Pride had, in fact, absolutely no idea that this was a test, of some form. A hunt. He assumed, when first spirit-like prey and then massive, monstrous hunter came barreling through Orion, that it was a deadly situation, something serious and potentially tragic.
He saw familiar figures fleeting by--James, and Attikias--and the behemoth Draconua-? Was this some enemy, the newest Raheerah-? (And at this, horrific memories of the black dragon's assault on Orion, of melting, blistering buildings and screams, roared through his mind like a cloud of blown cinders.) Hackles rose, pupils dilating to full, as the stag sprang into full speed toward the ruins.
Hooves clattered, stumbled, righted on rock. White cervine body smoothly leapt over an outcrop of jagged quartz, and he sailed with another stagger and swift recovery into the ruins after Draconua.
In he skidded, turning, terror in his eyes as he attempted to simply... halt what was happening, to create an area where those in the Quarry's pursuit would be lifted a little, held--stopped--until Pride knew that nobody was in immediate mortal danger.
It was focused mainly on the monstrous-... well, monster, trying to crash through the rocks.
The movement was what had him going, a blur of motion and violence that left his mind swimming in it and craving more. Blood-hot rage spurred the panting calf to greater heights of spinning, head-thrusting, kicking at nothing-...
The various shapes flicking past him drew his ire, one at a time--the behemoth that was Draconua flashing far into the distance before he could reach her, the swift motions of Talys, of Comet and Attikias, of Null. There were stags both white and brown, their blurred forms leaving Abaddon spinning, snorting, striking thin air. A small striped thing that got up too high before he could reach it, his head cracking off the stone she leapt onto, and he only saw further red.
The horse-thing (James, in fact) with wings was circling, and the black calf could see it sweeping this way and that and THAT, like everything actually, made him mad!
At one of James's passes, Abaddon reared, half-leaping with a thrust of muscled little head and an angered snort for the passing winged-thing. He'd miss, of course, but it was an admirable attempt, at least.
He crashed back to the ground after, and flailed, cloven hooves swiping the air before scrabbling the calf back to his feet, where he spun and looked for his next opponent.
Warrior galloped on, hearing the thunder of other hooves--clacking of stags', smashing of horses', cracking of calf's. And the flap, too, of wings, the slapping of paws--the exodus from Cetus was immense.
He was caught up in it, forgetting, for a time, the stress and worries of his day to day, of his traumas and his fear, of logic. Instead he was lost in the chase, in the hunt, exhilaration leaving nostrils flared and phosphorescent eyes wide, leaving a coat slicked with sweat.
That old feeling of indomitable, undying bravery sparked through him: a little bit of triumph, a splash of mischief--and at the monster Draconua crashing through ruins, he offered a little hazard of his own.
He meant it not to harm, but to obstruct; he intended a massive spike of earth to thrust up jagged before her, a shelf to block her from the Quarry. It was smaller than he'd expected, though--a hurdle and not a wall.
Still... perhaps it would buy the prey a little time. Warrior wanted to see it escape.
Chaos-Two had finally managed to catch up, heaving, ears perked forward, squinting hard just to see everyone. He'd seen the brighter shape of the quarry, the hunters... at least he knew what was happening.
And that quarry wouldn't be without help.
With his staff in hand, he walked forward, inhaling sharply before casting the spell, thrusting his staff forward to channel the energy. A smirk appeared on his face as the magic flowed, gem glowing ever so slightly through its own gloom.
No, the quarry was not alone... and soon enough, the huntsmen would see a different bright light. You could almost call it blinding. Ha.
James inhaled, exhaled, inhaled, exhaled. He had one chance! He pulled himself out of Pride's anti-gravity well with a few flaps, since gravity didn't affect air enough for his wings to become useless.
But he couldn't talk now. He pulled up his legs as Abbadon lunged for him, the bull missing by a mile with him up in the air. He flew forward as fast as he could, thankful for his trusty wings, his wisp following behind like a faithful companion.
The hunters were pushed back, he just needed to take care of the Gembound. He reeled back like a pitcher and threw the wisp, the projectile turning white at the edges as it flew towards Madhukar, though he didn't know it was her (though he would be a little pleased).
All that would be felt would be an impact and a tingle, nothing truly painful, only to distract and to divert the attention of who it hurt, namely the odd cloaked figure making their way to the quarry. And he couldn't let that happen.
With his head filling with the thrill of the hunt, he dropped to the ground and ran instead, legs flying over the stone floor, his neck stretching out, tail flying like a banner. Others would be hard pressed to catch up with him even on the ground, what with his natural speed and the need to run, to fly, to race. He couldn't be caught.
Chaos-Two saw the destruction of Draconua and blanched a bit, staring at her as she moved, her shape unmistakable even to the half-blind hybrid. Shaking their head, they hobbled forward, taking their staff in their jaws and getting down on all fours to run instead.
They sprung forward, wincing with each landing as their extra pelvis jostled, but a lifetime of ignoring the pain seemed to come in handy, as they flew over the ground, their antelope genes at least allowing them to travel a little faster for a short amount of time, enough to try and catch up.
They stood and leaned on their staff after a bit of running, breathing in and out, in and out, already winded, but not because they were out of shape. They breathed in and growled. No, they wouldn't be left behind.
They barreled off again, the hunt seeping into their veins, their very bones, pushing them on.
Oh lovely they were immune. Immune to what? They don't know! To Drac's shenanigans? Unlikely!!!!