Shango, wisps still orbitting him, staggered up onto the mesa proper. His scalefeathered tail flicked, his head and ears held low at all of the screeching all around him.

The air was full of enemies.

For Shango--bringer of storms--there was an easy solution for that. His magicka gathered, and he concentrated, the air taking on an oppressive quality--and then there was a blinding flash of light followed by a deafening CRACK.

"STOOOOOOOOOOOOORM," he yowled, tail now lashing behind him.

Lightning began to strike, here and there, keeping the vultures hopefully somewhat at bay--though his intent was to also strike the Matriarch.

The storm, of course, wasn't so easily controlled--he had no way of forcing it to hit one target--but he didn't mind that. A storm was a storm.

And storms were good.

Ru is puzzled by Asimona's question. Name or number? "Quartz Five-Two-Four is my name, Asimona. It's what I am." It says. The words come out slow, as if the question has thrown him off. It pauses. "But I am called Ru sometimes."

It barks out a short, humorless laugh. "There are always worse things ahead in Hydra." Even now, as it's memories came back with each area, slowly and foggily, it knew there was nothing pleasant anywhere within this wasteland.

Ru hummed with the information it gleaned off the question. The horns were valuable to the dragon. High self esteem, confident, sure of itself. A good ally. Yet confidence alone did not ensure survival. But it does not regret it's choice.

"Be careful." It says, watching Asimona fly from it's precarious perch on the plateau. And then it hears another gembound shouting at it, voice familiar. A champion? It thinks, bewildered that a champion, not fresh like any of these newborn gembound, would be willing to help it. It turns to face it, and strides along the path it had pointed out.

"You'd assist me, Agate?" It says, trying and failing to keep the shock from it's voice. It was much more used to being the one to start alliances, not the other way around. He quickly categorized the Agate as a wildcard, one to ally with for now, but keep it's eye on. Who knew how long this goodwill would last for.

Upon reaching the top, it jolts in panic at a surge of lightning. The sky flashes with bright sparks. This would not do. It's then that Ru spots it, a black blur in the sky, larger than any other vulture. The matriach. It concentrates it's magicka, willing the atmosphere to collapse on her wings. It's difficult- the matriarch is constantly moving, but at last he has her, and she crashes to the plateau, wings held down.

"Its wings are immoblile! Strike it now!"

The scent of blood was strong on the air, and Yoosung struggled to his paws as the vultures shot into the air, squawking so loudly he cowered in fear and flattened his ears, tucking his tail and... yeah, he pissed himself as he began to squeal, running from the massive shadow of the vulture.

But they needed a trophy, and so he balked before he could bolt fully away, scuttling still with his tail tucked and haunches lowered, only to leap up with a serious of terrified yips as it began to thunder, lightning striking the ground. One of the older Champions was holding down the massive vulture, he saw out of the corner of the eye, and so he bolted towards her, still yipping, only to be intercepted by one of the other vultures.

It shrieked, and then he screamed as its talons raked across his head, sending him reeling, running and squealing and shaking his head as he tried to see through the blood, unable to see where he was running or where he was going.

I've been on a lonely tripdragging along a lonely shadow

Well, shit.

Styx stood for a moment, observing the flock of vultures as they took to the sky, trying to figure out how best to deal with the situation. Already, some of the others were fighting, the lizard pulling a feather free with her magic before fleeing, the other dog running in blind terror--he furrowed his brow, and shook his head at the mutts foolishness--but then one of the Champions pinned the Vulture Matriarch to the ground, and Styx made his move.

He loped forward, pinning his ears down to keep them from being grabbed if an errant vulture dove for him, peeling his lips back to bare his fangs, aiming to lunge in and out. There was a wing near him, and if he could get his teeth into the very tip, he could tear out a bite-sized piece, sink in his fangs and shatter bone and rip, pull it away before darting clear, tucking it to safety before stepping back to help.

But, well, that didn't happen.

He didn't really see if she pulled her wing from the Champion's grip, or if she had just enough of it free to thrash it, but suddenly there was a strong thwack against his side, the world dissolving into a wall of feathers, and he yelped as his paws left the ground. Styx flew one feet... five... and then he was plummeting clear over the edge. He twisted, attempting to get his paws beneath him, knowing that he would likely break something upon striking the ground.

Speech. Thought.

It should be noted that Labradorite Five-Four-Six had absolutely no intentions of helping the fight. He stood on the outskirts-- not completely safe, but letting those ahead go in first --and for a moment, waited. He took a look around, and picked out what he deemed to be the easiest target.

A hefty lizard-- perhaps larger than he was, but in no way larger than the dragon --was stood doing.. nothing. Casting magic, perhaps-- he never cared to tell, but Five-Four-Six had full intentions of casting magic of his own. He shook his fur out briefly and began to quietly concentrate.

The super-heated bile rising up his throat was, at first, a shock. He forgot the searing heat burning him from the inside-out, causing him to retch and gag for a moment. His body jerked and heaved painfully until the white-hot liquid was spilling out of his maw.

Loudly, he spat. A huge globule of the bile came tumbling out of his throat and spilled out onto the lower back-- close to the base of the tail --of the motionless komodo dragon. Half-not wanting to stick around to be attacked in return, half-needing a moment to recover, Labradorite Five-Four-Six took a few steps of distance away from Reseda to let her stew in the bile.

Labradorite Five-Four-Six is attacking Reseda.

DESERT ROSE THIRTY-FIVE
here's to my yesterday

Desert Rose Thirty-Five could feel his mane whipping in the wind as they were so high up. He was quick to perceive the shadow come over the group. She was here.

The dragon turned his eye, giving a pinpointed glare to Agate Two-Three-Six. He had thought to say something but was a bit too preoccupied peering over the cliff the watch as the Matriarch picked off the weak. Thirty-Five’s scales rose defensively as he stared wide-eyed. She was quick to work.

As the matriarch was distracted for the time being, Thirty-Five rolled his head to face the cockatrice, dry, needlepoint teeth glinting in the sun as he spoke. “Why’re you helping them?” He hissed, ears pinned his head and eyes narrowed. His long tail whipped as he turned to the side, putting his wing between himself and the cockatrice. “You’re wasting energy helping them. They don’t belong here, we aren’t their parents.” Thirty-Five gestured with an indifferent claw to the injured Asimona carrying up a bloody Mayngo. “You wanna end up like them?” The dragon peered down at his blunt claws as his rough voice continued, his scales flaring up even more.

They were smarter than this. The champions must know of the betrayal they’ve all witnessed, or even been a part of. Hell, it’s how Thirty-Five made it through his first trial, and wasn’t something he wasn’t against for in this one. It was better to not worry about the young ones- besides, they were the main group who ended up dying. The champions could hold out on their own, just as they had before.

No matter. They had bigger problems on their paws. Or, rather- one big-ass vulture.

Thirty-Five reared as she landed, his attention snapping to her in disgust. His large, twelve-foot wingspan was utterly dwarfed by her, easily compared as he shot them out and flapped them in effort to make himself look more intimidating.

Looks like they’re doing this.

The dragon’s scales laid almost perpendicular to his skin as he snarled and lunged forward, leaping over the heads of those already swarming towards the beast. Magic blasted around each player as Thirty-Five wormed through and swiped at the vulture, attempting to take a chunk of feathers from her backside.

Success! With his heart beating in his ears, Thirty-Five was quick to take off, quickly putting the feather in the cheek of his mouth so nobody could take it from his claws. He was gone and out, already headed towards the salt flats, ready to leave the battle behind him, tightly holding onto his disgusting prize with his teeth.

Desert Rose Thirty-Five is taking a trophy and fleeing

The Fossa cried out in pain as he was suddenly caught, finding his descent rapidly cut short. His shoulder wrenched, and it hurt, the gashes down his back tugging apart and spreading wider.

When he was set down, he sprawled out for a moment, only taking a moment to wheeze "Thanks,", before attempting to push himelf to his feet. But the moment he put weight on his left foreleg, white-hot pain raced through him, and he cried out, crumpling back to the ground, vision going white.

He panted, wheezing loudly in his skull, before slowly clambering to his feet again as his vision came back, the sounds of shrieking and squawking drawing his attention. They were fighting a massive vulture, and a number of much smaller ones, and he had to get in and get out so he could lick his wounds and his injured pride.

He lurched forward slowly and carefully, making sure not to put weight on his injured foreleg. But even still, it hurt, the wounds on his back throbbing, each step shifting his shoulder and agitating it. So he was too slow to dodge as another vulture struck him, and they went down in a tangle of limbs and blood and feathers, the Fossa screaming in pain as his shoulder and leg took a great deal of his weight.

Imp was still pretty shaken, but at the same time, quite invigorated. Adrenaline was spiking through him.

He'd ridden the fuckin' bitch! He let out a short, screeching roar, and started to lift himself skyward oh NO OH FUCK that's LIGHTNING--and immediately dropped himself down again, cowering from the sudden storm. He wasn't that good at soaring flight, anyway, and after staring up at the scything hook-talons and the piercing hook-beak, Imp came to a conclusion, anyway.

He did not wanna take this thing head-on.

That being said, she was suddenly not moving--seemingly slow in her movements, as if half-frozen. Magic? He half-glanced quickly around, but all was far too chaotic for him to tell who might be doing what.

He looked at the vulture again. Half of him--no, most of him--was tempted to just grab a feather and run. That's what Imp was about--impish mischief, stealing, and all that--but there was something else surfacing in him now.

It was the fiery determination of his father, perhaps--but in it, too, was the realization that he could do even more mischief by really messing this vulture up.

He crawl-waddled with surprising speed around to get behind her--then ran up from beneath, snapping alligator-like jaws for the underside of the Matriarch's belly.

Maybe he could tear her open! Disembowel her! He wanted battle--he wanted glory--and he wanted to win, more than he'd ever done so before. Fire burned in his eyes.

...Metaphorically, of course.

To her dismay, the giant vulture swooped overhead again. Amazon looked around, trying to find a place to hide so it could not catch up, but she realized, as she looked over the landscape before her, that there was nowhere to hide. Everywhere, there were nests and vultures, screaming and screeching and the biggest one of all landed right in the middle.

At first, Amazon was at a loss of what she could do. She could not fight, she was not physically strong nor magically strong - she was fast and agile and small, none of which would help her in this situation.

But then those around her began to fight back. Storms raged, magic was hurled, some of them even leaped forward with gusto to attack the giant bird. Already, the matriarch was held down by a number of different gembounds and that's where Amazon saw her chance.

She wished very much that she could help them take her down, but there wasn't anything she could do but try to survive. So she sprinted forward, as fast as her tiny legs could carry her, and, just as she reached the vulture, leaped, snagged a small feather from her side, and landed next to her. "Thank you," she squeaked to the champion that had called for them to strike as she scuttled away, diving underneath the safety of a small rock that would give her cover for now while she planned her next move.

Amazon is grabbing a feather and hiding

BLACK OPAL
now is the climax the story that gives the demons and angels purpose

The piercing screeches and flurry of black wings sent Black Opal back into his fragmented memories. "Ah, Matriarch," He rasped. "We meet again."

His eyestalk caught movement off to the side, the giant lizard had already made off with a trophy. The Opal thought to steal it from her, but Labradorite had already beaten him to it. Too much competition there. He'd have to make due with either stealing one from her or helping the others kill it. Ganging up on the Matriarch and sharing the spoils seemed to have worked well in the past, according to his memory. On the other hand, the last battle he had with her predecessors cost him his eyestalk.

He made up his mind.

Belly low to the ground he stalked around the giant vulture, his third eye watching for potential dive-bombers. Then, he saw his opening. Someone had restrained her. Without wasting a moment, Opal rushed forward, summoning magic from his tail. Fins flared, he focus all his energy on drawing as much water from her as possible, weakening her. His markings sparked excitedly. Just a little more and she'll be a husk!

Suddenly, his eye stalk caught a black shadow streaking towards him from behind. It was a vulture, claws splayed, with blood in its eyes. He narrowly leapt out of the way. Its talons nicked the fin on his back. Too close! Opal hissed in frustration. The attack irrupted his spell. He braced himself, just incase it tried again, but the "Stoooorm!" gembound's lighting at scared it away. The Black Opal retreated back, just incase the Matriarch broke free. He did not to be the subject of her wrath.