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+--- Thread: [EVENT] The Trial of Hydra - Reclamation (/showthread.php?tid=11455)
RE: [EVENT] The Trial of Hydra - Reclamation - One - Sep 21 2023
Eventually the terrain changed drastically- from dry and rocky to thick, sludgy mud and pools of fetid water. He'd slow down out of necessity, after nearly falling into a patch of ground that seemed more solid than it was. There weren't as many gembound around him to help point out safe paths. It was just himself, his little bag of weird supplies, and spite.
Well, there was only thing he COULD do, because he sure was hell wasn't dying here.
He kept at a stead[ily waning] pace, continuing ever onwards, haphazardly scattering the pouch of seeds and somewhat more carefully placing the markers.
[staying in current place]
RE: [EVENT] The Trial of Hydra - Reclamation - Huntsman - Sep 21 2023
His opponent got away. Quite a bit away, in fact. He let them keep that space for the time being- not because he didn't want to win anymore, but because the constant assault attempts were leaving him exhausted. He'd need to pace himself, especially for what was coming.
He would not land, just skim close enough to toss some seeds into a safe-looking spot, sparking them with magicka as he did.
As he rose back into the air, he'd pass briefly through a patch of bad air. And that was all it took.
Suddenly he couldn't breathe. He couldn't barely /see./ It was all burning, eye-watering pain that saturated every breath.
It took him a moment to realize he was falling.
RE: [EVENT] The Trial of Hydra - Reclamation - Fiver - Sep 21 2023
The weaselly thing's throat was lined with acidic, brackish water and sediment, even when he managed for a moment to break his head above water it was all he could do to choke and spit, tearing his throat further in the process.
His hind leg was stuck fast in the muck, and if he had any hope of surviving, it was to pry that free and somehow, blindly, find solid earth once more. The animalistic part of his brain was thrashing around wildly in the confines of his skull, his heart thrumming so fast against the burning of his lungs that it struggled to properly circulate.
It was the cry of a fellow trial-goer, the sound drawing close to him, the cry that said, You are not alone, that turned the spinning gears of his brain into a sudden ker-CLUNK of rationality. His spirit hung there for a moment, slightly detached from his body, watching himself drown in slow motion.
The more he struggled, the deeper his leg sunk. If he shifted his weight to another paw, it started to sink; but he was naturally buoyant; he did not have to try to push himself up using the shifting muck below, he could swim. He had just promised to see Warrior again, and though a cold part of his heart suggested it would be in death, he clamped his teeth around the thought and shook it like he was killing a mouse.
He would not die by accident. He would not die by happenstance. He would die on his terms, and he had decided that these were not his terms. His body went still, just for a moment, the water sloshing around and shoving him about, and he clenched his jaws despite the urge to gag and gasp and went limp. His body was pulled by the current, and he kicked his front legs, pushing himself with the vortex of the sinkhole, and with a slorp, his leg was sucked free and he was tossed, tumbled, rolled through the dirty water like a ragdoll.
Still-- he was free of the earth that wanted to eat him. Head spinning and nauseous and still desperate for air, he doggy-paddled his way toward air, blinking back tears, and sputtered and coughed up water, choking down oxygen that burned as it went down.
"The others," Fiver rasped, "don't let the others," which was all he could get out, pleading desperately to whoever had fallen back to save him. His bleary vision couldn't make anyone out, he didn't even know if there was anyone else to save. His feet his slippery land and he flinched, before clawing at it to find harder, packed earth beneath, and he dragged himself on to the path, shuttering from the effort.
He was still alive.
His hind leg was stuck fast in the muck, and if he had any hope of surviving, it was to pry that free and somehow, blindly, find solid earth once more. The animalistic part of his brain was thrashing around wildly in the confines of his skull, his heart thrumming so fast against the burning of his lungs that it struggled to properly circulate.
It was the cry of a fellow trial-goer, the sound drawing close to him, the cry that said, You are not alone, that turned the spinning gears of his brain into a sudden ker-CLUNK of rationality. His spirit hung there for a moment, slightly detached from his body, watching himself drown in slow motion.
The more he struggled, the deeper his leg sunk. If he shifted his weight to another paw, it started to sink; but he was naturally buoyant; he did not have to try to push himself up using the shifting muck below, he could swim. He had just promised to see Warrior again, and though a cold part of his heart suggested it would be in death, he clamped his teeth around the thought and shook it like he was killing a mouse.
He would not die by accident. He would not die by happenstance. He would die on his terms, and he had decided that these were not his terms. His body went still, just for a moment, the water sloshing around and shoving him about, and he clenched his jaws despite the urge to gag and gasp and went limp. His body was pulled by the current, and he kicked his front legs, pushing himself with the vortex of the sinkhole, and with a slorp, his leg was sucked free and he was tossed, tumbled, rolled through the dirty water like a ragdoll.
Still-- he was free of the earth that wanted to eat him. Head spinning and nauseous and still desperate for air, he doggy-paddled his way toward air, blinking back tears, and sputtered and coughed up water, choking down oxygen that burned as it went down.
"The others," Fiver rasped, "don't let the others," which was all he could get out, pleading desperately to whoever had fallen back to save him. His bleary vision couldn't make anyone out, he didn't even know if there was anyone else to save. His feet his slippery land and he flinched, before clawing at it to find harder, packed earth beneath, and he dragged himself on to the path, shuttering from the effort.
He was still alive.
RE: [EVENT] The Trial of Hydra - Reclamation - Spinnaker - Sep 21 2023
He can't breathe. He can't breathe.HE CAN'T BREATHE.
He's falling, again. It all burns. It's something in the air. The air. He manages to have one last clear thought, in the rapidly encroaching haze of unconsciousness.
If Spinnaker could just move the air... Despite the smothering darkness, his magic still obeys, and the winds kick up, blowing the toxic smog away, long enough for him to limp to safety.
He doesn't know how much longer he can last.
RE: [EVENT] The Trial of Hydra - Reclamation - Duck Duck - Sep 21 2023
While she regained her place, the crowd had stayed intact. She found herself striding alongside a now familiar set of faces. She found herself growing tired of the familiar views - the Eyehook hadn't taken care of the problem for her, and Hymn's path had remained unshaken despite the Huntsman's attempts. It was time to take matters into her own paws [>:3c]
She directed a torrent of shrieking screams into his area above, hoping the indistinct and frantic voices would resemble that of the vulture that had attacked him previous. She offered no acknowledgement of her own sabotage, eyes fixed on the path ahead.
@Hymn
RE: [EVENT] The Trial of Hydra - Reclamation - Hymn - Sep 22 2023
Hymn was terrified to hear the sounds of vultures once more, and they seemed to be just overhead. He didn't pause to consider that there was no shadow- he began to panic. This set him back in progress as he flew zig-zags in the air in an attempt to throw off the nonexistent attackers. He had dodged the real vulture- but it was the sounds of a second nonexistent one that really pushed him back. At least he wasn't dead.
@Duck Duck
RE: [EVENT] The Trial of Hydra - Reclamation - Aran - Sep 25 2023
Aran's nose flares. He's safe for now, but the stakes are rising. He doesn't feel great... Bleeding, scratched up, in pain. He knows he can do something about it... it's just picking someone out to hand off his injuries to. It's mean, but he did want to get first place. Not happening now, but he will live. If he dies, it's going to be of his own volition.
And he does not want to here.
That one. A colorful amalgamation of something. He feels bad, but it's survival of the fittest here. Perhaps he will aid in its healing if he runs into it at a later time. Or if either of them survive. Really, Aran does not want anyone to die here, but he does want to live. Just as anyone else. Which means taking sacrifices.
Aran can see the ones in danger, but... He is not feeling an urge to help them as he would normally. It feels odd, being here. He can feel the adrenaline pumping in his lungs, the bird sending searing signals to his brain to run. run far away. never return. Only, the Barasingha is doing his best to keep going. If he turns back now, it's game over.
He reaches for his magic, attempting to pull out a spell he knows well. A healthy target will surely take some of his pain away. He must get himself back into shape.
@Reverend
RE: [EVENT] The Trial of Hydra - Reclamation - Huntsman - Sep 25 2023
He was falling. He was falling and his eyes and nose and face burned and this had to stop. He had to do something.
His wings remembered how to word. Awkward, jerky flapping to catch himself as he fell turned into a unsteady glide to a patch of land marked as safe. He shook mud off of one hand and pawed at his face- which did little good, but he wasn't about to wash it out with equally-poisonous water. A grunt of frustration and pain, and he continued on.
Where had his easy victory went?
RE: [EVENT] The Trial of Hydra - Reclamation - Anselm - Sep 25 2023
death
graphic themes
Anselm wheezed and choked in awful pain. It burned. It burned! She had fallen over long ago. Her body spasmed uncontrollably, writhing and clawing at some unseen attacker. Unseeing, unhearing, her magic sparked on instinct. The burning pain begin to claw at the raw nerves on her feet once again, burning the hair on the undersides. But it was not enough, it did not burn bright enough to spark the air. The smoke wisped from her paws uselessly. It was just another layer of agony on top of the one she already felt.
Hare teeth worked the air, bared at the gas. Bared at the world. Her fight was leeched from her with the speed and force of a crashing wave. Anselm's convulsions began to slow, her bloodshot eyes drooping as the end approached. The pain faded, the burning just a buzz in the background, and soon all that was left was the exhaustion. Sleep was a tantalizing prospect. She did not remember Kethri. She did not remember Arquia. All she remembered was that she was tired, and that she had fought for so long. Anselm's eyes closed, and an endless sleep drew her into its depths.
RE: [EVENT] The Trial of Hydra - Reclamation - Captain - Sep 25 2023
NAUR! Captain was NOT about to let himself become another artifact sunk to the bottom of Davy Jones's locker! Wheezing as his lungs burned and quicksand sucked him down, he struggled to lift a hoof above the surface and break free from the mud, and then get the heck out of here to somewhere with fresh air!
Blindly, he felt himself tug free of the mud's grip with a sickening squelch, and he laughed madly with triumph. "LAND AHOY," he wheezed, and lurched forward, taking a great gasp of air, only to slam headfirst into a dead tree. BAM! The tree wobbled in the mud and its trunk cracked open down the middle. Captain, meanwhile, stumbled, dazed, tripped over his own feet once more, and faceplanted into the deadly mud.
glub.... glub........ blub...................