Taiga, Florasighth, Hawthorn, Maolin, Raijin
The dragons pack up, ready to get moving again. As they prepare to leave, some dragons around the group engage in small talk. Raijin asks Taiga about the journal they found, and Florasighth listens on, also curious as to its contents. Hawthorn keeps near Maolin, something weighing on his mind. He thinks carefully on how to best broach the subject, and eventually decides to ask, "Lionheart... he doesn't happen to be a researcher or botanist, is he?"
“Hmm?” Maolin hums. She had been distant since she was questioned by Florasighth. The question doesn’t immediately register, and her eyes open wide in shock when it does. “Oh, me?” she points at herself. Hawthorn nods. “Oh, I wouldn’t really know… I’ve never really spoken to him.” Maolin shrugs. She looks deep in thought.
Hawthorn’s left fan retracts against his neck, the right at half-mast, quivering slightly. “So what
do you know about him? Anything at all that might be of use?”
Maolin gives him a weary look. “I’m not sure why you’re asking,” she starts, “but I don’t know anything about him. This is only my third time encountering one of his expeditions.” She furrowed her brows. “And something always seems to go terribly wrong on each one. Wolf attacks, avalanches, vengeful tengu…” She sighs. “I just can't shake this anxiety. What’s going to happen
this time?” Maolin shakes her head, looking Hawthorn in the eyes. “Something big is going to happen, Hawthorn, I know it. And I think you know something is wrong, too.”
Hawthorn doesn’t shy away from her gaze. “Yes,” he agrees solemnly. “Something is
very wrong here.” These caverns once showed signs of life. Dragons likely inhabited these tunnels, lived here, worked here, slept and ate here. But now, it lay abandoned. What had driven them away from what were once meticulously maintained caverns?
As Maolin and Hawthorn walk in a heavy silence, the other three dragons lag a few steps behind. Taiga thumbs through the journal, scanning for anything of interest. One of Raijin’s heads hovers over his shoulder as he does so, curious, while the other keeps an eye on the path ahead. He places his thumb inside the book to mark his page as he quickly flips to the end of the entries. “Looks like the last entry was… Well, that’s over 10 years ago now.” Raijin’s head that’s not hovering over Taiga looks curiously at a door they pass with a begonia over the frame.
Taiga flips back to his bookmarked page, skimming through the pages as best he can for something interesting. The thrum of the Behemoth is distracting, and he finds he has to reread every few lines to absorb what the words say, but he’s ultimately thankful for the distraction. “I think this dragon was in charge of maintaining the flowers used for the marker system.” He flips to the next page. “Most of it is about the dragon’s successes and failures getting certain plants to grow in certain places. There’s logs about different soil compositions, nutrient combinations, required lighting conditions, and more for about a dozen different plants. It’s quite fascinating, I wish I had more time to read through it.” Taiga frowns. Considering how long the journal had been seemingly abandoned, perhaps the original owner would not mind him taking it home? He could think of a few clanmates who might find it interesting…
In addition to the more technical information, there’s plenty of personal notes left by the author, and not all of it is plant-related. “There’s an entry here about a cave-in while digging out a new room somewhere…” he drawls, sounding almost bored. He touches his pointer finger not holding the book to his lips. “Here, there’s some sort of argument between the ‘captain’ and another crew member, over some worker’s accident. Someone got their tail almost snapped clean off when a stalactite fell on it.” Taiga grimaces. He flips through the pages a little faster, trying to find anything more relevant to their situation. “There’s an entry about the installation of some new ‘wolfsbane doors’ and how to operate them.”
It’s quiet for a few minutes as Taiga searches the journal, the silence only broken by soft conversation between Hawthorn and Florasighth, and the flipping of pages. He stops on a page close to the end, giving this entry a more thorough read. “This entry is about them erecting a quarantine zone.” Hawthorn’s frills gave a subtle twitch. “They wrote that they had to contain ‘it’ until they figured out the right way to dispose of it. Well,
thats not ominous.”
Much to Taiga’s disappointment, the journal writer didn’t care to elaborate more on the nature of the quarantine zone, or what was being quarantined. It was mostly just about where to grow certain flowers and mark for new carvings for guidance. Sighing, Taiga tucks the journal away.
Ahead of them, there’s a section where the fairy lights have died, leaving a section darker than the rest. It’s near another gap in the root, leading back into the cave system. Maolin, who’s ahead of the pack, walks through the darkened section first.
Quick as a snake, Maolin yelps as her leg is snatched by an inky black arm. It quickly wrenches her and drags her into the cave, her claws scratching desperately at the floor. Hawthorn and Taiga each grab a hand, Hawthorn using his magic to imbed himself in the roots of the Behemoth. Maolin cries at the pain of being pulled from opposite directions, her leg giving a sickening cracking noise as her leg dislodges from her hip bone.
Raijin unsheathes his sword and dives into the black, ready to finally take on a foe! Electricity crackles wildly from his eyes as he attacks the inky arm. The sword itself does no damage, but the arm flinches and retreats a bit every time his lightning attacks go off.
Noticing the arm’s aversion to light, Florasighth yells “Watch out!” as she lights an oil lamp and throws it at the arm. The oil lamp shatters and sets the cave ablaze, a small fire spreading over the arm.
With a horrid groan, the arm releases its hold on Maolin, causing Hawthorn to stagger back and Taiga to fall on his butt. The arm writhes in the air for a moment, withdrawing between the smaller roots outlining the cave wall before disappearing completely.
Everyone except Maolin stares in shock for a moment, trying to process what just happened. Maolin just lays on the ground, her fists balled and teeth clenched in pain. Her leg is messed up pretty bad. Hawthorn reaches gently for her hand, asking if it’s ok to send her back to the medical tent. She nods, and Hawthorn twists the ring for her, sending another dragon back to the medical camp.
Back to where Lionheart is.
Taiga and Florasighth rush to put the fire out, Taiga taking off his cape, both dragons using their hands over the cape to smother the fire and suffocate it before it can spread to the tree roots.
Once the fire is snuffed, Taiga quickly ushers Florasighth back inside. Opening up the journal again, Taiga frantically flips until he finds the section about wolfsbane doors. Sliding his finger under the dead vines wrapped around the frame of the entryway, Taiga flips a hidden switch. A hidden door slides up from the floor, sealing off the entrance to the cave. In the middle of the door are three buttons, and at the top is an engraving of a wolfsbane flower.
Lertes, Sunrise, Myrdin, Sapphire
Lertes slips into the lead as they continue down the path designated by the lily marker, his keen eyes honing in on the walls to scan for any additional symbols. The dragons carry on in silence, but it’s a peaceful one; despite their claws echoing in the hollow vine, there is a vibrant hum around them, unmistakable, unbridled life. After some time - minutes? hours? no one is entirely sure - they reach a fork in the root. Ahead of them, the path continues, but to their left is a huge arch which leads into an open room. Carved above the arch is a lily.
Lertes peers in cautiously at first, but the room seems devoid of danger at first glance, so he turns back to the group with a nod. “I think we’ve found our resting point.”
Even the larger dragons have no trouble with the wide archway, and the smaller ones could easily walk through it two or three at a time if they wanted to; and when they enter the room, it’s easy to see why. The cavern is absolutely massive, with thick, curling Behemoth roots intertwined harmoniously with carved stone. Tables and chairs are chiseled out of stalagmites interwoven with vines, nesting chambers are carved out of the floor and lain with living moss beds, and it’s fully fitted with dusty, but sturdy, wooden furniture throughout the chamber.
But the most incredible thing of all is the massive growth in the middle of the room: an offshoot of the behemoth herself growing up from one of its roots. Intricately carved pillars surround the tree, vines seamlessly weaving themselves around them. The tree itself resonates with a sense of life and harmony, an aura of verdancy completely filling the huge space.
While Lertes, Sunrise, and Sapphire move about to investigate the room, Myrdin stands transfixed. Though nothing compared to the Behemoth itself, and even smaller than his beloved sequoias, the offshoot tree manages to tower over the Ridgeback. He gently places one clawed hand against its bark through the pillars, feeling her pulse with life beneath his claws, and closes his eyes.
After a few minutes of exploration, finding little of value except the space and peace to rest, the others begin to gather, ready to move along on their journey.
“Uh, Myrdin?” Sunrise questions, fluttering up to the larger dragon. “You coming?”
Myrdin blinks in surprise, as though he’d forgotten what they were doing. “You lot go on ahead,” he says with a smile. “I think I’ll stay here a while longer.”
“Are you sure?” the coatl questions, head feathers flaring. “Don’t you want to win?”
Myrdin fixes him with a soft gaze, gentle despite his huge size. “I think I already have.”
An air of understanding washes over Lertes and Sapphire, though Sunrise still seems a bit perplexed as he rejoins the group.
“Good luck!” Myrdin tells them as they go, carefully settling down on the ground beside the pillars, filled with a peace he hasn’t felt in a long, long time.
The now-trio continues their trek where they’d left off, following the root down the continuing passageway. Chatter picks up again now that they’re rested, the mood remaining light. There’s some talk of what this star carnation is going to look like, and why Lionheart is so interested in retrieving it, but no deeper worries plague them for the moment.
They stop again as they reach another carved archway, though this one is considerably smaller, with a wooden door obscuring the contents inside. A begonia flower is carved above the doorframe, likely symbolizing a supply room. Lertes tries the door, almost surprised when it slides open easily. This room is far simpler - just a small chamber where the stone was emptied out, with shelves and storage trunks lining the walls and a few wooden tables and chairs in the center. They quickly fan out to make sure there’s nothing important stashed among the aged furniture - there’s not, although there are a few ancient, dried rations. Sunrise takes a bite of some salted fish jerky; he regrets this immediately.
Once they’re sure there isn’t anything of use in the stores, they turn back once again to continue following the root passage, which continues ever onward. They wonder if the tunnel will ever end. Does it even lead to the flower they were looking for, or does it continue on and on senselessly? Does it lead deeper underground? Does the path go all the way to the Behemoth herself?
It’s not long until they reach another fork - the root splits off in front of them in two directions - one is an open tunnel, the Iris of Knowledge carved above the trail, and the other blocked off by an intricately engraved wall. No - on closer inspection, it is a door; there are tracks in the ground below where it seems able to recede. However, there are no visible levers or handles. Above the door, there’s another flower symbol, which Lertes squints at.
“What flower is that?” Sapphire questions.
“It’s wolfsbane,” he replies. “Though, admittedly, I can’t remember what that one means.”
“Well, what should we do?” Sunrise asks, looking between the others.
“Well, one path seems to be more forthright,” Sapphire reasons. “One known and easy, the other mysterious.”
As they’re musing, they suddenly hear noises from the other side of the door, claws scraping against wood, approaching at a rapid pace. The scraping sounds abruptly skid to a stop, heavy, rasping breathing replacing them…
Gild
Gild, heart still beating with adrenaline, scrambles up the vine until she’s able to find solid footing. Although he knows he should want nothing to do with whatever had been clawing at Petra and Chiastolite, thoughts of actually losing whirl through his head. This isn’t just a game for hatchlings after all! This is an actual challenge! She continues to scramble forward at a near-breakneck pace, skidding to a stop just in time to avoid slamming at full speed into a huge, embellished door. She scans the root chamber; there was nowhere else to go except through the door or back the way she came. And he wasn’t going back the way he came.
As Gild tried to decide what to do, she hears noises from the other side of the door - voices. Dragons. “Hey!” he yells. “Let me in. There’s something out here. Something bad.”
“We aren’t sure how,” comes one of the voices from the other side, the humming tones of a coatl.
“What do you see from that side?” comes another, deeper voice. Ridgeback? No, Imperial.
Gild carefully scans the surface of the door. “No levers or doorknob, but carvings. Lots of decoration, vines, leaves, nothing that looks important, but, oh - in the center! Three squares, all with flower images. Maybe they mean something?”
He runs his claws over the squares, and realizes with excitement that a gentle push on one of them allows it to recess and click into place: a button. They press all three of them, and wait intently for something to happen. Nothing.
“They’re buttons, but I pressed all of them and nothing happened!” he calls out.
There’s a pause before a third voice calls out from the other side of the door, a lilting voice, quiet but stern. “What exactly do you see on the buttons? We have three as well. They must be the way to open the door.”
“Three flowers. The first one has two petals. The second flower has five petals. The third flower has six petals.”
“Ours have different numbers of petals as well. One with one petal, one with three, one with four.”
The dragons debate what to do, pressing buttons one way and the next to no success. The door doesn’t budge. Finally the first voice - the coatl - chimes up again.
“Wait. The different petals, the different numbers - what if we pushed them in order!” He presses in the button with a single petal, then calls out: “Now, press the two-petals flower!”
Gild obliges, and informs them as such. The coatl presses the button with three petals, then the one with four. “Now the last two!”
Gild then presses the five-petals button and the six-petals button, and waits… and a few seconds later, the massive door recedes into the ground, and Gild bounds across the threshold, eyes glimmering with pride.
“Good, we did it. Now let’s go.” The wildclaw doesn’t hesitate, just takes off down the hallway, with the others following quickly behind in the direction marked with the symbol of the Iris.
Infinite thanks to @
xenonentity for writing the second group's part! I wrote the first groups part. I am once again posting this way too late in the night, so apologies for any mistakes; I'll fix them tomorrow.
Aid and sabotage cutoff is
06:00 tomorrow for round 7. As a reminder, if you send an aid before rollover tonight, you get the following badge:
And if you send a sabotage before rollover tonight, you get the following badge:
If you send in an aid
after rollover, you get for the following badge:
If you send in a sabotage
after rollover, you get the following badge:
___
___
Wishlist
Gene Plans
FR+8
