With the wind as you fly away
Give a smile from your lips and say
"I am free! Yes, I'm free!"

Partway across the bridge, the stones from above began to collapse. September let out a warning sound and leaped forward, the wind briefly picking up to lead him forward, and managed to escape the worst of it, landing on the stones a little clumsily, a little off-balance, but he didn't get hurt and, more importantly, he didn't fall in the lava.

The deer glanced back, eyes wide. "IS EVERYONE OKAY?" But a quick glance over the other gembound that had gone into the dungeon confirmed - they were all, for the most part, okay. A few looked injured, but at least nobody had fallen in the lava. A sigh of relief, and then a turn back to the path ahead.

The winds had died now, from the shock of the collapsing bridge, so September had to manually leap from rock to rock, but he was springy and dextrous and didn't fall off any of them making his way over, it was just slow work, carefully jumping between each until he had passed across the lava and trotted into the next room.

september

SURGIS

Surgis's heart leapt up her throat as the bridge began to give away. So close to September's heels, she jolted away, scrambling back and into another person, stuck in place and— falling.

With a gulp, Surgis held her breath (like that'd do anything?!) while they descended and slammed into the molten rock, the bridge beneath her feet already hot hot hot. Her ride had jumped ahead, and she quickly dismissed any chance at catching up, still too shaken from the fall itself.

She had to tuck her tail close in her mouth to keep it from catching fire. One huff, and she started off, leaping like a ferret across each gap and anxious to move through to the only path available.

With so many bodies present, perhaps the Gray Hare should have had the presence of mind to call for only a few to cross at once. The stones were crumbling beneath the mere shifting of the weight of her paws, and while she'd correctly assumed no one would be idiotic enough to shove their compatriots off into the lava... she'd neglected to think that everyone would attempt to cross at the precisely same time.

As it were: Hargrave clenches her teeth around her frostbitten blade as she falls, keeping her tongue lumped in the back of her mouth so she doesn't crunch down on it when the landing inevitably (but surprisingly) comes.

Down here, it is even hotter than before, and like the ferret-like thing running ahead, she has to hold her tail high to keep it from catching fire from the stray sparks bubbling off the lava as it resettles around its new islands.

Glittering treasures off to the side prove a distraction, but she takes only a moment to indiscriminately wrench the sharpest thing that she can see from the nearest skeleton; not with her own mouth— for it is full and anything simmering down here is bound to burn through her skin— but with magic. Worthwhile to trade for coin later, yes?

Wyrm listened to Fahl, glancing up now and again with a flicking tongue, though her eyes strayed back to her own (glowing) feet. She was being very careful where she placed them, feeling already the prickle of danger in her very spines.

Bauxite's loud repetition of her own words earned both a glance and a broad smile, but Fahl's question had soon jerked Wyrm's attention back. "Here? I didn't know I'd be here!" she answered, with a bright laugh. She'd wandered--she was allowed to wander--but she'd not planned on this adventure! She hadn't even known about it until she'd seen the crowd! She opened her mouth, about to add to that, and then froze as the first tremble of falling sand hit her illumination.

Her many eyes widened, her glowing markings flaring with alarm, and then--"Watch out!" she cried.

Then they were falling--all of them--tumbling; the rock collapsing, terror lurching in her heart. She hit the ground with a jarring thud a moment later, and only belatedly felt a rush of relief that she had indeed hit ground at all. She pushed up, and glanced around; only one of them--Maw--seemed to be doing poorly. And out of reach. "THIS WAY!" she called, despairing--there didn't seem to be a way for her to get to Maw in time.

Wyrm turned, a terrified child, and bounded from stone to stone, quickly making her way to the exit. She noted Fahl's brief flight, relieved he hadn't hurt himself, and then she was pulling herself into the next doorway--with a glance back, filled with concern, for Maw.

The stone settled, the lava splashing horribly close to the Gembounds with hissing, smoking spots left behind. The room was hot, this close to the lava flow: boiling, in fact, and most creatures would be glad to pass through the dark gap past the ramp and into the room beyond.

Not that this next room was cool. Far from it: it was searing hot, too, and filled with a smoke too thick to easily pass through. But it wasn't burning their skin, at least, though it was sweltering on its own. A dim glow permeated from narrow cracks that glowed with the light of the lava far beneath. Farther still, another doorway led beyond, its gap illuminated by lava light. The entire room also sloped downward: stalagmites and stalagtites jutted here and there along a rocky slope, one easy to lose balance on.

Passing through this room would be tricky, and this one was nearly empty of bodies and of treasure, or even any visible threats. But the smoke was, in and of itself, a barrier to passage: they would need to protect themselves to pass through to whatever lay beyond.

---

Characters should roll to pass through the smoke and move on to the next room, thus far only a glowing red doorway. They may use any roll type and strategy they deem viable. Rolls that can have AoE effects will find that the smoke can be cleared a little for those around them, but as the room is enclosed, the effects will be somewhat limited.

Critical Success rolls may find stray coins lying among the rocks; a GM will post the exact amount later.

Successful rolls can pass through unhindered.

Those who fail will suffer from some smoke inhalation, finding it more difficult to breathe for the rest of the thread. They may instead injure themselves in a fall or on sharp stones, if their player so chooses.

Those who critically fail will suffer the above effects, along with burning eyes, making it a little harder to see clearly past running eyes, assuming they possess eyes. (This is Origin. Not everybody does.)

The next post will take place in four days, on June 15th, afternoon/evening GMT.

Treasure!

In the meantime, two of the Gembounds had already come away with treasure.

Bauxite-T-One's new treasure was a war-axe. Designed to be held in one hand, and bereft of magical enchantment, it was nonetheless a work of art--and war, of course. Formed of a silver alloy with swirling gold inlay, it was both sturdy and relentlessly sharp, not even tarnished by the smoke or passage of time. Now taken from the skeleton of what might've been its former owner, its shining edge (and the rest of it, of course) belonged to the Bauxite.

Hargrave lifted another weapon from charred bone hands: a dagger, sadly missing any sheathe. This one was a strange, dark metal--like steel but with a permanent, dull finish, one that left it matte. The black ribbon that tied in a hole through the hilt would allow her to carry it around her neck, but it didn't look like much. Sharp, yes, and long, but fairly small and light, without flourish or decoration. It looked like an assassin's blade, meant to be hidden and carried with subtlety--and indeed, if she wielded it (or had it examined by one who could tell such things), Hargrave would find that it was Enchanted with Ephemevenom.

@Fahl @Thalassa @Bauxite-T-One @Rajani @Tourmaline @September @Surgis @Hargrave @V-Agate-One @Maw @Tyrin @Wyrm

His fur fluffed for a moment as he lowered his hackles, taking a moment to lick his maw and release some of the stress and tension in his body. This place was making him be constantly on edge, he wanted to make sure Thalassa was good, if only because they were someone who had offered an olive branch for him, so now he wanted to do the same if he could. On top of that, the fucker that glared him down gave him a bad feeling, like he needed to keep an eye out. Maybe they would come across a rickety bridge and they'd fall down or something, that would be amusing.

For now though, he took a deep breath and narrowed his eyes, pushing through the smoke to try and get to the other side, his gaze never faltering from his goal. The next room.

@Thalassa and @V-Agate-One briefly mentioned.

Up from the mire of bones and soot comes a small, lightweight thing that is far easier to carry than her own Iceblade. Yet, Hargrave hesitates to slip it around her own neck quite yet, waiting for that searing warmth to dull down to the same simmer that is making her pant around the hilt in her jaws. Once it does, she turns loose her magic to let it fall around her neck, and focuses more clearly on the new path ahead.

A path which is, at the very least, just a little cooler than the last. Yet, heat has been traded for smoke, and the passage is dark for it. She finds that crouching low does little for avoiding more than the absolute worst of it, so she chooses speed instead.

Steeling her hold on her sword once again, the Grey Hare takes a bounding leap down the slope with a little too much faith in the wings now glittering upon her back. She holds them close to minimize the possibility of either one catching on one of the rocky points, no matter if they are merely an ethereal form. It's an instinctive gesture, akin to flinching when another is struck.

She takes to a harried glide between each major cluster of rocky points, slowing her fall with a few wingbeats so as to not roll her ankles into oblivion, and leaps from those clusters to make a close-winged swoop toward the next until she reaches the bottom; keeping ears open all the while for another perhaps falling past her.

As a person-of-interest, Thalassa attention returned to Rajani often, if only to grade him on his efforts in its head. He was passing - barely. It noted the Agates hostility with some amusement.

But it was far too focused on the path ahead to spare much thought to its compatriots. Instead, it called to its element again, not afraid of doing the same trick twice.

Ohohoho...

Now, this is exactly what he needed.

He snuffled at the axe, taking a beat to examine it, to test if it was as TRULY worthy as it seemed. When it passed the sniff test, its arms reached, stinging claws wrapping around the leather hilt. Yes, he could hold it - he pressed it to his "chest" with both arms, giggling shrilly at the find.

Bauxite skittered ahead, letting his senses guide him through the smoke-wrapped passage. He hoped the next obstacle was something he could hit.

To be away from the fire was a mercy, even if they were still in the larger oven. The pressing heat made Tourmaline pant, as she scampered into the next, darker room.

Thankfully, it wasn't pitch black, illuminated by warm cracks in the walls - but it was impossible to see. Too thick with an acrid smog. Likely toxic with how it stinked of sulfur, on top of the lack of visibility.

She couldn't trust her eyes, here, and she'd have to rely on what else she could figure out. So she tugs her magic again, just as the spell was fading, and wills it snap back into place.

With her eyes closed, she starts onward. She only realizes her magic failed her when she smacks straight into a stalagmite. Coughing and sputtering, her lungs burn, her eyes burn, everything hurts. She needs to go.

All pretenses of carefulness thrown asside, Tourmaline darts across, hoping the next room contained some respite from the pain.