The dragon shook his head and resumed leaping from dune to dune, fast approaching the Crucible. Waves of unrecognizable memories streaked through Thirty-Five’s muscles as he began bounding from rock to rock. His wings outstretched to help him scale the sheer cliffs, his thorny talons hooking onto the surface as dulled claws grasped what little purchase they could find. It was his goal to keep his wing muscles relatively fresh and prepared for the pure sprint back.

Thirty-Five was quick to maneuver his way up, his mane and tail dancing in the roaring winds enhanced from the canyons. Bright blue eyes scanned the area around him as he gave one final leap over the edge. Now to find a matriarch.

Thirty-Five will be moving forward.
BLACK OPAL
now is the climax the story that gives the demons and angels purpose

The Black Opal did not look back. From the blood curdling screams behind him, he could tell it was a massacre. He told them to be careful. What they did with that advice was up to them. Once upon a time, he would have pitied them, but since then, he's learned that it wasn't his fault if the fresh meat didn't listen. Frankly, he was to callous to even care. The Opal was just glad it wasn't him back there.

His spell had worn off by the time he crossed the scorching dunes. With a parched throat and blistered claws, he shambled up to the trickling stream, gulping down the cool water. He splashed some on his back, but did not rinse the sand off his feet. As irritating as it was, it did have its uses.

The Black Opal rested for a bit under the shade of the ravine before attempting the ascend, thankful that he had a moment of peace, however fleeting. He did not wait long enough to get left behind and made his move after most of the group started climbing. The Opal clambered up the rocks, watching the others make their paths, studying what worked and what didn't. Even so, it has been awhile since climbed the ravine, and he could not find the old paths he had once made. They were either gone or forgotten. I have to make a new one.

It was risky, but it was the only way forward.

Carefully, the Opal picked his way through the narrowing path. One slip could mean death, but the eel-creature remained calm, collected. He had trained himself to do so. Excess slime was a deadly disadvantages here. The sand caked on his feet created much needed friction and the small rest he took provided him enough energy to safely ascend the smooth, stony walls. Eventually, it came back to the Black Opal, one the paths he had long forgotten. It was weathered, and worn, parts were missing, but still looked to be a safe passage, hidden in plain sight. His morale flared with hope as he hopped along the old trail and caught up with the others.


Opal Three-Seven-Six is moving forward

Labradorite Five-Four-Six turned his head as he heard the screams, and he caught the brief glimpse of a spray of blood spattering onto the sand. He grimaced, but he did not turn back to help. They were long gone.

A part of him envied them. They wouldn't have to run through Hydra anymore.

He did, however, find it funny that the Opal's advice had more or less gone to waste. The young ones here were only fresher pickings for the vultures and the sandworms, it seemed-- even the hulking dragon had fallen behind, grievously injured.

Five-Four-Six's mouth was open when he came to the ravine, tongue lolling out and breathing heavily. The shade supplied brief but welcomed rest from the heat of the dunes, but he didn't stop for long.

A brief jolt of magicka-- his mouth glittering as the slender creature shook himself out --and he felt adrenaline returning to his weary bones. As Thirty-Five passed along above him, he turned and began climbing his way through the ravine, his steps as quick and as silent as ever.

Labradorite Five-Four-Six is moving forward.

The other champions, as was expected, continued to surge on ahead. Only one champion fell behind to help a massive dragon; an unfamiliar creature to the Agate. They were catching up now, however, the massive white wings spreading at the back of the back and surging forward. The Quartz was using magic to aid it, the distant winds shifting. An alliance was formed, perhaps only a temporary one, and perhaps the dragon-creature would not return the kindness in the end.

... But it was a sign, and Agate's feathers were ruffled by the wind as they took short, flight-assisted jumps up the ravine, leathery talons clawing into the rock face for purchase. They watched for the paths that the others took and followed them, hopeful to avoid any encounters with dangerous spiders or draw the attention of any vultures that were looking for stragglers.

Before long, the Quartz had caught up to the path Agate was at, and golden eyes gleaming. "This way!" They squawked, helpfully. "Black Opal has taken this path, it should be easy to cross on foot, long abandoned." They craned their neck up another path, straining to hear a sound but hearing nothing but the distant rustle of wind. "Desert Rose flew up that passage, and there have been no signs of danger that way either," they offered, uncertain if the ice dragon would fit down Opal's narrow path, but much more confident that they could take the one the desert dragon had gone for.

Of course, maybe they wouldn't want or need the help. It probably meant nothing to them, and likely, should anything befall the Agate (it obviously would not, as if they would fail!) they knew they could not count on strangers to aid them. Those were the ancient rules of the Hydra. The cockatrice spread their wings once more and took flight, continuing up after those who had led the way.

As they flew off, vaguely, they remembered that once they knew how to heal wounds once upon a time. It had been long ago, and a painful, desperate measure-- but the longer they thought about the wounds that the ice dragon had sustained, the more they itched to remember their magic. It would likely be crucial as the trial grew more and more perilous. For now, all they could do was think, and keep a sharp eye on the competition.

The rules could not bind the mighty forever, after all.



Agate is staying behind to join up with Quartz Five-Two-Four, and may or may not help someone else.


Despite their best attempts, they weren't fast enough.

The vulture lunged down even as the dog moved again, and the seagull was shouting, and before they could do anything the seagull was tearing at the vulture's eye, as his heart was destroyed.

The vulture began to feast, and the fossa was screaming, and he worried it would draw its attention to them. "Come on, Mayngo," that was its name, he thought, as that was what the seagull had called him, "We can't help him now."

A few strides away, and the Fossa hadn't moved. So Styx turned, and sank his teeth into his tail, startling it, before setting off again at a gallop. He reached a plateau, and began to climb, dull claws working, and paused halfway up, looking back at the two reptiles that hadn't made it up.

Speech. Thought.


Styx is: staying behind


The other dog went soaring over the vulture, and Mayngo twisted to face Vincenzo, wild-eyed behind his mask. But it was too late, and guilt tore at his chest--Vincenzo had told him, he'd told him! and he hadn't listened, and look what had happened!

A strangled stream bubbled in his throat, and he couldn't hold it back. He tilted his head back and the sound broke free, a horrible keening as the scent of blood filled the air, completely deaf to the dog's words. 'Nononononono!' Tears streaked from his one eye-hole, leaving lines in the sand and dust, the screaming echoing eerily as it rattled around inside the skull.

The dog's teeth sank into his tail, and he gasped, whirling and attempting to slam his skull into it. But the dog was already off, bounding across the sands, and so Mayngo began to move--he looked back over his shoulder, whimpering at the disrepect that was being shown to Vincenzo's body, but he didn't dare try to challenge the vulture--and began to lope across the sands, the colors warping around him as tears blurred his vision. The keen tore at his throat, and he stumbled, having to dig in his heels to keep from slamming face first into a plateau.

Shaking his head, the keen dying into a whimper, he leaped up, scrambling up the plateau. But his vision was still blurry, and he missed a pawhold, tumbling back to the ground. He gasped, the wind knocked out of him, and wheezed for breath.

Quartz Eight-Six-Zero looked briefly back at those who had failed, a sad expression on his face. He was beginning to regret not staying behind to help, but it was too late now. He decided that, if he succeeded the ravines, he'd stay and help any that needed it. He wasn't sure he could stand someone getting hurt and not having even stopped to help them.

He started his way up. A hold here, one there...It was slow work, and he almost fell on multiple occasions. But as he continued, he looked back behind him and noticed that some had failed. Remembering his promise to himself, he decided that if one wasn't able to save themselves, he'd help. He just hoped he wouldn't have to choose between multiple.

Quartz Eight-Six-Zero is staying behind
Lapis Ninety-five

Oh, you fool, there are rules, I am coming for you
Darkness brings evil things, oh, the reckoning begins

Lazuli reached the base of the cliffs, and took a moment to paceup and down the cliff base as she planned her route, cocking her head from side to side as she examined the problem from each and every angle she could. Eventually, she chose a path.

Crouching slightly, she chose a low ledge, and then made a leap for it. From there, flattening herself against the cliff face, she could begin the scramble up the craggy cliffs.

She picked her way up, higher and higher, using short forelegs to pull herself up. However, the higher she got, the more she began to realise that the path she had chosen began to crumble. More and more, stones clattered down the rocky face of the cliff.

She had to turn back.

Her head cocked, feathers bristling as her tension mounted. Red eyes glanced around, seeking a firm ledge that would bring her lower. She found one, stepped on it... only for the ledge to crack, and crumble beneath her weight. She let out a keening cry as she fell, and plunged down the cliff face back towards the sand, where she tumbled to a bruised and bloodied halt.

Gradually she cracked open her eyes, and forced herself to her feet. She felt an ache inside, every breath sharply stung. There were broken ribs there, at least.

The feathers of one side began to darken.

Lazuli looked again towards the clifftop as she planned out a new route.

She'd suffered worse.



"Speech."
"Thoughts."
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