Warrior offered Oleander a gentle touch, stepping back with immense relief, and turned back to his other friends. Quentin and Mirage he gave brief, friendly nuzzles, half-distracted, after offering his information and advice. He then stepped forward to survey the damage, and to inspect the puzzle and its door.

"I don't remember that being here," he murmured, glancing back at the pair for confirmation. It was right near their den, after all. Some of the others were bleeding--Virgil badly, he noted with dismay--and Hargrave was literally burning away Null's damaged limb. Warrior turned away, fighting back the bile that threatened to rise in his gut at the sight of the writhing fox, and the stench of burning flesh.

Then there was Lyra-... and Desert Rose, and Shida--pulling out an eye, ripping off an antler, tearing out feathers. Horrified, Warrior stared, transfixed. Is this what the outsiders are like..? he thought, glancing back at Mirage and Quentin wide-eyed, as if to ask if they saw this, too. They come from the place of bones, and they rip themselves apart here-? And for what?

Warrior shook himself, and turned away sharply, but not before casting his eyes again over the bowls. Feathers, blood, an eye, a tree branch- Why had Desert Rose broken off an antler-? Puzzled, Warrior glanced to him, and then turned, pacing out into the ravine a little ways. He knew there were dead shrubs here--and the occasional stubby half-dead tree, barely clinging to life in Hydra's usual heat. It was hard to find anything beneath the thick blanket of snow, even in the canyons, and glancing upward at the overhanging sheets threatening to fall warned the stallion that shaking the ground to dislodge snow here might be unwise. It would shake free more than what laid on the trees, and possibly smother them.

The horse began to search by eye, instead, and by touch, nudging through the snow and plodding up and down the pathway at the canyon's base, ranging maybe fifty yards in search of branches.

He found some quickly enough--the scraping beneath what looked like a white lump was, in fact, a craggy old tree. He delicately set teeth around its icy surface and twisted, muscled neck eventually managing to snap free a branch, which he brought back and carefully set into the final bowl alongside Desert's antler.

One bowl, filled with blood. Its hot surface shimmered, almost oily, a thick, bright red-black that stained the stone and threatened to overflow. Its glyph flickered and flared into brightness along the door.

The next, an eye: and its sigil began to glow alongside the cave entrance.

The third, the feathers: and as Shida deposited her offering, a third rune began to shine.

Desert Rose's antler did nothing, a meaningless sacrifice, if made in good faith; the final branch, laid by Warrior, elicited the final flash.

The stone door's energy field crackled and faded, instead offering a welcoming hum and gentle glow. The keyhole shone, inviting the key, and its final turn.

This post does not signify another posting round. Null, Agate Two-Three-Six, Quentin, Fisher, Wynter and Mirage may still post. The next posting round will begin once all actions have been taken.

Quentin's tail fluffed in a slight wag when Warrior spoke to the two of them. Stay in there? But- "We can brave it," Quentin assured the much larger equine, looking back to Mirage. His tail brushed along drifts of snow within the ravine. "Maybe we can help them."

He never heard of a trial, but he froze at the mention of the bone-place. "Really? Did- They live there?" What remained of his ears flicked back over his skull. "It's never been this cold the whole time I've been here. Maybe it does have to do something with them. When... When they leave, maybe it'll go back to normal?"

The whoosh caught his attention in a flurry and his head snapped to where the snow landed. Oleander? He'd found her? Gulping hard, he rushed in beside the horse, digging with tiny paws alongside him. He stopped as movement rustled under the white, hiding briefly behind Warrior's trunks of legs.

So, that was Oleander. She looked like Warrior. Blinking warily, Quentin nudged his head in a wordless question to see if Mirage was apt to follow as much as he was.

He trailed the gray dog, mostly, eyes on the limp fox on her back. It was reminiscence of similar situations he and Mirage had gotten into- albeit with different built beings. A brief study was given to the metal in the fox's mouth. There wasn't much for him to do as the canine began tending to the others wounds, though, and he turned his gaze towards the congealing mass of beings.

There certainly were a lot, weren't there? He edged closer to Mira as he took in everybody, tail curled in tight against himself. "There's so many- more, than I thought there'd be." Above them all towered the pillars and the door itself, things he'd never seen, which only drove him to press in even closer. "What..." Warrior was looking at him, and he shook his head. "I don't either."

The dragon's words interrupted his mind, and he looked to the speech. "Wait-" But, no. The deed was done, and others were sacrificing... Themselves? Why? And-

"They're even worse off than us..." He backed away a step. "If they live with bones they must be so- so gone that they'd do this." His breath had begun to quicken. "They- need help, people who are okay don't do this. They're going to kill themselves if they keep this up." Warrior had begun to go off on his own, and Quentin stepped forward to investigate the door.

The hole of it, and that metal, both held the same shape... Eyes wide, he turned back and approached the fox, quickly taking in the whole situation. Ow. It was for the better, though- that could've gotten infected, or worse, let the owner bleed out on her own. But now the lifeless leg laid there, and Quentin gave it a wide berth as he came close.

She'd dropped the key in recovering from the cauterization. Tail curled under himself, Quentin excused himself in and slipped close, waiting for a look from either of them to take it.

A golden eye rolled towards him and made no noise. That gave him all the permission he needed to take the thing (ow- cold!) and drag it back, back to the hole it must be meant for. Except- it was too high up for him, even as he struggled to get the tip of it in. A clatter rang out as it dropped from his precarious balancing, and he turned over his shoulder, yipping out a quick "Hey, can I get some help here?"

Once Null was all settled in her half-conscious daze of pain, Hargrave carefully shouldered her again, slinging the limp fox a bit like a pelt over either side of her nape. There'd be some jostling, but hopefully enough security that she'd not need to hold on.

Fiery eyes widened as she backpedaled, turning to see... quite a lot of self-mutilation going on. Virgil had already been wounded and bleeding, but all of the rest was - a bit inexcusable, if Hargrave was honest. What in the Caves do they think they're doing? Who knew how much more of this there was to endure? They'd all been doing fairly well until this point (aside from herself, but even then...) all things considered, losing only a few in the trudge through the blizzard. They were a group of survivors, and they were - "What is wrong with all of you?" she muttered, casting her gaze elsewhere.

Couldn't just take a breather and think.

Even as her paws burned and she offered "I can help to burn any wounds shut" she almost couldn't blame them; this could be their chance at shelter, safety, security... a few words beginning with s that she enjoyed quite a lot.

The smaller fox that'd taken the shining key yipped softly, not at all barely able to reach the keyhole. Any cauterization done, Hargrave snuffed out the heat of her paws (trying to ignore how they were seared through gritted teeth) and plodded forwards. If it seemed like no one had heard him, she could try to be a little more proactive than the rest. She bowed down - careful not to disturb Null - and plucked the icy bit of metal from the snow, shoving it into the hole.

When nothing immediately happened, she gave it an experimental twist, backing up to... well, watch.

permission given to post out of turn for key time ehehe

The Gembound clustered near the door. Some resting, some attentive. Many wounded--some severely. Here, in this temporary respite, in this quiet muffled calm--shrouded by almost gently-falling snow--they waited.

Hargrave lifted the key, and turned it.

A soft blue glow enveloped the door; with a grinding sound its stone walls parted, falling slowly away to either side, and the pedestals sank away into the snow, and beyond the rock beneath.

The cave within was no destination--no sanctuary, nor safe haven. Instead, a final, slender white pedestal--as if carved of packed snow, glittering in the dim glow--awaited them. Atop it, thrust blade-down into the marble, was a white and silver knife, its blade perhaps a foot and a half long--a shortsword, perhaps. Its hilt was carved white, and glyphs glimmering over its surface, carved throughout, depicted a series of images.

A great, spined worm, erupting from the earth.
An alien creature, leaping, the blade in its hands.
The knife, jutting from the worm, which recoiled back and away.
A dead sand worm... ice worm, perhaps?-with the hilt of this very knife protruding from its head.

No sanctuary, this; but a final task, one last stretch of survival against all odds, despite their loss of blood, despite their injuries. Would there be teamwork, or solitary survival? Fight, or flight, or only death..?

As the stone doors clicked fully into place, a gong sounded, from everywhere and nowhere, centered on the cave itself: a deep, booming resonance, almost soft, that shuddered the ground throughout Hydra, and rumbled even into Canis beyond.

____________

Gembound have one round to prepare, plan, or maneuver themselves as they see fit. They may attempt anything they wish. The only rule is survival.

The knife is easily removed from the pedestal, and is icy cold to the touch, glittering with foreign magic.

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

First in line, first in.

Hargrave lowered her head, almost hesitantly forging a path into the white cavern. She paused, as if waiting for something to manifest from the walls and take whatever laid on the pedestal against them in bloody combat. The moment passed, and no video game-esque final boss fight was initiated.

She pressed ahead, fiery eyes setting on the pedestal and what laid embedded in it. Some faint knowledge of weaponry sparked in her mind, but she couldn't exactly put a word to what it was. Claws and teeth came to mind at the shimmering silver edge. Hargrave approached, gaze falling on the various glyphs - just as detailed as the sacrificial ones had been.

The death of a worm.

The Gray Hare flicked her ears, placing scorched paws on the edge of the pedestal and mouthing the blade's hilt. Her teeth recoiled at the sensation of cold metal, and she subconsciously cast a bout of magic to somewhat warm it. Twisting and pulling, she marveled at the full extent of the shortsword, whites showing as she peered down to its point.

A plan - something they desperately needed - coalesced in her mind, and she set down the blade for a second, "I believe we're meant to kill the beast that's been hunting us. That's how we survive." She fixed her gaze on the sword again. "I'll carry this and do it - but, I think we should make a plan while we can. A lot of us are injured and wouldn't survive an ambush by it."

So, maybe a bit of a hero complex was coming out, maybe a bit of an obsession with how sharp this thing looked, maybe a bit of a desire to kill the thing that'd hassled them for so long.

Goodness, they were all going ham on themselves. Virgil staggered away from the bowl, vision hazing with blood loss and a slight feeling of nausea slurring through her gut at the sight of others giving blood. She looked exhausted as Ivory sidled up to her, offering words of concern and a shoulder. The bison nodded mutely, unwilling to admit that she felt one step off of death's door; but, she leaned into the offering, hoping that Ivory could bear her weight for a second.

That fleeting cast of antibodies and whatever else was enough to keep her eyes open, but her determination and willpower was waning by the second. Virgil called softly, "thank you," even as she started to lower her head, consciousness dropping off.

Hargrave offered up something, and the rimeling figured it might be better to take up on that than to just leave her side pulsing angrily with every heartbeat. Her horns knocked against Ivory's chest, a quiet request to follow her and keep her standing as she offered her side.

As burning-hot paws pressed up and into her side, she bit down a keening wail. Instead, she shuffled sidelong into Ivory - unable to take the pain without nearly blacking out - and struggled to follow after as the door was opened.

Warrior stared, twitching.

"Kill--... That giant worm-? Why? Why would you do that?" A pause, and then he turned, looking over the others in utter confusion. "Why would you live out there, in the bones-? Why did you bring snow, why--why fight that thing? Just don't go out there."

It seemed simple enough to him--and yet, oh-so-confusing; and... he had no idea what to offer them. He'd guided them as best he could and now they were going back out there?

The gong, its resounding tones still echoing away through the canyons (and sending drifts of snow clumping down here and there) shivered its way into his mind. His eyes widened. "That sound. It's coming here, isn't it?"

He blinked, mind kicking into overdrive. "Oleander, Quentin--Mirage-?--you should hide! Can you take the wounded one with you? Or--... Ones." He glanced worriedly at Virgil; she wouldn't fit inside their little den. But Null could.

"I can try to distract it, again, at least," he offered, and glanced grimly toward Hargrave.

He just couldn't picture that small wolf, a tiny blade in her jaws, doing anything whatsoever to the crashing bulk of the ice worm. These strangers were going to die here.

Warrior stepped out into the canyon, back the way they'd come, trotting some mere twenty yards off; his magic flickered up. He intended to keep watch, at least--unless they were all going out to meet it.

Ivory was gripped by worry. She could feel Virgil's weakness where the bison leaned on her, and she could do little more than help shore her weight up with her own, and offer occasional drifting strength via her seldom-used magic.

But the planning--such as it was--caught her interest, and she looked up, and out, sharply. Keen eyes swept the canyon, and then narrowed.

"We won't survive an ambush. And out in the snow, that thing can dive. But this is rock, right? And it's narrow. That worm's gotta almost be as wide as this canyon. Maybe we can set an ambush for it."

Ivory glanced back at Hargrave.

"Maybe if you can get up a little higher-? Drop down on it, or something--there's trails on these walls." Her gaze then shifted to Virgil, worry on her face. "We can go the other way, if you want. I don't think you're in any state to fight. ...Not that any of us could fight that thing," she added, casting a doubtful glance at the dog.

She remembered a magic she'd seen used once or twice--the summoning up of a fruit--and she wondered if that might help Virgil, just a little. But what appeared, when she focused (and she probably should have practiced this sooner, really) was an empty peel; and it appeared above her eye.

And dropped into it.

Ivory swore, jerking, the empty peel falling beneath one hoof and sending her skidding, to boot, squinting one closed and pained eye, distracted for the moment.

Whilst the gembound further ahead were planning how to kill a worm, Kalama was dragging a broken body. And Imp could do nothing but follow the mad bird. The things Imp said intrigued her. Kalama nearly forgot about her pain as Imp shared his experience. "If there were loads of smaller worms, how come you didn't just kill them? I nearly killed the big white one."

The fact Imp had survived that made him cool, in her chicken eyes. She knew she had chosen her rival well. Imp was a coward, but sometimes cowards could be brave, she guessed. When she finally engaged him in battle, his cowardice would make victory all the sweeter. But she couldn't have her rival cooler than her. She would one up him. The fact people had died--that was kinda cool. Not that that would happen to her. Or anyone in this group, they were all smart. She hadn't noticed anyone missing from the previous trial, then again she didn't know most of the gems in the cave.

"Well, when i survive this I'll have a cooler story." She puffed her ruff of feathers. "Im gonna do better than you. When we get up there, I'm gonna ride that bird to the exit. No--Ill do better! I'll tame it!" There was a twinkle in her beady eyes. Her imagined heroics put her in higher spirits.

Frost bit at her eyes and beak. The chill had set into her feathers. The sudden blast of heat from Imp was appreciated, but she didn't want to address it. Showing gratefulness to a rival was weakness, wasn't it? But then again, Imp had done her a kindness. She'd repay Imp. She wouldn't batter him as bad when they had their rematch. Were Kalama anything but a chicken with a beak, she would've curled her lip.

"Murderers?" She said.

"Even worse than cowards. I'll fight them all myself!" She declared. Kalama didn't exactly know who Nemean was, but she liked the idea of beating Nemean up. "You're a blind coward, Imp, but once I destroy you in combat, we can destroy Nemean together."

Kalama put one wing in front of the other, her wings barely able to scoot her forward. Every inch she dragged herself forward hurt. But she kept going. Kalama felt as if she'd been crawling for miles. She turned her head back. She'd traveled eight feet. The hole the worm had made was still in sight. She laughed.

"Ha! We've--no, I've done it!" Her voice had a ragged edge to it. "I'm getting first place in no time!"

Kalama froze as a deep bong resonated. It hurt her ears, which coincidentally were the only parts of her that didnt ache. "What the ass was that? Did they win?" She crow-growled in rage. "No! They cant win! I'm supposed to win!"

Kalama redoubled her efforts to continue on.
think "speak"