Splatterpunk [They/Them] wc: 127

The path wound with a slight incline - Splatterpunk stepping lightly, scanning the tiles of brickwork. They were at the head of the loose grouping of four, and scanned the ceiling for hazards, as Moritz often did when training them. Flume wound around their front legs, minding not to leave burns.

A round doorway dipped down another good half a foot - and Splatter had to stop themselves from a stumble. Flume was suddenly hovering just above their head instead of down below, the fire elemental nervously flickering.

"Sharp drop here! ... and wet." They called over their shoulder, straightening their gait. The water soaked up to their knees, and they shifted their packs higher, before carefully stepping forward and wandering down the apparent 'path' in the cistern, eyeing for another exit.

Shepherd [He/Him] wc: 203

Shepherd hung around at the back of the party, able to keep an eye on everyone easier since he had an advantage on height. It had been a while since he was able to explore with coursers other than just he and Haren, though it wasn’t a bad thing. He truly loved travelling with his husband, but they both knew that exploring the dungeons was much safer in numbers.

A small smile and an eye roll came from the black stallion, as Haren almost immediately started opening his mouth. Shepherd was just waiting for it to happen eventually. With a hushed tone and a few short words, he was able to calm Haren down enough to hear what Splatterpunk had to say, and he gave a quick nod of affirmation.

Just as Splatterpunk had said, the path they were on declined quickly, directly into dark stagnant waters. Shepherd looked around, trying to assess the room that they were in. Large ivory columns sprung from the ground and reached all the way to the ceiling, delicate filigree etched into the bases. The splashing of the four sets of hooves echoed against the chamber walls, and it sent a few eerie chills down Shepherd’s spine.

Firetruck [They/Them] wc: 206

There was something that felt just a little bit odd, and it took the red courser a few minutes to realize that they hadn’t seen Copcar attempt to join them, to barge in, proclaiming that he would be the one to fight. That he deserved the glory, the acknowledgment, the applause. Firetruck had found others, a trio who didn’t seem particularly close to one another - but they were not especially good at reading things such as that - but were willing to work together, anyhow. They liked that, the camaraderie that came from doing things together for a particular purpose.

Unfortunately, Firetruck had not entirely figured out what their purpose was - they’d come along, got lost in their own thoughts while the others were, assumedly, discussing the purpose of their jaunt. They just, well… they just were. And Firetruck was happy to be included.

The courser in the lead - Flatterjunk? Flitterby? Spatsandpants? Splatterpunk - called back a note, and the red attempted to drag their thoughts back to the work at hand, though they were still half surprised when the ground suddenly dropped, and they ended up with a hoof covered in mud. Well, then. Such is such. At least someone seemed to know where they were going.

Haren [he/him] wc: 248

Everyone had been so quiet and analytical, taking in their surroundings like some wannabe professionals. Four sets of hooves clicked against stone, resonating through the cavern along with various noises from accompanying pets. Haren’s small hound, Slug, attempted to keep pace with the rest of the equines before picking her up, careful not to poke himself on her anti-monster gear. 

“Where the hell are we even going?” The deep red Courser spoke with no regard to the rest of his party. He followed close behind the black equine that declared their name to be Splatterpunk. Haren didn't understand why his husband Shepherd convinced him that they needed to travel within a group, they were doing just fine. However, despite his apprehension, he knew they needed the company to delve deeper than what they could do by themselves.

His thoughts began to wander to Shepherd, their daughter Olive, and the life they began to build. A faint smile crept across his maw before he was rudely interrupted by Splatter’s call for attention. Due to his lack of perceptiveness, Haren lightly bumped into the other red Courser within their group before he realized the immediate decline of the floor and sloshing of water. 

Musty air hit his grey nostrils like a lost bat, immediately followed by sounds of sloshing liquid. Haren could feel his hound tremble upon his back, causing him to take in that uneasiness within himself. 

“Is this really the only way?” His voice was coarse and grading. 

Splatterpunk [They/Them] wc: 183

"Yes. Unless we'd rather backtrack about..." Splatterpunk searched their memory a moment. "Four miles. Just try to step carefully, you can't see any tripping hazards through the water." Crispin had once tripped on something, face first in a cistern like this. No one had laughed because it was Crispin, at least - being laughed at while your life was probably in danger sounded like the worst thing in the world to Splatterpunk.

They heard a faint hssh of Flume pressing himself to the ceiling - burning a stain on the stonework, but kept walking, carefully, slowly. They had to go forward, they had to cross, there would be an exit not too far ahead.

A louder splash caught then the splash of hooves caught their ear, and they swung their head about - something was moving towards them, from where the party had come from, a large bulging shape not yet breaking the surface of the water but on the cusp.

"RUN - AFTER ME!" Splatter bellowed, ears and tail shot upwards in pointed alarm, before barrelling down the cistern as fast as they could go. Shit, shit, shit-

Shepherd [He/Him] wc: 165

Shepherd was making sure Haren and Firetruck stayed fairly close to the rest of the group. Haren had a tendency to start talking or rambling about whatever was bothering him at the moment, and he would drift away until he could no longer be seen. And Shepherd has had to help redirect Firetruck a few times, finding them lost in the strangest places. The black stallion didn't mind, of course, he has assisted more than his fair share of coursers in the dungeon, and he would do it a million times over if it meant they were all safe.

The stallion's ears flicked around as he heard some unfamiliar splashing coming from behind the adventuring party. He stopped only for a moment to assess the surroundings before spotting a rapidly approaching bulge in the water, hurling towards them. Thankfully, Splatterpunk’s keen senses also spotted whatever was sharing the cistern with them, and Shepherd quickly followed orders and started running with the rest of the team.

Haren [he/him] wc: 286

The red Courser huffed at Splatter’s response, continuing forth with the rest of the equines despite the trembling of Slug upon his back. He turned to nuzzle her small frame, reassuring her that they would both be safe. Haren stayed close to his husband’s side, keeping vigilant eyes on their surroundings. He wasn't one to back down from an adventure nor danger, but something about this situation felt off. 

His icy blue eyes scanned over his companions, checking to make sure they were all safe. Splatter was confident enough, they seemed to have specialized training that somewhat soothed his deep anxieties. Firetruck was a familiar face, himself, and Shepherd ran into them while combing the halls of the Overgrown Caverns. Even though they seemed lost at the time, Haren knew they were perfectly capable of handling themselves. 

Without warning, Haren’s attention was torn to something behind them. His ears pinned and eyebrows furrowed as he took a sharp pivot on his hind end to face the oncoming danger. He focused his eyes but could not make out what was rushing towards them. The water’s tension refused to reveal the threat, and Shepherd refused to let his partner find out what it was. Haren felt a sharp tug on his braid and loud yelling filled his ears. 

“RUN-AFTER ME!” Splatterpunk’s voice resonated within Haren’s mind. Pretentious bitch. 

He was not about to fight against their judgment. Tsk! Legs turned quickly, following close behind the rest. Brown hooves thundered through the water as quickly as they could carry Haren’s small but built frame away from the prominent threat. 

“GET GOING!!!” 

Firetruck [they/them] wc: 202

Firetruck was used to being useful.

Actually, that was a little bit misleading - Firetruck had to be useful, or else they didn't know their place in the world. If someone was lost, they could find them. If someone was looking for lost people, they could be lost. If someone needed someone to focus on and make sure that they stayed safe and made it where they were meant to go, Firetruck was their courser.

If someone needed a rival so that they had a purpose to push forward and grow, Firetruck could be that for Copcar.

Who wasn't here. Wasn't here. And they needed to be paying attention right now, especially because they were suddenly running! Where? Why? Unimportant - they were sure that someone would guide them if they got lost. These were capable people; they might prefer having someone who seemed a little less. They were entirely able to save themself, but, when everyone is a hero, no one gets to be heroic. And Firetruck would love for them to have their hero moment.

So they ran, and, if anyone felt the urge to guide them, help them, save them... well, they'd smile, and be grateful.

And Firetruck would feel useful.