ORIGIN

for some blood!

When the first guttering torrents of flame came out of the pitch-black, the bear was already rushing into combat.

Small, black eyes widened; he'd never seen anything like it before, and fear roared through his chest. Half-panicked he turned, hardly noticing at first as two smaller beings leapt for him--he was too busy high-tailing it away from the criss-crossing lines of fire laid flaring along the ground. Orthoclase he left behind, unaware yet of whether his attack had managed to do any damage before it had pushed him away.

He stumbled, the heat boiling past, barely-missing him--but the weight of Ischium and Selenite on him, their small teeth and claws tearing at his flesh, left him roaring and shaking himself. He could not dislodge him--no doubt he'd try, now that he'd avoided the flames--but for now he simply spun, bellowing in fear and mounting anger, smelling his own blood past the reek of burning air.

He could feel the pinpricks of tearing pain as they ripped into his thick hide, feel the trickle of blood as his flesh was parted. In the light of the flame and the blinding flash of Temperantia's magic, he could see enemies pouring in. Strangers. Former allies. Enemies. They were everywhere.

We will lose.

For now the bear spun and shook himself ineffectually, twisting this way and that, snapping his jaws with startling agility as he tried, and failed, to reach the opponents clinging to his fur.

Pride stood grateful behind Nassir's shield. He was focusing, his silver eyes flashing over the battle, illuminated briefly in firelight and then, for a longer time, by the flare created by the-... ring? Thing?

Temperantia's appearance briefly distracted the stag, but he laid back his ears and briefly studied the battle once more. Azrael and Sergei were the largest, though there were small creatures (and the one going for Nassir hadn't slipped his attention) too.

Pride wanted to remove those from combat as quickly as possible.

He steeled himself, willing his magicka to actually work this time, even going so far as to brace himself a little in the mud, physically. His mind, wreathed in crackling power, he sent out toward Azrael.

He aimed, struggling with the creature's bulk, to haul him bodily off the ground--and to swing him through the air, hurling him into Sergei full-force. He was aware of the creature's wings, but he wouldn't let go until impact had occurred--gravity had no role to play in this.

The stag grunted with the effort, and a thin trail of blood trickled from one nostril.

Pride is attempting to pick Azrael up and hurl him against Sergei.

By some miracle, none of the enemies seemed to be magic-users: not a single one, bar the--wheel??--which had made bright light. Or maybe this Hive takes it from them, she considered, distractedly. But there was little time to talk: combat was roaring around her, and the ragged hyena flinched, wincing back.

At least there was light now-...

She turned her attention to the big one, unaware that Pride was doing the same, unaware that for them both to hit him would be something of a waste of power. She wanted to purge that one; to get him on their side would be a rapid change to the battle. Assuming it doesn't leave him weak, or angered, she thought, grimly. Even cleansing him was no guarantee, was it?

The heat from the flames was here-then-gone, briefly burning away the mist but finding nothing but wet mud, nothing to catch on. Giggle concentrated as it faded, dark eyes locked on Azrael. As she felt the magicka flicker up, flaring powerfully and finding a hold, she spoke rapidly to those close by her.

"Cleansing the big one," she informed them, curtly and harshly, through half-clenched teeth. She would drag that fungus from him, rip it forth (...carefully) and spread it over the mud, if she could--where, hopefully, it would simply die.

rain stock: D Sharon Pruitt wiki commons; hyena Benjamin Hollis on flickr

Giggle is attempting to cleanse Azrael.

The world was awake, and it was pure, deafening chaos.

Aure could hardly hear anything from his own mind as he swooped overhead. Fire rolled everywhere, ash falling like wicked snowflakes and clinging to the feathers that masked his constricted lungs. There was a ringing tone rising through the din, earsplitting loud and muting all else. Tinnitus settling in, he shook his head and flapped through another plume of smoke with a held breath.

He stared down through watery eyes, watching as two approached his brother - then one set off a veritable flashbang in the entire area. Aure screwed his eyes shut with a squawk, wings working overtime to even keep himself in the air. Spots of light and color danced across his vision when he opened his eyes again, and he hovered in place. White sailed through the air and - oh, oh no - !

The jasper on his brows buzzed against his skull, both exacerbating his headache and pulling magicka into an intangible hand. "Serek! Don't move -" He extended his reach to the concentrated spores certain to be in Serek's system by now, tugging forcefully (but oh-so-carefully!) at it so it would leave his body.

Aure is attempting to... disinfect Serek

Eythan's slicing at Azrael's titties to get him to let go.

When the bear collided with it, all massive claws and fangs and... weight, something had to give. One shoulder pauldron was cracked entirely in half and leaking fluorescent blue-green blood down the entirety of its arm, while the other missed ridges and spikes. Some quills were bent and dug painfully into its throat, and some of its forearm spines were cracked. Nothing that wouldn't heal, but painfully taken full-force regardless.

Regardless, the orthoclase drew venom into its jaws, saliva foaming at the corners and sending globs of drool cascading between teeth.

As Sergei ran away off with two allies still on his back, it followed. Heavy footsteps pounded through the muck, impeded by the depth it kept sinking in. Breaths coming fast and hard, Alpha pressed on. If it didn't dispatch this shaggy brute now, there was a chance he'd return to attack its charge. Then, it would fail at this assigned task. And...

Alpha hated a coward that ran from battle.

When the bear stopped, spinning in place and trying ineffectively to snap at the allies on his back, the orthoclase came in for the - not quite a kill. It thundered towards Sergei, jaws agape. At the last possible moment, it sprang and bore down, trying to catch the bear by the side of his neck - not with a lethal amount of force, but enough to deliver the cocktail it'd whipped up.

Alpha's attempting to bite Sergei and put him out of action with a Minecraft Potion of Slowness X

Package delivered, Howl didn't turn around for the light that blinded the world.

No, a muted - subdued - hiss of panic danced through his conscious, his fingers. So much of the fungus was stuck to him already, and he could carry Her away to safety. There were murmurings of their impending loss, the impossibility of freedom through fighting. They should flee - they should flee!

Every one of them was vastly outnumbered, even if they worked in perfect, in-tune harmony.

Mother's dearest little thief stole into the night, careening through the muck - shaking it off - and teetering through the trees, towards escape.

But, fate was not kind to him. His hand slipped from a branch worn smoother than the rest, fingers twisting painfully backwards as his forward momentum carried him. Howl bit his tongue until it bled to suppress the shriek of pain, collapsing in a wrecked heap in the reeds.

Howl attempts to flee for the entrance to Tunnel H.

Temperantia's pupils were nearly points within their goat-like eyes. The flash left spots dancing in their eyes, but they hoped that it distracted the others, too. They saw, in the bright flash of light, many gem bound fighting. The air blazed with heat, and plumes of fire heated up the night. The fear, the anger, the disappearance of their family's dots of consciousness. Everything set Temperantia on edge. And they heard the singular thought from many of their siblings. They would not win. They must flee.

Their family would survive this, they would not die. The floating donut hoped that in the midst of the crisis their sudden departure would be unnoticed. Mother, we will leave together. Far away from here. With a flap of their wings, they attempted to bolt beneath Mother's tree, yearning not only the comforting curl of her tree's roots, but also a piece of her to take with them. Yes, they'd feel much safer with Mother. These lost could only pursue him for so long. Through the darkness they could not tell friend from enemy, and they haphazardly flitted about, trying to locate mothers mass within the web of consciousness. The confusion became too much, and they fell into the ash and mud that made up the battlefield. They felt a near instant compulsion to clean themselves, and it took higher precedent over getting to Mother. In a frenzied panic they tried in vain to cleanse themselves, they could not carry Mother anywhere with wings and a carapace full of rot and dirt.

Temperantia was gonna try to get to mother but they didn't very :pensive: