ORIGIN

It was quieter, this time. The chaos. The whispering dark was almost an embrace, a gentle cloak sweeping out to engulf those who came willingly.

Simon, whose kind and gentle heart left his heart-wrenching farewell hanging in abandoned light. His voice, calling out for Nassir, meant to be a beacon of hope: instead fading into the void beyond.

Morganite's anguished cries did nothing to disrupt this shroud: the distraught shriek of "SIMON!" was lost to it, only barely reaching his ears in his final moments. Owlface, rushing in, a thread of desperate friendship becoming a tether to death itself, dragging them down, and down... "Simon? Where are you?" The crack of panic in the voice and then they, too, were gone. And Kini-Yolotl, the most heroic of hypocrites: desperately ordering the rest to stay safe while it, itself, charged selflessly into the shadows, and out of the sanctuary of the wisp's light.

All three of them would be lost.

Less spectacular, in fact in a tragic quiet silence, three others slipped away. Styx had never truly recovered from the poisons that shrouded him: he was caught in it, trapped, the acrid gas corroding lungs and vision and consciousness. Past his struggles, his gurgling would fade, and then so would he.

And Elyon, her great form one of battle, had chosen to fight something that could not be fought: a risk unneeded, as her hand gripped her questionable prize. The halberd was cold in her hand, its whispers assuring her of her death, making promises of the darkness beyond, urging her to simply succumb. Shadows swathed up, pouring around it to wreathe her; and ahead, she would see the last of the wisp-light fade into the distance without her.

Last of all Howl, struggling on alone, lost in himself as much as Hydra--but no; the poison gas was in his lungs, too, driving the world into confusing and fading flashes of color, lungs burning, eyes streaming tears. Yet as the shadows closed in, a shape: massive, smooth coils, a glint of mud-hued scales, and Usingizi swept around him. Her form would drive his to safety--but the poisoned air would take her, instead. Her heroism was unasked-for, a moment of true selflessness in the consuming dark, a moment no one else would see.

_______________

For the rest, there was survival. Perhaps with the bite of defeat at its heels, now: so many lost, and who knew how far they had yet to travel in their shrinking light..?

Ahead, there was a shape: a black shape, a bipedal dog-shape, wreathed in a cloak and it was not standing; it was sinking, eyes closed, jaw open, limp on the quicksand that was rising up to drag it down. It was gone in seconds, a black form vanished from sight, no trace of it remaining.

And the wisp carried on, passing over the spot without pause or thought of its own, an automated lure to lead them to safety, or to death. Beyond this lay the second torch: another tall tangle of wood, scented like fuel, ready to be lit.

Ready to cut their light in half again.

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Usingizi, Styx, Elyon, Simon, Owlface, and Kini-yolotl must write their final posts. It is unclear if they are immediately dead, but they will lose consciousness, and this post should be written as their last. Simon, Owlface and Kini-yolotl will experience gripping cold, a suffocating lack of air, and something unseen tearing at their bodies at the very end.

The remaining Gembound must choose whether to protect one other Gembound, to protect the entire group, or to take some other action like trying to light the torch, or investigating the vicinity. Players must CLARIFY after their post, AFTER their table, which of the following they are rolling for. More than one Gembound may aid in lighting the torch.

(Low risk)
(Higher risk)
(Highest risk)

A Gembound's roll must reflect their in-character actions.