Caves Are Scary

Ares was aghast: his attack, something he had conjured from the depths of his lust for war, something that had been the purest form of his anger and wrath, had been tossed aside as if it were nothing more than a flimsy paper airplane. It was as if his whole world was shook to its core then, his eyes growing round and wide in a momentary lapse of terror, and he felt himself be put into his place. He was of insignificance - his existence, his very life, did not even come into the consciousness of this cave dwelling creature. He was a speck. He needed more power. He wanted more power: to tear apart this creature that mocked him.

Something stirred deep within him, and the once snarling Charmander felt his innards churn in a moment of adrenaline fueled desire. It was as if something clicked and triggered a sudden transformation, and promptly he was compelled to change in some manner or another. It all seemed so slow for him now as a crescent moon wave of psychic energy scorched through the air before him, and promptly he felt a horrendous attack slice through him. He released a howl of an angry, wounded animal, his body moving ever so slightly with the wave as it cut through his shoulder with the precision of a warm knife through butter. Blood sprayed, his hand instantly moving to support it, and his brow furrowed as he attempted to maintain some semblance of a cool.

He was weak. No wonder why he had been tossed aside. Ares was dropped to one knee, his entire body crippled with pain. He winced and shivered, blood seeping at his fresh laceration that stood apparent in between his stout neck and shoulder. His clavicle wept furiously, and his blood attempted to clot as quickly as it could. He stared towards this creature that had maimed him, fury building in his heart as he felt his heart race at the pace of a frenzied Rapidash. He attempted to conjure flames again, but they merely became choked up in his throat. He spluttered. Curses.

There were any number of reactions one could've had to seeing their closest friend shredded by a beast of legend: for Cyrus, that reaction was to run. The beginning of tears pricked hotly at the corners of his eyes, warping his vision as he backpedaled furiously away from the blood. He didn't mean to abandon Ares, but the roar in his head, the pounding of heart, the desperate chant that commanded him to GO, GO, GO were, in that moment, all he was. Oh Arceus, there was so much blood.

Cyrus was never once for feats of reckless bravery. It simply wasn't in his nature. The young prince had been brought up with a pampered lifestyle, and though his journey had changed him and he'd become well acquainted with danger over time, the Snivy still valued his own life above all. Which is why when he suddenly snapped and summoned a storm of jagged leaves that cut life knives and whirled it towards the sneering legendary, it wasn't some show of heroism, or even out of concern of his friend (not that he wasn't hot in the face and hating himself for being so damn pathetic), but of the deep, primal will to survive.

( ENERGY: 15 - 3 )

Guest carried out 3 launched of one Serene Cave :

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How surreal it was, how this adventure had taken a hellish nosedive. The Onix was nothing more then another rock formation, staring dumbly ahead. Her mind rang with the agonized growls of Ares as he lay slumped on the ground, Cyrus's screaming and whimpering, stumbling over his feet as he tried to flee --

   

    Their attacker hovers above, still staring down the bridge of its snout, the coldest sneer in the history of all Pokemon kind. It almost appears annoyed by the situation -- a waste of its time. Its fingers already lightly scalded by the fire move it deflected, it glares down at the cowering Snivy and the Onix that seems to be somewhere else entirely.

    It seems to decide to go down a line of targets, treating them like a shooting gallery -- the Charmander first, up next is the snivelling Snivy. Psychic energy charges at its finger tips, and it lifts its arm to prepare for another blade-like sweep to aim a repeated move at the back of the retreating Pokemon.

   This time, no poor eyesight stops Stella from catching the move. Wide eyes with pupils as small as specks of sand stare up, frozen and dull as the creature seeks to KILL without remorse. In its cold eyes she sees another face, she sees a scowling Pangoro with the same cold eyes, with egg yolk dripping from its death-bringing paws, she sees that in this levitating beast now. History repeats itself, so the phrase goes.

    An evil little voice hisses in her mind. That makes THREE children now you've let get injured -- or worse.

    Something snaps inside the Onix. Something in her mind, some kind of metaphorical wire that holds her original instincts, pressed down by years of becoming what she had come to love, cannot hold its restraints and snaps in two. She is old, but she no longer looks so. There is a sudden wrath in her eyes, a wrath only deserving of her kind, those giant leviathans of the earth and of the rock that bring so much terror for their violence in so many other regions.

    Something stirs within her. Something primeval, something that not even the mightiest Onix on its most violent rampage could hope to achieve. Her entire body quakes as the ground does before an earthquake, her jaws open slightly as something rumbles deep within. The cave begins to shudder a little. The beast they battle is distracted from its attack, even though just a little bit, to take note of the sudden change of behavior of the largest creature in the room.

    It's like lighting heralded by a mighty thunderclap. She suddenly lunges for the levitating entity at speeds considered breakneck for her kind, Her mouth opened wide to release a primordial bellow so wrathful, so strong in volume and tone that it actually surprises the creature for a second -- which in that stunning moment will determine whether it will have enough time to teleport out of the suddenly monstrous Onix's path of blind fury. The cave shudders more violently as her booming scream shatters all other noise, and pebbles fall to the base of the cave floor.



( ENERGY: 19 - 3 )

Guest carried out 3 launched of one Serene Cave :

, ,

Ares was dealing with his own demons as he fought for his right to remain aware. There was a throb and searing sensation as his blood was doing its best to prevent more of itself from being lost. Within his soul, a sensation of motivation - a desire for survival - fought to compel him onwards, and yet another also warbled deep within. He could see it now: red eyes opening in darkness deep within him, a low, growling voice bellowing for the chains restricting to be slackened so that it might be loose once more. It rattled its chains, gnawing at the rusted iron as time drove them become weak, and pleaded to aid this wounded individual regain his strength with newfound power. The brutal Charmander, for once contemplating subduing his pride to yield his will to something deep within himself, was almost at the threshold to unleash this captured animal when something green slid in front of him.

Ares's eyes widened quickly, his body reacting to attack but wincing back as his injury reminded him of his place in this situation. He was forced to be a bystander now, not a participant. His voice, weak and yet still remaining constant, felt detached as his brain sought answers.

"C-Cyrus?!"

There was surprise and alarm as he saw a new form take the alias of his old compatriot, and it was incredible to witness the power and strength this snake like Pokemon wielded. Envy struck his heart, only to be snipped quickly by pain, and he watched mesmerized as the once docile Onix slithered into action and began to wrangle with Mewtwo. Cyrus was not to be outdone as he, too, participated in a mass onslaught towards this belligerent individual. Ares did not want to miss out and attempted to rise to the occasion - freshly rallied by his comrades' bravery - but was forced to his knee once more.

Useless, came the corralled spirit from within. The cave shuddered. Rocks were beginning to fall. Ares was useless and weak - he could hardly rise to his feet, and yet the stubborn fool would not yield to aid.

Cyrus stole a glance over his shoulder to quickly gauge the state of Ares's wound and grimaced. This wasn't a fight they could win. Even with his stress-induced transformation, the grass-type was fighting and fighting and fighting against his instinct to turn tail and run, saving his own hide. The walls were coming down around them and they needed to go now. Long fractures raced up the sides of the caves, sending large boulders toppling between them and the legendary. Cyrus flinched as one hit the ground too close for comfort.

"Madame Stella! We have to leave, now!"

He only prays she can hear him in her maddened state as he stoops down to loop Ares' uninjured arm around his shoulders, and lifts him as gently as he can.

"Don't pass out on me, okay?" he hisses, "You're gonna be alright."

The mountain-made serpent rises from where it had landed. Dust pours off her snout of stone, a falling stagalamite in two when it hits her bulk. A rumble like a mad earthquake still growls within the deepest pits of her being. Smacking into the walls exhausted her somewhat, but there was still enough madness left in her eyes. We're not done, screamed that primal madness that had taken control of her actions, We're not done until it lays broken at our coils, dead!

    However, the target of Stella's madness decided against the vengeful desires of the beast that just happened to make the cave begin to collapse in on itself. The Mega Drain lands a hit, but it's nowhere near enough to bring it down. Yet, the cave collapse just might. It gives the trio a remnant of a disdainful sneer, as it gingerly gropes at its right leg, already checking for broken bones.

    And with that, it vanishes in a flash of purple light, just as Stella bellows and turns to face it.

    This doesn't bode well for the wrath-controlled monster. It clicks almost immediately that her quarry is gone, she's been cheated out of truly dishing out revenge. Her mind then its a hazy blaze of fire, a simple primal desire to KILL, KILL, DESTROY ENEMIES, DESTROY -- things along that line of thought. She releases another hellish shriek, her mighty tail thrashing and smacking against one side of the already collapsing cavern. Another falling rock strikes her.

    It is only by miracle she hears Cyrus's scream. It's barely there, but enough for the Onix to turn her head to a pitiful sight. Burning eyes crazed with vicious desire numb into emotionlessness as she stares at the Servine supporting Ares. The blood that trails down the charmander's body like crimson waterfalls makes her stomach do somersaults. The madness in her eyes dies completely.

   In a single moment, the fire that had her determined to rip another Pokemon to gorey shreds was extinguished. Another rock falls, and this time she registers it falling, but only just. She simply gives it a glance. Her body is durable enough to withstand many falling chunks that would severely injure others.

   "--Right." She states, her voice distant, dream-like. Her body lowers to the trembling floor, sliding next to Cyrus as he holds his friend. "Get him on my back, you too if you have to. I can get us out of here before the whole place goes down, I'm sure I can."

Ares was forced to swallow his pain so that he might at least get a glimpse of the creature that struck a devastating blow against his psyche and body. His teeth, bared and smashed together as he held back a howl of pain, parted just enough as Cyrus sought to support his torn being so that he might snarl in rage, "No! Not yet! Get me up so that I might die fighting!"

He could not allow this creature - this psychic being - to maim him so. His people demanded that defeated warriors be executed so that their family's honor might be maintained, and here he was, still hobbling and unable to fulfill his people's last rite. He tried to summon flames as a sneer was cast towards them, but the fire choked out in his throat and left him coughing with smoke peetering forth from his fanged jowls. He yielded to Cyrus's assistance now, too weak to offer much more protest than a desperate swing at the chilled air that separated him and the now disappearing Mewtwo. He wheezed, attempting to clear his lungs of smoke, and subsided into a fitful peace - albeit still somewhat oriented about his surroundings.

His mother had certainly abandoned a worthless genetic dead end, and he defended her actions steadfastly now.

"NOBODY is DYING." the Servine hissed through his teeth.

Something inside Cyrus quails as Mrs. Stella snakes towards them, cold mistrust cutting through rationality, and he flinches. That afterimage of the fight flickered behind his eyelids. Two monsters, roaring, boulders falling, the look in her eyes when she lunged for the Thing. She'd been out to kill.

"Don't worry about me, I'm f-fine..."

Cyrus's voice chose the most ironic time to crack and taper off into a quiet whimper. He was fine, physically, but the same could not be said for the prince's fragile mental state. Although his evolution had been nothing short of a miracle, he was still practically a child. A child that had seen his closest friend terribly mauled, who had seen a kind old woman turn into a savage beast.

He lifted Ares onto her back, careful not to jostle the injured pokemon too much, wincing at how malleable he was.

She says nothing, but she can sense the fear that seems to have taken over Cyrus's body, even when he composes himself enough to help Ares up onto one of the boulders that make up her back. The scene that had just occurred had left a mental scar in the Snivy, and a rift between them she never wanted to create. He'd probably avoid her after all this, she bet.

    The one time she can almost successfully protect children, and now they're afraid of her.

    There's things to be said, obviously, she feels them burning in her maw as guilt churns through her usually strong innards. Through the chaos, she can only half realize what she had just did, but realize just enough to make her feel horror at her own actions. The weight of realization nearly freezes her again, as she did when Mewtwo had struck down Ares.

   A rock falls by her face and shatters, sending splinters showering in her face to pull her back up from the hole of mental conflict she was just about to slide into. She blinks thrice, and feels Cyrus carefully pushing Ares onto her back. Her heart aches when she can feel the blood already dampening her rocky hide.

   She stares, apologetic and concerned for a moment at Cyrus, to contrast his fear and mistrust. "If you say so, dear. I'm going to go fast, though, so we can beat the cave-in. If you're having a hard time keeping up, just yell or lunge for my tail."

    There would be time for explanations, for attempts to make excuses later. For now she puts her coils to work, shooting off down the trembling tunnel like a bullet at half speed, so that she can mind the heavily injured Charmander laying across her back.

    Hang in there, she prays. By Arceus, please hang in there. What a terrible Pokemon I am. Unak would never look at me again after today, would he?

This was something he had not envisioned when he had set out this morning with ambition in his heart and a pure lust for treasure in his heart. Here he was, broken and shattered, being carried away from the battlefield that should've served as his grave like it would for a good and honorable warrior. Sure, the Mewtwo had retreated, but he was not from the same cloth as Ares. His people were rough and rugged, coarse and thick, while those softer than himself and his ilk found it pleasurable to retreat and regroup. The feeling of lacking the strength to carry himself was something that turned his stomach, and already he felt humiliated. His mother would weep for her son's state, his father would spit smoldering cinders upon his face; it would be a state of something worse than death, and more dishonorable than exile. Even the elderly, with their brittle bones and weak physique, could at least do the right thing and be slaughtered in battle.

The ceiling above him whizzed by, his eyes already half shut as fatigue nestled about his body and the realization of dishonor and failure settled upon his head. He was grateful towards this lumbering behemoth for showing him the correct way of dealing with adversaries stronger than himself, and he grew envious of her power. She was elderly and ancient - perhaps the age of some of these stones for all he knew - but she wielded strength he did not. How he envied her.

He had resigned to the notion that this was going to be a poignant moment for him, and all he could do was shift his dilated pupils towards Cyrus as his small flame petered out slightly, its strength falling from contained lantern to dying campfire. It was weak, and its light barely penetrated farther than its own being. Why did he have to be so weak?

Cyrus twisted around fallen boulders like a ribbon as he sped after the goliath. There was new strength in his limbs, a quickness driven by single-minded desperation coursing through his powerful new limbs. A cacophony of shattering rocks numbs any other thoughts, leaving one mantra that beat like a drum.escape, escape, escape.

"A light at the end of the tunnel" had never been more applicable. He could've cried out in relief as soon as he turned the corner to see the burning white shape of the cavern's exit. Darting into the blinding light of the sun, kicking rocks and dust behind him as he scrambled away from the chaos, the Servine gave a hoot of joy, which was cut off by a violent coughing fit when he inhaled a cloud of dust. Cyrus never felt so elated in his life. He was still alive, by some miracle. Death would have to wait.

The noise of boulders crashing as they wall up the passageway continued for what felt like hours... The dust cleared, and Cyrus doesn't feel so high anymore. Ares. He's out of the tunnels, but everything is still crumbling.

Ares.

Ares was...

The Servine bit down on his tongue, letting the sensation ground him, and forced his shaking legs to move, feeling as though he might collapse at any moment.

The noise of the collapsing cave was akin to a battlefield at the peak of chaos, yet instead of bombs it was ancient stone slabs that went crashing to the earth.  Mrs. Stella maneuvers with surprising agility -- the kind only seen in a pinch like the one she's in while minding the injured Charmander on her back. Her coils dodge skilfully around the falling rock, and in such a way that Ares never once risks a fall off her back.

    She shoots out of the cave like a rocket of some primeval era, highlighted by a brilliant explosion of grey dust from the cavern maw to announce the grand finale of the cave in. Her body lands heavily, but it does not tremble so much that Ares risks falling. She takes a moment to regain her strength -- for right then in the safety of the sun does her age catch up to her.

    It doesn't take long. In a quick succession, she rises up a quarter way, so that she can turn her head and carefully lift Ares off her back. She sets the charmander down carefully, in a way so that he rests against her mountain-like coils. She examines the wound.

    She mentally winces.

    Stella registers Cyrus's existence after what feels like hours of examination, in an outside world of sun that has become so quiet it as if the cave-in had stolen all noise from the world. It's the silence that gives one the desire to whisper, but in the urgency of the situation that want is lost upon her.

    "Cyrus," she speaks in a voice of anxious demand, "On our way to the cave, I recall seeing a pond just south-east of here. I need you to run and find it, quickly. When you get there, I need you to find some moss that'll most likely be growing nearby, soak it thoroughly, and run back here as soon as you can. Is that clear?"

    She turns back her stare to Ares. She's practically speak half-and-half to both of them at the same time. "We need to clean the wound before anything else. There's enough dust in there to infect it in the most horrible manner."