TRIAL OF HYDRA - DARKNESS

ROUND 8 - THE THIRD TORCH

There in the darkness, claustrophobic, pressing, they lost three more.

The light was too small, now, for them all to stay within. It was inevitable that a toe out of line here, or a leg there, would lead to an early demise. Morganite's words were not reassuring--the opposite, in fact, for as they spoke, the shadows twisted in and they vanished abruptly from sight, coiled away like a mouse in a python's grasp. Only the swift action of Mayngo would save them--at the cost, at last, of Mayngo's own life. He had, it seemed, skirted death's touch for far too long, and it would catch up with him at last...

The shadows were crushing, now: still silent, still cold, but it seemed as though tendrils swept in, curling among the group, as if the light itself were extinguished here and there as Ifrit was enveloped--sweeping away the warmth he'd tried to summon, and the light. Close by Anemoi--for whatever reason--was chosen, too, a sudden shadow in the dim, small light. Fireheart and Orenstein, guardians to the last, would perish protecting them, and die in their stead.

_______________

Then came the final torch. Damaged, splintered--and what had done that-? A black metal halberd, cold to the touch and whispering softly, was jammed into the splintered wood. A soft sound of scuttling shell, and then something heavy thumping into the sand, could be heard some distance ahead--in the thick, unpierced dark. Without Fireheart to light the torch, the Gembounds would need to find another way.

And the Gembound were far, as yet, from safe.

Behind them, in the distance, the quicksand and the shadows--for whatever unknown reason--rejected Warrior; the coughing, choking horse would be spat unconscious onto (more) solid ground. *

_______________

Morganite, Ifrit, and Anemoi will be saved; in their stead, Orenstein, Fireheart and Mayngo will perish, respectively. The rest must find a way to light the final torch; death is still possible, here in these last few moments in the dark...

Code:

<b>NAME is rolling to --?.</b>

(Low risk)

Code:

<b>NAME is rolling to protect OTHER NAME(S).</b>

(Higher risk)

Code:

<b>NAME is rolling to protect the entire group.</b>

(Highest risk)

A Gembound's roll must reflect their in-character actions.

* note: this is a random rolled of Dark's three characters; it was decided that anyone who had entered three pre-existing characters and who lost all three would have one live to claim rewards

@Pumpkin @Orenstein @Rainstorm @Mayngo (Hera) @Morganite @Charles @Puck (Quartz) @Howl @Fireheart @Sora @Ifrit @Anemoi

cw: REAL dark animal death-

He heard the whispers before he saw the halberd--ears pricking up, the vibrations of the unsettling sound gently touching the thick fur there. But just before it came into sight, he saw and heard the brief commotion beside him: the other fire-bringer engulfed, putting not only he but those he was aiding in mortal danger.

The white wolf sprang forward with a guttural roar, fangs bared to the gums in sudden ferocity, his fiery eyes ablaze: gouts of flame poured from his open jaws, and the sharp clacking of his teeth snapping at the shadows was audible.

The darkness curled back away from Ifrit as he lunged, doing his best to drive it back with light and fire: but he pursued it, chased it, snarling his hackles-raised challenge into the night. The flame blasted back, and he let it engulf him, and in a fireball he raged into the darkness and was lost from sight.

It would be the fire that killed him, but he did not scream; he roared as he tried to fight a darkness that could not pierce the flame; as he charged burning into shadows that he could not ignite. It was still a terrible sound, a tangled cacophony of wolf-bellows and canine cries, but the others would be spared the sight of it.

Ifrit, at least, would survive--but the stench of charred fur would reach the Gembound not long after Fireheart's growls stopped.

Pumpkin was, in short, lost.

his adventurous spirit had been utterly broken to no end during this trial. saying it wouldn't return was unrealistic, but he himself, at this very moment, was a broken man. grief hitting him like a train, and he is only partly glad he cannot see the horrors around him, giving him some time to think as they moved forward, shutting his ears to the chaos around him.

he twittered in fright and horror as he felt morganite, as he tried to perch on their horns, pulled from beneath him, only hoping they remained somehow.

he would not try to be the hero. he needs to be brave in a different way. he has to stay put.

Flying blindly, he would return to his family, he would fly, fly in the blurry mess of illuminated area he could see, and he would return, by some miracle, safely within the small, ever shrinking pool of light. he hoped the final torch would be lit, without his help.

the only word he's muttered since his close return from the poisonous cloud, sincere and as absolute as a warcry..

"fuck.."

PUMPKIN is rolling to Stay in the light.

Rainstorm found their momentary strength fading as the distant smell of burning fur littered the place. The one that was lighting the torches was gone. Did any of the others here know how to light fire? Rainstorm didn't. They didn't know how any of that worked. Being close to the dark hurt. It would swallow them whole. Rainstorm didn't like that. They didn't want to get close to the shadows.

How much of the fire would take their light away?

Would the light come back?

Would the gembound never get back to the light?

Rainstorm found the questions running through their mind.

Rainstorm is rolling to: Stay in the light

cw for suicide and vomit ment

It was getting so hard to breathe and they wanted nothing more than to escape from the body they hadn't even wanted to bring here. This hadn't been their choice. No, no, this was an idiotic crawl towards death that the host had thrust them into and left them to clean up. Howl was tired of cleaning up his shit even if that was their entire purpose - taking on the darker parts of life and compartmentalizing because he didn't have the means or want to.

But, was it selfish? Selfish to keep them alive? Crawl out of here with bloody lungs and retching up nothing but sanguine and spittle? Ignore the wretched sounds of wood splintering and a wolf struggling to die on his own terms?

Mismatched eyes stared at the vague blur of the phosphorescent wisp above. Coughing uselessly, they gravitated towards it until it was dizzyingly above.

HOWL is rolling to die, I hope stay in the light.

It was quick, the feeling of bladed shadows curling up and around his legs, biting into his flesh and rending muscle from bone; he faltered, struggling to reach his neck into the fading group of light so that those hitching a ride would not be lost with him. But it was the wolf, Fireheart, who came running to his rescue in a fit of snarls and growls. His body was thick with flame as he dove into the shadow, chasing it, fighting it off so that Ifrit may pull himself back into the small baubled circle.

Blood was fresh on his legs, dripping down to his hooves as he turned to search the crying night for traces of the other—there was the distant glow of flame, the yips and growls, and then... nothing.

"Fireheart," he called, dumbly at first, a numbing sensation prickling through his veins. "Fireheart!" he called again, louder and more desperate. He wanted to follow. He waned to dive into the darkness himself and pull the wolf free, again. Again. But he couldn't, could he? There was nothing out there, nothing to reach in and save. Tears stung in his eyes and his teeth mashed together; he'd see this through for Fireheart, and for his family, too. He'd see this through.

A small amount of warmth blossomed in his blood, but he could not tell if that was from pain or from his own magic. Still, he pressed on with the others, but their circle of light had decreased by a whole lot! He struggled to stay within the group, keeping his neck and head lowered so that those upon him would be safe...

Now, the issue was: how were they going to light the last torch?

Cautiously, his eyes shifted to the monkey that had thrown a torch previously: there was still a lit torch in its grasp and Ifrit sucked in a careful breath. "Please... don't throw that one..." he whispered, pleading. Please don't fucking throw that one away. His eyes moved back to the torch itself, which was a little more messed up than the others had been. Was it... had it been attacked?? Ifrit paused in his step, recoiling away from the strange weapon and whispers.

"Wait. Wait, why is this one different?"

IFRIT is rolling to protect HERA, CHARLES (if they're riding him still, otherwise group)

CW: (hopefully) disturbing imagery

Rattled breathing,

"P-please..."

Heaving wingbeats,

"Help me..."

A thud,

"I'm so scared,"

Staggering pawsteps,

"Pleeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaase,"

Uneven, wrong,

"H-he-he-he-lp-elp."


Styx swayed at the edge of the light, voice stuttering in a bubbling throat. "E-eh-eh-ehlp-," his paws squished, squelched, began to join with the sand. His jowls oozed, dripped to the ground. Pointed ears folded over, crumpling beneath their own weight, "Me-e-e-e" slowly the rest of him followed, unable to support itself,

"He-e-e-"

Content warning?

Clamor. Clamor. Crying. Shouting.

"..."

Creatures. Creatures in light. Light.

"You're leaving me."

Blood dripping.

"Abandoning me."

Light. Light on scales. Light on him.

"..."

Glassy eyes. Bloody teeth. Blood. It dripped from every opening on his head. Down gouges on a broken spine.

"...Please,"

Was he alive? Was he dead? Who's mind was behind those words?

"Help me,"

Melting. Melting. Scales dripping from a skeleton. Oozing into the earth. Decomposition.

"Help me,"

Urgent. Rampant. Desperate. Time ticking down every moment, 9 8 7 6--

"I'm scared I'm scared I'M SCARED-"

Collapse. Puppet strings cut.

Soft sand.

((CW for vague gross stuff))

“HOW COULD YOU!?” A splattering of something, some liquid— it’s hard to tell what kind when veiled by darkness.

“HOW—“ a change in direction, the voice takes another path. Trotting. It’s at the border now, just before the light.

“SIMO-oN!!!” Frail, hoarse, it’s TRYING to speak, but it’s FAILING.

“SIMON!!” The call is so desperate, the shriek bloodcurdling, and then—

If anyone was watching closely, if anyone DARED to look, they’d see it. It might’ve been better to only HEAR, but perhaps not. There is dripping. A slow pitter patter of something on the floor. Is it blood? No, no... is it? No...

Wobbling joints, dancing around in the final act, the ocigoat can no longer be sustained. So it is left. It starts with the head, splitting it in two, and travels down and down til it gets to the hooves, until it reaches nothing but soil. Grain by grain, drop by drop, it is left like an old, broken toy, in shambles. Now everything has finally, FINALLY left.

Right?

"STOP," Usingizi's voice rasped. Somewhere behind the group. It was tinged with desperation, as she watched them march on. As she watched fireheart leap into the dark, a blaze razing his fur and hide.

"Turn back!" The voice became a scream, tinged with rage. From ahead, her voice began anew.

"You--you evil, selfish gem-" Her voice gurgled at the end. A noise like a cough, choking beneath fluid."You..."

Usi trailed off. There was no conclusion. If one listened, they could hear the soft drip of oil splattering the sand. Just out of view of the light. A jaw working aimlessly to form words over gurgling tar. Wet clicks. Opening, closing, opening. Splayed on its side, digging itself further into the sand with each work of muscle. The voice let out a single gurgle, and they were gone. Melted to skeletal remains.