- IVORY-

Well this was--terrifying. To be expected, given the last time, but still.

The Crucible's embrace was a welcome relief after the slow trudge across burning sands. Ivory slid into it with hanging head, her mouth parted in a grimace, taking soft gulps of cooler air as if to drink it down.

Her eyes, meanwhile, scanned those nearby. Galleon, in particular--enormous, impressive, but definitely ill-suited to rocky ground as opposed to the soft sand. Would she (Ivory wondered) just sort of flop across the rock here? "If you need help, uh... ask," she suggested, then glanced around. "That goes for anyone, 'course."

Weary, she started the long trudge up the trail--wings spread for balance, despite being too small for flight. "Lot different than last time I was here," she observed aloud, to anyone who wanted to listen. "Last time, it was all ice and snow, and a giant Ice Worm instead of a Sand one." A brief shine of brilliant azure in a crevice nearby caught her attention, then, and she did a double-take--one hoof pausing midstep, then settling back down as she peered for it.

It glistened, shimmered, shifted--entrancing, hypnotic. Ivory found herself drawn in, slowly making her way to the gap in the rocks, wide-eyed and mind blank.

@Galleon (for visibility!)

He'd started in--cheerfully flapping along with anyone who could keep up with him--with singing. His singing wasn't bad, either; it was mostly loud, but it was sort of melodic and rhythmic enough to provide a shanty-like tune to keep a trotting (or flying) pace with.

"OOOH WEEEE'RE-
Flyin' 'cross the sand so fast-
An' walkin' 'cross the sand so fast-
We'll come in first, and not in LAST-
If we aren't EATEN!

It's hot but we're too tough to care!
We'll fight the monsters in their lair!
We'll-"

"-hey what the FUCK!"

Hymn, too, seemed the musical sort, and he'd taken up position sort of near them. The interruption was due to the sudden dive--an attack attempt?!--by this OTHER GUY, what the HELL-

Corsair's black wings flapped wildly, his crest erecting in an aggressive display, and he switched from coarse singing to a series of loud, angry shrieks aimed at Huntsman. When the moment had passed, he fired one last glare at the fae creature before drawing closer to Hymn.

"You okay?! What was THAT about?! Old enemies-?" he added hopefully--and loudly--as if hoping for a story. (Or a song.)

The Crucible ahead seemed cool, both in temperature and otherwise, so he switched back to singing as they entered. Keep everyone's spirits up, he thought.

"Now here comes the shadowed maze,
Best we start to count our days,
Not 'cause we're about to die!
But to see how long we've left to lie

About all the things that we will see,
like fifty-foot monsters fought by ME,
and beasts from worlds beyond our own,
that'll pick ye right down to the bone...

But we'll beat 'em all and tell tall tales
'Bout how we succeed and assholes FAIL..."

...and on Corsair went, singing nonstop (with a wary glare or two Huntsman's way) about all the stories they'd all tell when they all inevitably survived and no one--not one of them--died.

Corsair's staying with this placement

@Hymn & @Huntsman (for visibility!)

Somehow, he survived the fray. They all did. Some surged ahead, some fell behind, but Fiver managed to stick with the main pack through a long, dragging hour of journey through the sand.

His paws ached, having traveled farther than he ever had before without a moments break. At least now the land rose to tower overhead, providing a relief of shade. There was a dampness in the air-- one that hinted at water-- and he wished he could stray from the group to find that stream or puddle to take a drink.

Still, there was a mission at hand. He kept his wobbling gait moving, feeling as though as soon as he stopped, he wouldn't be able to start again. His pelt prickled with uncertainty as they climbed, but this seemed like a moment of respite. When they reached the top, perhaps they could rest... Just for a moment?

One of his paws slipped off of a ledge, nearly sending him tumbling. This shook him from his stupor, adrenaline rushing back through his veins. He had to focus... Had to keep his paws on the solid stone. The rock crumbled under the heavy weight of some of the others, but he managed to leap and scramble upward, reaching ever further to the top.

Fiver is staying with the group/majority.

Reverend was glad to leave the hectic fray behind them, of thrashing wyrms and howling sand. But the cliffs rising ahead aren't welcoming either. And he's already so exhausted, even with the biggest weight in his pouch removed.

Hopefully my wings don't fail me this time, it thinks, before opening its wings and lifting off up through a narrow canyon. Luckily, it's still wide enough for both his real wings, and the magical purple ones that flare to life as well.

It winds up and up, the glow of its magic lighting the way for the rest of the group.

Reverend is staying in its current position.

Let's just say that the traversal of the dunes was a harrowing experience. But Kaizer won't give up that easily. It nods to the valkhound he saved, before turning back to crags rising up ahead of them.

"No way but up," he mutters to no one in particular, before starting the dangerous ascent upward.
The paths are dangerously narrow, even more so for a larger creature like him. It uses its tail as an additional anchor, holding on to the cliff wall.

But what he did not account for was the many other beasts lurking in the shadows. As he passes a narrow side crevice, a poisoned barb lunges toward his soft underbelly.

By now Spinnaker had already entered the slot canyons, ahead of the rest of the group. But that did not save him from the dangers ahead. He still had to navigate rocks filled with all sorts of dangerous creatures.

But even so, his magic pushes him on even faster, up and up, past all of the predators who are simply too slow to catch him.

He'll survive, he has to.

Spinnaker is pressing forward.

Tucking her injured wing close to her body, Whistle eyed her current company with the same wary glare. At least her suffering had some company - she noted the limp the buffalo sported, and the weeping gash in the alien creature's side. She felt a pang of pity for the latter's wound, though by the time the group had reached the Crucible, she felt as though she had misplaced it. The strange gembound was the first to forge ahead, and she knew well enough to follow in its steps.

The danger here was less immediate, but she still felt her feathers and fur fluff. They were being watched - She was being watched. The ravine pressed against the group, and Whistle felt as though they had left the ravenous worms to walk into an even bigger, hungrier mouth; One that was smart enough to hide its teeth.

Her eyes caught on spots of shimmering blue, but the scuttle of legs was enough to rattle her from the growing trance. "Hate bugs." She muttered bitterly, to no one in particular, as she made haste to rejoin the majority.

Whistle is moving forward.

After depositing more of those strange discs, the anteater forged on with the majority, braving the hostility of the desert. Considering his previous luck, maybe his survival was to be expected - but how long would that luck hold?

His flank brushed against others in the smaller spaces, his eyes flicking from the ravine's shadows to the 'sky', perhaps worrying about an ambush from above. But he came to understand that the danger often came from the walls surrounding him, even the the floor beneath. He kept his guard up, watching for any movement.

K'cil is staying with the group.

Duck watched the coyote squirm with little reaction, save a quiet investment in her response. They whipped around to face the little criminal, and the cat flinched. Despite its antagonistic behaviour, making enemies was not something it was keen on.

It let her fear show. It was just a tiny, fragile thing - something that left nothing but little pawprints in the sand in its wake. Perhaps Fleas would feel as though they were bullying the small feline. Still, the cat recovered quickly enough to respond to her accusation with another slow blink and a mrr maow?

She did not mind the change of scenery, it seemed; more places to hide should things go to hell again. She was good at hiding. The scorpions were almost better - almost - but her stormy eyes caught the movement before the tail could inject its venom. She hissed indignantly, sprinting further ahead.

Duck Duck is moving forward.

Galleon surfaced after her bout with the sandworm, the distinct taste of chicken in her mouth. Their fight had been a brief, violent spat, over almost as soon as it began. She had not gotten to kill it, and the thing with its broken jaw fled further down into the sand. She wasn't mad though, all in all, this trial had started out pretty fun! She shifted the pouch further forward in her mouth, keeping it snug in her teeth.

Then she surged forward, surfacing to clear the sand from her nostrils, and joined the rest of the trialgoers in the trek onward. The hour long trudge through the sand was almost akin to a jog for Galleon. She was already in a good mood, and such simple swimming was even more enjoyable. And whenever it got too hot above, she simply sunk into the cool sands beneath. The hour passed by without much incident, the sandshark humming pleasantly to herself.

As the sand gradually gave way to chunks of hard rock, she surfaced again, coming face to face with something decidedly not fun. Galleon cursed silently. Cliffs. She stared "Help?" she echoed, tilting her head towards Ivory. She chuckled humorlessly. "I can see myself needing that soon."

With a great breath inward, Galleon began to pull herself forward along the trail. It became very clear very quickly that she was not made for this. Her body swung awkwardly up the cliffs. It was a struggle against her very biology. One she was doomed to fail. Galleon tumbled from the cliffs, unable to do anything but await the impact. She would be needing that help very soon, as it turned out.

"When I speak"
When I think

((Uh oh sisters!))