The land grew bare and open, and the previous claustrophobia gave way to a new, more familiar fear - one that all parts of Whistle's ancestry knew very, very well. Death would come from above.

It was safe to say that she would fit comfortably within the vulture's regular diet, and she was aware of this. She tried to cast her prey animal anxieties away with the scattering of the seeds. These would placate them, they where promised. She tried to replace her suspicion towards the Merchant with an almost religious faith in his words.

She heard the shriek of the hellish birds as they descended upon the crowd, and the screams of those unlucky enough to catch their wicked eye. With a gust of wind, they carried far, and with a few worried glances at the sky she confirmed her own safety. She shuffled onwards, barely keeping her focus amidst the violence.

Whistle is moving forward.

K'cil was large and lucky enough to sport natural weaponry - his claws twitched, ready to swipe at any bird brave enough to attack. But as sharp as they were, the lessers were massive, and worse still, sported a set of their own. No violence yet - one forelimb left occupied as he scattered the contents of the pouch. He seemed relatively unbothered by the dire situation. How much of it was an act?

Perhaps the birds were intimidated. A few did glance at him with a wary eye, but none interfered. He carried on but kept his guard, for the benefit of those around him.

K'cil is staying with the group.

Duck considered the Huntsman briefly as the ground evened out again. Would he take offense? Was it truly wise to antagonise such forces? Perhaps the vultures would get rid of him for her - or the deer, if he too had a vengeful spirit. There could only be one winner.

She scattered the seeds, hiding amidst the bushes and legs of larger gembound around her. But while her small size had been her benefit thus far, it'd become her downfall among the titan birds. A circling vulture decided she'd be the perfect, bite-sized snack, and descended upon the little feline with talons outstretched.

The climb up wasn't fun for the injured beast but with a final heave it crested the top along with the rest of the Gembound forging ahead. The wound had, at least, stopped bleeding everywhere, in part thanks to the clumps of red-stained sand clinging to the fur around it, but that didn't stop it from hurting with each movement. It was getting used to the pain, at least. It could make it through.

Looking around, it realized the dangerous situation they were all in now. The vultures looked vicious, like everything else in this damn cave, and thinking about having to sneak up on them...ugh. Well, Ruby-Beta wasn't one to chicken out on something despite its reputation.

There was a nearby nest with an Eyehook standing close by. It narrowed its eyes and crouched down, reaching for a pebble by its paw. Easy. Lessers were stupid - this would work, much better then the worms. A quick toss and a clatter had the eyehook's attention and it turned the other way, giving Beta just enough time to dart forward and scatter a clumsy pawful of seeds in the nest.

Barely darting away again before it turned its attention back, it found itself in the clear for now. It turned to continue on and then paused, looking back at the group. It wanted to keep going but...it also wanted to survive. And it was injured. It wasn't going to be strong on its own.

If it had learned anything in its time in Draco, its that there was strength in numbers. And while it surely wouldn't risk its life for anybody else here, it was sure one of the others would if it found itself in need again.

Feeling only the slightest twinge of guilt, it hung back and waited for the rest of the saviors to make it through.

Ruby-Beta is staying with the group.

The stint in the shade had revitalized him somewhat. It didn't make his bones ache any less, but the harsh breaths that has hissed through teeth had softened to the soft whisper of air. He kept with the others, climbing to the top of the plateu. He shook out his bag of seeds haphazardly, as everyone else was doing.

And he felt many eyes burning into his back.

The vultures. They were all just lessers, obviously. But that didn't stop his blood from running cold, from a stab of pain ascending up his bad leg just as bad as the day it had broke.

He did not want to linger, so he broke into as much of a sprint as he could manage.

[One is forging ahead]

Galleon's eyes snapped open when she heard Jim's voice. She had but seconds to reach for the ledge beneath her, and opened her jaws to bite down on it. This time, with forewarning, she was ready. Her teeth clenched the ledge. She didn't die, but her body and tail slammed hard into the cliff, and she felt awful 'pops' as the bones in one of her front fins was shattered. She exhaled hard, a keen of pain crawling up her throat. She was in immense pain. But she was alive.

She searched for her savior, locking stunned, guttering eyes with the fox. "Fhanks." She said, stunned, shaky. Galleon owed that fox her life. Galleon inhaled, wincing as it moved her rapidly swelling fin, sending stabs of pain up her arm. In all that terror, she had dropped her bag. She exhaled. Then, she began the long, cautious process of getting down. She was much more careful going up the second time, but it was much more painful experience.

Moving on land was already an ordeal, and the pain of a broken limb and the dull buzzing of her head and her damaged teeth only worsened it. She was relieved to finally pull herself atop the plateau. But she had no time to rest--not if she wanted to be attacked by those massive... birds. Judging by the other Hydra fauna she'd seen, they would be quick to attack. Their glossy, beady eyes held nothing good for her. Not to mention she was a big, easy to spot target. Galleon pushed her bag to the front of her mouth, thrashing it to shake the seeds out. Then, quick as she was able, she pulled herself down the trail, keeping a watchful eye out.

"When I speak"
When I think

Galleon is staying with the group (willingly this time)

Though she never stopped moving, padding through the canyons of the crucible was practically a light jog compared to the awful desert trek. Her energy had trickled back in as she walked, and she had been feeling pretty good. Then, she passed the lip of the plateau, instantly blinded and burned from into the harsh, full force of the sun. She blinked fiercely, only for the sun to be blotted out seconds later. She looked.

Massive vultures circled above, and dozens more nested about around her, and even from this distance she could tell they were all big enough to kill her with a claw. Fleas bolted for the bottom of a skeletal bush, ears pinned and tail ducked instantly. She licked her lips and flattened herself, ignoring the way the branches poked and dug into her coat. She wasn't ready to die again. Not to those things, at least. She'd prefer something that didn't look like it'd eat her alive. She had to make this quick, she wanted to spend as little time up her as possible.

Silently, Fleas tried to reach for her bag. The branches rasped in complaint, digging further into her fur, but that hadn't been too bad! Then she tried to sneak out of the bush. Unluckily, half of that scraggly bush had come with her, snapping and crackling loudly enough to alert the nearby vultures. Fleas froze, unable to do anything but stare in horror as nesting eyehooks turned their menacing gaze onto her.

"When I speak"
When I think

Anselm hopped up the trail silently. Though her paws were still raw, she found the cool shade a brief respite for them. It was not to last though, as she crawled upon the top of the mesa and it burned her paws instantly. That was the least of her worries though. Eyehooks were everywhere. Anselm froze, briefly. She took point from the cat nearby, trying to keep herself huddled among her larger companions, sticking to their shadows. She needed to scatter the seeds, then get out of this awful place.

Anselm ducked her head into her bag, softly snuffling about for the seeds. She gripped them in her teeth, plucking them out then planting them in shallow ditches one by one. It was difficult work, given that she had to split her attention between digging the seeds down and staying in the ever-moving shadows of fellow trialgoers. Her muscles nearly locked with sheer anxiety, and Anselm was nearly caught out multiple times. But she managed to dig the last seed in without issue, patting it down with a backleg. That done, she gave into her rising anxiety, bolting as far as she could away. She was never going near those things again.

Anselm is moving forward

He fired a warm, surprised glance to Conleth. "Just shout if you need help," was all he said to the two.

Warrior made the edge of the plateau with some difficulty, hooves scuffing at the rock. He knew what came next--what lay ahead--and his head was low, body partially crouched almost like a predator's, as he crested the rise.

Eyehooks. As far as the--well, eye--could see: great, predatory birds nesting entirely across the expanse of bare rock. No cover. "It's going to be a matter of who they attack, not if." With that certainty, he took a breath.

He could just wait for the others to all draw attention, and try to dart in; he could have hidden himself with magic and passed through alone, but he wasn't that sort of Gembound; he was too great-hearted for that. He'd come to help, not to win.

"I'll see if I can draw some off," he offered, and then dipped his soft muzzle into the pouch. Seeds in his teeth, he focused on his magicka again.

If he could summon up those ethereal wings, and just blast straight through, maybe they'd give chase--opening a safer path for those behind Warrior.

Shimmering gold again coalesced around him. Ethereal armor, and wings that trailed pure light, sprang up around his body and shoulders. A moment later he'd lifted off, and then he'd shot straight ahead and across the plateau, through the nesting ground, like a golden flare or beacon of light. With luck there'd be Eyehooks already rising, shrieking their indignant rage at this incursion, giving chase to clear a path for those who had not yet made the attempt.

Of course, as he went, he spat out his mouthful of seeds among the nests--he hadn't forgotten their task here.

Warrior is staying with the group.

- IVORY-

Ahh, shit.

Ivory--huge, barrel-shaped and white--was made for brute force. Brute force would not help her one bit with a huge swarm of giant, rip-and-tear-sort-of-birds. She definitely couldn't sneak past them.

Maybe if she could kill the first one that came for her it'd give the others pause-? She gritted her teeth. Well--everyone else was already charging out into the open, or sneaking around. She had to give it her best shot.

Teeth gripped her seed pouch, and she took a moment to adjust it upside-down so she'd be trailing it as she went. Then she braced herself, took a (terrified) breath (why the hell did I come here again?) and barged out into the open.

She did not, as it turned out, kill any. But the first that dove, she just managed to spin fast enough--in an oafish, heavy way--to strike a glancing blow with her nose horn; the next received a horse-like, if again glancing, kick. Then she was off and running, upending the seed pouch as she went, ducking her head and kicking and headbutting any of the Eyehooks that came for her. She emerged on the other side (either they'd seen her as too dangerous, or once she passed through she wasn't a threat anymore, or they'd been distracted by other Gembound) with a multitude of shallow punctures and scrapes bleeding on white hide--but no real injuries to speak of.

Ivory is staying with the group.