[EVENT] The Trial of Hydra - Reclamation

Round Eight

The Crucible swept away behind them, its treacherous ravines giving way to trickles of what at first seemed like blessed, lifegiving water in this parching heat--but the scent of this water, metallic and stagnant, hinted at its true nature.

Ahead: the Dead Marsh, a flat stretch of deadly sand pocked with unstable pits of quicksand, sucking mud flats, and pools of water ranging from soft-bottomed, sludgy puddles to drowning-deep holes. Dead trees, black and dried, clawed with leafless branches at the air. And that was only what was visible; the water and even patches of its thick-fogged air were toxic, enough to scour the lungs into bleeding, or kill the Gembound who drank from the wrong pool. This bog was perilous: little life, bar an occasional darting Quill Mouse, dared to venture here. Even so, one or two Eyehooks still circled overhead, or perched--waiting and watching--on those dead branches.

One pouch of seeds, and the stakes that glowed faint green: that was all the Gembounds would have left in their pouches. These second pouches of seeds--glowing green, too--were to be scattered here, perhaps to help keep the water or air along the path purified. And the stakes--clearly to mark safe passage. The Gembounds would need to test each step, then mark a trail that others, in the future, would be able to safely navigate.

It was the finding of the safe path that might prove deadly.

Aran has stumbled over a Quill Mouse, which impaled one of his legs quite badly with its quills. Said quills were coated in a mixture of toxins and venoms; his wounds will begin to throb and simply will not stop bleeding...

• Gembounds must roll to safely traverse the Dead Marsh. Any form of roll may be used so long as it makes sense (magic sense to avoid danger, other or physical to avoid or dodge attack, etc.).

• Upon a successful roll (Barely +), please specify in bold text underneath your post/posting table, whether your character chooses to move ahead of those who fail, or remains behind with the pack, or even deliberately falls back one place with the stragglers.

• Failing this roll may result in sinking into quicksand, mud flats, or surprising pits of deep water, breathing potentially deadly toxic gas, accidentally drinking toxic water, or being attacked by Eyehook Vultures pursuing the group from above.

Placement

First: Hymn

Second: Anselm, Huntsman, Corsair, Wisperia, Duck Duck, Fleas

Third: Spinnaker, One

Fourth: Whistle, Captain, Galleon

Fifth: Kaizer, Fiver, K'cil, Conleth, Jim, Zhusha, Ivory, Star, Glory, Ruby-Beta, Reverend, Aran

Sixth: Warrior

The next post will take place on September 21st.

Warrior--stumbling along--was beginning to feel like he was on borrowed time.

I died last time. I-... should have died.
The sound of stumbling hooves in his pounding ears blotted all else out; the heat, despite the periodic shadow of the canyon, seemed harsher than it had ever been. His mouth felt stuffed with desert grass, dry and sharp, and-

Oh?

He blinked the dust away, peering down to find Fiver--the one he'd tried to help. Unharmed, he noted, eyes darting over the smaller creature with deep relief. And that relief was like a pool of cool water, refreshing, invigorating. Warrior shook his mane, blinking, then gently leaned down to snuffle the other Gembound. It was a brief, affectionate greeting. "...Thank you. I am Warrior, and--I am glad you are unharmed. But go--move up with the others," he urged, lifting his head to gesture off at them. Before they fade into the shimmering heat, and leave us to the Eyehooks. I don't think I can protect you alone. He didn't voice that, though; instead he picked up the bit of banana in his teeth, tucking it back against his tongue. Chew, swallow, and it felt cool, sweet--delicious and somehow reassuring.

He flashed a kind expression at Fiver and lifted his head, a little. "Good luck."

Within a few moments, they were pacing into the Marshes--Warrior far, far behind the rest. His hooves were already sinking with soft suction into the wet sand, and horrified memories clutched at the edges of his mind.

He shivered and tried to focus. His magic wouldn't come, and it left him more weary than before, prone to stumbling and making mistakes. Seeds, and sticks, he told himself, pushing away the unsettling knowledge that he was alone back here, that fate might be insisting on reclaiming what it had lost the last time. His teeth chattered despite the heat as he pulled out the first stake. The others were already picking a safe path--but too far for him to make it out; the stakes weren't in place back here, and-

-one slip, a slide and suddenly the ground behind his hindquarters was gone. Instead there was a heavy splash, the weight of water, memory and panic roaring up to drag him down and fill his mind with darkness.

Jim wrinkled his nose at the smell of death in the stagnant water, face twisting into an even more (if that was even possible!) tortured look. Magic flickered out, marking the locations of those who'd pushed ahead before the main group with remarkable clarity. He could 'see', with this magic, even farther than before--and he trusted the paths it implied more than he trusted his own two eyes. The Gembound who had traced them were still moving, after all, so they couldn't have encountered lethal danger--all he had to do was follow them. So what if the dangers of the Marsh were invisible to the naked eye? His Jim Sense would reveal the safest way to go.

Jim forged ahead with all the tired confidence a fox like him should have... and then hesitated. Behind him, an obsidian--Warrior--was falling farther and farther behind. And had even started... sinking? Jim froze for a fraction of a second, then spun around and pelted toward the horse. "Hold on! I'm coming!" Whether he would be able to offer any useful help--well, that remained to be seen, but he had to try, didn't he?

"SURE THING BUDDDYYYYY-" he called out to the cormorant as he departed.

He flapped low out over the marsh, red eyes picking out the few Eyehooks with wary alarm. Those bastards are still out here- he thought, and shook his crested head. He noted, too, the jostling and shouldering going on, but... it didn't look deadly. That was his excuse, because Huntsman was MUCH bigger than Corsair was, and Corsair was absolutely not going to fuck with that thing.

What even was it. Sure, the-... thing... sabotaging others was mean, and wrong, or whatever, but it'd probably tear his wings off and leave him in the dust so he'd just be riiiiight over here instead.

He kept as far as possible from Huntsman, in other words, as he scattered down his few seeds, and plucked for his single little glowing stake. Thick beak and clawed feet worked to shove it into the sand, deeply, his wings battering the air to stay upright.

When it was firmly in, he zipped off ahead, sparing one last glance for the scary bastard he was leaving behind. "Good riddance," he muttered, with a shudder.

- IVORY-

She'd given Fiver a soft nod before turning back ahead, and--Oh, this is different. ...Wet, for one thing; blinding light shone across pockets of water that dotted what was undoubtedly soft land way, way ahead. Which was a problem, really, for a creature the size of Ivory. She was big, no two ways about it--big as the big buffalo, maybe, and it vaguely looked like he was floundering-? She squinted off ahead, trying to make it out, but gave up after a moment.

There were, she noticed, Eyehooks up ahead--her critical stare found them perched on the dead branches of old trees, staring at the Gembounds below. Undoubtedly any weakness would be met with "being eaten."

"Eyehooks. I'm gonna try to scare them off," she told the others, and gathered herself. If she were lucky, she could pick up enough speed to just sort of freight train through the muck without sinking--with the added bonus of scaring off any birds that came too close.

Her charge was a clumsy one, but her weight and speed at least gave her the momentum to power through--as exhausting and draining as it was. She'd already been tired; at least the splashing water was refreshing, sort've, though still warm. But after a few moments she hauled herself onto a somewhat more dry bank, and took that time to scatter her seeds, and to plant a couple stakes. Seems safe enough, this way, at least, she reasoned, glancing back at the others.

Fiver feared only one thing: if he stayed behind with Warrior, that he would cause more strain on the horse, force him again to try and spare his doomed life. As Fiver looked into the dark eyes of one of his saviors, he saw his own reflection: a small, terrified thing that could not save another if their life depended on it. He would slow Warrior down. They would both die.

He had done what he can, and now, the only sensible thing was to go ahead. "Fiver. I'll be waiting for you," Fiver told Warrior, a goodbye that could not be final, that he would not let it be. (Perhaps, he would be waiting for Warrior in Death, after all. The thought struck Fiver as strange and alien and refused to leave his mind.) He hurried to catch up with Ivory's hooves, smushing himself back into the large gathering where he hoped he could cause no further damage.

He tried to follow Ivory as she surged forward through the muck, but he was so much smaller, and the swamp sucked at his fur and spines. The weight of the thick, turbulent waters tugged him down, and his feet slipped into holes made by those who had gone ahead of him. One of his paws became stuck, and the water sloshed over him, rushing into his gasping mouth and nostrils. It burned as he sputtered on it, thrashing to propel his head high enough to breathe, but what little strength he had left he was burning through quickly in his panic.