m for fisher's continued potty mouth

Fisher burrowed down into Wynter's thick wool as the sheep-deer freaked out, bolting forward into the blizzard. He took this moment to chill out, as seemed the most sensible thing to do, trying to keep his ears open for any potential threats moving forward.

There was a screech behind him however, and the sound of commotion as someone was definitely attacked. With a hiss, he yanked on some of his steed's wool. "Shit, hang on! What if someone's hurt?" He didn't give Wynter time to turn around, tossing himself off the side of the hybrid and bounding down into the thick white snow.

"Is everyone alright?!" He called, catching whiffs of blood in the air. It seemed like one of them-- one of the rooster-things-- had sunk some talons into the flying beasty that had attacked. "Fuck, that was close. There's more of them, you said?" He bristled, squinting at the vague shape of the other hoof beasts through the snow storm.

Wynter felt the tug on his back, and through the howling wind and blood rushing in his ears, he knew that the dark fuzzy noodle was yelling at him. But there was also screaming, and he was definitely whipped up into a panic. It wasn't until he felt the weight of the fisher fall off of him that he skid to a stop, panting, and he swiveled his head back to the group.

They were being attacked... And he was running away? He had spent so many cycles living a peaceful life, and ever since hatching he had wanted to be a hero-- and now here, in the Trial, being tested for the first time... Was he a coward?

The thought sent a shiver down his spine. No, he banished the thought. No more running. What if they need me? His hooves felt frozen to the snow-covered earth, but he tried to steel himself. He could do this.

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

It was strange, how weakened the Eyehook was--how easily it fell. A few shards of flying glass, the tearing talons of Kalama--that was all it took. It stuttered in the air, and fell, twitching and shaking with the cold. Glazed eyes froze, cloudy, in the few seconds of bitter cold exposure.

And then... even stranger; how quickly did it decay. It did not take the typical few minutes; instead, skin and muscle and organ swiftly melted into thick, black goop. Its body sank with a hissing sound into the snow... yet in the center of the remaining, formless mass, lay something shining silver.

Upon closer inspection, it appeared to be a key: a skeleton key several inches long, with a strange set of glyphs inscribed upon it. These glyphs appeared to depict a ravine, protected by canyon walls. Within this was a stylized cave entrance, with a keyhole at its center.

A quiet rumble from behind the group sent the faintest tremor through the ground; the sense of being watched had not faded.

_________

The Gembounds have discovered The Key.

Placements are now in effect. They may be reset at any time--however, Gembound may only sabotage or aid those in their location.

Gembound must roll to not become lost in the blizzard. Those who succeed may attempt to aid those who fail. Gembound must clarify beneath their post whether they are staying with the group, or moving ahead.

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

His wing-flaps stuttered as he got back into his rhythm, eyes squinting against the wind and cold. Others seemed to throw themselves at the vulture. Dark shapes moved in the white under him, and his teeth clattered and he breathed out before pressing on ahead. He had no time to worry about those under him.

The agate's voice caught him. "I'm fine!" His voice called out. There was no way for him to know if he was loud enough, but... Hopefully.

It was touching that the champion cared, at least. Surging ahead, he tried his best to follow the wake and use his previous knowledge of Hydra to navigate to the Crucible, unaware of a certain key that had dropped from his assailant.

[Desert will be moving ahead.]

“

it fricken WIMDY

···

The little fox winced at the fighting. She wasn't one to be afraid often, but with the wind howling in her ears, her senses were overloaded enough to drive her into near shutdown, simply intent on following with the herd. After all, this was the safest, right?

When she looked to the vulture, dying in place and quickly being consumed by ink and snow, the brief sparkle caught her eye. Something was there. Something valuable? Shuddering off the cold, Null broke away for a brief moment to sniff down at it before moving to pick it up in her mouth, eyes shut as white already begun to blanket on her fur.

The wind wasn't easy to contend with. She was nearly bowled over several times over, and when she finally did grab the thing, she mouth locked up in the taste and cold that shocked her tongue. Wheezes of precious hot air warmed it up, but she could feel tears crystallizing at the corners of her eyes. The cold hurt, and- her tongue was STUCK to the metal.

That would hurt when she took it off. Shuddering, she shoved back to the group, looking to press herself into whoever was the closest being she could find.

[Null will be staying with the group.]

The bison wasn't interested in spending her time staring down at a decaying mass of goop. It was, quite frankly, disgusting and the most aesthetically displeasing thing to look at. Her big muzzle turned up, flat teeth baring in a horrifying grimace as she turned away. Someone else could get into that mess and find whatever important Quest-related Item was in there.

Virgil was more focused on keeping the group shuffling, anyways. She paused for a moment in her trudging, bellowing again downwind: "c'mon gang! Let's get to that shelter Whatshisface was talkin' about!" She pressed onwards, icy eyes fixated dead ahead where she'd been facing before (or so she hoped.) You can't get lost if you just go in a straight line and plow a path for the little guys, right?

virgil'll be staying with the group!

Vinea's not doing much except for being Vinea and staring longingly as a silver fox hops into the rapidly-decaying mass of Eyehook before he does. As she emerged with a silver key in her mouth, the hybrid felt a distinct sense of Caves, I wish that were me. It's a bit of a selfish asshole move, but he sincerely hoped that she'd find some reason to give up the key so that he could snatch it up and do whatever's necessary with it.

So, in a creepy-stalker way, the hybrid skulked behind Null, keeping a strangely small amount of distance between them.

vinea'll be staying with the group!

Hargrave is also being herself in the sense that she continued to be generally nonverbal and interacting with no one but Null. Golden eyes watched as the fox returned with some gleaming silver thing in her mouth that they could investigate later - maybe in the comfort of a place without blustering winds and misery. She already felt like her paws were completely numb, and the dull thrum of magicka flowing through her skull was getting to be miserable.

She could only cast so much as she stuck close to the vulpine's side and panted excessively, trying to dispel as much superheated breath as possible onto her own legs and Null. Hargrave knew she could take a whole bunch of snow crashing into her face, but the cold was mind-numbing.

hargrave'll be staying with the group!

Imp's head lifted, pressed into the howling, bitter cold wind. He flinched against the flecks of ice and snow pelting his face, his large ears giving off way too much heat for comfort. But Virgil beneath him was woolly and warm, and he pushed aside his discomfort (in a rare show of maturity), and rather than loudly complain, he fought to use his magic.

He'd been here before. To Hydra. For all his jokes, he was fierce, determined to survive, to prove himself--to spite Nemean and Vargas--and he knew full well that he wouldn't get a free ride. Hell, the big thing under him might die, too. So he did as promised, trying to cast out his senses to keep track of the others. He couldn't tell how bad the storm was, aside from "bad;" he had no real way of knowing just how blinding it actually was. Or how ironic that his removed sense was the only one useless out here.

But-...

Imp hesitated. To their right, moving, was a mass of warm bodies. And-... everywhere else... there were other moving bodies. But--lower down?

This left him puzzled... he'd forgotten the sand worms, really, and now couldn't distinguish one from the other.

"Oh, shit," he breathed, aloud.

Ivory peered closely at the key, snuffling and blinking, until it was picked up and spirited away. The dark fox wasn't hard to see in the white, at least until she lost herself in the larger group, and Ivory turned, trying to find her.

"Hey--what was that?" she demanded.

But they were moving, now, and with a huff, she lurched into motion after them. A glance behind told her that the others might have more trouble than she--they were smaller, shorter. They might even be lost. And so she lowered herself, doing her best to not only traverse the landscape, but to sweep a broad swathe of trampled, pushed-aside snow for the rest to follow. At least they'd have an easier time, then.

"FOLLOW BEHIND ME IF YOU CAN. But--also tell me where we're going..."

Ivory will be staying with the group.