Lapis Ninety-five

Oh, you fool, there are rules, I am coming for you
Darkness brings evil things, oh, the reckoning begins

Lazuli was already running, long legs and longer strides carrying her across the plateau, still holding the neatly clipped feather tightly in her beak. The dead marsh was next; she knew where it lay, and if she kept this up she might be the first one there.

She just had to get there.

However, the blistering heat was, as always, not in her favour. Soon she was forced to slow, heaving panting breaths through her nostrils, her steps growing heavy, shaggy feathering radiating waves of heat. Her throat was dry, but at least the marsh was next.

---

"Speech."
"Thoughts."

The Fossa thrashed aimlessly for a moment, struggling to free himself. But the vulture above him spread its wings wide to steady itself, talons digging in as it struck at him, the Fossa yelping every time his leg or shoulder took his weight.

He found himself stretched out on his side, struggling to lift his head. If he could only just...

The vulture's head drew back, and he had a flash to white, bloodied feathers. No, no! he wouldn't die like Vinnie! He refused! With a strangled cry, he arched and swung his head, the skull on his head ramming into the vulture's stomach. Even through the thick bone he could feel bones give and shatter, the vulture being flung away.

The dog yelped, and then he was falling.

He twisted, struggling to get his paws beneath him. The doberman wasn't a cat, though, and so he struck the ledge on his side with a gasp, laying there stunned as lights danced before his eyes. He wheezed, slowly hauling himself to his paws and shaking his head, stumbling as he gathered his wits.

Speech. Thought.

Asiomona, still grabbed onto the Matriarch, felt a lurch as she lunged forward. She was quickly thrown off by the vulture's sudden movement and she flared her wings, lifting herself up a bit until she was directly above the matriarch. All chaos had erupted, gembounds screeching as the vultures descended on them, smoke rising from...somewhere, and everyone else attacking the matriarch.

She wasn't going to run. She would knock out two things at once. They needed a trophy from the vulture matriarch? She'd take one and end her life at the same time. She had already opened a wound on the back of her neck and she was weakening from the barrage of attacks being hammered down on her. Hopefully, this would work.

She positioned herself so that this one strike would land and then pulled in her wings and dove, pulling in her arms to give her more speed. Just as she approached her target, the thinnest part of the vulture's neck, her jaws opened and clamped around the feathers, her claws throwing forward to grab at whatever part of it she could. Her momentum carried her past and she jerked her head to the side, trying to tear clean the vulture's head from her body in an extremely savage fashion.

"Can you hear their voice?"
"Find the one who'll guide you."
To the limits of your choice.

tags:
notes:

Oh Caves he couldn't see! The dog continued to yelp, running in erratic circles as he shook his head, trying to shake the blood from his eyes. But the deep gashes on his forehead continued to bleed, pouring into his eyes.

So he couldn't dodge the vulture that slammed into his side, sending him reeling with a yelp, he spun, the Will o' the Wisp he had conjured at the beginning of the mess surging forward, burning into the vulture's eye.

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

The Merchant had made it as far as the Crucible, now, and he gazed up at the mesas. High above, the combat was audible, though down here, nothing was visible: but for the sounds of shouting, of screeching and tearing, it might have been almost peaceful.

He ignored Nemean and Astraea both, his demeanor far more dignified and staid than either's. "They must pass... through, soon," he observed. "Though not close. But... it is raining," he pointed out, one clawed hand slowly raising to point skyward.

The Masked Merchant began to make his way to another trail, a half-hidden, steep slope that wandered up the side of another of the plateaus. Eventually, he trudged his way up to the top--and there he turned, facing across a ravine, observing the fight from a distance.

_________

At the other side of the canyon, the battle raged on. The Vulture Matriarch, her last ragged breaths punctuated by hoarse screeching, was frantically chasing Agate Two-Three-Six. And Quartz Eight-Six-Zero had been struck as he lunged for her--one of her many children tearing at him. He had been saved only by the surprising interference of the tiny lizard Amazon, her courage (and volume) more than making up for her size: the vulture dove for her, but its talons ripped fruitlessly over bare rock.

None of their situations would be helped by the smoke now billowing across the mesa from Garnet Five-Seven-Nine's magic, though the rain now pattering down from Shango--though little more than a thin and windy drizzle in this dry cave--was helping to dampen it, somewhat. Reseda had avoided any severe damage with quick reflexes and quicker thinking, it seemed, though Labradorite, after having attacked her, had turned away--only to be raked over by another Eyehook child's talons. He was saved only by Desert Rose's attack in his defense, that vulture dropping dead with its neck snapped neatly to one side. Another of the children had gone for Mayngo, but the fossa had turned with desperate strength, and his vulture crashed to the ground with shattered skull and twisted neck, its wings beating feebly as it breathed its last. A final child--the last among them to dare attack as their mother faced her death--was tearing at Yoosung; the Wisp hurtled into its eye, that blue fire igniting half its face, and with a horrible, echoing screech it let go and lifted back away, its ragged, uneven flight carrying it down past the ledge and out of sight.

Lapis Ninety-Five, beyond many of them, had tried to flee--but the heat was wearing her down, it seemed. The dog Styx had saved itself, if barely, tumbling down only onto a slightly-lower ledge, but he was likely to be dazed, at best.

The Matriarch turned, Imp's jaws fastened behind her neck, thrashing and flailing as Agate continued to (barely) evade her. Quartz Five-Two-Four had rushed for her, as well, only to be assaulted by another of her desperate, vicious children. Below, Opal was laying a track of slime, though those atop her didn't seem to much require it: the white dragon Asimona had caught back up to the Matriarch after her prior slash, her jaws locking around its neck and twisting. After a moment, the head tore--and the vulture's wings faltered, and she started plummeting to the earth. Her final deafening screech turned into a choking gurgle as her head at last gave way, mere thin strips of bloodied flesh holding it in Asimona's jaws.

Headless, the vulture crashed into the rock below, sliding over the slime and nearly off the ledge.

There the massive body lay, still and lifeless: and her children rose, their chorus of mournful, rage-filled shrieks filling the sky. They did not dare attack further--not yet--but it was clear that it would not be wise to linger too long. The single Eyehook still pursuing Amazon peeled away with a final shriek, lifting high into the sky and circling... watching her.

The smoke kept a low cloud over half the mesa, and the drizzling rain was beginning to run over the ledge's side in thin rivulets.

_________

INTERLUDE

The next leg of the journey will be well-known to previous Champions of Hydra: it will take the Gembound back down into the canyons, through the labyrinthian honeycomb of spires and narrow passageways until at last the desert opens into the Dead Marsh.

For now, however, the Gembound have a moment to catch their breath and take a trophy (no rolls required). They may also attempt one other action (roll required): to aid or sabotage any other Gembound nearby them, or cast any spells they see fit, or attempt first aid on themselves if they have a method to do so, or attempt to move ahead.

Of gembound attempting to move ahead into First Place, however, Garnet Five-Seven-Nine is the only one who does not need to roll to do so. Anyone else attempting to follow Garnet into the smoke cloud will need to roll to succeed; a failure will result in smoke inhalation, with wheezing, coughing and dizziness that may last for several rounds. Anyone attempting to move forward into any other placement may roll to do so with no consequence for a failure. Gembound do not need to roll to move backwards in placement.

Gembound who are attacked in a Sabotage attempt may post more than once: once to take an action of their choice, and again to roll to defend themselves. If attacked by multiple enemies, they may post to roll a defense for each attack.

A Critical Fail on this roll will result in a severe wound from one of the vultures, or from a fall.

Please post & roll only once.

Click to view current placement rankings.

1. Yoosung, Reseda, Garnet Five-Seven-Nine (moving ahead), Desert Rose Thirty-Five, Labradorite Five-Four-Six, Opal Three-Seven-Six
2. Shango, Amazon, Quartz Eight-Six-Zero, Lapis Ninety-Five
3. Quartz Five-Two-Four, Asimona, Imp, Agate Two-Three-Six, Styx
4. Mayngo

@Yoosung @Amazon @Shango @Opal Three-Seven-Six @Quartz Eight-Six-Zero @Labradorite Five-Four-Six @Agate Two-Three-Six @Desert Rose Thirty-Five @Lapis Ninety-Five

Vargas was silent at this momentous news, pacing along behind Hag'rteho with long, easy strides. The ground was still hot underfoot, but a light rain--centered over the plateau nearby--was providing welcome relief. As he crested the rise and turned to watch the ongoing fight, he at last spoke again to Astraea.

"...Replaced why?"

He supposed it did not matter too much--if it was as Astraea said, and they were still appearing, then he could still continue his cull.

Vargas leaned back, some, sparing a sidelong glance at the stag with three of his horn-perched eyes--then leaned the other way, lifting the bladed edges of his left arm to scratch at an itch along his neck. As he lowered that arm back down, he heard the death-wail of the Matriarch across the canyon, and peered into the rain- and smoke-hazed distance.

"None of them died," he observed, tone indifferent. "Though it seems we have alliances forming. Several of them have fire," he added, with satisfaction now in his tone. The "Imp," the dragon perhaps, the old champion with garnet--and a few others; they showed promise.

@Game Master CJ

The great lizard watched indifferently as the matriarch stilled, the white dragon tearing off her head and the rest of the vultures giving terrified crows as they lifted back up into the sky. What everyone else was doing was irrelevant. She now had the choice...move ahead while they were licking their wounds or retaliate against the fool that had tried to attack her?

Considering that their way was barred by smoke, although the rain was doing some work on that, she decided now would be the time to do it. Everyone was distracted. Her target was wounded. She needed to wait, anyways, for the smoke to clear. Her eyes flicked briefly to the fox and, without turning her body to face them, sent magic their way, intending on picking them up and throwing them far off the cliff.

Imp was at first a bit disappointed that the Matriarch's head had been torn away (and a little shocked at it being done less than a foot from his face out of nowhere). But he realized quickly that it was huge, far too large for him to carry.

When she hit the ground--sliding along the slime patch--he bounced and rolled, though he didn't let go--and when the still-warm body finally came to a stop (though it's not like anything's gonna go cold out here) he at last let go. With a triumphant grin on his face--or maybe it was just the constant alligator upturn of his jaws--he hop-galloped over to where her legs were splayed to either side of her black-feathered body.

He seized a foot in his jaws, and rolled--a gator's death roll, taught to him by his father--and came away with one long, taloned toe. CAVES that thing is long. And hooked. And sharp...

Imp, after admiring it for a long moment, then turned with head held high and regarded all the rest.

Nobody seemed to have died, at least--and there was smoke, which was bad, and rain, which seemed good? Time, it seemed, to then go.

Imp turned, gallop-hopping to the mesa's edge--where he paused, drawing up to a sudden halt. There, across the distance of the entirety of the ravine, on the far plateau, he could see figures: the Masked Merchant, was that a stag?, and a huge, hulking, purple-pink thing covered in spikes that he really wanted nothing to do with.

Nemean, luckily for him, was far too small to see from here, assuming she was even up there at all.

Imp spat out the taloned toe, for just a moment.

"Hey, guys!" he called back behind him--and ahead--to the other Gembound around. "That hooded guy's over there! With a... A big thing. You guys uhh... You think that's part of the trial?"

He eyed the distant form of Vargas for a moment, then shrugged to himself, picked up the talon trophy, and made to launch himself off the cliff to head off after the little, smoke-spewing turtle-thing. Of course, he had a lot of others to catch up with first.

With a sickening crunch, Asimona bit down harder and harder until the weight suddenly dropped and a tearing noise released the vulture's head from her body. The taste of blood filled her mouth and splattered over her muzzle, turning white to a deep red. She flared open her wings to stop her descent, clutching onto the matriarch's head for dear life. She set herself back onto the ground and observed the giant vulture's now still form. She was in a little bit of shock, the adrenaline still pumping through her veins, still on edge that she was supposed to fight something, that there was still an enemy nearby.

But it was over. The matriarch was dead and Asimona held her head in her jaws. She'd done it. She breathed heavily and finally dropped the giant avian head, its eyes rolling up into its skull. She turned to look for Ru and the cockatrice, to make sure they were unharmed. "Hey," she gasped. "Is everyone okay?"

Asimona glanced back at Imp's call and laid her eyes on the ones following behind. She only recognized the Merchant. The other two, the thing and the deer she had never seen before. Thankfully, she didn't see Nemean sitting in Astraea's antlers - if she had, perhaps she would have confronted them. "I'm not sure. Perhaps they are just watching us." She pulled her attention away, trying to push the foreboding to the edge of her mind and instead focused on surveying the injured.

There were some wounds, but as far as Asimona could see, none of them were life-threatening. She sighed with relief and stepped towards the matriarch, plucking one of her feathers and shoving it in the crevice between her head and horn. It tickled the side of her head, but it would keep it secure as her trophy in case she had to abandon the head. Also, it looked nice.

She leaned down and picked up the head in her jaws and continued on, looking around to make sure that Ru and the cockatrice were following along.

"Can you hear their voice?"
"Find the one who'll guide you."
To the limits of your choice.

tags:
notes: