The rain gradually faded into nothing. The fog faded, quickly burned away by the sun, in a matter of minutes. Within the hour, the cave would be back to blisteringly hot. The floodwaters carried the Gembound forward, roaring and inescapable, but as the canyons widened and opened into the mouth of the Marsh, the rapids spread gradually into a low, slow tidal flow. By the time the ravine walls parted to showcase the flat, murky area ahead--studded by black, dead, stunted trees--the water flow was little more than a few inches filling the marsh a little deeper.

The Dead Marsh itself was a vast place, fogged with a sickly haze of green-yellow grey that hung low and ominous. Very little life showed itself, here; the occasional quillmouse scurried among the muck, and a vulture or three dotted the dead branches, perched, watching and waiting. But mostly it was deadlands that stretched on in all directions, as far as the eye could pierce the mist. It would challenge the Gembounds' sense of direction. Low mud banks dotted the tracts of stagnant water--sometimes acidic, or even toxic--and in many places the haze, too, foul-smelling everywhere, was even poisonous, causing those who breathed it to break into horrific coughing, hallucinations often plaguing them and driving them deeper into the marsh, never to be seen again. Death usually followed soon after. If this were not bad enough, there were pits beneath the shallow water that proved far deeper: thin quicksand, or watery mud, capable of dragging a struggling Gembound down to their death in mere minutes.

High above, the Masked Merchant watched. They were distant, now, but by his count, all had somehow survived the floods. Good, he thought. The real challenge lay ahead. Here, Gembound were usually worn out. Hours of trekking through the desert, battling enemies, and hauling themselves down through the canyons in the dead heat usually left them weary, their bodies trembling with exhaustion, their minds sluggish from their efforts. The long slog through the marshes weeded out those who'd lost some strength in their journey, or whose reactions had grown slow. Reflexes and observational ability often suffered. Endurance, stamina, fortitude--those would now be tested.

Those who failed would be culled swiftly by the marsh. They always were.

_________________

Round Five

Gembound attempting to survive the Dead Marsh must roll to make their way safely through. Those who fail may inhale the toxic gas, which can induce any of a number of severe neurological symptoms, generally including hallucinations and either hysteria or deep confusion. Others might be dragged down by the mud, or quicksand, with drowning threatening to take them. Pausing to drink the water, too, would be a mistake, quickly inducing the same symptoms as the toxic gas might.

If Successful in your roll, clarify if your character is moving ahead or attempting to locate and stay with their current group. Rolling a critical fail will inflict a severe injury and cause the character to fall farther behind. Please remember any potential exhaustion, or current injuries, that your character is suffering when making your post.

Please post & roll only once.

Click to view current placement rankings.

1. Garnet Five-Seven-Nine
2. {empty space}
3. {empty space}
4. Lapis Ninety-Five
5. Labradorite Five-Four-Six,Desert Rose Thirty-Five, Yoosung
6. {empty space}
7. Imp, Reseda
8. Shango, Amazon, Quartz Eight-Six-Zero, Asimona, Quartz Five-Two-Four, Styx, Opal Three-Seven-Six
9. {empty space}
10. Agate Two-Three-Six, Mayngo

The torrent steadily grew quieter, the ravine widening into the Dead Marsh --- its wretched odor overpowered even the musk of the flood, causing Garnet Five-Seven-Nine to scrunch its face up in disgust. The Champion could never seem to remember just how offensive the stench was. Feeling the rushing current slow as the ground grew ever-closer, it chanced sticking its head up and out of the water, sucking in another breath (around a massive vulture feather.) Blinking away eye-crud, the creature kicked, paddling along in the water and steering itself toward a particular direction.

This was the deadliest of the stretches, and the Garnet needed to pace itself, now. The others --- Champions or not --- were fairly far behind it, and would have to expend a surplus of energy to catch up. Being tactical and patient is what would keep it safe. Each hop was measured and careful, each breath taken carefully where the density of toxic gas was the lowest.

There was no need to rush.