Ivory plowed onward, the snow spraying up to either side of her shuffling, galloping passage. Steam plumed from her nostrils. She didn't know what they were running from, but she sensed that it wouldn't be anything good. The world around them seemed somehow quieter, ominously so--muffled--as if waiting for something.

As if watching them.

Every now and then one of her white wings splayed out, slightly, to help balance her when she stumbled. And she kept an eye on, always--and hung close to--Shida. Whatever happened, they had to stick together.

m for fisher's potty mouth

Fisher had seen a lot of large motherfuckers in his modest, noodly life.

The thing that was coming from them? It was infinite, compared to their measely group. It was bigger than Raheerah, the gnarliest dragon to ever cuck him in his entire life. He had managed to chase off that sonnuva bitch with about... three, maybe four times as many gembounds, in much more ideal conditions.

So to say they were screwed was an understatement. The noodle froze. "... hooooly shit," he whispered.

And then he began to screech. "Y'ALL!! WE GOTTA GO! WE GOTTA GO, NOW! IT'S BELOW US WE GOTTA GO!" If that wasn't enough to get the message across, well, he knew one way to get everyone's attention.

There was a massive *crack* as the air split with a thunderclap, and the fisher noodle yelled as loud as he could, nearly straining his damn neck. "SCATTER!" He slapped his mighty steed (which was a bit rude to Wynter, frankly) "Go go go! Run! Everybody, RUN!" Sure, everyone had felt how uneasy the tension in the air was, but most folk were still just pacing about in the snow.

Did they not realize that the ground was about to open up and swallow them all whole? Damn! They were all going to fucking DIE!

Right now, the most sensible course of action seemed to be sticking with everyone else. The atmosphere was tense, but that was to be expected giving the worsening storm and the sense of impending doom. At least they had someone who knew the area; Wynter gave a respectful nod to Warrior, agreeing with the others. Let him lead the way. A local was invaluable, and would almost certainly know where the safest shelter would be.

He stuck close to the others at an alternating trot-gallop through the heavy snow, glad for his long legs and deft hooves. At least until the hitchhiking noodle on his back started to screech, and then the winter storm let out a horrible crash.

Wynter trusted his fellow gembound, but instinct was instinct. The deer-sheep spooked, and began to bolt and full peel ahead, completely freaked by the sudden sound and the insistent screeching of the fuzzy noodle on his butt. Hard to blame a guy, all things considered, panic spread like wildfire even in completely normal, not life-threatening conditions.

WYNTER HASIRA
Like walking in the rain and the snow
When there's nowhere to go
And you're feelin' like a part of you is dying

Gatto tilted their head as Desert Rose spoke, taking in the information a bit greedily. After all, any bit of knowledge could be helpful going forward. The information about Opal made their feathers ruffle, not that they commented on it. "Yeah, I thought... Is that what Garnet is going by? Hemlocke?" They nearly mentioned the last time they spoke, but remembered in time that they were pretending that had never happened. Oof.

"What's there to be surprised about? Only a couple died last time," they squawked, "this is a chance to prove themselves, whether for their own merit or for their friends, or the Masters. Whatever the reason, a challenge is a challenge. You wouldn't back down from a challenge, would you?"

They made no comment on what they would do just yet, but considering that everyone else was starting to head off to the Cruicible, they gestured with a wave of their wing. "You'll do fine! We're Champions," they reminded him with a clack of their mandibles-- and besides, he was looking fluffier than last time, wasn't he?

"How about I race you to the Crucible?" They sneered tauntingly, though it seemed in rather good spirits, all things considered. They started off in the snow, with a bit of alarm as one of the other gembound began to squeal about something under them. Flying did not seem like a great idea to do for too long, but it seemed preferable than being a sitting duck in the snow, so they spread their wings and took flight in the blistering cold. At least they had feathers, rather than leather.

@Desert Rose Thirty-Five

Desert's body grew tense as they talked, nodding. "Hemlocke is the garnet," he confirmed, first.

He tried not to bare his teeth at Warrior's words. Who would live here? Did they- They surely could not have hatched here, right? He caught Palefur's eye and gave her a hard nod, trying to shove the horse's words to the back of his mind. The Sentinels would prove their worth today, and he had his eye on her to see how she'd perform.

Only a couple have died. "Surely you've been involved with more deaths before, right?" He shook his head. "Then again, these recent designs are proving rather resilient." He was dancing from one foot to the other, swaying softly as he considered the tension in the air. "And ambitious. But- If I knew I'd die from an optional challenge, I'd prefer to not take it without good cause."

The agate's words stirred that age-old eagerness to live within him. He needed to stop being so depressing, stop being so negative. He was going to survive. They were Champions, caves-damn it.

A grin was tossed in turn to the cockatrice. "Let's go," he rumbled. This was more like it, this rivalry, this feeling of being alive. As long as it wasn't going to be his last feeling, he'd let it carry him right to the finish line.

Flying would keep him warm, keep him off the snow and bring him closer to the lights, to the hot air near the roof of the cave. Curling like a coiled spring, Desert took two bounds and leaped to the air, wide wings charging his body up. He had mind to pull and tug at magic to carry him- and Agate, in truth, as even if this was a race, there weren't many Champions left. Let them both live.

He wasn't surprised when it failed, and so he surged on, aiming towards the Crucible with the rest of the pack.

As the group slipped ahead into the blizzard, it became quickly clear that finding the Crucible--or anywhere else, for that matter--wouldn't be as easy as all that. Physical visibility was nothing, the biting cold winds sending sheets of blinding white to wrap them.

The sense of being followed, being watched, of something so large it was nearly everywhere pursuing, was strong. It was a lurking, ominous feeling, and every now and then the ground behind them trembled. It did not bode well for those who might fall behind... or become lost. Gembound would need to choose their actions carefully.

There was a shriek, then, from ahead: muffled by the storm and savage. What plummeted into them was an Eyehook vulture, moving raggedly, its form half-frozen by ice and its wings stiff. It arced for Desert Rose, aiming talons for his face--but it seemed driven, somehow, half-mad with the cold, and entirely alone. How strange...

__________

Desert Rose must roll to defend himself against the Eyehook Vulture, or risk losing one or both eyes! Any other Gembound may roll to attack it, or to defend him, though those defending and failing risk losing eyes as well.

@Desert Rose Thirty-Five (Null) @Imp (Ivory, Warrior) @Agate Two-Three-Six (Wynter, Fisher) @Virgil (Vinea, Hargrave) @Shida (Palefur, Lyra, Oleander) @Kalama

As visibility grew worse, Desert put the charging part of the race behind him and lowered himself down to be able to keep his eyes on the forms of the group against the white. He was cold; his mane didn't help with its lack of fluffy undercoat. His teeth clattered already and he could feel his wings going stiff.

He barely had time to react to the vulture. A clipped yelp escaped him as it drew close. It was coming from ahead- from the vulture's nest. The Crucible- was it truly the safest?

He didn't have time to think, instead growling as he dove down for the sands looking to dodge out of the way and surge around it, risking flying too far ahead in turn.

With the way it was flying, in stuttered wing-flaps, it looked like the cold was affecting it, too.

He saw it only at the last instant, a dark shape sweeping out of the white ahead.

"VULTURE!" he cried in warning, too late, as it dove for Desert Rose.

Warrior was too frightened to notice, right away, the Eyehook's strange flight pattern, the odd and jerky movements of its half-frozen body. Instead he wheeled, and reared, coming up with his gemstone horn pointed for the bird, his front half risen off the ground and his forelegs tucked beneath his chest. There was a flash of magic at his horn--a brief, gold-red glow--and some of the sand beneath the snow rose up, formed into glass shards, pelting for the bird. There weren't many of them, and Warrior didn't put too much more strength into it for fear of hitting those around him.

Only now did he realize that something was wrong with the vulture. "I don't know why it's attacking! The others have been sleeping, all curled up together! It's too cold for this," he called to the rest, confused. And again, that strange, indistinct warning in his mind: Something isn't right.

"Completely different, yeah--"

Ivory damn near jumped out of her skin at Fisher's explosive rending of the air, his magic sending her into a rearing, snorting bound and a forward gallop. Only after a few dozen paces of snow-plowing hoofbeats did she slow, glancing behind her with widened eyes.

And then came the shriek, from the front. There was a tussle, a flapping frozen something diving at one of the Gembound, and Ivory thrust forward in a second charge, her horns dropping and then shoving upward in a sharp arc. She aimed to strike it, possibly even stab it with her snout-horns, to drive it away from Desert Rose.

No sooner had she done so than the glass shards spun past her through the air, far too close for comfort. She sprang away, heavy body stumbling, and bellowed at Warrior.

"BE CAREFUL!" she bawled.

Imp bit back a yelp and clung for life as Vigil thundered into motion. He reached out his magic, and found a grand total of nothing: his magic non-responsive, not even a flash of red, as the Eyehook swept in for the attack.

Imp, oblivious, had twisted his claws as best he could into the bison's woolly fur and was puzzling over Kalama's shouting--and, of course, taking terrible (and slightly nonsensical) offense.

"Just grow some more? Just GROW SOME MORE?!" he cried, and then paused--"-Can I do that?" Oh, false hope, how bittersweet.

'No you are fuck, Imp!'"No, YOU'RE--what?"

Confusion gave him pause, and then Kalama was talking to someone else. Everyone was feeling weird, apparently, but Imp couldn't sense anything at all.