slizzard [slay vs starlords] day 4

[d6a georgie cham 🍓🐢 frankel]

Morning breaks under the canopy of blossom trees, the bright little screen that Theo has up to his face has been a distraction all night. How come I am left to twiddle my thumbs but they sponsor the other District Eight a toy to play with?

My sack is overflowing with an assortment of weapons. Most of which I have no idea how to use but perhaps the knives will help me keep away from the enemy. All I have to do is fling a knife, it cannot be that hard?

I poke at the wound on my thigh, it is still there under the bandages and it still hurts. The leg still supports the rest of my body so whatever Svetlana and I did to it yesterday must have worked. My fellow incapacitated ally has survived the night too so someone must be blessing us both somewhere. ”You look much better this morning, Svetlana.” I say as I throw the increasingly heavier than yesterday sack over my shoulder. The spear’s use now is a walking aid, there is still an odd quake in my leg even while just standing.

And despite slowly becoming a cripple, the three of them are following behind me once again. Brains, courage, and heart trailing behind. The only thing guiding me right now is the pointed edge on the end of the spear that pokes at the ground for any unexpected traps. Slowly the pink and white petals fade into crumbling grey stone.

This ruin is something I’d imagine to be the perfect background for a bloody battle and the half-collapsed walls look like they are hiding the perfect traps. ”We should be quiet here, anything could be hiding behind all of these walls and ruins.” I whisper to the troop behind me, holding out a hand to single them to stop. I creep down behind one of the walls, throwing the sack from my back and dropping the spear beside it. Maybe I can become my own trap, so long as the others remain silent. Wait here for any unexpected tribute and fling all these knives at them behind this wall. ”Lets hide here for a moment,” I tell the others, turning to Svet last for the next part. ”And keep silent.”

It is not long before I can test out my theory on a sneak attack, a whole pack of tributes stumble into the ruins. None of which we have encountered before. I pear round the four-foot wall, a knife ready to fling at the rough looking guy who is unfortunate enough to be the nearest. I think he is one of the careers my mentor warned me about.

Just throwing a knife. It can’t be that hard?

Pogue

Dorothy attacks Pierce | Shurikens (throwing knives) 1/6

2wJBh6f57jthrowing knife

maybe it is hard

throwing knife

yep very hard

throwing knife·throwing knife

[Sunrise Rainier D2 // [Thundy]]

e l m  -  e r r i n g t o n

We were lucky to all make it out alive yesterday. We all know it.

I can’t say that it didn’t feel real before, because it felt real the moment the adrenaline wore off after the Bloodbath. But there’s something about seeing my allies bloody and bruised that makes me feel like I’m here, this is happening, and that we are all going to die.

It’s likely, after all. When I look at Svet, I think: if she wins, Dorothy dies. And Theo dies. And I die. When I look at Dorothy, I think: if she wins, Svet dies, Theo dies, I die. If Theo wins…

And on and on and on. There’s not any situation where we all make it out of here alive. I’m not thinking about it because I want all of them gone, not at all – I’m just glancing at their faces and imagining that one day soon, they won’t be breathing. We are our own memento mori.

With nothing else to do but keep moving, we trudge along toward a new day. The sky clears and the flashes of lightning cease, and the Arena opens up for us. We follow Dorothy’s lead, though she is perhaps faring the worst of all of us. I think for a moment that maybe I should strive ahead and take charge, but who am I to lead anyone into anything? I’m strong, but I’m not… good enough, to lead us anywhere. None of us know where we’re going, but I know the least of all.

When Dorothy says we should keep quiet, I nod. I’ve been shrinking myself smaller and smaller and smaller ever since I got to this place, so I don’t feel inclined to say anything. There’s a tension hanging in the air regardless, and every moving shadow makes my heart clench in my chest. The inevitability of a fight keeps me alert, and I grip the handle of my weapon with both fists.

Then– a person-shaped shadow emerges around the corner. With nerves ready to pull me apart, I don’t think. I don’t hesitate this time.

I grit my teeth and swing.

[Elm attacks Pierce, spiked blunt]
7pH5tm11|qspiked blunt
14067 -- BROKEN RIGHT SHIN -- 7.0 damage
(Spiked Blunt) +1 Strength

spiked blunt

[lance]

a temporary filler as i mosey my way to a ferry west

ama attacks svetlana; engulfing lightning

iADrOleZYUsword

1031 -- Shallow Cut on Left Calf -- 3.5 damage

sword

[Deleted]

"Woah, this place is huge!" 

It's something out of her dreams - though, she doesn't have too many of those lately. This entire arena has felt shrouded in it, something amazing she can't quite process. How can a place this beautiful be so deadly? Between the storm, the mares and the other tributes, she hasn't been able to ease up once, even in their crag base or the steam baths. They've tried their hardest to stick to the game without going crazy, but Haizea craves to explore every nook and cranny she can find. It's a waste of time, it's strategically a terrible idea, but she wakes her allies up late in the morning and convince them regardless. 

By her observations, they should be the first ones this north. The journey up the mountain has been their main goal from the start; aside from the vantage point, she deeply wanted to know what waited for them at its peak. It's all by design, she reminds herself on the uphill hike. Behind every flower, every rock, every breeze, is the hands of the gamemakers, and she isn't removed from that idea either. There's a meta to it that isn't lost to her: this is all one giant game. 

She'll play it how she sees fit. 

The more ground she covers, the more she etches an understanding of the arena, and in part, the gamemakers. The ancient ruins has called her name since they spotted it late in the evening yesterday, worn down by the boltmare stampede. There is no door to the building; there is hardly a building remaining. As she approaches the center of the room, her allies are more cautious than she is. Perhaps it's the good night's rest, perhaps it's a new found confidence. 

Haizea stands taller than the west end wall, craning her head to check outside through the missing breaks and decay. Vines and moss cover cracks she'd otherwise miss, running her hands through the hanging foliage cascading down the ruins. "I wonder why they broke it down," she ponders to no one in particular. What's the reason for designing something they can't fully explore? Haze takes a few steps up the staircase before coming to a halt at a gap far too large for a girl her size to jump. 

No use - by the time she turns back, she hears a metal clunk. A second one, she squints as she scans the room: Amaterasu has her katana raised, Pierce is tense. Next moment, they are swarmed, two- no, three tributes at least. "We're surrounded!" Haze calls out as she takes cover beneath the staircase before a sickening crack comes over the room. A breaking of bone she can only hope she heard wrong, her hands fumble with her bag as she draws a jar she had been holding onto for a desperate moment. 

What she plans to do would make her mother cry, but sometimes you just have to. Haizea is frantic as she strikes her flint against the brick wall next to her and praying until the sparks catch on the sticky, sickly tar her knives are now covered in. 

Let there be light, "god, get me through this," she mutters before taking aim. 

[ lights 4 shuriken ]
[ throws shuriken at svetlana ]
bzm99rztyJ200+9000
[ 9006 -- Deep Gash on Neck -- 10.0 damage + 1 target practice ]

1-50
[ +2 fire ]

200+9000·1-50

[thompson harvard - d2b - arc]

I spent a lot of my night playing with some toy I got sponsored with. Now, if I were a sponsor, I’d be sending something of use. Value. Like that cup of noodles - the idea causes a rumble deep within my stomach. Take a guy like me who eats the most unhealthy option in the room away from the most unhealthy option? Well, color me fucked. The noodles looked good - but I knew it was best to hold on. But I’ve seen some crackers that I’ve passed on, and they’re a good complement to soup. My mother would always make some sort of chicken noodle-potato-cracker soup concoction during winters, typically good for two weeks as it sat on a lightly warmed stove. She’d stir it to keep it alive, but not too much as if to break the meal of its current mixture. Sometimes, I thought the practice was gross. Letting food sit out for so long. But god, damn it, I miss having unrestricted access to the source.

The game they gave me was like this mutt training simulator. It started out in Four and then took the player throughout Panem. You get this little personal mutt at the start and you fight other ones. I chose some blue, shell-like guy because the color was cool. The red dragon lookin’ dude was too intense for me. Dude needed buffed. I named it after Woods because I couldn’t think of anyone else. The music was really loud, so I tried turning it down. The brightness was as low as I could see, but I knew it bothered Dorothy. It was a great distraction from the events of earlier and to come.

Slowly, yet surely, the battery on the thing started to die out quickly. Saving the game for another night, I let it fade into darkness with my consciousness.

Dorothy was quick to move today. Even with the busted leg, somehow, she led the pack into our battleground for the day. She used her spear as a walking cane of sorts, and we moved, from the bright and soft pinks to the cold, lifeless greys of stone. We’ve entered a scene of ruins. Something that looks like it should be repaired, patched up and returned to its’ followers. The walls surrounding us look like they could collapse. Part of me wanted to turn around - hell no my heart said. Dorothy held out her hand to us, trying to make us pause. Like we were about to set off some trap. She creeps behind a wall, almost seeming to set up camp. ”Lets hide here for a moment,” and do what, dude? Count clouds? Her suggestion of staying quiet was smart, but she wasn’t really following her own advice.

Bitch.

Soon enough, a pack of tributes enters the colosseum, and once again, it was time for someone to die. The fight was inevitable - like the sun rising, or the pending hollowness of this arena once we’ve all died.

Clang! Dorothy threw a knife at one of the tributes. Clang! She missed both times, and god damn it, Do, this isn’t a time to be trying out new weaponry. Elm’s quick to strike at the opposing groups, and a girl brandishes a series of ignited knives. This was definitely not time to try anything new. We’ve faced packs of four before - we can survive this one. With the flaming knives, the girl from eleven places her energy on Svet, one of our newest killers. And I can’t let her die. No, not when she has to protect me still.

[attacks ama, spear]
ZxmyU5eoljspear
[block 0.0]

accuracy reroll
spear
[dg 8.0 + 1.0 (strength)]

[kaitlin]

spear·spear

[ryan]

the cannon still played in her head as she laid there in the moonlight. the cherry blossoms had been falling from the tree and svet had only been thinking baout how important it was for her to survive at this point. she is not going to die here, shes worked too hard to make sure that everyone knew that. it was a calming and humbling experience though, becoming the hunted in that moment. svet had to work on instinct in order to survive that fight. had she not sensed the hesitation from adan, she might have been the one int he sky instead. dorothy mentions to her that she is lucky, and of course, svet does not agree.

if she had died there, then she just wasnt good enough.

she believe that things happened for a reason, not because they was luck involved. you couldnt predict what another human could do after all. too many complex emotions for someone like svet to understand. she had been experienced in hunting animals, and to be quite honest, they were a lot more predictable. she could tell anyone the pattern of something that did not have complex emotions.

it was the blood of the hunter in her.

and later that night, she found francine sitting near the water, and it was in that moment where svet might have destroyed the trust between them. it was funny, because francine was mad that svet had killed her ally, but she never really stopped to ask svet how she felt.

svet knew what it was like to kill, but killing other humans? that was terrifying. in fact, just thinking about it made svet slightly sick to her stomach. however, the realization that in here, theyd probably have to kill again unless they were going to be the one that was killed. svet did not want to die in here, and so if that meant that she had to adapt her morals to fit a new acceptance of beliefs, then so be it.

she would do it again and again until she had made her point.

but francine did not see it that way.

in fact, while she was tiny, her hand did pack a small amount of force as she had unleashed a hand balled up into a fist on svet. svet knew that this was just too soon. it was about respect in the hunting community, and there was no honor in boasting about this. usually a hunter would proudly show their prize for everyone to see, but svet could only accept that francine wanted nothing more to do with her.

a polarizing and painful way to lose someone without having to kill them.

---

the anthem played and svet had seen adan's face in the sky. to join him, yael and ivy had appeared in the sky. svet had said silent prayers for them, the breath leaving her mouth and polluting the air in a graceful way. she wished she might have gotten one more interaction, but death was bound to happen here. she was almost a victim herself.

but she wouldnt let herself be.

instead she walked around the forest, trying to quiet as she watches the moon go from sky to sky and she wonders if this moon had ever cried. svet was not naive, she knew that this was not the same moon that she had begged for strength from. this was a moon that only existed in this new realm. she believed in any iteration of the moon, a fallacy that calamity had chastised her for.

look where that had gotten them.

placing belief's in people or things had never been a perfect science, but svet gave them at least one chance to prove that she was right in trusting them. so far only some of them had lived up to that potential, and this moon had not lead her astray. it had its own pull of power that svet could at least ask for, and whether she did or didnt receive it would be based on if she deserved it.

obviously it blessed her, and she wished that calamity would have at least seen what she was talking about. maybe they would have survived if they just gave her ways a chance.

but that is in the past now, and there is no going back in time, or holding onto an empty wish that would never come true. svet had never killed birds after all, because they reminded her of wishes, and letting them go was a routine to her.

there was no pointing in them coming true.

---

she drifts off for a moment, the moonlight obviously carrying her into another state of existence. she let her mind drift as she relaxed and thought about what could have been waiting for her if she hadnt decided to volunteer for the games. shed probably be out in the forest, finding various berries for remedies and supper, talking about the state of the district with her mother as they look at how it correlates to moon charts that they had drawn together. her father probably would have brought home dinner, in the form of an animal carcass. they would spend the night deboning and trimming away at various parts of whatever was brought home and then cook what they needed and sell the rest.

it would have been a quiet left for just a little while longer, then svet would have been asked to step into the center of the forrester clan. she knew that she was destined to be so much more for the clan, and whether that meant she would have to give herself to the clan, or grab it by the neck and choke the life out of it, neither one of them scared her.

maybe that was why vargen and the others had run into the games head on. they were looking for their own form of escape. however, svetlana did not want to run from her life. she appreciated all the time she had spent with her parents. they had taught her how to be a warrior and a daughter at the same time. there were no kid gloves, svet got hurt more times than she could count. she was able to make decisions for herself at a younger age, something that most forresters did not get the luxury of.

she wished she could have hugged her mother one last time. just long enough to get the scent of her wafted into her nostrils. the scent of honeysuckle and mahogany came to mind as she pictured her. the scent did not linger long, but a small smile had curved onto her face.

a tear shed down her face as she sat up and realized that the storm had already been brewing.

---

the storm passed, and when she woke up again, she realized that she had not been in the same spot they had been in before. the towers of some old building surrounding them. she is confused, but it seemed like everyone else was already alert. svet had stood up, the umbrella now closed and twirling around long enough to knock the water that had accumulated.

she looked up to see that they were already on the move, that was until dorothy had lead them into the bushes. it seemed like she was onto something the svet could not pick up on. she did not question it, knowing well that dorothy had a good sense of her surrounding. she had told them that they needed to be quiet, and svet simply sunk back against one of the trees, waiting for them to get a close look on who might have been walking into the lion's den.

dorothy did not wait for anyone. the fact that the haphazardness of dorothy's ambush had caused her to miss completely had worried svet, but elm and theo had both made sure to follow, and so, with her naginata in hand, so did svet.

the girl from six, the one that did not speak had first swung a sword into svet, and svet had stopped for a moment. she thought about it, knowing well that the silent ones had always been the ones to be weary of. she watched as theo had stabbed at the girl from six when she wasnt paying attention, but when svet was about to make her move, she felt something sharp and hot sear into her neck. she could smell her own flesh for a moment, a sensation that she never thought she would feel. she turned around and noticed that it was the girl from eleven had just exited her stance. "god doesnt exist here." she says to her, pulling the shurkin out before it cauterized into her skin.

"bringing fire to the hunt is no fun. you cant savor it." svet had craned her head back for a moment, before turning it back to the girl from six and giving a wicked smile. "here, ill show her what i mean." the naginata is light in her hand, even through all of the searing pain that had racked her head.

if they wanted to set the witch on fire, they were going to have to die trying.

[D7A svetlana forrester attacks D6B amaterasu yamamoto with her naginata | (glaive)]
59GwlHnGK1glaive
[x]

glaive

[mat]

〖    b r e n n a n    f i t z g e r a l d    〗

Confession: I have never slept in the same room as anybody before. When I was younger, I stayed in my room during nightmares instead of curling up in between my parents. Bend down to check there are no monsters under the bed, then take my empty glass of water and hold it like a weapon as I drag my closet door open, taking one swipe for good measure. Although coveted in a child's heart, sleepovers were never my speed. No one's parents would ever let them keep a friend over (until someone else asked, then they could,) and everyone's busy whenever my parents tell me it's okay (busy at another person's sleepover, I'm sure.)

Pierce agreed to let me sleep with him tonight. A constant grin on my face as I lay beside him, closer than I'd been with anyone before. I want it all: to laugh, to cry, to smile, to throw up from the feeling of being so close to someone I care about. People from Three told me to detest the arrogance of Ones and Twos if I ever met them, but he's right at my backside and I can't find him anything but endearing. Long exhales urge me to say something, talk about how nice this moment is, how I could just lay here forever if we weren't in the Hunger Games. But I stop myself with each new breath blocking my words.

I'm happy. I'm literally so fucking happy, probably more than I've been since I learned what it was like to feel hate. My eyes lurk to the corner, just to make sure he's still there. I can't tell him what I'm thinking. I can't ruin this moment. It'll be all my fault if I do. I stretch my legs, shifting around for the spot that's just right.

Sinister thoughts play as I close my eyes, trying to cling to this moment. The Gamemakers should collapse this cave in our sleep. I don't want to see it coming, I want to die in bliss. Let the stones come crashing down, bludgeoning my every bone before I can get the chance to flinch or feel the pain. I'll take the blow for Pierce, Ama, and Haze. I can die unknowingly tonight and just be happy. Nobody will blame me if I go first. Maybe they'll miss me, make a headstone out of the rocks that crush my skull. They won't blame each other, blame me, just flame the stupid arena. Pierce's hand shifts near my upper back. Exhale again.

Of course, that's not going to happen. It is not entertaining enough to the Capitol to have some random death. Alas, I try to sleep with a clearer mind. It's just that I don't trust myself not to ruin this. So what if he doesn't know what this is or how I feel? I can't lose this. I can't lose him, I can't lose any of them. He who poisons the well must eventually drink lest he dies, too.

I shift in my spot once more before I get to sleep.

**

One eye opens to see Pierce, not bloodied and not dead. And the only things I feel are the tingling sensation of a leg that hasn't moved in six hours and the seeds of happiness sprouting within my chest.

It's officially Day Four. Typically, this is where shit starts to get messy. People die left and right because everyone is getting antsy and desperate. Haze talks about the plan for today. I keep a smile, looking at Pierce once every, what, five seconds? I can't help but try to get a read on what he's feeling. Did he feel it too? Does he not care? My grip on his face fades quickly each time, terrified to look for too long and overstep any sort of boundary that may or may not exist.

Haze's enthusiasm will never cease to baffle me. Every corner of this mountain, no matter how insignificant, is like a treasure chest, and she's opening each one to see if there's a prize.

Tall ruins of stones and woods are impossible to avoid during the trek. The overgrowth reminds me to be careful about where I step: any cracks in the stone or vines can be manipulated by the Gamemakers to hurt me, I'm sure. For all we know, the vines in this place could be alive and ready to kill us if we overstay our welcome. I walk beside Ama as Haze goes on about the ruins, wondering why they broke down. "It's a shame, it looks like it was really beautiful." My hands skim the delicate stonework, careful not to put enough pressure on anything in case it tumbles. I begin to climb the steps. "They probably think we're to blame. Like… the districts. I imagine they're saying 'Look at all these pretty things you could've had if you didn't ruin it by taking your chances on a rebellion.'" Am I projecting? Probably.

As I'm muttering a follow-up thought, a knife flies by. Pierce narrowly escapes it. Immediately, I shift to the origin of the knife. All I can see is a pale hand and a cluster of dark hair blowing against the calm wind. I move toward them without hesitation. No one can hide away behind the ruins and try to kill my bo– one of my best friends and get away with it. I think it's Pierce who's trotting feet follow me, but I can't be sure. There's not a moment wasted. Haze shouts a warning that we're surrounded by a group and a voice begins taunting her, but I've already closed down the gap between the knife thrower and myself.

I've killed before and I'll kill again.

For him? For Ama? For Haze? Anything.

I need them here. I need someone to appreciate me, care for me, and love me like I've always wanted. Friends or more than that. They're my people, no matter how ridiculously unbelievable or selfish it may sound. I love them, and I need them.

I round the corner: Dorothy, District Eight. No qualms about her being my target, especially if she threw the first knife. And missed a hunk of a man in Pierce Littleton, no less.

My blade turns and tees up a swing. "It's going to be your fault if any of my friends die, you know." The blade bends down toward Dorothy. "I hope you're prepared to live with that."

[ brennan attacks dorothy ; katana ]
yXd986BxVvsword
[ 1083 -- Shallow Cut on Neck -- 4.0 damage ]

sword

[Baby Wessex d9b [earthling]]

〖    p i e r c e    l i t t l e t o n    〗

The spends the soft part of the night, just after twilight, fighting with his own brain. He should settle down, shut his eyes, allow the brainwashing to make him anew. But with Brennan right by his side, he can't. Instead, he turns to the fire, takes out the manga he'd found at the Cornucopia, and reads it cover to cover.

Close to dawn he finally drifts off, curled close to Brennan, warm and secure.

The four of them have a routine now and breaking camp takes no time at all. They hike away from the fleeing rats. Pierce keeps a tally (seventy-seven) as Haze guides them. He hasn't quite come up with the perfect way to let Brennan know he loves the stolen glances, the shy smiles. But he works on it, he's working on it, when all the air in the arena seems to evaporate.

Metal on rock pings to his left. Another knife dances harmlessly off the ruins to his right. His would-be attacker hadn't quite gotten it right but she'd tried. And worse, she'd flung two weapons at him before he'd even gotten to notch his bow. For a split second he lets the indignation take him. All those years of Career training to what, suck? "We're surrounded!" Which is an accurate assessment and something he should have offered his allies.

Then Elm crushes his bone just beneath his kneecap.

Pierce howls in pain -- "god, get me through this" -- and spits out, "or we could just get each other through it!"

His teeth begin to chatter. He clamps down, arms shaking with the excess adrenaline as he finally pulls the bow taut. He's taking too long to decide who to hit, and worse, he knows it. He knows every milisecond matters, especially when facing well coordinated opponents like these. But he doesn't really recognize any of them thusfar and he'd really like to know who had thrown knives at his skull?

In the same breath he recognizes Svet from the Training Center, she silences Ama forever.

It's like trying to wade through sludge. His brain, which had not been particularly nimble that morning, slows to a crawl. There is something he's supposed to do when an ally falls, something he's supposed to say. But his brain can only focus on Svet's face, the barest flicker of fear when Haze ignited her blades.

Pierce pivots on his bad leg, groaning with the effort. But it puts him just a half step ahead of Brennan. "Feel like checking out my ass for a change?" He asks, wiggling his eyebrow, willing the flirtation to dull the pain.

It's not a perfect line but in the arena, it will have to do.

This time when he pulls the Longbow back he feels the tension and lets it ignite. "Might wanna duck, Svet," he says, and whatever warmth had been in his blue eyes for Brennan has fled. "Or I might remember how to reap some rewards."

[Pierce attacks Dorothy; Longbow of the Sky]

w2XyAfj6|dbow

[ARROW DEEP IN BACK, +9.0 dmg]

[Longbow charge 1/2]

1-50

[+2]

bow·1-50

[d6a georgie cham 🍓🐢 frankel]

Throwing a knife is hard.

If the gamemakers marked that score of seven by my name because of my covertness then they are definitely crossing over it right now.

The first throw is calculated and still it bounces off the wall next to the target. The second throw is a scrambling mess and no better than the first one. Perhaps straying from the trusty spear - now walking stick was a not a clever move. Hopefully the heart, courage and brains have more sense to play with.

Elm is quick to spring out of their hiding place following my miss-firing knives to give Pierce a good whack with their weapon. Theo and Svet clash with the District Six tribute, the brains coming out on top triggering a cannon fire. I sharply look away from the end of Svet’s naginata, I do not need to imagine the weight of Duke Nixton at the end of my spear right now. Not while someone is trying to give me a love bite on my neck with their own katana.

Incognito mode is short lived, I am face to face with Duke’s district partner, Brennan. I am stood now, leaning my weight against the spear that should really be aimed towards Brennan. A reaction from me is too late - a stray arrow into my back from nowhere! A scream crawls out from my lips as the arrow burrows deep into my torso, probably imbedding itself in all the crucial organs. My hand scrambles to hold onto the point of the arrow while the little information I took in from the first aid station floods my mind. If I pull this out now, I will bleed to death.

I can either guide this spear into Brennan’s gut, fling the next knife that waits in my free hand’s grip or pull out the arrow from my back and prove Oz right.

”I might be.” The middle option seems the safest bet, I doubt i’ll survive another arrow as deep as this. ”If you are prepared to watch them all die, it is not me who you should be worried about right now though.” I look over to Svet and Theo, their target now down. My words have no sting like Svet’s but I hope they are enough to get this guy out of my face. ”Maybe you should go stand in front of your friend, I may just make this next throw.”

Pogue

Dorothy attacks Pierce | Shurikens (throwing knives) 2-3??/6

zN6C8P5d8hthrowing knife

[+ 7.0 damage]

throwing knife

[Sunrise Rainier D2 // [Thundy]]

e l m  -  e r r i n g t o n

The boy’s leg crushes under my weapon. I don’t know his name – god, why didn’t I learn anyone’s names? – but I do know that I’ve hurt him, and I have to be okay with that. I have to keep moving. If I don’t – god, they’re killing Svet and Dorothy. They’re–

And then Svet pushes her blade through someone’s skull.

My world tilts on its axis. Even injured, Svet is still fighting. Not only fighting, but lashing at them with her words.

I don’t dare. I don’t dare say anything. I channel my inner mouse, slinking momentarily into the corner to gather my bearings. I’m in this, but… someone’s dead.

My heart pounds in my chest. My lungs gasp for air. My vision blurs. I feel the panic taking over.

How do the others have this all together? How do they keep moving? How are they speaking?

I’m just a mess in the corner. I thought I could be brave and step forward and fight, but now the repercussions of this bloodbath are laid bare in the dirt, and I can’t move my body.

I give myself five seconds of panic. Five seconds to be a mouse in the corner.

One.

The tribute is bleeding into the dirt.

Two.

Dorothy’s neck is sliced open with a flying arrow.

Three.

I think my heart is going to stop, it’s pounding so fast.

Four.

Dorothy, even hurt, springs forward with unchecked wrath.

Five.

I’m not sure what pushes me to move. It’s not because I’m ready to, definitely not, but my time is up for waiting. I can’t hide from this.

This is real. I am real.

And there’s a weapon clenched in my fist.

[Elm attacks Pierce, spiked blunt]
v7o16D2tKSspiked blunt

Accuracy
spiked blunt
14171 -- BLOCK -- 0.0 damage
(Spiked Blunt)

spiked blunt·spiked blunt

[Deleted]

Amaterasu is murdered just as quick as Calamity was. 

She won't forget these moments; that much she knows. When her friend dies, Haizea freezes, clutching flaming knives under a crumbling staircase in the middle of nowhere. Surrounded on all sides, yet so alone - Haizea feels sick to her stomach. Just as easily as she killed Amaterasu, the girl from seven denounces god, and if Haze were any weaker willed she'd believe her.

How can god be here, in hell?

It's an impossible nausea to battle through, and she almost doesn't believe she can. "You got your kill, why are you still here?!" She shouts out, voice coarse as the pain that comes with the words. Svetlana made it clear enough; she wants to savor this, a hunt and the hunted, Haizea has never felt less in control. They target Pierce now, but their other two circle around Brennan and Haze near the back, three on four, a clear disadvantage. 

Fuck the numbers; just fight. That's what she tells herself as she grits her teeth and stands to her feet, coming from cover with weapons drawn - her boys need her, and she needs herself as well. If their enemies won't back down, then neither will they, especially not now. She trains her eye on Svetlana's throat once again, and flicks at Dorothy Hope at the last second, catching notice of her with Pierce's flaming arrow.  

[ throws shuriken at dorothy ]
paWWiq025A200+9000
[ 9049 -- Shallow Cut on Bicep -- 3.5 damage ]

1-50
[ +4 ]

200+9000·1-50

[thompson harvard - d2b - arc]

Svet’s blade followed mine, and through the flames, she found a body. If one blinked too long, you wouldn’t see it. The glaive slicing through air and dividing skin just right -

boom,

she had taken the Six girl’s life.

If truly God existed, he gave us our biggest strengths in our weakest positions. Against fire, we held no chance, but Svet fought to keep us alive. We all did - blades clashing, arrows of the sun meeting air and relentlessly hailing on my sister. My mouth tasted blood, it tasted ash - the burning arrow provided a cloud for the blackened shaft to disintegrate, falling into the air I breathe. The three remaining bodies have found a home in targeting Dorothy. The leader. The explorer - she was our compass.

How could we venture on in this bubbled hell without her? It wasn’t right. I volunteered with her, rode the train with her - telling her shit about the Base and she told me shit about her home. We both had broken homes, yet, we found a home in each other. A roof over our heads that bonded us as brother and sister. I know she’s just another one of their family gone, but she was the only Hope I cared for.

"It's going to be your fault if any of my friends die, you know."

But whose fault is it if mine do? The speaker from Three proclaims that it’s only their friends that matter, that we are at fault for that girl’s death. I bite a rebuttle, feeling a wolf-like snarl twitch in the sides of my nostrils. "I hope you're prepared to live with that."

The blade they hold catches Dorothy, and ”god, you bitch!” I don’t understand. It doesn’t make sense. Is this how my momma’ felt when I bet on this game? You speak on others’ faults before you do yourself.

Dorothy replies, trying to let out a snarl that deflects her pain. But I know that she’s weak, the fire within the girl being stomped on. She’s fighting, and god damn it, maybe we are siblings. My momma’ didn’t teach me to quit and my girl sure as hell isn’t.

If betting has told me anything, it’s that our words can only be sealed by actions. Girl from eleven cries that we should leave, yet she continues fighting. ”...why are you still here??” Why are you, with your kindled knives? With your fallen ally, lifeless, gone. Do you not fear for your own? What do you have to prove, now that we’ve smitten your ally so quickly?

They keep attacking Dorothy. And I just want them to stop. I wish I could have some game-winning moment like it was the Exy field. Where, at ten seconds left, and the game is all tied up. A moment where I turn into the hero of the day as I save us a bitter loss after fighting so damn hard to keep up. I wish I had more time with her, to know what to say to her parents, sisters, cousins, in-laws that made her hate her life so damn bad that she volunteered it away. It’s hard to imagine what I could say, it’s almost like they don’t care to hear it after so many damn Hopes’ have died in the games. I wish I was able to make her families’ teeth bleed like their hands, the ones that fed her, the ones that pushed her into feeling undesirable.

The locker room after a loss is awkward, but this is no damn game. Sleeping at night after your sister dies sounds much worse.

And I can’t let that happen.

randomizing because i am so torn on who to attack sorry
1. haizea
2. brennan
qMVTvfaOCe1-2
[attacks brennan*, spear]
spear
[dg on cheek 8.5 + 1.0 strength]

* = resulting roll

[kaitlin]

1-2·spear

[ryan]

her hand stayed steady as she aimed for the face of the girl from six.

then her blade slide right through the top of her head, the flesh feeling tough around the naginata for only a moment. she saw the squirm and then nothing.

then a cannon sounded.

another one to fall, and the huntress was starting to prove exactly why she was not to be underestimated. not only that. she had gotten one more kill then vargan.

she was on her way to proving herself right.

she paused for a moment, removing her naginata from the corpse of what used to be the girl from six. she did not take time to wipe off the blood from it, because she knew that there was still more to come. the cannon sounded, that should have been a sign to run for the hills.

however, none of them moved.

she took a deep breath, stepping back from her prey and switching gears for just a second. she could feel just how tense it was in this area. everyone had their eyes on svet, but none of them wanted to get involved with the crosshairs. she was a hunter after all. none of them wanted to become prey.

pierce said duck, and she did. because she knew that he would be gunning for her now. it was clear that she had a target on her back, but when the arrow that he launched flew into dorothy instead, she realized that they were trying to take out the brains and the brawn.

little did they know that dorothy, theo, elm, and svet all worked as a team.

"reap rewards?" svet clicked her tongue. "ive yet to see you do that yknow." svet is calm as she moved back and checked in on dorothy, who had already been trying to close the gap between herself and pierce. she is confident in herself, and that is what svet knew her to be. she watched as the knife flew from her hand and right into pierce. "thats gotta sting huh?" svet is a spectator and a vulture, all in the same. she is going to pick and choose as she watched the others closely.

the girl from eleven asked a silly question, trying to gather why svet and them did not leave them be. svet wanted to laugh at her naivety. "why havent you? left?" svet posed the question right back to her. svet shook her head, her naginata at full stance as she locked eyes with the girl from eleven. "you guys can leave at any point." she knew that probably wouldnt happen. "deep down, im sure you want to kill someone." she is honest in her approach. "were all hunters and the hunted here after all." she then braced herself, knowing that she was the target of the last knife.

she took a deep breath, but nothing followed. thats when she noticed it was lodged already into dorothy, the smell of singed flesh permeating the air. "im right here eleven." she is not afraid of a fight.

she never would be.

she then watched as theo crossed the gap between himself and the boy from three. at this point, if they were not going to leave, then they had to make sure they knew exactly what they were getting themselves into. sure, they had scary weapons, and fire, and a whole lot of careless abandonment for their own lives, but they would not overcome svet or theo or dorothy or elm.

theo stuck his spear into the boy from three's cheek. svet smiled a wicked smile.

"you had your chance."

she rushed the boy and struck.

[D7A svetlana forrester attacks D3B brennan fitzgerald with her naginata | (glaive)]
hmLpnhtklwglaive
[13075 -- Deep Gash on Left Bicep -- 8.0 damage
(Glaive)]

glaive

[mat]

〖    b r e n n a n    f i t z g e r a l d    〗

As soon as my knife grazes Dorothy's side, Pierce's elbow pushes at my chest and aside. "Feel like checking my ass out for a change?" I'd laugh at his joke and/or die of embarrassment from it if we weren't caught in a life-or-death scenario. His arrow pierces her again, but it doesn't seem to be enough to deter them or push them back. In fact, she almost seems unphased. Dorothy takes the words I used to make myself big, twisted them, and now she's made me small. She and Elm, one of the tributes from District Twelve, take Pierce up as their target again.

There is a brief moment where I feel like making a grab for his hand to pull on it and run away. He's hurting, although his humor does its best to make it. When the boltmares threw me against hard concrete yesterday afternoon, I barely functioned, yet he stood at the front manning traps and protecting our base despite being injured just the same. Perhaps he's too bold for his own good. That's been a constant critique of career districts and their tributes: they can take on more than they can handle. By the first scent of hesitation, it can already be too late.

I don't want you to die, Pierce. I have the sword, you have the bow. I should be the one defending you, here. I turn away to guard our backsides. There's more fighting in the background where Haze is taking on a couple of others. Svetlana and Theo.

And Ama? Where is she?

It takes a brief scan to the corner of the ruins to find her. She's leaned up against one of the walls, a huge wound ripped across her chest. Ama isn't moving. "Ama!" I shout as if it'll help us any. I shouldn't have left Haze and Ama back there alone, not until we'd found out how many tributes we were going to face. Guilt knocks me back-to-back with Pierce. Fuck, why did I leave them alone? I know they can handle themselves, but an extra body can't hurt. Maybe if I hadn't moved, it would've been me. If I went for Svetlana instead of speaking with a chip on my shoulder, it could've been me. Dark thoughts from last night resurface: it should've been me.

I was in a good place thirty seconds ago, content with whatever came our way. Now, I'm haunted and unable to look away.

She might still get up and fight on, it's not over until a cannon blows.

I don't have to say it. Both you and I can assume what happens next.

Haze tries to call them off, they've already taken one of us, but Svet and Theo move toward Pierce and me. They want more.

Theo takes the first swing and I don't try to move. Pierce isn't expecting it when he's face-to-face with Dorothy and Elm. I do my best to block the yari with my katana, but the thinness of my blade isn't enough to defend my face from taking a high blow. Better me than Pierce, though, whose body is warm from adrenaline and pressure mounting up from being down four to three.

Svetlana takes her time moving up, taunting Haze with a chilling tongue. But she's still coming up to me, and to Pierce, blade deep with Ama's blood in hand. I stay firm again as she raises her blade, my own ready to try to block the shot. "You had your chance." She aims low, and my leg extends to ensure that it's me who takes the brunt of the damage, and not Pierce.

I try to hide the pain from Pierce, but my body shakes from both blows. I lean my head against his backside to let him know not to worry. He has to worry about his survival, and I'll worry about mine. Brennan's gotta worry about Brennan, right?

"One thing about life is that it gives bad people too many chances." My katana shifts to the offensive and I swing at Svetlana. I'm not above returning violence with violence. We're past that. "But... here's to those second chances."

[ brennan attacks svetlana ; katana ]
NCycXGCMf2sword
[3.5]

sword

[Baby Wessex d9b [earthling]]

〖    p i e r c e    l i t t l e t o n    〗

Let's just say Pierce is having a Moment processing the pain and Ama and svet being so calmly violent and damnit that other girl learned how to throw and WHY THE FUCK ARE PEOPLE ATTACKING BRENNAN!?

"Back, back!" He yelled, trying to manuever in such a way to block Brennan. But it's hopeless; his leg is numb from the earlier crush and Brennan is much taller. There's no way, short of scrambling atop the Ruins themselves, that he could bodily protect the other boy.

Could he? Could he climb with only one leg?

As he pulls the bow taut, he decides.

Breathe in.

Release.

Breathe out.

And drops the bow so that he can climb up the stones with his bare hands.

[Pierce attacks Dorothy; Longbow of the Sky]

MxDBTlPbFhbow

[results]

[Longbow charge 2/2]

1-50

[+2]

[Accuracy, Day... 4?]

bow

[Shallow Cut on Left Forearm -- 3.5 damage]

bow·1-50·bow