ORIGIN

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It was an odd thing--this black bubble, bobbing to the surface of the murky swamp. It was slicked with yellow-green, looking pustulant in the grime.

It cracked, and what spilled forth looked nothing like disease or rot: it looked, instead, vibrantly alive, and... coughing. Dark legs, clumsy and knobbled, lashed out as the foal tried to gain purchase in the muck. Hind legs slid out from under him, dark eyes springing wide.

This... This was not a happy entrance into the world. It was already fraught with danger, and the little foal, his reddish-brown coat already soaked by mud, struggled to free himself.

"Sinking-! -Poopy-water," he 'swore,' these strange words coming to him but seeming more than appropriate. He hauled himself onto the bank, then stood shaking and panting with the effort, turning back to glare at the shattered remains of his obsidian chrysalis.

They were sinking, now that the air had been let out of them: drifting down unseen into the murk.

It reminded the foal of death--but he didn't know what that was; he knew only life, now, and he looked around, trying to gauge just where--and maybe who, and what--he was.

@Oleander

Oleander

Melt all your art and drink the paint

Not far from the first dark obsidian bubble, another was half hidden in the mud. A shallower spot, pressed up against solid ground, not yet sinking into the depths. It was smooth, but with edges, oily black in appearance, and the first shiver told the tale of life within its heart.

A crack appeared on the side and then there was suddenly a hole in the gemstone and a white hoof was sticking out. It retracted for a moment only for the whole thing to shatter at once as the foal gave a strong kick and destroyed her prison, proceeding to be dumped unceremoniously into the thick, foul mud.

She let out a strangled sound of surprise as her head was thrust right into the marsh. She reeled back, spluttering, trying to find purchase with her hooves, but slipping as she went, sprawling onto her stomach, splashing grime over her oddly pale hide.

Her brain was already kicking into panic mode. She was stuck. She was alone. But...wait, no, there was somebody nearby! Her wild eyes moved over to rest on the other foal nearby, already on his feet, and she took a deep, gasping breath. Another kick, another scramble, and she was fighting to her feet. Her sides were heaving as she scrambled away from the edge of the mud, the shards of her chrysalis already gone, disappearing into the thick marshes, but she didn't notice. Her eyes were fixed on the other one standing nearby, but her brain had short-circuited during her desperate scramble to stand and when she tried to say something, the only thing that escaped her mouth was a high-pitched whine.

@Warrior

A shadow passes over the Dead Marsh; high above the newly hatched gembounds soars an Eyehook Vulture looking for a tasty snack.

(Roll to avoid detection / save!)

Warrior turned upon hearing the whine.

He could see the other foal--a little smaller than himself, paler, striped with darker colors--as if another, like himself, had had their colors run through with white. He shook himself, and started toawrd her, his movements clumsy and unsteady in the mud.

"H-ello?" he tried, peering at the stranger in the haze.

The winged creature that swept overhead escaped the young foal's notice. He didn't look upward--he didn't see its shadow, as it did not pass too close. His full attention was on Oleander. "Watch the skies" was, it seemed, a lesson he might soon learn the hard way.

"Hello?" he called, again, his brown silhouette and hesitant voice certain to draw unwanted attention.

...Another lesson he was about to learn, perhaps: be quiet.

@Oleander

Oleander

Melt all your art and drink the paint

The zebra blinked curiously at the other foal, but terror was still grabbing a hold of her brain. She couldn't form coherent thoughts and widened her eyes as he took a step forward. He wouldn't hurt her, she was able to rationalize that, but the shadow that passed over her was a different story.

"Hello?" She asked back, voice shaking but a sense of danger suddenly pressed down on her hard. Without thinking about what she was doing, she shrunk back, trying to hide in the mud - it wouldn't be too difficult, since she was mostly covered with grime and stained dark brown from the filthy swamp water. The other one wasn't getting down. Why wasn't he hiding?! Did he not see it, did he not feel it?

"Down!" she whisper-yelled. "Danger!"

@Warrior

"Hello?" Hello. Its eyes snapped to the creature, wings beating against the air to hover in place as it calculated whether or not this would offer a good snack. Well, it seemed to have two eyes. A perfect squishy snack. The vulture swooped, aiming to latch onto the small foal's chest and head.

Down. Danger!

He hesitated--another potentially-fatal misstep--and half-turned, peering around. He saw the bird sweeping down at the last instant, and looked up at it--instinct told him at once not to hide but to fight. He had no time to hide--and anyway, it would come for him, again and again. He knew that, as he knew that the water was dangerous and the air was... questionable.

The foal reared, forelimbs coming up, his hind legs unsteady in the mud--but his sharp little horn jabbing up for the diving bird.

"WHEEEEEhEhehe-" he squealed, shrilly--as much fear as any challenge--as he thrust for it.

@Oleander

Oleander

Melt all your art and drink the paint

She watched with wide eyes as the huge bird divebombed the other foal, reaching forward to tear at his eyes. Very good thing, then, that she'd went and hid proactively. But she couldn't help but feel a twist of her heart at seeing the poor thing get hurt! She wasn't going to sit around and just...do nothing. That didn't seem very nice.

Innocence and ignorance allowed the young zebra to gather her courage and her strength and rise from the mud. She threw back her head and let out a loud, angry whinny before charging forward towards the vulture and the other one. She was wholly focused on them, however, and wasn't paying attention to her hooves. They caught in the mud about halfway over and she was thrown forward with a loud cry, falling face first into the swamp, her legs tangled beneath her.

@Warrior

The newly hatched creature attacked the vulture with its jagged gem-horn and the vulture screeched in response, the horn poking through some of its larger feathers. Treason! It deserved this small morsel's eyeballs for lunch! Its large wings beat against the air, holding the bulk of its body back from the danger of a sharp object, reaching to scratch at the foal in an attempt to retaliate. Its talons found ripe flesh, clawing jagged wounds into its face and shoulder.

Just as it was busy tearing this simple child to shreds, a different sound caught its attention and its head jerked to see what bumbling idiot had crashed into the mud. Ah. A second source of snack.

Twisting away from the foal, the vulture reached out to dig its talons into the mud, finding the sweet purchase of something easily penetrated and tender: an eyeball! Oh, what a delectable treat! But the angle of the young zebra made it difficult to retrieve the eye, and instead, the vulture only ended up severely damaging the fruit of its labors: what a waste! Tragedy! It screeched at her to let her know she was the root of all of its problems, namely right now, its hunger. What a selfish creature.

It twisted itself back up into the air, deciding what it would do next; perhaps it would move on to find an easier meal.

Lea's eye (side up to you) had been severely damaged, with three scratches running through the eye from the top of her brow to the middle of her cheek; she will permanently lose vision in this eye.

Warrior has sustained claw marks on his shoulder and his face.

The foal flinched back--his horn had struck home, but agony screamed through him. It was his first taste of pain, and he did not like it. Talons had torn him all across his right shoulder, and both sides of his face, and though they'd missed his eyes--but barely--he could smell and feel the blood leaking down over his hide. The searing pain of open wounds lashed at him, and he stumbled.

A screech, behind him--he turned, stumbling in the mud.

It had the other foal--the one who'd laid down, who'd tried to warn him--and he started after it in a clumsy run, unsure what he could even do. One staggering leap, a squelch, a second--and the bird was lifting higher.

He looked to Oleander. Red was on her, here and there--and he didn't know, yet, what blood was, but he ran to her anyway.

"Go!" he insisted, turning on his own heels in the marsh-water, looking around. His gaze settled, through the haze, on what looked like shelter in the distance. Rocks, or dead trees--he didn't know, not from here--but he started off toward it, turning to look to Oleander. "We run!" he insisted, worriedly.

Warrior didn't know who he was, or who she was, or what this whole world was, but he knew that if they didn't get somewhere safe right now, neither of them would ever find out.

@Oleander

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Warrior

Oleander

Game Master CJ

Warrior

Oleander

Game Master CJ

Warrior

Oleander

Game Master CJ

Warrior