The anteater had survived the worst of the gas, but others weren't so lucky. The marsh was filled with the sounds of the fog's victims, choking on the air and the blood it drew. The gurgling of those unable to clear their lungs in time. The second was much quieter, but he could hear it. He wished he didn't.


His group was sizable, but small enough for him to notice any disappearances. Captain was large enough to keep track of, and his first fall drew a frightened noise from K'cil; he had thought the panic was in vain when the buffalo pulled himself free, but instead he too was dragged into the emotional rollercoaster as his trial mate promptly fell into another, deeper mud pit.

He shuffled over with surprising speed, wrapping his claws around the strangely shaped gemstone at his shoulder. He pulled back with all his strength, wrenching the gembound out of his certain death.

@Captain

[I was naïve to think he'd roll anything lower than 15]

Round Ten

They moved on. Seeds were planted, a future of healing and purification promised before them in great stretches of shimmering green. The stakes now marked safe passage, the deep footfalls and marks of struggle denoting where Gembounds had almost fallen.

Almost. But for one. Ahh-... but we will return to that one momentarily.

---

Ahead lay the Salt Flats: that broad, seemingly endless expanse of caked and broken salt pan, broken and scorched by blasting heat and bone-dry air. The long march across this Flat could still be deadly, for those wounded and exhausted by their journey through Hydra. But at this hour, the temperature so high that shimmering illusions filled the horizons with tempting promises--lies--of water, even the scorpions and spiders had gone to ground. The few Eyehooks that still spiralled overhead had drawn farther and farther away, leaving the Gembound only their blistering heat, searing thirst and blinding light to press through to the end.

---

And now... back to the silence they had left behind them. There was the quiet splash of a heavy tread, one long-trained in Hydra's dangers. And a moment later, a hulking figure approached the small, limp, wet black form lying motionless in the Dead Marsh, as though Anselm had become the very avatar of its doomed and damning nature.

A six-thumbed, violet limb reached out, lifting this form almost gently, cradling it upward toward flared nostrils that towered high overhead. The gases. Beside him, then, a shuffling: the black-cloaked, hunched form appearing as if from nowhere. Vargas turned, studying him. And the form stared back, waiting.

After a long moment, Vargas turned it over. "A shame," he said aloud, as if reluctant. "For one so small, it made it very far." A surprise; always a surprise, when the small, dark (and thus doubly suffering in Hydra's heat), tenacious ones made it. It reminded him of Garnet. It could have-

"Not... far... enough." Vargas's eyes shot to the Masked Merchant, but he knew that the Merchant--whose fingers closed tightly upon the body, and the black Tourmaline that pierced past unseeing eyes--was right. It did not matter if one perished two steps into Hydra, or two steps from the end. Dead was dead.

Claws pinched over the Tourmaline, and a soft grating sound began; the gemstone fell into black dust, a sand that scattered in a sinister glitter to join the mud of the Marsh, and all the half-hidden, multicolored grains mixed within.

Then Vargas--the Masked Merchant lingering close--set out after those Gembounds who still lived... and who had by now pulled quite far ahead.

---

Captain has taken another serious injury and lost a placement. Anselm has died. If desired, Anselm is allowed one further post to describe their death before the previous scene occurred. If Reverend wishes to defend against Aran's sabotage, he may attempt to do so before his sprint roll.

Sprint Round!

• Characters should all be posted to describe the gruelling crossing of the Salt Flats. If the character wishes to attempt to move forward by one position, they may roll to do so. They may alternatively roll to try and sabotage any other character in their placement, or take any other action they see fit.

• Winners will be determined by those in First Place who roll highest to sprint ahead in the sprint round. First place characters may still opt to sabotage, instead, but if others manage to get ahead, they may lose the race for first place! Should there be a need, sabotage rolls may also be taken into account (ex. if there are two in First, and two in Second who have both rolled to sabotage, then whomever rolled higher in Second will take Third Place!).

• Failures are not punished this round. Critical Fails will still cause the character to take a serious injury, thus losing one position in the race. If a character is sabotaged and doesn't roll successfully against it, they will lose one position.

• A character may post once to roll to defend against each sabotage attempt made against them in addition to posting their own action.

• PLEASE NOTE that this is the final round. If you wanted a character to die, they are allowed to be posted collapsing on the Salt Flats, although other characters are still allowed to try and rescue them if it is IC to do so. If no one does, they may die to exhaustion or be mercy-killed by Vargas.

---

First, second and third place rewards will be:

1st place: All survivor/participant rewards, plus... Familiar Forge + a choice of a Hydra lesser to forge that can actually leave Hydra (very powerful choices will be somewhat weakened by GM design) + free Mutation to be used during the chrysalis post-thread!

2nd place: All survivor/participant rewards, plus... The gemstone of a previous Champion of Hydra (designed by GMs, guaranteed revive) + Give Life spell (granted to the 2nd place character), + free Mutation to be used during the chrysalis post-thread!

3rd place: All survivor/participant rewards, plus... Desert Heat spell + 200 bonus Magicka + free Mutation to be used during the chrysalis post-thread!

---

Placement:

First: Corsair, Wisperia, Duck Duck, Fleas

Second: Huntsman, Hymn

Third: Spinnaker, One, Whistle

Fourth: Galleon, K'cil, Star, Conleth

Fifth: Kaizer, Ivory, Glory, Ruby-Beta, Reverend, Aran, Captain

Sixth: Warrior, Jim, Zhusha, Fiver

The next post will take place on October 1st. The Trial will then end, winners will be announced, and rewards given out!

@Wisperia (Hymn, Star) @Galleon (Fleas, not Anselm RIP) @Ruby-Beta (Glory) @Whistle (K'cil, Duck Duck) @Aran @Zhusha (Captain, Jim) @Conleth (Huntsman, One) @Reverend (Spinnaker, Kaizer) @Warrior (Corsair, Ivory) @Fiver

Anselm was able to linger in her dreams for a few fleeting seconds, though for her they felt a milennia. They were memories, artifacts from a time past, haphazardly played and replayed in her memory. Anselm saw glimpses of the past in them. The blistering entrance of Hydra. The feeling of loamy dirt and ash on paws. A brief glimpse of a skull encrusted with green gems. Marbled floors. And finally, the view of snow from high above, tightness around her tiny body. She felt their emotions flicker through. Joy, fear, anger, awe. It was enough to last a lifetime.

All this within the span of ten seconds. All this as their chest gave its last soft rises. All this as their heart beat its last. All this as her body finally fell silent and peaceful. Within twenty seconds the hare was gone. An empty body, still posed as if to run, or to fight. Her matte fur clung to by the greyish mud. When the merchant ground her stone to dust, she would become an outlier among the cave animals. She was granted what some would call a rare mercy, some a rare tragedy. Anslem would recieve true death.

It took long blinking to clear his eyes of sand and water, and several trembling attempts to bring himself back upright on unsteady limbs. Once he had, he stumbled once, blinking about with swivelling ears.

Then--unexpectedly... warmth took him.

He'd come here to help others, but--these few, these three... they'd all hung back to help one another. Zhusha--he'd seen this one in passing, and now here he was, having swept back toward the floundering Fiver. And Jim--so small... He must have powerful magic, Warrior reasoned. That... or he just couldn't bear to leave someone behind. He tried to imagine the fox trying to pull him physically from the pit, and could not.

Which was just as well, because none of them were dead--not yet. As he set out (still unsteady) for the blinding Flats ahead, he blinked and flared his nostrils. The old, familiar scent of withering salt struck him even from here. "Thank you. The way ahead," he told all three, in soft, weakened warning, "is very long, bright, and dry. Don't believe what your eyes tell you. You can ride my back, if you like, but-" Warrior paused, tilting his head a fraction to see skyward. "Watch the sky."

He didn't need--he thought--to clarify that the Eyehooks might try yet again for an easy meal.

Warrior tried to summon up at least a little shadow--it wouldn't have provided much shade, no, but at least the roiling darkness might've been easier on their eyes. It didn't come. He didn't mention it, instead plodding on--content to survive in last place, warily aware of the looming Valkhound ever at the edge of vision behind them, but also very confident now of the "slow and steady" method.

Not that it would be winning any races, any time soon--most of the pack was far gone, by now. But he'd spotted the briefest glimpse of the limp, black fur in the marsh, and that was a grim reminder that rushing forward, past one's abilities, meant sure death. His trek would be long, and by the end he would be dehydrated, sweating, trembling from exertion, his head hanging low and every hoof-step a limping shuffle...

...but he would survive.

@Zhusha @Jim @Fiver (everyone is invited on a pony ride)

Galleon was relieved to see the water buffalo had been helped. They looked sure not to make it, and even now seemed to be teetering on the brink. There was a chance that Galleon might not have gotten there quick enough, but the anteater was on the job. All thwas was left was to continue on. As they moved forward, Galleon briefly paused. Her eyes lingered on the limp form of the black hare. There was no movement from its flanks. No heart beat to send vibrations through the mud. They were well and truly dead. She had been successful at helping some. Some, but not all. A rage welled up in her, and she drove her claws into the mud. She would not let anyone else die here. Not now, not ever. "A shame." Was all that she said.

But staying here over the form of the hare wouldn't help anyone, and she forced herself to move on. The salt flats that came after were a test of endurance. The sky shone its brightest here, drying off the mud and sand that had caked itself on her belly and limbs. She briefly entertained the idea of digging through the salt flats, but a single gouge with her forearm told her all she needed to know. Her claws had barely chipped the salt--A slight scratch was all she earned for her efforts. Galleon might as well have been trying to dig through stone. Attempting to dig through the salt flats would be three times the work simply pushing herself forward would be. She would have to resign to crawling once more. Caves, how she wished for Last legs' help.

The final trek was a slog. It was nothing she wasn't quite used to, though admittedly more painful; crawling through the caves was her least favorite but most frequent past time. Her breath came in great gasps, her sail extended, practically exuding heat like an oven. Galleon was a beast of desert sands, though. Endurance and strength were her strong suits. If there was any cave she was suited for, it was Hydra. She may have been wearing down, and despite the fact the salt flats were much harsher than her much beloved dunes. It would take more than a trek through its blistering heat and harsh ground to grind her to dust.

"When I speak"
When I think

- IVORY-

She was too late to help Captain--but, as it turned out, that was okay. Someone else beat her to it, and she let out a whoosh of a breath in relief. "Damn, that was a close call! You all right? -You're a hero, you know that?" This last, she addressed to the uh what the hell IS he--the huge, shaggy thing whose head she couldn't quite identify?? Which part was the HEAD-

"What's your names?" she asked them, easygoing. K'cil, though, was a bit ahead (unless he'd fallen back with Captain)--and Captain... well. He'd been through some shit, to say the least. "Here, maybe I can help." She plodded over, offering him her shoulder. "The way ahead--sucks. You been here before?" she asked him. He was big, but she was big, too. Maybe she could offer him a bit of strength, to lean on. Caves knew she had enough to go around, and anyway, she'd not taken too bad of a beating yet this trial. She could spare a little strength.

That being said? The stretch ahead was... tortuous. By the end Ivory would be panting, dragging herself every step, doubting her pain-streaked, half-blinded eyes and stumbling. Still... there'd be enough strength, should Captain need it, to borrow to the end.

@Captain

Fleas hated this place. She hated the dunes. She hated the cliffs. She hated the marsh. But most of all? She hated the gall of this place to force her to endure the salt flats after all of that. Fleas wanted to yowl out with the full force of her aggravation and exhaustion, but all she could do was stare at the unending plains of burning hot salt.

"Ill die before I willingly step into this cave again." She said. Her memories of this trial would be artifacts of a time when Fleas was too dumb to make the right choice. artifacts she wanted deeply to smash. Fleas took a moment to mentally prepare herself. She stood, silent, for a moment that just kept extending. Then she set off. She'd be damned if she died here before she found that damned jester's stone.


"When I speak"
When I think

Fleas is moving forward

This was it-! The home stretch!

...The excitement that filled him wasn't as positive as it could have been, though. There was a grim undercurrent, now. He'd seen Anselm fall, twitching, and there'd been no way for him to get back there in time--he'd have died, himself.

At least, that's what he told himself. He knew he wouldn't have made it, but--it was still messed up. Guilt was already threading through him, but the end of this hell was in sight. If he could just... fly. Fly to the end. Fly fast, keeping the wind flowing, keeping those memories behind him, maybe ignore them as best he could... They'd known the risks, after all.

'Hydra is deadly.' Those were so much more than just mere words, now.

Still... he was almost there, and it looked like he was actually near the front of the pack. Maybe he had a chance, some slim chance, of winning altogether.

Corsair heard a distant "land ho" or some such, and crowed back loudly: "TELL THOSE LUBBERS WHO'S BOSS!"

He had no idea what that meant, really, but it'd sounded good. He, personally, was shit-scared of water, but nobody had to know that.

The parrot's beak was parted, panting coming fast and heavy, and soon it was too hot and too agonizing to even think about the black hare's death. All he could focus on was the blinding heat and light in the here-and-now, and every flap of his wings was a torment, a force of pure effort and will to drive himself onward.

Even so, he could see a lithe, slender figure trotting out just ahead--and he couldn't help but yell encouragement at it, rasping and dry though his voice had become. "YEAh-" (and he coughed, voice breaking, before trying again.) "YEAH! YOU GET THAT WIN!"

Corsair is moving ahead!

Was there anything after this? Whistle couldn't remember what the Merchant had said, or much of the where she started for that matter - aside from the close encounter with the sandworm. That would be difficult to forget for a long while.

They'd made it through the marsh at least. At least, most of them did. She heard the sound of gasping up ahead, the victims breathe horridly wet. The smell of blood hung heavy, and though she quickened her pace in response, by the time she drew near, the gembound was silent. She made an effort not to look too close at the lump on the ground, but she recognised it as the little black rabbit she'd seen ahead of her. She knew nothing about him, but the tug at her chest was swift and strong. Her body was so small.

She felt her lungs clear, a weight lifting from her shoulders as the fog lifted - but the sight of the first and only victim of the trial still lingered. The heat blasted down on her anew, and she managed to steel herself in time - summoning a final gust of wind, she lightened her steps further, charging for the invisible finish line. She didn't delude herself with thoughts of winning - she just wanted to get this over with.

Whistle is moving forward.

The crowd shifted into quiet chatter, something K'cil was not fully equipped to engage in. He tried his best, responding to Ivory's kind words with an appreciative little anteater noise.

He did little else, continuing his trot to the finish line with the motley crew they had incidentally assembled.