Tomb of the Lost

[MP]

Ari:

There's a loud crack and a spike of pain as Ari strikes the wall. Splinters sting in his side as he curls against the floor. He's fallen against the hunting horn, and the polished bone has split where it's struck the wall. The bright disk and the voice within has completely hushed now. Perhaps with fright. Or perhaps to listen to whatever plays out in the empty room.



Sara, Hau, and Sarkany:
Sara's items: old spear, broken knife, seeing stone, human effigy, runed heart
Hau's items: m̴̖̈́a̵̧͍̒n̷̩͌̋ë̸̛̜̭͖̈́̀́ḑ̸̜͙̱̓̽͊̈́ ̷͈͈̿͂̆ͅp̶̛̘e̷͖̠͖̹̽̔̀͝l̶̢̺̟̪͆́͝t̶̝̭̹͓̑̑͌͝ͅ
Sarkany's items: simple knife, human effigy

The blue fire rises in a rush of power. A rush of sickness. Should she look through the seeing stone, Sara can see an accompanying bloom of grey crust around Hau's body. And they can all feel the pressure of some outside awareness turning towards their room. Only for a moment. 

The pelt Hau wears responds to the change. He feels it closing over him like his own fur, blotting out the foxfire and the foreign eyes on him in a strangely comforting sensation. When the shift concludes, his body, or at least, his perception of it, has changed - not into his familiar fox form, but into a great black beast, blunt-faced and heavy-chested. Strong tusks protrude from his lower jaw. The same sense of purpose burns in him, bright as any foxfire.

A bag full of items drops to the ground. The white beast is charging towards him with wicked teeth and claws. Its limbs are taller and slenderer than his own, its jaws and teeth longer. Its mane bristles dangerously, spiking out along its neck and rump like quills. The creature is clearly dangerous, shaped for agility compared to his own powerful build. But in spite of the threat, the challenge feels right somehow. Some ancient instinct howls to meet it. 

Meanwhile, grey flakes form and shed from the surface of the shambling giant's skin. Sara's spatial manipulation seems to do little to the central mass of the creature. Twisting the floor around it halts its progress somewhat, but the stones are slow to respond, and they sink back into their normal flatness moments after she shapes them. It will require constant effort, or larger walls, to stop it entirely. 

It doesn't even notice the obstacles, even when its tarry feet trip over raised bricks or break apart in flakes. It continues after the hand beast with the same mindless stride of before. 

Sarkany notes Kira's direction of escape with a half glance, but he doesn't follow her. Nor does he withdraw when the black beast that puts itself before him, or when the hands moves toward them in a sudden spasm of limbs. Instead, he takes another step toward the oncoming hand beast, hesitating.

"Vahi - are you sure it's him?" he asks, voice sharp with urgency.

But as he speaks, the grey figure lurches forward - collapses onto the hand beast as it swerves too close. Sarkany doesn't wait for Sara's answer. He lunges past the battling beasts, slashing at the crusted figure as its torso pools over the hand beast's lower half. A tarry chunk of neck splatters to the ground, but the grey head is still attached. There's a fresh burn across the side of Sarkany's hand as he slashes it again. But the creature seems truly mindless, oblivious to everything but the prey beneath it. 



Edge:
Items: chipped knife, simple knife, silver chain

The air mutes as Edge dives under water. His world is a series of disconnected images. Tarry water and rocking corpses and the crusted box. Then wet ledges and moldy air and the closed door. Back to the water - the sludge and the corpses and the first touch of wood through the crust. Now the mold and and the ledges and the parting door. And the water again. The box in his hand and the spongy touch of a corpse brushing past.

When Edge resurfaces, the unexplored door is swinging shut, as if something slipped into the room just moments before. He sees no one. There's sludge in his eye and something softly slimy in his mouth. A spongy wooden box is clasped in his hands. And there's a sickly white flame hovering just above the water, waiting for him. 

"This is where they bring them. The ones like you." says a stranger's voice. There's an ugly glee in it, and a cracked, half frenzied note. 

The box is black with age and rot. Its sides cave in, disintegrating in places as Edge drags it from the water. He can see a bundle of texts within, equally ruined and decaying, bound together round and around by a slimy length of rope.

"This is where they died," the voice insists. "It's going to take you too." It speaks with utter assurance, like a child reciting a fact. 

From here, the closest exit is the unexplored door. He can paddle to it in a few strokes. The door to the well room is farther away, requiring either a swim across the sludgy expanse of water or a slimy crawl over the ledges. 



Kira:
Items: carved fragment, ornate key

Kira finds herself in the flooded room again, on the threshold of the very door where she started. But it's much darker than the last time she was here, and the air is strangely hard to breathe. The water, already dark and thick with sludge and floating clumps of mold, is utterly impenetrable now. She can't make out any shapes beneath the water - only a few small ripples from various points of the pond. Intermittent. When she looks up and across the room, a yawning, featureless mouth is waiting for her. It's not the sunken statue this time.

The old man from the game table is standing in the opposite corner of the room. His white eyes are rolled back in his skull. His neck is thrown back at the same unnatural angle so that the pit of his mouth is turned toward her. He doesn't move. Doesn't even seem to breathe. He only stands there, a peripheral presence.


Cassius:
Items: w̷̘͉͕̐̑h̷̯̺̾i̷̞̺̰͌t̶̛̯̲̂̕e̶̡̝̅ ̴͈̽͛̈́p̵̖̔e̷̟̭̾l̴̡̦̈̿t̸̰̙̾̕

The black beast stands at guard in front of the false Sarkany. The sight of it sends another pang through the officer's head. Sets his gut burning with a surge of instinctual hatred. It will try to stop him, the instinct says. And it stands a good chance.

Wicked tusks curve from his opponent's jaw. Its frame is front-heavy, stocky-limbed, more sturdy than himself. If it knocks him down, it could easily break bone, or bring its tusks and heavy teeth and feet to bear. He will have to be cautious. This one isn't prey. An enemy, his instinct warns. 

There is another scuffle off to the side - the grey, shambling shape hunched over the false dragon, the false Sarkany wrestling with it. But for the moment, the black beast seems to be the most immediate target - and obstacle - in his way.


Draggo:
Items: broken flint necklace

In the brief moment the dragon glances away from the rats, something seems to clear from his eyes. The next blink clears away a gummy feeling he was barely aware of. When he looks back, it's not the rats he sees, but humans. Sara and Sarkany, standing behind the black beast.

Both look to be in bad shape. Sara's skin is red with burns, and there are shrapnel scrapes across her face and torso. The skin of one arm has been seared so badly that the dragon can smell the damaged flesh. Meanwhile, Sarkany looks pale and unsteady on his feet, the skin of his neck and chest and legs blackened - eaten away in places - by something that almost looks like rot. The worst patches crisscross his lower arms, resembling defensive injuries. He can take this in at a glance.

But the dragon has veered too close to the shambling grey creature, and his moment of reunion is interrupted. The creature has no arms to reach for him. Its torso bubbles like hot tar, as if something is trying and not quite able to form beneath the surface. But it has height on its side, and only a short distance to go. It lurches forward - not reaching, but simply collapsing its chest and shapeless head across the dragon's back. 

The moment it touches him, the dragon begins to feel a burn through his clothes. Pain seeps through the fabric and into the flesh of his lower body. It's a creeping thing at first, but the tarry flesh of the thing is heavy and pooling over his legs, sticking like mud. Pain slowly ramps to agony the longer it clings. Should he look back, the dragon will see rot eating steadily into his skin, matching Sarkany's wounds.

Sarkany is there at his side, raking a knife across the creature's neck. The wound produces no blood, reveals no flesh or muscle beneath, and while it pulls away some of the tarry skin, the meat of the neck is still attached. The creature continues to eat away at the dragon's flesh, unphased, and Sarkany slashes it again. The seraph's aim is evidently to remove the head. But he only has the knife. Unless the dragon can free himself, and quickly, the wounds may soon be crippling, or worse.

[kilnarak]

[ Ari retreats to the water room. ]

Ari flinched as Marchelute's disembodied voice railed at him, spitting blame and guilt. He whimpered, curling tighter about himself, protective - there was nothing he could say, asking for forgiveness would do nothing. Marchelute would still be dead. It would still be his fault.

Ari felt a grip on his shoulder, his upper arm, and he tensed as if expecting a blow. The grip wasn't as strong, but it was still enough to yank him to his feet and shove him toward the door, trailing blood and crushed bits of horn. He stumbled through the doorway and then fell heavily into the water. It stung where it touched the splinters of horn in his palm and along his side.

The urge to just sink into it until the pain died away flickered through his mind, but in the end his lungs screamed for air and he awkwardly pushed to the surface again, sputtering. He didn't know what to do from here. He couldn't go back. Uncertainly he paddled to the side of the room to cling to one of the slime-covered ledges, pulling himself up. His breath choked in his throat, and the pain of splinters grinding into his palm felt deserved.

[tsukikoko]

[OOC: Pointless at it might be now, Sara tells Sarkany that yes, she's sure the hand thing is Draggo. The shifter manipulates the bookcase into a razor thin blade, to follow the line Sarkany carved through the goo creature's neck and hopefully sever it. If that doesn't work she'll force the grains of her spear shaft into a more solid whole and go at the creature with the spear head instead.]

[NightshadeVII]

[OOC: Edge notices Ari on the ledge, and carefully puts the decaying box on the ledge as well, carefully retrieving the texts and the rope. He then climbs onto the ledge besides Ari, and asks what happened to him, hoping to comfort him just a little.]

Edge barely had time to recover, catch his breath and spit out whatever was in his mouth, before a voice cut into it all. Gleeful and ugly, half-frenzied, telling him that he would die here in the place where people like him was brought.
Fuck you then, Edge thought to himself, not wanting to risk angering the flame by directly insulting it, and fuck this place.
Still he wasn’t sure he liked the implication of “people like you” as the flame had said. It hinted at the fact that the people that had ended up here, hadn’t ended up here due to random chance. There was some kind of system or set of criteria behind it. And that thought was even more unsettling.

His heart jumped when the water splashed behind him, and Edge turned to see Ari dragging himself onto the ledge. He was bleeding. Some shattered fragments still stuck out of his body. It looked painful, but what had caused it?
Slowly, so as not to startle the other, the Darai swam over to the ledge as well. Carefully, he retrieved the texts and the rope from the box, before placing the decaying wooden container on the ledge and hauling himself up, so he sat beside Ari.

“You’re bleeding...” he spoke softly, gently, voice tinged with sympathy as he looked over the other. He would have offered to bandage his wounds, but cloth drenched in murky water probably wouldn’t be good for an open wound. Then Edge heard the sound of the other’s breath, verging on beginning sobs, maybe because of the pain, maybe because of something else.
Keeping his movements slow, Edge placed a hand on Ari’s shoulder, a small attempt at comfort, careful not to hurt him, before he spoke again.
“What happened?”

[Vaitris]

[OOC: Hau will attack Cassius, tries to get him in the stomach with his tusks. Rolled a 2 (if needed).]

This didn't feel right. The change was wrong, a nauseating twist in his being, like something foreign had infected it. What should have felt light and supple was instead heavy and hot, as if the pelt had grown to envelope him instead of falling away. He was standing taller than his fox form should be. Two large tusks pierced his field of view, he could feel them jutting out from his lower jaw. He sensed that vague awareness return and its attention was an unwelcome shiver down his now broad back. This wasn't him. This was a corruption. Could he still use his ice? He wasn't sure anymore.

But as he looked across the room at the white beast he was filled with a heady sense of strength and superiority. He was powerful and capable. In comparison, the beast before him - his rival, something whispered - seemed fragile with its spindly legs and lean build. But he knew on some primal level that the creature would be agile and quick on its feet and it was not an enemy to be taken lightly. And, to Hau's own surprise, he craved that challenge, wanted to prove himself. His focus narrowed. Any thoughts he had of the many-handed monster slipped away, he lost track of where the others were in the space around him.

The white beast, as eager to fight as he now was, flew towards him in a headlong charge. Hau threw himself forward a few short strides to meet it, at the very last moment bracing himself and ducking his head, aiming to bring his tusks up beneath and gore the soft, vulnerable underside.

[jarahamee]

[Cassius attempts to sidestep Hau, and attack his throat or underside. He is experienced in the use of a similar slender form. (14)]

The Beast saw the black beast rushing him. Too eager, too-bloodthirsty, ready to meet the challenge. Boar-like, but monsterous. It imagined its body was like the one it was most familiar with.  The Beast had experience at its side. Recent, and ancient. If it could out-maneuver his foe, it would be free to feast on its remains, and indulge in finding a way out, if there was one. There had to be,it knew in its heart, and yet, this was a strange place, it could do whatever it wanted to, it could betray them. Perhaps that would be what happened to them. It did not spend too much time worrying about such things.

It side-stepped the creature that attempted to attack it, instead leaning forward to tear at the underside of its throat, or, if it missed, the stomach and abdomen, where it was most vulnerable. Its jaws were strong, and it was ready. Instinct reminded it to move away quickly. When the other creature slowed, then he could grab the nose and hold, but not yet. The tusks were far too dangerous. It was too fast and strong, but soon, soon, after it bled, there would be time to spare. 

[Pearl Dragon]

[Kira will try to fly to the statue, to repeat past actions]


Kira groaned as she realized she was alone in her retreat through the door. She swept into the room and inhaled the thick, murky stench of the space.  Behind her, a roar of clashing monsters echoed in the previous space, sending chills down her spine.  Here the air seemed denser than before, and each inhale left her wanting more. Kira peered into the dark room, noting the occasional ripple and familiar statue in the center.

Kira's eyes narrowed, spotting something in the far corner. A familiar still figure. A gasp caught in her throat, heart thudding and hands clutching at the key and stone fragment. It was the old man from the other room, although now he was somehow ahead of her, mouth gaping and eyes white orbs in his skull. He didn't seem to be moving, and seemed just as still as he had been in the other room, but how had he gotten inside?

Kira perched herself on the ledge, trying not to think too much about the lack of breathable air.  Steeling herself for what she was certain to come, she launched herself from the ledge and opened her wings in a glide, headed straight for the central statue as she had done before.

[Sharei]

[OOC: Alarmed and in pain, Draggo changes into his full sized dragon form, which fills the majority of the room. He is careful to shield Sarkany and Sara from any further harm with a wing, taking the brunt of the ooze creature. He tells them to run.]


In the blink of an eye the spell on the tomb had been dispelled and rats had become people. The dragon opened his mouth to call out, but the relief, terror and adrenaline was silenced by the sudden spout of pain. The juvenile went down under the weight of the creature, a wash of agony across his lower back and legs leaving him breathless. The shock was almost his death, and if not for Sarkany's prompt action it was doubtful the juvenile would have recovered.

But Sarkany was there, and the juvenile was conscious of the black burns across his father's lower arms. Conscious of the blob-like creature and its acid-like touch. Conscious of how close Sarkany and now even Sara were to it.

The change wasn't even a choice. It came abruptly, a ripple of scales on skin and an expansion of mass as the dragon's bulk filled the chamber. His companions were pushed back by it, sheltered beneath the fan of his growing wings. The ooze creature would be pushed as well, blocked by hind legs and the dragon's long tail.  It was an uncomfortable fit all around, in fact, as the ceiling was much too low to suit the dragon's height. He was forced to squat to fit, and he had nowhere to go to avoid the acidic touch of the creature behind him.

But that was the idea.

"Run!" he pleaded, voice tinged with pain. 

[qhostqrowls]

[Flame Fao urges Edge onwards. Rolled a 14 to shove Edge]

There is still a familiar voice speaking, alongside the new, unknown one. The pale flame flickers above the water, close to Edge's head when he emerges from the depths. It follows as he climbs out. As he tends to Ari. It does not seem to take note of the injured shifter, or seem to care.

"Keep going!" He pipes up, elated, desperate. "Hurry! He's still down there...you have to go on."

A hearty, invisible shove accompanied his words, pushing Edge towards the doorway.

[MP]

Ari and Edge:
Edge's items: chipped knife, simple knife, silver chain, ruined books, gross rope

The phantom push to Edge's back most likely saves him. Water moves sluggishly past his limbs as he swims, sludge flowing past in silken, almost hypnotic strands. There's an insidious current drawing him in towards the sunken statue. His own limbs seem to lead him closer, like a moth to flame. The ghostly push jars him loose from this course, and he is able to grab the ledge and clamber onto the threshold of the well door to reunite with Ari.

The room is quiet for now. Aside from the ghostly flames, Edge and Ari seem to be the only beings here. But there's a fresh bloom in their heads - a spike of pain from the unexplored door - that suggests they're not entirely alone. They can feel the residue running wild in the next room over. Something is waking it - feeding it - and there's no telling how far it will spread at this rate of growth.

Worse still, the small stabs of relief in the distance have faded. The level of residue past the mystery door stays consistent, a thick, sickly layer over the far areas of the tomb. Unless something is done soon, the feeling may spread and reach them - may soon overtake the tomb entirely.



Sara, Draggo, and Sarkany:
Sara's items: damaged spear, broken knife, seeing stone, human effigy, runed heart, bookcase-sword
Draggo's items: broken flint necklace
Sarkany's items: simple knife, human effigy

The blow from Sara's makeshift blade slices the remainder of the tarry head from its shoulders. Grey sludge slides to the ground in a wet thump, and its body begins to run like hot wax. Still the creature bears down, eating deeper into the dragon's flesh. Sarkany slashes its shoulder in a savage motion, scleras blackening as the small knife catches along the crust. He's shouting at the tangle of hands - at the dragon Sara can see through the stone - his voice cracked with an urgency she's never heard from him before.

"Don't shift, pup! Don't shift!"

It's already too late. As the dragon's shape begins to take form, an ancient presence prickles over their spines. They can feel it accumulating in the air like a thunderhead, circling in on the dragon with the weight of a thousand eyes. They can see it in the sudden bloom of the grey across the dragon's back.

They grey creature pulses against his scales, leech-like. The more the dragon takes shape, the larger the creature swells, and with it, the burning. It's enveloping his hindquarters, his tail, spreading in a mass of crust and tar to cover the right-hand corner of the room. The door Kira fled through is swamped with it. The crust reaches the threshold of the hallway door. And the crawling presence in the room is still pressing in - a separate feeling, and yet the same. It holds the same mindless hunger, the same prickling wrongness as the mass now feeding off the forming scales.

The dragon can feel blood running down his lower back, rotting even as it pools. The pain is a black haze in his head, almost unbearable. Should the dragon glance back at his hindquarters, he can see melting scales. Blackened and pitted flesh. The white of vertebrae through the flesh of his tail. If this continues, the creature will soon eat through his back and into his organs. The knowledge is etched across Sarkany's face as he tries to get at the grey past the dragon's wings. His own blackened limbs threaten to give way.

"Shift down," he calls to the dragon over the snarling beasts, ink-eyed. "You're feeding it, pup. We can't reach you."



Cassius and Hau:
Cassius' items: w̷̘͉͕̐̑h̷̯̺̾i̷̞̺̰͌t̶̛̯̲̂̕e̶̡̝̅ ̴͈̽͛̈́p̵̖̔e̷̟̭̾l̴̡̦̈̿t̸̰̙̾̕
Hau's items: m̴̖̈́a̵̧͍̒n̷̩͌̋ë̸̛̜̭͖̈́̀́ḑ̸̜͙̱̓̽͊̈́ ̷͈͈̿͂̆ͅp̶̛̘e̷͖̽̔̀͝l̶͆́͝t̶̑̑͌͝ͅ

However strong and eager the black beast may be (2), the white beast's agility is hard to match. The tusks miss their mark. Then fangs score wicked lines down the side of the black beast's stomach (14). A spatter of blood hits the stones, beginning a steady drip.

It's not enough to cripple the black beast. His hide is tough, and the same fierce purpose burns in his chest, outweighing the pain. But the injury is a definite drain on his strength. The longer the black beast allows the fight to go on - the longer the white beast drags it out - the harder his movements will become.

They must continue. The certainty burns in their heads, chasing adrenaline through their veins. They cannot allow the other to pass - cannot allow them to stop their masters. Everything now hinges on the strength of their limbs and jaws.



Kira:
Items: carved fragment, ornate key

The mouth of the sunken statue looms larger, larger, filling the burbat's vision. As before, she feels a pull in the air, a swell in the water, a loss of control the nearer she gets to the mouth. But the room is so much darker this time. Darker, and getting worse. The door to the well room is open, and a deeper dark is spilling in. The air is closing off in Kira's throat altogether, and she can't veer to save herself. Can't even struggle for breath.

Then her momentum comes to a lurching stop. There's something bloated and slimy clasped around her leg. Swollen fingers. Rotting faces behind them. As the air darkens, corpses float to the surface, one after another. They reach for her, hands tearing at her fur, tugging at the half-healed membrane of her wings, wrenching her head and limbs around. Kira is stretched in two directions. The corpses tow her down toward the water. The maw of the stone continues to pull her in. She feels her wing joint pop - a pair of corpses have latched onto the claw holding the carving. And then there's a sudden, terrible crack.

One of the bones in her half healed wing snaps with a frail crack, the fingers around it slipping. With that, the stone wrenches her from the statue's grip, pulling her down and down and down into darkness.

When Kira comes to her senses, she's back in the same black room. The water laps around her, a pressure against her neck. She can see the same hunkered stone in the center of the floor. The same distant hole. But instead of the white face of before, she sees a mouth, black and featureless.

The old man is standing mere yards away. His neck is thrown back at its crooked, gruesome angle. His eyes are rolled back his head. As before, he doesn't stir from his spot. But his mouth is stretched unnaturally wide, a black pit angled toward the burbat, the sight uncomfortably reminiscent of the gaping stone idol behind him.

[kilnarak]

[ Ari begins to head to the other room, but is stopped by Edge. Instead he waits outside of the well room. ]

Unaware of anything untoward in the water, Ari still flinched away when Edge pulled himself up onto the ledge beside him. He shook his head at the other's question, shuddering and looking down blankly at the shard of horn still stuck in his side. He reached down to brush at them, his fingers twitching as he began to pluck them out of his skin. It was difficult to tell if the wetness on his face was from the water he had pulled himself out of or from tears.

His head pounded, tension and a sense of wrongness permeating everything around him. It hurt, but so did everthing else. When he finally plucked free each and every shard of bloody horn from his flesh and dropped them into the water he finally answered Edge's question, his voice hoarse, his tone carefully flat. "I-I deserved it. It's my fault."

He glanced at Edge briefly, noted that the other seemed to intend to go back into the room with the well, then looked away again quickly and shook his head. The sight of the flames hovering nearby made him shudder. "I-I can't go back in there. He doesn't w-w-want me..."

He flinched again, then awkwardly drew his legs up under him and pushed up to stand, leaning against the wall. He seemed uncertain of where to go from here - but there was only one direction, wasn't there? He began to slowly inch his way along the ledge, away from the well-room, toward the unexplored door.

Edge's voice stopped him before he could make much progress. He flinched again when the other approached him, and refused to look at him, gaze on the narrow ledge at his feet and the murky water just beyond it, but at least he listened. Direction was something he wanted but...

"I c-can't, h-he said h-he'd kill me. If-If I go back I-I might let him," his voice trailed off very low. He flinched again when Edge's hand found his shoulder. He was still hesitating, but he allowed Edge to lead him back toward the well room - although he stopped short of entering, a hand braced on the wall. "I-I'll wait, m-maybe it will r-reach from here..."

[NightshadeVII]

[OOC: Edge asks Ari for help, before moving back into the well room. In case Ari agrees to go with him, he will enter the room first and look for something to secure to rope with. If Ari does not agree to go with him, he will still enter the well room and begin looking for anything to secure the rope with.]

There was a moment of silence, where Edge caught his breath from all the diving, and Ari plucked the stumps of horn from his flesh. Then, after a while, the shifter began to spoke, his voice quiet and barely controlled, as if he could break into tears at the slightest push, which probably wasn’t wrong, so Edge listened quietly, offering quiet companionship and a comforting hand on the back. He didn’t want to spur the other further into self blame by inquiring about the situation.
Then Ari got up to leave, and before Edge could even think, he got up and reached out for the other careful not to grab at him, to avoid causing him pain, as the shifter had smal blisters across his body as well.
“Ari, wait, please.” Edge sounded pained as he spoke, almost hesitant to speak, but he couldn’t avoid this, “I need your help. I need to go down into the well. There might be a way to stop all this down there. A way to end this nightmare.”

He tilted his head a little, sympathetic, before continuing, “You said it was a nightmare right? A bad dream. Maybe, if we stop it, everything will go back to the way it was. We’ll be able to go home, Marchelute will be alright, he’ll be alive again.”
And Faolan would be alive as well, unharmed and safe. Edge promised himself that the moment they got out of here, if they could, he’d sprint to Faolan’s apartment. The Darai looked down for a moment, considering his next words. He hated that he had to ask this, when Ari so obviously didn’t want to go back there.
“But... if there isn’t anything to secure this rope with, I can’t do it. If I can’t get down there, this won’t end”, he said with a sigh.

A soft groan escaped his lips. A part of him was surprised that he hadn’t collapsed yet, hadn’t been immobilized, but that was probably due to the adrenaline in his system. Would he even be able to move if he got out of here? The Darai took a few deep breaths, before gently placing his hand on Ari’s shoulder again. He assumed that Ari was referring to Marchelute, since Faolan had been here with him, and the two obviously had a bond.
“I’m sure that whatever he said to you, it wasn’t the real Marchelute speaking. This place, it messes with everything, it turns us against one another, makes us do things we don’t want to do, makes us hurt the other people without even realizing that’s what we’re doing.”, said Edge, hoping that this would provide a small measure of peace or comfort, but doubting it, “So is it that far off, that this place is making Marchelute behave differently as well? Messing with his mind?”

Carefully, Edge tried to meet Ari’s eyes. And if the shifter looked the Darai in the eyes, he’d see a genuine compassion, a deep seated empathy, beneath the veil of exhaustion and fear. They had both lost someone to this hellhole, and Edge knew that it hurt more than anything.
“Of course I understand that this hurts and, if you can’t do it, that’s okay. But please, it will be much easier with your help.”, he then said, giving Ari’s shoulder a soft squeeze before letting go. Then he glanced back at the well room. He wanted to get going as soon as possible. He wanted this to end. An idea took shape in Edge’s mind, and it seemed like the most considerate thing to do.

“How about I go first, and check if there’s anything to secure this rope with, you can stay out here while I do that,” he offered, “if I find something, you won’t have to go back in the room as well, how does that sound?”

He He waited for Ari’s reply, and when he got it, the smallest hint of a grateful smile touched his lips. In silence, the two made their way towards the well room, Ari stopping just before the threshold. It was understandable that Ari felt he couldn’t go back, with what he had just told Edge, and the raven haired man deeply hoped that he found something else to secure the rope to in the room or that it could reach from here.
“Thank you, Ari, really”, Edge said, his voice low and soft now, bowing his head slightly.
The Darai took another deep breath before entering the well room, carefully walking up to the well and looking for somethin he could secure the rope to, so he could rappel down the sides of the well.

[jarahamee]

[Cassius moves aside to attack the other side of the black beast's neck. 13 ]

The Beast's sharp teeth sunk into flesh, but not for long; they slid off the heavy body and away. The contact felt fruitful, the flesh gave way beneath its fangs. This was substantial, but it was not everything that it would need.  Not by a long shot. This was a powerful creature that would have to be worn down. Many bites, though only one or two strikes from this powerful body would end their life.  

It was entwined in the ancient struggle the two were embroiled in, and it had to admit, it loved every second. Its ancient blood sang in its veins, and its heart pounded. It felt good. It felt alive, and ready. This was right somehow, and whatever the outcome was, they would find its truth. They would determine it, here, now, between the two of them. 

The Beast jumped back, the movement as easy and natural to it as breathing. It looked at its nemesis, if only for a moment, and as soon as the black beast counter-attacked, it stepped aside to tear at the neck and abdomen of the creature. If only it could get behind it. Perhaps they could bite at the other beast's tender abdomen and back-side. 

[Pearl Dragon]

[More ouchies, poor Kira.  She cries for a bit in the dark room, then holds the key up to the old man.  She isn't sure why he's following her but suspects it is the key.  She moves towards the tunnel and shows him the key so he knows she still has it and eventually wants to give it back.]

Kira soared towards the looming mouth of the statue, not trying to avoid it this time as she knew what to expect. Already she could feel its pull and beat her wings towards it, although the darkness that was now thickening in the air placed a suffocating grip on her lungs and throat. As her wings caressed the water just below her, a spike of fear suddenly seized her as the surface churned with a frenzy of pale, waterlogged hands rose up and began to grab at her. For a moment, she believed that the many-armed creature was not waiting for her up ahead, but instead right below. Either way, the resulting grip of the hands on her body was just as strong, if not worse.

Kira beat her wings again, mouth gaping in a breathless cry as fingers dug and ripped at her fur and skin. She felt the pain rise back up like a wave, just as sharp and paralyzing as it had been before as the arms worked at her. She was going down, deeper into the sea of hands that now wrenched and twisted at the bones and membrane of her wing. A thin crack echoed somewhere amidst the thrashing water as a wing bone snapped, sending a terrible agony of pain through Kira's entire arm. She was just beginning to lose hope again, at least until the pull of the statue won out and dragged her away from the grasping hands and into its waiting maw. She tumbled through the dark space, curling her wing to her side in misery until she landed in the black room with a dull splash. Kicking herself frantically into a crouch, she wailed and held her broken wing, shivering in the murky cold.

When she'd finally quieted, she blinked wearily through the mixture of tears and mud that caked her face until she saw the same old man still standing with his mouth gaping at her. The smaller statue also came into view, and another sobbing whimper escaped her at the sight of it.

Not wanting to waste time, Kira forced herself forward and held the key up to the old man. Her ears pinned backwards, terror and adrenaline still pumping in her system as she moved towards the tunnel from before. She still hadn't seen the old man move, and was clueless as to how he kept appearing ahead of her, no matter which way she went. Perhaps he thought she had stolen the key. With a pained exhale, a wince, and another sob, Kira continued to hold the key in one trembling hand. She kept her eyes on the figure, wondering if he would follow her the entire way and would gladly give his key back if he so wanted it. She certainly didn't, care for it, although she hoped the old man would allow her to get use from it before he reclaimed it. If he showed any sign of aggression, she would gladly give it up regardless.

[Vaitris]

[OOC: Hau goes on the defensive, waits for Cassius to come to him. When he does, Hau tries to club him, or possibly draw blood, with his tusks. Rolled a 17.]

Too late. He was accustomed to being so much faster than this but his tusks came up late and swept through only air. The white beast danced around him, its fangs digging into his side, tearing open skin. What erupted from Hau’s throat was a sound he couldn’t quite define, a strange mix between a cry of pain and a snarl of rage. His stomach burned with the pain, but his pride was hurt more. He was better than this.

Hau pivoted to face the wolfish beast but didn’t charge after it. He wanted to keep his tusks between them, his best weapon at the ready. Now that he was bleeding, it didn’t benefit him to be dashing all about the room chasing such an agile opponent. Let it wear itself out running in circles. He’d keep turning in place just to keep the other in his sights and wait for it to make the first move, then attack when it got too close.

As expected, it didn’t stay away long and it surged around the other side of him, aiming for his neck. Hau brought his face around, cocking his head, trying to catch it with his tusks. Maybe he’d gouge out an eye. At the very least he might smash it with his heavy jaw, daze it long enough to get a better attack in.

[Sharei]

[OOC: Draggo attempts to free himself and shifts back into a human]

The juvenile almost didn't hear Sarkany. The pain was unspeakable, blotting out sound and sight until there was nothing but the fire of it along his back and flanks. It was agony like he had never known, a creeping, terrifying sort of pain that caused panic as it killed. His cry was silent and unconsciousness flickered on the edges of his mind, but urgency and fear pushed him forward.

Urgency, and Sarkany's prompting. He had no time to contemplate his unwitting mistake, only to recognize that he'd made one. The dragon scrambled over the stone floor in the same moment that he reverted his shift. His claws found purchase in the stone, leaving ruts in the ground where he pushed off, and he shoved forward in a lunge that would carry him further into the room once the smaller size granted him the space to do so. It was an attempt to shake off the clay-like substance and pull his hindquarters free of the goop. The last thing he wanted was to be human sized and beneath it when it all came crashing down. 

[tsukikoko]

[OOC: Sara doesn't do much aside from getting pushed towards brawling monsters by transformations and frantically telling Draggo to shift back before he's killed.]

[MP]

Ari and Edge: 
Edge's items: chipped knife, simple knife, silver chain, ruined books, gross rope

From what Edge can see through the light, the well is bordered by a circle of raised stones. They're no more than a few inches tall. The corners and tops of each brick are slightly rounded, giving them the uncomfortable impression of teeth. There's no mortar or otherwise between them. This leaves a small gap around which the rope might be secured.

However, the intensity of the light makes it difficult to see. If there are flaws in the stone, if one comes loose, or the knot is not secure, there's a risk Edge may overlook them. If he begins his descent alone, one err in judgement could mean a long and potentially fatal fall. 



Cassius and Hau:
Cassius' items: w̷̘͉͕̐̑h̷̯̺̾i̷̞̺̰͌t̶̛̯̲̂̕e̶̡̝̅ ̴͈̽͛̈́p̵̖̔e̷̟̭̾l̴̡̦̈̿t̸̰̙̾̕
Hau's items: m̴̖̈́a̵̧͍̒n̷̩͌̋ë̸̛̜̭͖̈́̀́ḑ̸̜͙̱̓̽͊̈́ ̷͈͈̿͂̆ͅp̶̛̘e̷͖̽̔̀͝l̶͆́͝t̶̑̑͌͝ͅ

On the next strike, the white beast's charge brings him in too close. His heady confidence and the thrill of dripping blood blinds him to the other's patient cunning. His lunge is met with a twist and a blow from the blunt black head.

He feels the impact through his jaw and neck. One scything tusk carves a gash up his lip and cheek, scraping bone and only just missing the eye. The white beast is left with a bloody grin down one side of his face - a sick resemblance to his former self. 

Both beasts are dripping blood. The black beast's stomach wound will sap his strength over time. The white beast's jaw is tender, several of the upper teeth chipped and painful to use. Both feel the will of their masters behind them - their urgency. He must get through, the white beast understands, and kill them for his master. Meanwhile, the black beast feels his master's anger, his desperation, and understands that everything rests on him: the white beast must not get past. He must not reach the boy.

Dimly, through the will of the pelt, Hau senses something else. It feels like the prickle of eyes over the room. Like the warp of fingers through fabric, reaching through. Most of all, it feels like sand in an hourglass - a sickening, unseen something building up in the room. Almost full.



Kira: 
Items: carved fragment, ornate key

The old man doesn't react to Kira's approach, or even her offering. He stands so unnaturally still that he looks more like a painting than a human being, displaying none of the subtle weight shifts or muscle movements that mark a living thing. The pit of his mouth yawns toward her, a deeper patch of dark. 

The room has the same humid, oppressive atmosphere as before. The same central idol and the same distant hole. The same sense of anticipation, ancient and hungry. But there's a new feeling too: a furtive hush, like something holding its breath.

From the corner of her eye, Kira can see the barest sliver of white. The small, dead face is watching from the far wall, pressed close to the stone. It showed no emotion before. Now, something in its posture, in the set of its shoulders, seems almost afraid. The child sits low in the water, murk rising around its eyes, as motionless as a rabbit in the grass.



Sara, Draggo, and Sarkany:
Sara's items: damaged spear, broken knife, seeing stone, human effigy, runed heart, bookcase-sword
Draggo's items: broken flint necklace
Sarkany's items: simple knife, human effigy

The dragon's shift buys him just enough room to pull free. The grey mass sags like wet clay around the empty space, too sluggish to reach for him properly. It puddles on the ground instead. Gathers itself. Slowly reforms, taking on a humanoid and vastly larger shape. 

The dragon's lower back is a mess of rot and pitted, sickly flesh. The creature has eaten deep into meat and muscle, stopping short of the organs and the spine. But even now that he's free, the dragon can feel a slow, insidious burn in the ruined flesh - a pulsing agony - as though it's eating deeper and deeper into his body.

Sarkany is pulling him clear, supporting him. Or trying to. His efforts are far weaker than they should be, and the dragon can feel intermittent tremors running through the seraph's frame - from pain or effort, it's difficult to say.

"Keep hold," Sarkany tells him, holding an object out.

To Sara's eyes, Sarkany is evidently having difficulty telling which of the many hands into which to press the figurine. The distortion hasn't fully dispelled for him, it seems. He holds it out instead, waiting for one of the hands to reach for it and clasping the little effigy so that they both stay in contact with it. The touch of it soothes the dragon's burns somewhat. He can still feel the gnawing bleed within his flesh, the same pulsing agony, but the damage seems to have stalled. He doesn't improve, but he at least isn't getting any worse. 

Sarkany is looking from the hole in the wall to the door nearest the bookshelf. These are the only two exits beyond the immediate reach of the grey entity. But the two brawling beasts are in their way. An unwise move could attract their attention, or get the group caught between the thrashing bodies as they try to flee. Yellow eyes flicker from the black beast to the white, muscles tensing with an involuntary tremor, waiting for an opening.

"Stay alert for me," he murmurs to the dragon. "We're going to run. Vahi - "

The name is as much a plea as a prompt. Sarkany is already unsteady on his feet, a thin trickle of blood running from the corner of his mouth as he strains to support the dragon. Even if they do see an opening to run, one or both may not be fast enough to take advantage of it. The knowledge is in Sarkany's eyes as he looks at her. 

"Keep him moving - please."

A sudden collision between the beasts has left the path to the door momentarily clear. Sarkany tenses to move.

[Sharei]

[OOC: Draggo moves with Sarkany, spurred by the adrenaline of the situation, but begs Sara to leave him if he slows her and Sarkany down. He insists that Sarky has a better chance and is more important than he is.]

[tsukikoko]

[OOC: Sara drops the rusty knife, releases her hold on the bookcase so it reverts to normal in between her group and the grey mass creature as at least a brief bit of cover. Gets ready to create a wall between her group and any of the many creatures if she has to, but doesn't waste the energy unless she needs to. Helps Sarkany and Draggo towards the door. Once they're close enough, to avoid having to push it, the shifter origami folds the door at the exact moment they need to go through it, focusing on keeping it open until they're through.]

Between the damaged dragon and seraph, the brawling creatures nearby and the reforming grey mass, Sara found herself constantly swearing beneath her breath at the situation. But, despite the foul language, she was focused, hell-bent on aiding her companions even despite her waning energy. Whatever these powers were, they were taxing.

While running towards dragon and seraph, she released her mental hold on the bookcase and made sure to place the reverted material between her group and the reforming mould creature, in an effort to slow it in some capacity. She felt an instant sense of relief, but the fatigue didn't immediately fade. She felt out of breath and knew she wouldn't want to waste further energy if she didn't have to. However, as her gaze turned briefly to the black and white fighting creatures, she gathered her focus to erect a wall should they turn their attention on the fleeing group. Then, given the vast quantity of items she had accumulated, Sara didn't think she would be able to effectively aid her companions while trying to carry them all, so she made the decision to discard the broken, rusted knife. It likely wouldn't be much use anyway.

At the two male's insistence that she help the other, Sara's response was a slightly breathless, exasperated,
"Eee man, I'll keep ya both bloody movin', come on!"
As she said that, the shifter placed one arm beneath Draggo's armpits, using the seeing stone to guide where she needed to hold without damaging him further, while her tail came around Sarkany to support him. A slightly awkward position, but the shifter knew her large, scaled limb was a decent prop and it gave her a free hand to keep hold of various items. Had she a few seconds to breathe, Sara might have marvelled at her brain's capacity to focus on the task at hand, shoving aside fear, exhaustion, the frightening state of her companion's health and just about anything else, to simply deal with what was occurring right in front of her. They just needed to get out, get away, everything else could wait.

Assuming nothing managed to reach the group and prevent their reaching the door, Sara again reached for the power she had been granted, grasping the door ahead. She knew, from experience, that they were heavy, so to prevent wasted time and her two injured companions potentially being hurt further in the effort to open them, Sara visualised the door folding in on itself like the beginnings of an origami piece. She felt the now-familiar mental presence in the back of her skull, a peculiar feeling of change that she knew to hold on to if she wanted to maintain her changes. Again the fatigue hit, but she focused on nothing but maintain the 'open' state of the door and putting both her own and her companion's feet in front of the other.