Faux peace and Pretend Calm (HR vs Sphinx)

[Snakebird]

I wash up on the shore of the secluded cove area of the beach. My mouth and nose burn from the salt water, and I spit some out. I look around the cove, and take in possible areas to get out of the rain. It has some palm trees in the area, and I begin to move towards one of them, and notice that Blondie is already on shore.

WIP

[gm bourgeois decadence [aya]]

Wracked by winter, I'm cupping my coals in the sand
Growing like a starlight 'cross the garden of night, I'll think
Bones look lonely, memories surround me
Good times, skeletons are kicking at the ground

Stark Harper —

[/i][/color]

By the time Stark's bare feet found the sandy shore of the concealed cove, she was so used to the persistent throbbing of each of her injuries — most notably the extensive wound that the ghull had rent on her dominant shoulder — that the career scarcely noticed them. Her arms were lead, unused to having her weaker, more dexterous limbs hauling the majority of her weight around. On the contrary, her legs felt rubbery and underused, shaky from being on the sea for several days, albeit imperceptibly so. Though the voyage out to the partially-sunken ship would have been a positive experience by the standards of the sheeplike tributes of the lower districts — the majority of whom had been wiped out at that point — considering the lack of human presence on the boat, a very large part of the blonde girl was annoyed for the two to three solid days of hunting that she'd wasted out on the ocean.

After all, who'd died while they were away? Two cannons had fired in quick succession while she and her bitch made their swim back to the mainland, and Stark vaguely remembered the face of that pregnant chick from Ten being broadcast in the sky the night before. And before that, on the second day, it was that guy that she'd taken the coconut from and one of the unimpressive middle district tributes that the blonde had recognized as being from District Six, simply from the number of times that she herself had cruelly swung her hook at the girl. Had Stark been on the mainland, it would've been easy pickings. These tributes had posed no more of a threat to her than the fish she'd plucked directly from the river, that awaited her net in the ocean. The way they fled from her the minute she burst from the bushes, the way they glanced backward to meet her chilly eyes and recognize the monster that preyed on them, Stark knew that she would have slaughtered each and every one of them with ease.

Would have, but didn't. It was Day Four in the Arena and yet she only had claimed one human life: that girl from Eight on the very first day. Buried deep within her clockwork mind, there was a piece of Stark that seemed to chime in disappointment. Every hour, on the hour: that's pathetic for ninety-six hours! You should've slain them all by now! What's wrong with you? And deep down, Stark Harper was quite certain that the nagging voice in the back of her mind was right, that there was something wrong with her. Had they been consulted, the rest of the tributes — the rest of the nation, for that matter — would agree, though for quite the opposite reason.

"I'm pure evil, Cyclops," she announced, entirely nonchalant, "and don't you forget that." Strategically, she knew it would be advantageous if he did forget it for when she ultimately had to take her companion down, but considering Dante's lack of apparent competence and fighting prowess, the blonde girl wasn't the least bit concerned. And even if it would be to her benefit for the entire arena to forget how much of a threat Stark Harper really was, she knew that her sizable ego wouldn't be able to tolerate being underrated entirely. A small amount of underestimation was to be expected, of course; none of the other tributes — and, in all likelihood, none of the other Gamemakers — knew what the wicked girl was truly capable of.

She took a moment to appreciate the feeling of the wet sand squishing between her toes, the fact that the ground beneath her feet was solid, save for the shifting surface layer, making the future Gamemaker version of herself a promise to simply flood the arena one Games out of spite, not envying the tributes' whose fates she was placed in charge of. 'Empathy' was not an ability that Stark actually possessed, and 'human compassion' was a laughable concept. The only mercy that the career girl was familiars with was the subjects, the tributes around her that were at hers; Cyclops was the obvious example of someone who was at her mercy entirely.

For the briefest of moments, Stark considered allowing herself to fall backwards into the sand, to let the Arena become her own personal tropical resort, to let the Hunger Games become her dream vacation (they were) and to spend the rest of the evening relaxing. She could haphazardly deplete her food supply and force Cyclops to fan her with a palm leaf while she stretched out in the sand, pushing the sand around mindlessly with her limbs and losing herself in her own little world. Instead, she spat. The saccharine-sweet sort of vacation that was coveted by so many of the girls — and even guys — in her district was the sort of vacation that was absolutely torturous to Stark Harper. How could she be at ease if she wasn't on her guard? Nothing brought her more stress than the thought of being ill-prepared for an ambush of any sort. Her body was not most relaxed when she was sprawled out doing nothing; she was least tense when she was training, focused, fighting. And what pleasure would she of all people find in making a sand-angel? After all, Stark Harper was the devil and she knew it.

Instead, she cracked her back, rolled her neck around her shoulders, feeling the tension and stiffness release in a series of satisfying pops. "Alright, what do you say we take a fifteen minute stretch break and then head out into the jungle?" she suggested, pointing to the thicket of palm trees with her right hand as she gingerly stretched her wounded shoulder. It wasn't really an inquiry as to Dante's wishes and desires so much as a a way for her to simultaneously think out loud — so she could converse with the only person whose opinion she valued, one Stark Aspen Harper — and make her minion feel more included than he actually was. Stark wasn't too keen on the idea of staying out on the beach, even though the cove was significantly more secluded than the desert of sand that had sprawled out from the opposite side of the cornucopia. It wasn't even that she didn't like being out in the open where other tributes could easily spot her; in reality, the blonde girl was so pale that she practically glowed, and didn't really like the idea of spending Ripred knows how long without shade, lest she become a lobster.

The palm tree forest, at least, offered a bit of solace from the would-be relentless sun, should the rainstorms and resultant cloud cover ever decide to let up. And besides, if Stark knew anything from watching previous Hunger Games — and considering the way the would-be Gamemaker studied them, Stark knew everything from watching previous Games — she knew that the majority of tributes — or at least the lower district sheep, the ones that were most easily hunted — wouldn't dare to stray too far from the cover of the trees. "From there, we should have pretty good luck with the hunting. I don't know about you —" but being more familiar than she'd care to be with the meathead career archetype that Dante belonged to, Stark had a pretty good idea "— but I'm itching to get another fight in before sunset."

As soon as the career girl voiced her wish aloud, the Gamemakers obligingly presented the duo with a fight in the form of a sphinx. Stark sighed in exasperation. After all, nobody cared how many mutts a particular tribute slew; it was the ones who ended the Games covered with human blood to their name that earned the most recognition, though the blonde didn't exactly see why — increase in notoriety was the only distinction that she drew between slaughtering an animal versus a human. The way Stark saw it, the ability to value human life no more than one valued the life of the chicken that comprised the sandwich they were about to dig into, or no more than one valued a pocket full of change or a lucky bandana was the very thing that separated the victors from the tributes who were nothing more than cannon fodder.

She tossed her spare harpoon to Dante and swung her own hook at the hybrid beast as it careened through the air towards them.


[attacks sphinx, gaff [spear]]
[dice=200+3000]
[Shallow Cut on Left Bicep — 3.5 damage]


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[pika]

Cleo the Sphinx had been meandering about the area for days - and so far, no food had come along. The cove that it had chosen to stay in was quiet and uneventful, and Cleo had decided to move along. After all, if she couldn't find food here in the first place, why would it ever come? The sand crunched underneath her massive paws as she walked along the beach, her wings spread out slightly as the wind rustled through her feathers.

She looked up suddenly, sensing movement from up along the beach. Her eyes focused on one particular spot of the beach ahead, where she saw two figures making their mark on the sand. Cleo licked her lips involuntarily; she could almost feel the skin underneath her claws and between her teeth. This would surely be a magnificent feast on her part. It was hard enough to catch one piece of prey on its own, but two seemed too good to be true.

Her legs took off running on their own, pounding against the ground. Her wings opened up gradually and then suddenly all at once, causing her to lift into the air. The currents underneath her wings took her to them almost immediately, and no effort was needed to get herself into the sky.

She landed in front of them, the weight of her body sending sand spraying everywhere. She took in the sight then, noticing the look of irritation in the eyes of one. And then suddenly, it launched itself at her. Her weapon found itself into her leg, and she roared as she felt it dig in. Her claws unsheathed, burrowing deep into the sand, and she pounced at the one that had attacked her.

[attacks Stark, claws [knife]]
[dice=200+2000]
[Shallow Cut on Left Shoulder -- 3.5 damage]

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[Snakebird]

We're just taking a quick break on the beach, when Stark lunges at something with her gaff. I turn quickly, expecting a weak little tribute that we can easily kill. Instead I see something totally different, a giant cat creature that attacks Stark. I run in with the harpoon, and stab at the creature. I recognize it as a mutt that had killed the District One male a few years ago. It took his freakin head off. I watch as my harpoon goes at the sphinx.
(Attacks sphinx, harpoon)
[dice=200+3000]
(Deep gash on neck, 10+1=11)
Apparently I'm not so useless after all, and my harpoon stabs deep into the creature's neck. I pull my spear out, and blood splashes out. "I'm not so damn useless after all am I?" I shout at Stark. I ready myself to block the creature's attack.[rand=5157835041172802352727447170764266370435943827035103358272463083]

[gm bourgeois decadence [aya]]

Oh, how the night drags on, oh
But I think I see a pink light and the coming of dawn

Stark Harper —

[/i][/color]

As the sphinx landed, swiping at Stark with wicked claws, the Cyclops, quite surprisingly, landed a respectable hit across the creature's neck with the harpoon she'd pilfered from her first kill. "Whatever helps you sleep at night, Princess," she hollered back, chuckling in approval and quite pleased that her investment in Dante was finally paying off. Of course, it didn't entirely make up for his complete and utter failure to connect with the poisonous birds the other day, or his pathetic inability to hold his own during the bloodbath. But still, it was something — even if he was still relying on hitting a distracted foe the way the he had when they'd met during training.

"But nice work." Could it hurt to begrudge him a compliment if it meant he'd keep it up? She took a step backwards, bracing herself before whirling her hook back at the mythological creature.


[attacks sphinx, gaff [spear]]
[dice=200+3000]
[Shallow Cut on Right Bicep — 3.5 damage]

ooc- unfortunately, blades only gives the extra damage to swords, knives, and pole swords, so your hit was just 10 without the +1]


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[pika]

Cleo could smell the meat through their flesh – the dull throb of hunger becoming tedious and bothersome. So tired, and hungry, even her claws had barely made a mark on the smaller, the feistier prey. Her howl, echoing not quite as loud enough as the large sphinx wanted. Preparing to launch again at the smaller one, she paws at the ground ready to run and kill. The larger of the two meals leaps at her, slashing directly across her neck, stopping the large sphinx in her tracks. Howl piercing the air around them, front legs leaping into the air and wings sprawled across the sky, blocking the sun. Blood spurting, another scratch across her arm comes from the smaller of the two, not nearly as powerful yet still, the hunter was slowly becoming the prey.

Neck beating and pulsating with a sharp throbbing, her attention shifts from the shining haired girl to the beefier one, the one that would give Cleo more food anyhow. Bearing her teeth, Cleo leans in taking a bite at the boy.

[Attacks Dante – teeth [knife]]
[dice=200+2000]
[Shallow Cut on Stomach -- 4.0 damage]

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[Snakebird]

Stark replies back to me, calling me princess. "I'm not a princess!" I shout back, "I'm a manly pillar of masculinity!" How do I even know that word? That's one of the longest words I've said in years. I'm so distracted by my newfound intellect that the beast lands a hit on my stomach. I roar in frustration, and plunge my spear back towards it.
(Sphinx, harpoon)
[dice=200+3000]
(Shallow cut on back, 4)
My spear goes slightly high, and instead of lancing it through the heart, I land a glancing blow on its back. I'm slightly irritated, but at least I'm hitting them. Now Stark hopefully won't whip me again. And this thing is much easier to hit than those damn birds.

(Sorry, I'm used to another site's combat station. I feel dumb now xD)[rand=3455468656029552810824733460322072004467016085988190159709192812]

[gm bourgeois decadence [aya]]

Oh, how the night drags on, oh
But I think I see a pink light and the coming of dawn

Stark Harper —

[/i][/color]


"'Pillar', eh? Sounds like you're compensating for something." Stark chuckled, contemplating calling him inchworm for good measure, but instead returned her focus to the sphinx in front of them, who'd just snapped at Dante's midsection. The beast had to be nearly dead at this point, considering the way it stained the sand red from its neck wound and from the smaller cuts that peppered its hide, but how much damage could these things take? How much blood could the winged lion afford to lose?

It wasn't worth calculating, but Stark was certain that another hit or two would take it down. When she'd said that she wanted a fight, this overgrown cat wasn't the sort of thing that she'd had in mind, and she'd like to get back to her tribute-hunting mission. So, with a growl to match the sphinx's, Stark swung her hook back at the creature.


[attacks sphinx, gaff [spear]]
[dice=200+3000]
[Deep Gash on Left Thigh — 8.0 damage]
[+1 Turn Delay = 30 damage and a dead sphinx]


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[Snakebird]

Stark finishes off the mutt, and I leap into the air with joy. I begin to start patching myself up. I move over to the tree, and take a few leaves to stem up the bleeding. It stings, but I don't sense any poison in the wound. Thats good, I won't need any of that fancy poison stopping stuff.

WIP
(Dante does first aid on self for -3)

[gm bourgeois decadence [aya]]

Drifting along with my swords out flying
Tattering my own sails
and I tattered yours too

Stark Harper —

[/i][/color]

With her last attack, the creature fell and was still. Though it was unfair to take total credit for the sphinx, it was still Stark who had ended it, making the score Harper 3, Gamemakers 0 as far as the blonde was concerned. Besides, she didn't actively practice fairness; she saw it as waste of time. "So I guess you can only hit things that are as fat as you are, Cyclops?" she snickered, examining the dead feline hybrid. She plucked a feather from its wing and stuck it in her hair as a trophy.

She took her fishing net out of her bag and went to the edge of the cove to see if she could snare something to cook up and eat later, since it never hurt to have any extra food. It wasn't fun, but it gave her something to do in the meantime — though they'd defeated the sphinx quickly and with relative ease, Stark still decided to postpone the hunting until the next day. It wasn't as if the tributes would be dying off any faster before she got to them, so why not take a break in the meantime? Her veins still buzzed with adrenaline from the fight she'd asked for, but there was nothing to do with it but lower her net into the water.

[fishes with net]
[dice=12]
[no fish]

There didn't seem to be any fish left in the cove, so she just filled up her water jug and crawled on top of the still-warm sphinx to think for a bit before she slept.


[first aid on self for -3, fills water jug]


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