This thread is the third part in the Quest: The Trials.
This Quest is closed to new entries: only those who were present in Part II may join.
Click here for a full summary of rules and rewards.

The Masked Merchant's arms sweep down, the shimmering barrier that has blocked Hydra for eons fading away. The blistering heat and blinding light are, at first, overwhelming. Once the eyes adjust, all that's visible is a vast horizon of towering sand dunes.

The Masked Merchant turns, rasping out the rules once more. "You must pass... through this desert. Find your way to the... Crucible's canyons... and each retrieve a... trophy from... the vulture matriarch. Find your way... to the dead marshes. Survive them... And then to the... vast salt flats... and over them. Then... return here... with your trophy. To receive... your reward. To one another... do as you will. Those... who return first... will be granted... the greatest of gifts... Power. Knowledge... of Hydra's magic-... new magic. But all of those... who survive. Will be... rewarded... Go." The Merchant steps aside.

The Trial of Hydra has begun.

_________

Round One consists of trying to cross the vast, sandy desert. Gembound will have to spend two hours or more in baking heat, with no water or shade, fighting their way over sand dunes: but the survivors will find themselves at last at the foot of the Crucible--the ravines. Those who can fly will find it surprisingly exhausting--the heat is extremely oppressive.

Gembound must roll to safely cross the dunes. You may use magic, strategy, or physical combat (ex. punching any Sandworm that dare leap out) however you see fit.

Those who fail their rolls are those unlucky Gembound who will find a massive, many-fanged Sandworm leaping out of the sand below, jaws closing for their body. Gembound flying high enough may instead be attacked by the circling Eyehook Vultures, who will hook their talons for their victim's eyes and then aim for a kill. Gembound who succeed in avoiding attack must choose whether to press ahead and aim for First Place, or to remain behind to aid/sabotage those who might fail. This choice must be clarified in your post, and cannot be changed once made. Those who press too far ahead may find themselves beyond help should they, in turn, be attacked later in the trial.

A Critical Fail on this roll will result in a severe wound from the attack, and will drop the Gembound one place behind the others in the running should they survive.

Please post & roll only once.

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

Labradorite Five-Four-Six snorted at the mention of 'grand prizes' for those who return first.

The only prize here to be won, in his eyes, was survival. Nothing more, and certainly nothing less. He was unsure what the Merchant was trying to do here, but it seemed to him like the old creature was intentionally trying to lure the younger, inexperienced gembound into their own deaths.

Quietly, as the gates were opened and Five-Four-Six narrowed his eyes to the light, he nodded to Thirty-Five. Half a greeting, half don't die, he gave no offer of any further interaction with the other gembound as he padded out into the entrance of the desert and flattened his ears back against his head, concentrating on casting magic after spending eons in hibernation.

His mouth-- which was already dry --only felt drier as a faint green-blue glow spilled out between his teeth. But he was not, at least for now, thirsty. Not dying from dehydration out in the desert was likely as important to him as sneaking around sandworms and hiding from the vultures above, after all.

The gangly creature shook himself out before he stepped out cautiously into Hydra's blistering heat, his paws silent against the sand.

Five-Four-Six is moving forward.

The moment the shimmering door opened, the moment their tasks were explained a second time, Shango looked to the others--and then trotted blithely off ahead into Hydra.

The hybrid had never known danger. Or rather, he had--and to an extreme--but he'd never come to harm by it, never learned the consequences of rushing in headfirst. Instead, he'd happily waltzed through precarious situation after deadly threat, somehow--miraculously--never coming to any harm. He'd never learned caution.

It could very likely be his undoing.

The heat was incredible, and his eyes slitted half-shut against it, ears flattening beneath his feathered mane. "Stooooorm," he murmured mournfully, but the cave was far too dry to call rain without prolonged and very real effort.

Wisps danced around him as he considered the path ahead. He'd go straight ahead, he knew--as the Merchant had instructed--following the long blue... creature. But his feet were already threatening to blister underfoot, his black-feathered tufts broiling, and he'd only been out here for a few minutes. With a soft hiss and a shake of his mane he focused briefly on his magicka, willing the hot air to rise into a swift thermal that he could ride, that he could use to leap into long glides low above the sands.

The hot, still air shifted, and then began to blow in a steady, if weak, current forward.

"Stoooorm," Shango murmured again, and broke into a swift run. Now and then he leapt, scale-feathered wings catching the flow, riding it for long, soaring glides before coming back to a stumbling gallop in the sand--only to do it again.

In this way he safely made his way across the first portion of Hydra's trial. Hopefully the sands of the desert would soon be far behind him.

Shango is moving ahead rather than staying behind.

DESERT ROSE THIRTY-FIVE
here's to my yesterday

The ancient dragon curled his toes as he glanced back to the younger Gembounds once more, his muscles trembling as old connections reawoke. He stared with masked emotions, his bright eyes scanning over these creatures when he had the chance. As the one who called them spoke once more, however, his head rolled to face them once more, ears held back in a display of indifference.

He knew what he had to do. He had to survive. Magic had no use for him; not when it came to the brutality of his life. No. Standing here among the older Gembounds showed that fact. He’d survived this long without it; he didn’t need any special gift from the hell that this cave was.

Thirty-Five’s eyes locked with his brother’s as he curled in preparation to lunge. A singular, determined nod was offered back. They were going to make this. This was their purpose.

At the word go Thirty-Five was among the first to streak forward, his long, sandy body leaping forward in strides. Powerful legs shot him in the air with each bound as outstretched wings scooped the air beneath him, enhancing each stride as he began to take off. It seemed someone had the idea to conjure up some magic, though, as an unnatural wind streamed from behind them.

Nothing Thirty-Five couldn’t abuse.

Taking advantage of the wayward wind from the jetstream, Thirty-Five caught the stream and lunged towards the first dune. His plan was the glide from peak to peak, hoping to preserve his muscles for the challenge of the Crucible.

Already, the heat was oppressive and curled around Thirty-Five as he passed through the desert. His lips curled as he panted ever so slightly. Despite his body being built for the heat, nothing could compare to the devastation that Hydra could do on a creature. Thirty-Five could only pity those built for the cold.

For now, though, he had bigger worms to care about.

Desert Rose Thirty-Five will be moving forward.

Imp listened, and watched, and winced back a little bit from the heat. Then he found that he rather enjoyed it--his beige skin wasn't too terribly heat-retaining, and he almost felt like basking.

But... it was too hot for basking, and as he at last took wing, he realized almost at once that he wouldn't be able to stay out in the open for long.

The almost-reassuring, rhythmic thump of his wingbeats quickly became an unpleasant echo of a hammering heart, his vision sometimes seeming to blur, his dry gasping loud in his own ears. It. Was. HOT.

He noticed the vultures--somewhat larger than he, and with pointy bits that he didn't at all like the looks of. His attention sharpened, at this, from dully-oppressed distate for the heat (...Can I quit?) to immediate Oh shit wariness. He began to adjust his flight, trying to keep well away from these other, nastier-looking denizens of the sky.

Almost at once, though, one dove for him, and he turned, snapping at it, the hooked talons scraping at his scutes and then catching on them, their pointed hooks driving past and into his flesh. He tumbled down in a tangle of beige skin, one indistinguishable from the other, as they hit the burning sand.

BLACK OPAL
now is the climax the story that gives the demons and angels purpose

The Omen spoke clearly of the task ahead of them. Ah, vultures again. The Opal thought. At least they were not to bring down a sandworm, he doubted the new ones could handle that. Before venturing out, he paused at the entrance and turned a cold, yellow eye on the fresh-faced gembounds. "Tread lightly and don't make a sound," He warned them. "Sandworms lie beneath us."

He'd be damned if he died in the maw of one of those monsters all because the fresh meat were yapping.

The Opal then turned his attention to the blinding horizon of Hydra, its heat threatening to sap away his precious moisture. Now, what was that spell again? Ah, yes. With a flick of magic from his gem, his body greedily clung on the water within it. Perfect. The heat would not claim him this time.


He took a deep breath of the arid, Hydra air. The Opal always hated this part. Sand was annoying and the callouses his feet had formed from crossing the scorching dunes were gone, healed by his time in the chrysalis. Well, here goes nothing. He thought casually. It wasn't like he had a choice in the matter. He only hoped to make it to the Dead Marshes. Perhaps a more comfortable death awaited him there in the mud. Without so much as a second thought, the Black Opal stepped carefully unto the golden sands. He trekked after the others across the blistering dunes, sand clinging to his slime, and heat beating down on his back.

Opal Three-Seven-Six is moving forward.

Lazuli goes ahead

Lapis Ninety-five

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

Lazuli tossed her head before stepping out onto the hot sands. She did not pause to offer any sort of guidance or word of encouragement. If they survived, then she might reconsider; but most would likely die whether or not she intervened. The great bird would focus on saving her own hide first. So, moving forward on long and sturdy legs, she first cocked her head from side to side, as though watching for oncoming traffic, and then broke into a sprint, carrying herself easily out onto the dunes and leaving the others behind without even a second thought.

She would show them how it was done.

All she needed to do was to battle up the sandy slopes, plowing through to the end with ferocity and grace. Lazuli shouldered through the rest of the group that had gone ahead and took off ahead of the rest of the group, heedless of anyone who got in the way.

---

"Speech."
"Thoughts."

This Trial would be little different from the rest: a race to survive the entire expansive nature of Hydra. Each Champion moved seamlessly and easily, taking charge and offering hasty advice to the frightfully young Gembound. Garnet Five-Seven-Nine would wait for no one, though.

With careful, measured hops that sent it careening forth several feet, the creature moved. Every time it landed, ears were on high alert for the sound of monsters in the deep, churning through the sands and awaiting the fool that tread roughly. Digits spread wide, limbs loose, distributing weight across the sand for minimal sound --- not that it could make much sound, anyways, with how light it was.

It waited for no one.

Garnet Five-Seven-Nine will be moving forward.

The word 'go' was uttered, and most of the pack rushed forward; toward victory or toward death, perhaps only the reaper knew. Of course, Agate Two-Three-Six wasn't going to sit back and dally either, but they wondered as those rushed ahead with a gust of wind if they remembered just how vast the great desert was.

This was not a race. This was a test of endurance. A marathon. Even flying over the dunes would take a lot of energy, and exhausted fliers would be easy prey for the vultures or even the sandworms, should they land too loudly for a break. The path forward was obvious to Agate. As the eel-like Opal warned of treading too loudly, the cockatrice passed them a glistening golden stare before they took flight in the wake of the wind summoned by the strange, unfamiliar horned gembound who's stone and number they had not heard.

It was quite simple. You did not have to be the first across the desert, merely the first across the finish line. Conserving energy was key, and so they held back just a touch and flew a bit lower from the others. Before long, the gamble had paid off as the vultures appeared on the horizon, and quickly dove and attacked one of the unfamiliar gembounds-- a Tigers Eye. Hopefully they would be distracted by taking down the leathery lizard, and Agate could sweep by unharmed.

With a number of others still in the lead, they could take it easy. The scorching heat was already beginning to wear them down, their shimmering feathers growing hot as their gliding wings did what they could to release the heat. Unfortunately, there was only so much that could be done, and they would merely have to suffer through the exhausting conditions. In order to continue conserving their energy, they would eventually stop flying as their wings grew too tired to fly straight and begin to tread through the sand; this had the benefit of allowing them to catch glimpses of all of their competition as well. How many of them would even make it through the desert?

... Privately, Agate hoped that they wouldn't lose too many.

Agate 236 is Moving Forward.

VINNIE THE VOICE

Vinnie didn't want to be here one bit. He was still trying to persuade Mayngo not to do this--not to throw his life away--when the shimmering barrier fell away and the horde of Gembound rushed out.

With a final throttled cry of protest, shouldered aside and tossed against the tunnel wall, he watched them go. Ahhh HELL. He struggled to lift off, taking wing into the terrible heat, beak already open as he began panting.

"M-Mayngo! No, don't go, this is stupid--don't go out there-!"

But it was too late. For an instant he hesitated--did he turn back, and leave the fossa to face the consequences of his own fate? Or did he fly after him, and try to help?

And what use can I be? I'm a fuckin' tiny seagull, he thought with grim misery. But he's my friend.

Vinnie shot off over the sand, flying higher than most of the rest. When Imp got tangled and taken down by a diving vulture, Vinnie looked up with alarm and dipped lower. He hoped he made too small a target, maybe even too small a morsel for the bastards, but he knew he couldn't count on that.

Fear driving him, he pushed on, struggling to keep Mayngo in sight.

He didn't see what hit him--it was a vulture, of course, but it had come from behind. The power of its strike landed him heavily in the sand, and he lay there with the wind--and half his consciousness--knocked out of him as it adjusted a powerful hold.

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