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Of course it went to hell in a handbasket rather quickly. A straightforward mission never existed. But she hadn't counted on the indiginous insects to have gotten so . . . No, she should have. She had encountered mutated animals before, this shouldn't have been any different. This was on her, and she needed to get up so she could fix this.

She heard Otto and Abbi's voices, muffled bright notes in a sea of white-noise-buzzing. Gritting her teeth, Stormy aimed a kick at one of her captors, but it felt like hitting a rock wall; her toes jammed into the front of her boot and she continued to scrape against the ground as they dragged her without a care. Fire, fire . . . Damn it all, her torch was knocked away.

A blur of runic symbols heralded Abbi's timely entrance, making a dull thunk as it forced one of her captors to stagger with a chittering squeal, though it did not let her go. "God," she managed to breathe as a thank you, though under the circumstances she couldnt't appreciate the Moon's humor. Emboldened, Stormy resummoned her greatsword to try and drive it away completely--but the problem with her weapon here was proximity versus size: her weapon wasn't made for extremely close combat. Unceremoniously yanked like a fresh kill (bad thought, bad phrase), she was twisted about, and what momentum she managed to get wasn't nearly enough to pierce its hide.

The cliff was far too close, the ground clawed at her back. Panic overrode her senses.

"Get the torches!" she yelled at Abbi, her eyes luminous with fear. She was failing so miserably--

(Where were Jake and Sherry? She couldn't catch sight, her vision overrun with shadows and mutations and the faint glints of weapons.)

Her voice strained as she raised her voice over the mob to get to them all: "Get the torches and run! Get that artifact!"

Her weapon couldn't serve her like this; not even its weight seemed to keep them down, and already she felt smaller ones crawling through her clothes, nipping, screeching--Grateful she wore gloves, she desummoned her weapon and scrabbled for purchase on the ragged ground, grasping and stretching and writhing and barely able to hold in her own screams.

The artifact lied just on the otherside of the damn bridge and she just couldn't get away.

HP: 40
Damage: u guys no
Charge: so amaze very attack such hunter wow

There was one good thing about Otto's hesitation--the large one wasn't interested in his presence just yet. The bad things were that he was still in range of it, and that standing still invited a group of centepe hybrids to clambor up his legs.

The large bug was, however, very preoccupied with losing one of its morsels, and with an alien shriek lurched forward at Jake, veering sharply and striking the new Sun hunter with its tail as it turned. It was clear the bug's strength lied in bullrushing and strength, however: its asymetrical legs made it unable to keep its balance, and it heavily favored one side as its snake-like limb thrashed against the air and ground mindlessly. As it attacked, it almost seemed to tilt with the effort, and unnatural blood continued to leak out like water in a balloon from its scrapes and new wounds.

While Jake was on the business end of its jagged, mishapen horn in attempts to gouge him into submission, Sherry's shield was grated on by the teeth as it dragged, drooling bodily fluids as it chomped at whatever it could--most especially that stick of hers. The bug had moved enough, however, that she wasn't quite as pinned as before and could, with some effort, get to her feet. A nice heaping of bugs would be squirming around inside her coat.

Abbi had less luck. While the scythe had impeded their efforts to drag Stormy, it wasn't enough to stop them completely. Bugs surged around them in chittering chaos, half attempting to chew the Moon alive, half aiding the effort to chew and pull the Mist. Stormy thrashed with a yelp, crushing smaller bugs as she scrabbled for something to grab--but she might as well have been fighting an ocean wave, for all the things crawling over, under, and on her. She swore one had managed to sneak down her throat with how hard it was getting to breathe, and the intense amount of Fear pressing on her shields wasn't helping her think.

She wasn't getting herself out of this situation. She had to act fast.

"The--mask--" she implored Abbi as first her foot and then her legswent over the edge, the bugs combined weight dragging her down faster than before. Her shield scraped until, for just a moment, Stormy latched onto cliff; she swung her legs and attempted to dislodge her captors (their pained squeal was satisfactory). One managed to fall off, but the other dug into her legs with its beetle jaws, and pain shot up through her limbs. She could see more were coming, and not just for her.

Wincing, she stared Abbi in the eyes and mustered as steady and quick a voice as she could manage. "I'll meet you all there," she promised. "Just get them away from these things and get back on track. Follow the bridge towards the light--"

Light and darkness. It suddenly made sense. The revelation was written on her face a split second before another pitbull-sized bug knocked Abbi aside and knocked against Stormy, peeling her off the cliffside like a scab; the faint runes of her weapon, resummoned as she fell, were swallowed up by the pit in seconds. It then scuttled around and hissed at the Moon, intent on making her suffer the same fate.

Stormy HP: 27

He turned, and was about to try and pull Sherry out, and possibly give the creature a piece of his mind for trying to crush his girlfriend when he heard Otto call out. The bridge? And then he heard Stormy cry out, and he turned, eyes widening as it looked like she was drowning in a sea of bugs (quite literally).

s**t. s**t. It was only a few minutes in and everything was already going to hell. Thankfully, his shield still managed to hold (perhaps that was thanks to Otto being close?), and he pushed back at the creature, enough that it gave him some room to get out of range and slip around to try and pull Sherry out. He sorely did want to try and beat that damn thing into submission, but Otto was right. Their primary goal was to retrieve that artifact and save Nevada. He only hoped they wouldn't have to sacrifice anyone in order to do it.

"Stormy, hang in there! We'll come get you as soon as we can."
He only prayed things weren't already completely out of hand.

HP: 38/50

It was hard to tell what was going on. Sherry found herself very much distracted by the thing trying to eat her with it's gross belly-mouth, but she was thankful she had Armagnac to help fend it off, for now. At least Jake was free, and hopefully the others, now if she could just... The bug moved, it's weight shifting from where it had pinned her so firmly and Sherry didn't hesitate to try and get out from under it. She was already covered in drool, and it was only a matter of time before it had devoured enough of her shield to do some real damage. Luckily Jake seemed to have the same idea (that Sherry needed out from under that thing) and offered a bit of a hand.

Free, a little bruised, covered in drool, and trying not to freak out because she could feel things crawling on her, Sherry tried to get her bearings as she stood. She had heard Otto yell at her and Jake, and they were both running. So she ran, too, trying to ignore the squirming inside her coat. She could shake it off in a moment. Hopefully. Maybe. If they could make it across the bridge.

And Stormy and Abbi were...Crap.

There was too much going on, too many needing help, and bugs in her coat.

HP: 34/50
Status: following the boys across the bridge omg.
(LOL. I'm just gonna sit here and LOL at them.)

( see below for details )

The pitch black, the squirming of bugs on his skin. All of it was breaking him apart. What little of him was left to hold together gave up once they dug at the scar on his neck. Terrifying memories tore through his mind at the feeling it provided. The torture he was victim to when he'd been kidnapped, the horrible never-ending nightmares he'd endured. It was all back. He was back in that place. That cold, nerve breaking place.

He didn't even know where he was running anymore, or if he was even running at all. Everything he feared most was ripping him apart, inside and out. If he stopped, he'd ed up as bug food even quicker.

But maybe that was inevitable. The whispers he could barely distinguish haunted his broken mind. Why should he go through all this again and again? It just wasn't worth it. Nevada... if he left now, she'd die for sure. But then why hadn't she at least tried to save herself? Maybe she wanted to die. All she talked about was her imminent mortality, and took what the doctors had said without a fight.

Yeah.. so why bother saving a girl who didn't want to live anymore? Why toy with his mind and heart? Why was this always his fate?

<>

Tenya's cries were but a thin string keeping his focus alive. His hand gripped fiercely at the pendant in his pocket. He kept it in hand as assurance. He could leave at any time, and they would all likely follow. Who in their right mind would stay here?

<> Tenya was a natural cheerleader, and she fought with all she had to keep Otto from completely breaking. <>

Otto kept running, ripping off any bug that came into contact with the deadly scar on his neck.

He would fall apart when it was over. Not here. Focus on the light. Nothing else exists but Tenya and that light.

HP: 40/60

Ol-j-man

There were bugs in her coat. Wretched, cold, squirming, fast and everywhere. It was enough that even though she felt the chill in the air, she didn't care. They were against her skin, eating at her shield, poking at her scar. The realization of that caused her stumble and nearly fall. Why? No! No! No! She was internally screaming at the thought of it. A remnant of the last time she'd gone somewhere dark; remembered pain, hardly dull with time, seemed to throb with each step she took. Her hands tugged at her coat, her shirt, under her shirt as she tried to rid herself of the bugs. They were going to eat them all. They would take her apart piece by piece, starting with that scar.

No, she just had to focus. She just had to keep moving. No giving up, no stopping. Her hands swiped at bugs and her feet moved. She could see the end of the road ahead. There in the darkness, they just had to make it there. Over the bridge, past the bugs, out of the dark and the whispers and the cold. Just a little farther.

Sherry stumbled again, the darkness and bugs getting in her way. She was still swiping at the insects, the gross things. She nearly lost her footing, but she did slip out of her coat, trying to shake clean it as she moved. It was infested. She was infested.

They were all going to die here. And why? Because they were hoping for a slim chance of saving someone. A slim chance in a dark cave who knew how many miles underground. No one would even come looking for their weapons, she was pretty certain of that. Why had she even agreed to come along? Oh, right. Because that was what she did. She helped people. She went out of her way to do it, even. It was her job, after all, being in Life. That was another reason she was here. Another medic, just a girl from with bandages. Would anyone do this for her?

She would, for them. Clearly. She was hear for Nevada, because Stormy asked. She'd go out of her way to help Otto and Abbi- they seemed like good people. And Jake, well, she knew what she was willing to do for him.

But for her? People who hardly knew her? She'd not expect them to. She'd not fault them for going home and being safe. No, she would understand them letting her die. Jake though, she liked to think he'd want to help her. She wouldn't want him to, not risking his life for hers, but she liked to think he would be willing. But would he? Did she really matter?

Armagnac rumbled in her head.

Maybe she should just leave. Leave Stormy in the dark, leave the other three here, or drag them back with her. Nevada had accepted her fate, hadn't she?

Sherry could leave. She could. It would be easy, and then she could be rid of the bugs and the dark and everything would be all right.

No, she told herself. She couldn't leave them. They'd already left Stormy in that pit and that was bad enough. She hoped Stormy's weapon was strong enough to shield her from that fall. She knew Stormy was strong enough to survive that. They just had to get to her. No, Sherry couldn't leave without everyone else. She couldn't and she wouldn't. Not any of them. They were her friends, and Jake was more that that even.

It would have been easy to leave, but it also would have been giving up. And Sherry just wasn't very good at that. She had to try and she had to hope.

Armagnac rumbled again, sounding pleased but focused. The shield was waning; the bugs had done a number on it thus far. Too much more of this and there would be no shield.

Nearly there. Just a little more. Sherry slowed and turned to look behind her, coat in one hand. She wasn't going to leave anyone behind this time. She'd take up the damn rear if she had to.

"Come on! Nearly there!"

HP: 24/60

There seemed to be a slight pause between their thoughts and what stirred them, as if something was contemplating. The light began to grow brighter, almost physically forcing back the majority of the horde as they screeched distantly.

(Otto)

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In darkness it was always easy to fumble towards the future. It was always easy to give in when there was no control, to look behind and see nothing but where mistakes had been made, to look forward and only see emptiness, to look down and see nothing should look upon.

What separated courage from fear was the impetus to act irregardless of what was seen. Even if there was only a slim chance, even if there was no guarantee. Only the brave continued when others said there was nothing left to give, because there always would be--because when others did not see that glimmer, sometimes one had to be the light to keep them going. Maybe even to keep themselves going. When others left his life, it did not have to be a departure: what memories there were did not have to be seen in a negative life, but that of a life that had been fulfilling for all of its worth. That was what the world was made of: people coming and going. Their fingerprints were their legacies.

It was okay to sag under the weight of someone's sadness or his own, to feel hearts break. What was the point in trying to help others, or even himself, be happy even for one moment when in the end they all might only find sorrow?

The answer, of course, was because they would be sad later.

(Jake)

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Sometimes the fear of dying was enough to keep you going. Sometimes that was all it took. But sometimes one needed to look beyond themselves to find a reason.

There was a girl who once told him he was walking backwards, fixated on past mistakes and unable to see obstacles in his path until he fell over them as well, adding to the pile. There was a movie that once said, You got to put the past behind you. But it was so easy to review what had come and gone because it had already happened; it could be examined, analyzed, agonized over.

Yet why look to the past when the future was for the taking? When there were people who depended on him and would depend on him later? Those who did not know their history were doomed to repeat it, yes--but those who did not fight for their future had no place in it. And that's what they would all do. Together. Whatever he might say or do in company, that goal was a bond everyone shared. That was something he could reach out with, to forge something new.

The first step towards change was acceptance of it. A life that existed in repentance was better than a life spent in guilt.

(Sherry)

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There would always be that temptation. There would always be a time when someone asked for something and she would want to say no because it was too much, or because it was the wrong time, or simply because she did not want to--or maybe because it wouldn't change anything even if she did. Could you ever help someone who did not want to help themselves?

Sometimes, though, it wasn't the end result of generosity that mattered, but the action itself. Sometimes it was the knowledge that someone out there cared that was enough. Wasn't that the basis of friendships, of love?

Kindness did not have to be soft. The giving were not necessarily doormats. In some cases, they had to be the ones fighting hardest: for themselves as well as for others who struggle to do the same. They weren't expected: they were needed. They were necessary for survival.

Those who kept a candle of hope going, even when the world was nothing but cold wind, were honorable soldiers in their own right.

(Abbi)

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Children did not witness death lightly. They did not watch life get crushed by tons of metal so quick that the could could escape before the pain began. They did not watch life sputter and cry as their bones were crushed into their lungs and organs, helpless and horrified. They did not silently say thanks for being the one who survived instead. Children did not experience this without irrevocably changing. They grieved, they sobbed, they cursed and wailed their inability to do anything.

But she had done more than that. She had chosen to get up and fight regardless. She had been there in the desert, in the trials, and in Wonderland, and she had come out the other side. She strove to keep up with the others with humor and support at the ready because that was how she coped, that was what she wanted to share.

She was young. But she was no child. And she would not be left behind, not after all of her work.

Maybe it wouldn't be as obvious to others, but she would be there. She was a survivor, whatever others thought. When someone more experienced could have been brought in, instead there she was: a friend and someone Stormy had trusted to live up to her division. Someone who even now had helped keep the horde back, if only for a little while. Little things--little people--mattered.

The sun had no place in this darkness. This was the moon's responsibility to light the way.

(For everyone)

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In the end, however, it was always their choice to make. The gift of life was the freedom to choose their path. There would always be a war of wolves within, no matter the circumstances, because there was light and darkness within everyone: a wolf of anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego. And a wolf of joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, and faith.

The wolf that would win would be the one that was fed.

The light seemed to pulsate through and past them, pushing back even more bugs. Between that and their individual struggles, the vermin were becoming less dangerous and more a nuisance to crush. Even their clicks and hisses seemed to become just a little more mundane now that the light revealed them for what they were. Even the Fear infection seemed to lessen as they neared.

The light came from something smaller than it had seemed before, a concentrated pinprick that became less blinding the closer they came over the jagged bridge. There, on a pedestal raised to about hip level for most, sat a thin, white half-mask, with designs too faint to discern carved into it.

It was over. They had found it.