ORIGIN - life's a trial

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Half buried among the shifting sands, a softball sized chrysalis had formed. Though it was solid and thick, among the foggy, cider color, a small shape had formed, nearly visible. The creature was new, and unaware of the world that surrounded it.

In spite of it's ignorance, the sound of howling wind and scratching of the sand on the surface of the shell called to the being inside. Whatever was beyond that thick, orange film, it wanted to reach out... Before it even began to stir, the magic found within the amber reached out, trying to hear what could be heard.

Inside, the small creature could feel its own heartbeat like a drum. Far away, it could feel other pulses... But right now, it did not know what that meant. All it knew was it's instinct. For now, it's instinct told it to break free. Shifting, its tiny beak began to peck at the amber shell surrounding it.

If it knew what awaited, perhaps it would have stayed right where it was.
@Game Master Dark

The sands were a dangerous place to hatch--though anywhere in Hydra would, perhaps, have been so potentially deadly.

Even the slight scratching and movement created vibrations; and that vibration attracted a nearby Sand Worm lurking some meters beneath the surface. Its heartbeat, though slow, could be sensed: approaching, slowly, the sand churning away beneath it as it sought the source of the movement above.

The fledgling could perhaps break free of its stone before it was swallowed, or cease movement and hope the creature left it be?

_________

Mirage has attracted the attention of a Sand Worm. She has three chances to attempt to escape. Anyone who may arrive to aid her may draw unwanted attention of their own.

@Mirage

Something big moved toward the small creature, who was only starting to understand what was going on around... her? She had pecked a tiny hole in her shell, and now bright light was filtering through, into the chrysalis. She couldn't see anything, all the same, only sense that something was coming closer.

She was a long stretch from being free from her shell, and even then, she did not know what exactly she was doing yet. She knew she could escape her confines, but whatever lay beyond was a bewildering mystery.

And the sensation of something else pulsing, coming closer and closer, was strange. What is that? The unhatched gem wondered, in quiet awe of the massive, slow pulse that was starting to shift the sands bellow the amber egg.

The little chick fell still, listening to the strange heartbeat draw closer. Though she had no concept of what it could be, her instincts told her to hide. It was her only defense. As long as she wasn't found, she could not be hurt. If that did not work... Something terrible would happen.

@Game Master Dark

For a moment, the movement fell still; all was quiet in the searing heat and blinding light outside the safety of the chrysalis.

And then the sand shifted again. Slowly, seeking the prey it knew that it had sensed, the Sand Worm broke the surface. There was an unsettling sort of grace to it as the massive mandibles rose, golden grains streaming off of them in a quiet pouring that caught the light in flashes and glints. Almost delicately they closed around the amber stone, feeling, touching.

There was a quiet crack as the stone shattered beneath the immense pressure of the Sand Worm's jaws... and then it dropped them, and began to feel around for softer prey.

@Mirage

The fledgling stared through orange lenses, nearly blinded by the vibrant, sweltering light of the Hydra. Her body was splayed among the sand, her soft, downy feathers protecting her from the raw heat of the burning dunes. The thing that had crushed her chrysalis was much, much larger than her, and the sound of its jaws destroying the amber, sending shards of it across the desert, was enough to make her know true fear.

She did not know exactly what she was afraid of, though. She wanted to avoid those mandibles, however, so she scrambled up on to long, awkward feet, and hastily tried to climb up the shifting sand worm's moving body. Stay away from the crushing face.

Truth be told, she didn't quite know what was the monster and what was the sand. Everything was moving now, threatening to swallow her whole. Driven by panic, and instinct, she scrambled for whatever looked like safety, and the solid, moving "ground" of the worm was the closest thing to safety she could see.

Of course, the best way to avoid having a blind creature find you was to poke and prod all up and down its body with your gentle, harmless talons. She was lucky she didn't climb right into the Sand Worm's mouth-- not that it mattered, because the mouth was coming at her like a heat seeking missile.
@Game Master Dark

At the sudden movement--the sudden vibration--the Sand Worm's blind head snapped up. It could sense the creature moving toward it, and in a blink it had lunged, those mandibles snapping shut on flesh and bone--crushing and piercing.

With its grip firm on the young owl, it twisted its body: preparing to drag Mirage down into the sand and to her death.

________

Mirage will be severely injured by this attack. She has one more attempt to break free and attain safety, and if this fails (and no one else succeeds in rescuing her) she will then perish.

@Mirage

"Heeeeeelp!" The baby owl screeched, crying out into a vast, open desert where no one would ever possibly hear her. Her first word, and perhaps her only word. Should she be killed here, her life would be as though it never existed, merely a Mirage.

But, even as her body was savaged by vicious teeth, the newborn gembound fought back. That was the way of the Hydra: to fight and live, or die trying. Though she had her first breath, already the crucible was forging her in the harshest of flames. Would she become a survivor, or become a corpse?

The child had only a beak and talons, but she had the benefit of not being worn out from hatching as the Sand Worm had helped her break free. With a furious effort, she snapped her beak down on a mandible and tried to kick her way free and pull herself out of the beast's mouth.

Whether the fight would mean survival or just a slower, more painful death, remained to be seen. Everything was suddenly growing dark. Maybe she was dying. She didn't know how she knew what that meant.

Abruptly, she found herself in a free fall from the jaws of the Sand Worm, and plummeted into the rolling sand bellow. She was swallowed by the shifting dunes, her fall cushioned as she tumbled to a stop. If the Sand Worm turned around now, she was much too little to run away. But for a brief, fleeting moment, she lived.
@Game Master Dark

for gore

The Sand Worm struggled to get a grip, thrashing, its jaws snapping shut here and there as it jerked from the talons and lunged forward again.

Creatures did not often fight back.

One could not kill a Sand Worm so easily. One could not cheat death--not forever.

...But sometimes, one could hold it off just long enough to survive another day.

The sand behind the monster erupted in a massive golden spray, the light for a moment blocked by an enormous shadow. An instant later the silhouette crashed down: another Sand Worm, larger, stronger than the first, drawn by the struggling on the surface. Jaws snapped inward as it struck the other worm maw-first, mandibles shearing through thick hide and flesh, blood spraying outward. The smaller worm which had held the struggling owl released her, turning and letting out a horrific, vibrating screech, twisting in a fruitless attempt to turn and face its larger predator.

There was a blur of coiling bodies, the flash of bristles in the light, the rush of sand as the larger dragged the smaller down beneath the sands of Hydra.

A moment later silence reigned: there was only the quiet rustle of one Sand Worm dragging a smaller down as its feast, and then the quiet rush of air over the indifferent dunes.

Mirage was left with what blood-spattered amber shards had not been buried: she was safe, at least for now, for a few hours' time.

@Mirage

Dazed, and quite confused, the fledgling laid very still, blood seeping into the sand that matted to her downy coat. Had there been another, bigger thing? She did not quite know; in the chaos, everything had moved so quickly, until the silence that filled the air was deafening all but for her own labored breathing and the thud of her heart.

She tried, again, to listen for danger. The pulse-- still singular-- was moving away now. Her heart was still loud in her own chest. Her beating heart was pushing blood out of her body, draining away what little life she had fought for.

This was not an easy start. She remained half-buried in the sand, hoping that the bleeding would stop on its own because there was not much else she could do for herself. Other needs were coming to her; the heat of the sun made her hungry. The fading adrenaline left her tired.

Maybe, however, something beside horrible, massive maws, had heard her cry for help.

Q U E N T I N
we'll become silhouettes
when our bodies finally go

Quentin really didn't know why he had stayed. Perhaps it was the familiarity of it; perhaps, the fear of the unknown, what was outside of the cave that held his life for so long. Being isolated for so many cycles tended to get to a young creatures brain, weathering them down to their basal instincts and having the capacity to drive them mad.

Not Quentin. He was fine, as far as he knew- he only had himself to base everything off of, but, h'd grown accustomed to the life in the desert. Hunt carefully, don't be in the open- many things he'd learned from watching other prey animals, studying their movements before growing into a fine tiny little predator.

Of course, he didn't change very much. He was still the small, innocent and child-like fox he was when he hatched, his language stunted from his isolation and sense of thought devolved into basic feelings and impressions. A few lingered at the top of his mind: the dangers, particularly, of the open wastes, the eyehooks dangerously overhead, the worms he'd seen from the distance buried under his feet as he walked. And walk he did- it was a mission, now, every few cycles or so, he'd find himself carried to the only passage-way he knew, body quivering about reveling in the outside world.

And so he carried out his process, his one singular thought similar to a sapient being's that he grasped onto to give him any sense of self in this world.

Of course, he was only about halfway over- stepping as lightly as he could, his fur tingling with anxieties- when a shrill cry caught his ears. Panicked, at first he thought a sandworm had caught its next meal, but the second conscious part of his brain hidden behind the instinctual told him that that was a voice. He hadn't heard speech in... Four cycles? Heart beating fast, Quentin sped up his legs as he tiptoed across a dune- then another, then another as sounds of sands crashing over themselves echoed in his skull. A voice- a person! He wasn't alone?

No, he wasn't- the first thing that caught his eye was glares shining from fresh amber, mirrored by angry red splattered about its surface. Quentin gulped dryly- there wasn't much water in his system after nearly finishing his trek. Are they okay? The first thing to come in his mind was one of fear, as usual, yet the second- Was I hallucinating?

Carefully, with the lightness of a feather, Quentin stilled his body as he slid down the slope, hackles raising behind his neck. There could still be danger about- wide eyes glanced left and right to the sand sprayed everywhere before approaching. He couldn't stop his tail from quivering. This... This didn't bode well. This wasn't some eyehook or lone prey animal who got lost. Nose twitching, the fox sidled forward to get an eyeful of a prone creature- definitely not of this land. First of all, it was fluffy, nothing like the spiked quillmice and such. It did seem the right color, but... It was so round.

Blinking quickly, Quentin crept forward with his body hunched down, approaching the owlet and careful to step over the bloodied remains of their chrysalis. That must be what it was- like his, perhaps? Idle-minded, Quentin craned his head down to sniff a piece in passing. Definitely blood.

After approaching- and sniffing them too, for good measure, getting a noseful of sand and the scent of blood- he stumbled in his thoughts for a second. His voice had gone unused for so long that he'dnearly forgotten to speak. Stepping over his paws, Quentin worried out loud, "You okay? Alive?" It was blunt, yes; but it got the question across.

@Mirage

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