Frick society! I'm running into the desert and never coming back!

And that's exactly what she did.

You see, Twisted was MAD. Mad about everything. Her life. Her complicated relationship with everyone. The Ursa expedition. Everything. It boiled inside her small body like a pressure cooker about to explode. So she did the sensible thing: run into the mysterious desert and punch things to relieve it.

"FUCK!"

Oh, and scream.

The siamese stalked the entrance of Hydra. Her green eyes narrowed against the heat. Yeah, this place was nice. Deadly and undesirable, just like herself. A couple bones here and there. Maybe she should stay here a while. Maybe.

"I SAID FUCK!" she yowled again into the open air. "FUCK YOU, WORM! FUCK YOU, DRACONA-WHATEVER! AND FUCK YOU, WORLD! HAH!" Of course, none of those figures will (probably) ever hear her, it just felt nice to let off some steam.

Her words echoed into the empty air and dissipated. Her pulse cooled.

Now, where were we?

Right, being struck with the dawning realization she just screamed her location to every hellbeast in a ten mile radius.

Nearby, a scorpion--some three feet long and hefty--lay nestled into a half-covered hole in the Salt Flats. It was an older beast--carapace worn and scuffed, a couple cracks marking the fights it had survived after its last moult. Its single, hooked tail was curled around it, and after having gotten caught out in the heat of the day it had used massive pincers to dig down just a tad into the salt pan.

Dust covered it. Dust blew past and around it. It waited for the relative cool of evening, when it would scuttle back out and begin hunting--perhaps even taking down a Spire or Sand Spider, or something a little smaller. It was a cunning scorpion, and a cautious one.

So when the vibration of something close--and the screeching that shook the air above--drew it from its languid torpor, it moved slowly, at first. A soft shuffle, a pause; when nothing happened, it slowly lifted out and looked around.

Then, it waited: still, white-coated, patient. It was hot, yes, but in Hydra one never passed up the opportunity for prey. It waited until Twisted had just turned away, then launched out and rushed her.

It was a quick charge, but the scorpion--no matter how cautious--wasn't made for stealth: the clatter of its feet on salt would likely give it away.

Twisted must roll a barely+ to prevent the scorpion's attack; a failure will result in further danger. Other characters who may join this thread will not be able to reach Twisted in time, and will need to roll against additional hazards.

At first Twisted thought her worries were just superstition-- until she heard the rustling. She whipped around to face a massive scorpion coming right at her. Wow, what luck of hers. How amazing.

But she wasn't going to scream or cry. She was mad, remember? And this not-so-little bugger looked like the perfect punching bag.

"FUCK!" Twisted shouted again as she dodged to the right, sand spraying from underneath her paws. She nearly tripped while doing so, but made it out of the monster's grasp intact.

"Oh, so that's how it is?" she hissed, bouncing lightly on her paws to face the scorpion. "Huh? HUH? Guess what, bitchface, try to hit me and I'll rip that pointy ass of yours a new one! So SCRAM!"

The scorpion paused, claws raising, tail hooked over its back.

It was, to say the least, unimpressed. This was in part because Twisted was small, soft, and seemed like prey. It was also in part due to the fact that it didn't understand English.

Undoubtedly, with its element of surprise lost, it could not catch up to Twisted if she chose to flee--she was safe, so long as she simply left. But choosing to stay and fight could be extremely dangerous. The Scorpion, of course, was hopeful she wouldn't flee.