Round Two: Southern Feast

[umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars]]

The cheering certainly goes quieter in the night, but it never fully stops. The tributes gather that they are being watched, even if they cannot spot any cameras. They may wander aimlessly all night, trying to find the center of the maze. They may find a dark corner and try to get some sleep. They may actually manage to find a door or two which unlocks with their keys. If you wanted, they even could've come across some of the other tributes. Those few fleeting interactions, those courageous conversations all shown to the whole of Panem (so long as the editors approved of them.)

The live audience watches, some staying deep into the night, some arriving at the crack of dawn to get the best seats. The tributes have become animals in cages: gorillas in a zoo enclosure.

The morning comes with an announcement:

"Good morning Panem! It is another glorious day here at the Hunger Games arena as we embark on the first ever Day Two! Days ago, you were introduced to our lovely batch of tributes. Yesterday, you watched each of them prove themselves and show you all that any one of them could have what it takes to be Panem's next Victor!

Tributes, I do hope you enjoyed your rest last night! You will need it. But, don't stress, you have something to look forward to! It's finally meal time! Who is hungry?"

It has been days since any of them have eaten. For some, its been as long as before the reaping, and even the most well-behaved of them have only consumed a singular bread roll. The tributes mouths will water at even the thought of getting to eat again soon. During the night, two previously-vacant open areas to the north and south of the arena now both seemingly have large dining tables, not unlike the tables holding the swords the day before. Each table is covered in delicious food, some steaming hot, some frigid and crispy, all of it fresh. The tributes will find that the only pathway their keys allow them to take will lead them to one of these two fights, where they'll be welcome to feast as they would like. However, once all six tributes are in the area, the gates will close behind them, locking them all inside.

"Of course, you'll have to work for your meals."

Moments after the microphone clicks off, the tributes will hear a ferocious roar from something horrible within the maze.

---

For this fight to conclude, 3 tributes deaths are required.

Participating (in order of initiative):
D12M: Jethro Branstetter (86.6)
D5F: Veala Jones (72.13)
D10M: Marcus Emberstatt (63.2)
D8F: Amalthea Marrow (15.19)
D6M: Delta Jackson (5.4)
D3F: Blue Cameron (0.0)

Weapon: Sword

Your mutt will be written by Tom  and will attack at the end of the turn, targeting 1 tribute who has not been attacked already in the round via randomized roll until further notice. As always, instas made by or against mutts will instead be counted for 10 damage. The mutt cannot be attacked.

Tributes can only be attacked up to 2 times per round.

Retro Engine Link: Here

Tributes all healed half of their damage overnight. As always, 24 hour posting rules are in effect and will be enforced.

This fight will conclude once the mandated death requirement has been met, and you will all have until Friday, 5th of May at 8 pm pst to finish them yourselves, or extra measures will be taken to finish the fight on time.

Tagging for notice: Izzabel Bennet D8A (Jorg) , lance , pearl mcclain d4 [ryan] , revel latimer, 11b 🔍 jay , @fabulousraven , gamemaker tallis 🧚🏽‍♂️kaitlin.

[Izzabel Bennet D8A (Jorg)]

I'm barely managing to keep upright using my sword to keep myself upright as I try to take Madyson's keys off of her waist. I cut up pieces of her dress, using them as makeshift bandages. I try to wrap my head, though it's hard given the bandages around my arm, limiting its mobility. Part of me wonders if cutting it cleanly off would be better, but I know that I would die in the process. I'm surprised I have what little willpower I have.

I still manage to keep Madyson covered modestly for the most part. She would find a way to kill me from the grave if I did anything else. I need to get out of here, though. I need to find food and water, or better yet, medicine. I highly doubt they put any medication in the arena, but I must try. Madyson and I proved that District 12 kids are fighters, whether from the highest level of society possible in 12 or from deep in the Seam. I need to continue showing them that I can still fight.

I manage to get to the door, the one I attempted before the fight, and unlock it on the first try. Not sure whose key I used, but I'm pissed off. These locks worked perfectly well. The Gamemakers just chose to keep them locked. They wanted us to kill each other, and now that she's dead and I'm barely holding on, they deem it fit for me to explore. I could have explored this arena long before, but maybe they never wanted a Victor from 12. We're just a bunch of miners, nothing special to cheer and root for. But we put on a good show; maybe they'll reward me with food like they did after the interview.

When I first leave the courtyard, my body leaning against the frame of the wrought-iron gate. I notice that the hedge walls that surround the courtyard stretch around as far as I can see. The walls take turns at random points, and I can't help but wonder if this is a maze. It probably was, making everything about the games even more difficult. Nothing about the Games could be easy, could it? At least the process hasn't been dragged out. It would have been worse if I knew my death was coming, but I would have to wait a while before it arrived. This process has been fast and, while monstrous, almost generous. You lose the lottery, you're quickly shipped off to the Capitol, and after a day where you give a quick interview, you die. It might not have been enough time to make peace, but still fast enough for it to be kind.

I cannot figure out where water would be, as the entire arena is dirt or artificial vines. I have to hold onto hope that there is water somewhere; otherwise, why am I still fighting with what little energy I have left. I could have just given up in the courtyard, laid right by Madyson, and resigned myself to drift. Maybe I should have done that. But I didn't kill Madyson just to give up myself.

I turn left, my body still holding upright by the wrought iron wall. I have my sword in my good arm, keeping my bad arm hiding in the vines. My bare feet slowly shuffling against the dirt. It's not like I'm trying to hide my wounds; I couldn't even if I tried. I'm hoping to have a fighting chance if I have my good hand out. Not shortly after, though, I hear a voice telling me words I never thought I would be so grateful to hear.

"Goodnight! We have plenty more in store for you tomorrow, but in the meantime, why don't ya have a look at those live feeds? It's gonna be an exciting day tomorrow as we embark on the first ever Day Two of a Hunger Games, the World's Greatest Contest! Goodnight Panem!"

Sleep, I get to actually sleep. I think as I slump down the wall, not currently caring if I'm hidden enough, trying to wrap myself in the vines as much as possible. As soon as my head hits the ground, it goes dark.
The morning comes too fast for me, though I admit I feel a lot better than yesterday. Though this morning came with another announcement.

"Good morning Panem! It is another glorious day here at the Hunger Games arena as we embark on the first-ever Day Two! Days ago, you were introduced to our lovely batch of tributes. Yesterday, you watched each of them prove themselves and show you all that any one of them could have what it takes to be Panem's next Victor!

Tributes, I do hope you enjoyed your rest last night! You will need it. But, don't stress, you have something to look forward to! It's finally meal time! Who is hungry?"

I knew there would be food here! That knowledge is enough to shoot me straight up. Knowing that food is in the arena is enough to get me going. I ran as fast as I can, shoving keys into gates as I continue through the maze, my focus turning my vision into a tunnel. I keep running and opening doors until I come up to an area with food. I can grab as much as possible and run for it. When I turn around, I notice the wrought iron door closing behind me. I try to run for it, but it closes before I can get there. The door is locked too. That's when I hear his voice again.

"Of course, you'll have to work for your meals."

Fuck.

I look back and see five other tributes with me, all cut up like me. I'm the worst out of the bunch, though. I need to act fast and find the one who looks the least damaged. I think it's only fair that we all get on the same level. I make my way over and swing, hoping to make a substantial hit. I managed to cut off Madyson's hand before; why would cutting this person's hand be any different?

[Jethro attacks Marcus Emberstatt; Sword]
os0_BsIkfusword
[Block -- 0.0 damage]

sword

[lance]

Last night blurs across my vision in flashes.

Striking Reno down, carving through his hand like it was warm butter (and no wonder he faltered at the end, because even I can recognize infection from a mile away-)

I never did give him that kiss, huh?

Wandering the arena, keys into locks into dead ends, there's no point in running any more so why even bother?

I sleep, I think. Bits and pieces and parts of the day flitter.

"-fuck you-"

"-do this?-"

"-cow breath-"

"-lovin' folks-"

I think I scream. I definitely would have hurled, if my stomach had anything in it. God I'm so hungry. You'd think after a lifetime of poverty and apathy and three months of jail food I'd know what hunger was like but that doesn't make the absence of food any easier. It's just as gnawing and energy sapping as it is the first few dozen times. Go figure.

I wake up to the sun. I flinch to a terrifying roar. I blink to a figure- no, figures in my periphery.

One two three four five. Heh. Ironic.

They say we need to earn our dinner. I'm not so out of it that I can't decipher what it means. It's a bloodbath, plain and simple. And you never want to be the first one to move, the first one to break the peace, lest it end with a target on your back.

The second to move, however...especially when it comes to striking down the person who dared shatter the status quo?

I've never been shy seizing opportunities wherever they lie, sometimes spontaneously. What, you think that I freed hundreds of cows from their enclosures by chance? Hell no. And this boy, who lurches forward and leaves himself wide open by trying to strike down another - well, when am I going to get a better chance than that?

I'm not as fast as I was yesterday. Being wounded and hungry'll do that to you. But it's still a relatively simple matter to get right up to the aggressor's back, to declare my intentions seconds before strikin-

No. Not today. Talking very nearly lost me my life. Talking allowed Reno to sink his hooks into me and make me feel something for him, dammit.

No talking. This boy, whomever he is, doesn't get that privilege.

All he'll get is death.

veala attacks jethro; sword

FCJtOL7fAMsword

1130 -- Shallow Cut on Left Thigh -- 3.5 damage

sword

[pearl mcclain d4 [ryan]]

prisma falls and he cannot even begin to describe just how heavy he felt. he had never been the one to watch the animals get slaughtered when they became too old to be useful, but he imagined what he just did to be similar. he can only think about her last wish, that he would take care of her brother if he made it out of this situation.

he counts to ten backwards and whispers to himself that he will make it out of here alive, come hell or highwater.

they crowd erupts into glee and joy, and marcus is having none of it. he hates all of this, but in order to survive, he was going to have to fight. he thought about how much he did miss the man, and the new woman, and his two new sisters.

he still didnt miss marco though.

a door opens, and he walks through it, the sword still in his hand, because at this point, it is something to remember what he just did. the keys had somehow been tossed on the ground before the door, and marcus had picked them up. prisma's life was the exchange for the sword now he supposed.

he took a deep breath as he continued on the path that the door had, but he began to realize that it seemed like it was never ending. it felt like time was passing, and before he knew it, he hit a dead end. it was hard to see for a moment, but he looked to his left and his right and he noticed that he could go down two different paths.

he decided to go down the path that he thought marco wouldnt.

he kept to the wall, it was the only thing that he could hold onto. after a couple moments of walking, he heard something in the distance. other tributes, probably just as keen to make it home as he was. he tries to stay quiet, a little boy passing him in the darkness, wildly trying to find his way on his own.

more time passed, more time lost. eventually he just stopped and rested.

he finally hears something over a loudspeaker, but it is in the distance. he follows the noise, the sword in his hand. he is unsure of what to make of it, but there is a certainty that he will find that answer. the keys jangle, and he stops at a door, of which he watches as the lock snaps off.

he hadnt been thinking about hunger, seeing as he lost his appetite the moment he killed prisma with his own two hands. however, the mention of dinner over the loudspeaker did make his own stomach riot. he steps through and the crowd is even more ravenous then he is. he sees more people, five others, just as cut up as he is. however, some are missing limbs, and some have gashes and scars.

marcus though is not scared of any of them. he cant be if he wants to go home.

he listens to the loudspeaker again, wishing them luck in the future, and then he looks down to see someone already rushing him. its a boy that he does not know, and to be quite honest, would probably be intimidating if he wasnt so badly bruised. marcus steps back and then the sound of metal fills their space. his blade catches the other boys and then marcus pushes himself back.

"no." marcus says to the boy, and then a girl came out of nowhere and takes a swing at the same boy. he sees the emblem of five somewhere and remembers that this is where livestock actually comes from.

maybe they are kindred spirits in this regard.

marcus sees the little boy from before and he is running wildly through the chaos, but marcus knows that it will all be over soon anyway. he looks at the boy that tried to take a piece of him right off the top. "idiot." marcus sneers, a word he hasnt used since he told marco that when he left the second time.

he would use his hatred to fuel is revenge.

[D10M marcus emberstatt attacks D12M Jethro Branstetter| sword]
GJc8zfRtLbsword
[teehee, def a null because stealth but also, this is a block]

sword

[revel latimer, 11b 🔍 jay]

It's a new dawn.

The grainy crackle of the speaker awakening spurs my mind, and Harlan's promise of a meal echoing across the maze spurs my aching, bloodstained body. I said I'd do anything to win, but maybe I'll just lay here forever, my body becoming one with the hedge. But I didn't bleed for nothing, my pain wasn't a peripheral, out-of-view thing. My scars are a key to a better fate.

"Fuuuuuuck," I let out a long, strained groan as I kick up from the ground, my knees trembling and buckling under my weight. My calves burn as my wounds begin to unfurl, a small pod of blood pooling around the barely clotted gash before it breaks and trickles down my ankle. The pain will be worth it, I have to remind myself as I walk towards the noise, my fingertips running across the hedge as my guide. I know what meets me at the end.

Is it wrong that a part of me is itching for it? Is it wrong that my blade, like my stomach, is ravenous?

The familiar clang of steel against steel and the squish of flesh being punctured becomes louder and louder until it's in front of me.

"It's rude to start a party without me," I grin. My words and the smile playing about my lips are a veil, the Capitol wants a show and I'll deliver them one. I want to set myself up for the years to come, not to be raised on a pedestal and looked at as a shining new jewel for a year just for the luster to fade and be thrown away when the next victor comes in.

I raise my crimson-stained sword to the pretty, dark-haired one. I don't want to fight anyone for camera angles, something I didn't have to think about with rat boy.

marrow attacks veala | sword

GXbi|kPlRosword

[ block ]

sword

[Deleted]

"Good night? Say you fucking swear." 

Delta never manages to sleep, not really. He spends the hours after leaving Bryony following the promise of escape, but it never comes. He wanders and wanders until giving up entirely, hunkering down somewhere past a few more right turns. Always turn right and you'll get out eventually - yeah right. It never ends until he does, hiding himself in the far corner of another dead end. From this angle, anyone who makes their way in will meet his sword before they meet him. 

But they never come. 

It's lonely, being the one who lives. 

He dozes in and out of consciousness as he thinks of both his family and Bryony's. She had siblings, just like him, a large family now with an even larger hole. If she had lived, maybe she could find the way out of here. Perhaps she wouldn't either; perhaps it didn't exist. Delta feels as if he just stares and blinks, on the defense waiting for the right person to make the wrong turn. Those blinks grow longer and longer, snatching minutes of rest as the sky gradients back to robin blue. 

It's the next morning, and the next trial. Day 2 brings him to a group of tributes and a table of food, and as they begin to clash swords and draw blood, he focuses on the fattest turkey leg he can get his hands on. It's an ugly sight as he scarfs down his first meal in three days, but he doesn't care, tucking his sword under his arm and devouring as he can, watching as the other tributes pivot around the room.  

Well, it feels wrong, but he's made his decision. Kill or be killed - did he ever truly have a choice? The other four are all grouped up as he sticks his hand into a bowl of potato salad, taking what could be his final taste before approaching what appears to be an easy target. Small, the runt of the six of them, and he the largest. "Hi," he says - is it harder this way, if they talk it out? Please, make this easy on me. 

Don't apologize, Delta, don't do it. 

"You any good at this? Think my heart's too big for it," he says, fully aware he will kill her if this goes his way. If not, good for her. "Should make it easier to hit for you," aim right here, Bryony had told him. At the center, an inch to the right - kill me if you can. 

[ attacks blue ]
ucQYb3MKNU200+1000
[ 1155 -- Shallow Cut on Cheek -- 3.5 damage ]

200+1000

[gamemaker tallis 🧚🏽‍♂️kaitlin.]

I don’t know how long I lay on the ground.

The sun shifts uncomfortably in the sky, starts beating down on my cheek. No one tells you what it feels like when the adrenaline starts to wear off, the way everything starts to feel fuzzy, like bottled up smoke slowing burning in your bones. Everything goes foggy while I’m looking at Cal.

“Long term, we’re all gonna die,” my lips are dry, my throat parched. I blink, a couple times maybe, not sure — a giggle, feel my my smile against the dirt under my cheek “happily ever after.”

Cal doesn’t move, but in my head he tells me not to sweat it.

“You gonna help me up?” I grin wider, weak, taste brass metal in my mouth. That stays with me. Even after these nasty spider things slowly come crawling up over one of the far walls, they're skittering making the hedge rustle nosily. I’d let them make it as far as one of them starting to skitter across the grass towards me before I let myself roll my eyes and try to summon a semblance of a mask. I pushed up from my place on the ground, hands held up, “alright, alright!”

I’d felt delirious even then. My whole body a walking tinder box, stiff as dry wood, just waiting for rot to find me and take root. I run around begging for a flame to set me on fire, to keep the fight going, but all I find are more corners of the maze.

There is / turning a corner and finding a doorway / finding a locked door / turning and going the other direction / turning and finding another dead end. It goes on like this until the volume feels like they’ve put it on full blast, like the crowd is plugged into an amp in the warehouse and I’ve got my headset wired right into it. The kind of full blast Benzo likes to warn me is going to make me go deaf.

I think maybe I’m a little tired.

The hunger is disquieting. That’s the best way I can really make someone understand. I don’t fully remember everything that happened between walking away from Cal / wide blue eyes staring up towards the sky / I couldn’t bring myself to close them / I want him to see everything. My thoughts branch, I’m stumbling down a dirt hallway, tripping over my own fee, curling up like I used to when I was a sleeping toddler and started crying, head half buried under one of the hedges.

You any good at this? / stale crumbs in milk / taking matches to roaches in the alley / I have been led to a feast of Godfrey’s creation/ rage & I scream / red blinking light, the cameras are rolling / Are you willing to do anything it takes to survive? / Do you think it’ll matter?

The thing is, I don’t care about this boy’s heart. Copper taught me to pay attention to someones hands when they’re talking.

I was the last one here for a reason, slunk up once everyone else was already making their way towards the pile of food atop the table. A part of my should have seen it coming when the gate dropped behind me and announced not only my arrival, but also another power play of the Capitol’s. At first I’d thought to let them all take care of each other, slunk around the edge of the clearing and tried to slink towards the table where no one would see me. / red light, blink, blink, blink / the smell of it all makes my stomach roll, nausea getting the best of me / I do the only thing I can think of: clamber up over the table to get up in the boy’s face. A battle cry like shriek leaves my body as I throw the chicken wing in my hand directly towards him. I wasn’t going to eat it anyway.

That’s the best way to deal with boys like him, Indy swears by it. She says they’re like bears, and if you make yourself a bigger threat to them, then they back off. I go sailing right through the air, jump off the table like a wild thing. There's no hesitation, but I don't stop there, just run right the hell past, shoving him with my shoulder / do you think your attitude will be enough to frighten them all away? / somewhere in another universe I am performing a Turing test and I am becoming who I am / "Class act, dickhead!" / my sword comes down on the back of the girl a pace away as I try to land on my feet, unsteady with my back to an enemy, I'm trying to run, I'm trying to run—

Do you think it’ll matter?

what if it doesn't, what if it doesn't,
what if it doesn't—

blue attacks veela

Zusysle3LWsword

0.0

sword

[Tom]

Mechanisms whirring together in unison, flesh and blood congealed together as one. Link Vandergrift's best creation as of the present day; he'd spent days perfecting the mix of the Capitol's might to the mechanisms' he's always built from the ground up. Memories of a war behind his eyes as the machines he'd spent hours upon hours repairing and upgrading fill his mind. A sort of terrifying beauty fills his eyes as he stares at the vividly alive creatures, but also the mechanisms of their limbs he's added on to create a nightmarish creature. A genius in his own right, but this was nothing more than another job for him. A task to have completed. Orders to be followed.

Harlan Godfrey's a dreamer. Builds worlds in his head and asks for the impossible to be possible. Finds the right person to create them and Link knew he was apart of the vision. A piece in the giant puzzle making up the eighth hunger games; only he's unable to help the blank stare he carries as he looks to Godfrey's side waiting and seeing what order of business would be sent out now. Sitting back and watching Harlan's controls over the mechanical spiders had been interesting nonetheless. The Capitol was entertained; built a whole scenario to keep the rebel born kids and the capitol's loyal citizens on their toes. A desire to smile sparks from the edge of his lips, but Link keeps himself stone faced. There's no reason to smile at death.

Later on, he could enjoy the screams, the deaths, and the status of his creations. What flaws were left would be kept for later, for next time. While he was a creator in all ways, he still knew there was work to be done to improve upon their designs. Dream bigger. The internal voice of his own father coming back. Only Harlan breaks him from his own thoughts, controller handed over into his grasp as Harlan's controller whirs to life; climbing over the wall to begin an assault on the rebel born kids left. Analog controller in hand, Link gives a sigh as he speaks carefully, making sure to watch his own creation function perfectly.

"Push 'em to their limits. I need the data."

Glancing for a second at Gamemaker Godfrey, he turns his focus back to the arena itself. Flicking his thumbs in time with the movements, he stares ahead as if he's piloting a hovercraft back in the war. Simple enough controls, but the horrifying beauty was in the motions. A hungry creature with an appetite for blood; the one of the pair that he's got the controls for moves around a wall, cutting through the actual maze with an energetic speed of a starving creature; mandibles extended with the knowledge of feeding time. Scratching with metallic weapons against the foliage of the walls, ripping and tearing sounds mixed with the twang of metal on metal as it moves with an animalistic hunger.

The metallic sharp legs are the first glimpse of anything approaching the Southern Feast's entrance. Foliage dropping as the creature bursts around one of the gates and into the actual feast. Almost a glimpse of a quick blurred creature as it comes forth, only when it stops a few feet away at a smaller height than it's twin is when the tributes can fully see the nightmarish creature built by Link Vandergrift's own hands. All ten feet of it stands on insect like metallic legs, sharpened to two bladed edges with each leg, leading up to the congealed form of white flesh, intermixing with metal. Almost the sight of bones protruding from it's fleshy husk. White hairs along the white flesh, mandibles of sharp teeth below it's eyeless face.

Tech whirling with every step it takes, the red glow on it's legs being the only form of light coming from the creature. As it raises upwards to a taller height, a loud scream glides through the area. A promise to feast upon the living as so many other muttations in the war had. Rebel born children suffering the same as their parents or even themselves. Link's lips twitch slightly as he pushes gently on the analog stick, knowing there's only one task left. Let the beast feast upon the remaining tributes left. With a startlingly quick movement, sharped pincers extend outwardly as the creature rushes for a tribute, the smell of flesh guiding it forward with it's mandibles dripping in drool.

Rolling for Target!
Order:
1. Marrow
2. Delta

tdDldronZD1-2

[Grief Eater attacks Delta]
sword
[4.5]

Mechanical arms extended out, metal cutting into flesh as the creature moves with an unnatural and yet natural movement as legs crawl forward. Pincers extended as more drool drips to the ground surrounding them. The boy from 6 was the easiest target in Link's mind; moving the analog sticks in formation and smashing the pincer swipe attack, he can feel the air growing tense. The creature clicks it's mandibles together with a clink sound of metal and bone as it's eyeless self seems to look at the boy for a moment. Blood drips from a wound. The creature continues to clink teeth to metal in a sort of animalistic battle cry. Intriguing since he never programmed the creature to be capable of doing so. Another subversion of expectation.

1-2·sword

[Izzabel Bennet D8A (Jorg)]

The kid I attacked blocked my attack, calling me an idiot in the process. To be fair it probably wasn't the smartest move going after the guy who was the least damaged, but hey no one ever said I was smart. I'm just trying to level the playing field. What I wasn't counting on though was another girl to join our fight. I manage to block his attack, but she cuts me on my leg as I try to jump back. Luckily it was nothing to deep. I know I'm not in the best shape, butI wasn't thinking that it would make me a target. At least I'm proving to them that I'm a fighter, and that I won't be going down easily.

The others are fighting around us, talking but I'm choosing to not pay attention to them. If killing them means I get to eat, then I'll kill them. Madyson taught me that viewing them as animals won't help me fight, but I can't stand to humanize them either. They're just people trying to kill me, and that's enough for me to fight back. If I knew their backstories, or their histories, I could potentially like them, and I don't want to like these people. They're not from home, and only one of us is going to make it out, so there's no point in being friends with them.

There's a moment though when it's silent, and I see the monstrosity that warrants it. An unnatural creature based on some kind of insect has joined us. The screeches it emits is just as unnatural as it's body of flesh piled on machinery. This wasn't the kind of thing I was imagining when I heard of mutts being introduced in the arena. I was imagining snakes, dogs, jabberjays, but not this. How could anyone think of this, and think that it was good?

What am I saying though it's the Capitol, they thought killing innocent children was worthy punishment for rebelling. Of course they would come up with this kind of monstrosity.

It doesn't matter right now though, because it goes after another boy. As long as I can keep my wits about me, I can stay alive. I lowered my guard with Madyson and she almost killed me for it, I just have to keep it up.

I take another swing hoping to land same kind of hits I landed on Madyson, hoping to send this dude home in pieces.

"Shut up you pompous ass." I tell him, because who the hell does he think he is to deny my right to live? He's just a person who's standing in my way.

[Jethro attacks Marcus Emberstatt; Sword]
W6Jzm6uvd|sword
[stabbed in chest - 9.5]

sword

[lance]

It's reminiscent of yesterday, in ways. Blades flashing here and there, cutting through air and little else. Screams and shouts, some consisting of actual words, others more maniacal in nature.

And then there are differences. Like the giant thing that crawls out of the woodwork, slashing and very nearly taking a chunk out of one of the boys in the process. It's unlike any sort of creature that was present in Mo's games, instead looking like some sort of, well, abomination. No sweet, cuddly innocent cow this is.

(And probably for the better, too, let's be honest. Cause if the creature was somethin' cute and cuddly, well, then let's just say that I've already had one sour experience when it came to caring about something in the arena, and I don't need a second.

Fuck. I can't believe I actually killed Reno. I can't believe I actually felt bad about killing Reno. I can't believe that I let myself talk me into a corner, to the point where that small part of me actually wished he'd take the kill and move on. Fuck knows he had more waiting for him than I did; from the sound of it, his family were good, decent folk. Nothing like my traitor of a father, the stepwhore, and the two Things.

But it's not like I don't have nothin' waiting for me back home either. Back home, I have opportunity. I have redemption. I have atonement.

Not for freeing the cows, mind you. That I'll never regret. Fuck, I'd do it again if it didn't mean I'd be literally throwing my life away. No, all of that shit? That'd be for killing Reno. The Games make us do awful things, sure, but like hell will I ever let it define me.

Sure, I have to get there first, and that's still a ways off. Dyin's easy - hell, with this many people around me, I could stand still, drop my sword, raise my arms to the sky, and scream, and I'd be skewered in seconds if only to shut me up. But livin'? Livin's the challenge. And it certainly will be, because even with my surprise attack perfectly timed as second in the bunch, I've already attracted unwanted attention.

Yet I'm bolder than I was yesterday. Or maybe it's easier to handle the strike from a girl around my own size as opposed to literal behemoth farmboy Reno. Whatever the case, my arms shake when I catch her blade on my own, but they do not falter. The sword does not snap, nor does my grip.

She's grinning. It reminds me of myself from yesterday. Brash, overconfident, thinking she'll enjoy the ride. Most likely she knows she will already, if she went through the same thing I did.

That's not me, anymore. This ain't no cow jailbreak, there's no pleasure or satisfaction to be gained from all of this.

But that doesn't mean I'll strike her down with any less enthusiasm.

I shove, break the sword lock, and before she can gain the distance necessary to dodge, I swing.

After all, what's one more body to add to the pile?

veala attacks marrow; sword

dtwnx2Iayzsword

1062 -- Block -- 0.0 damage

sword

[pearl mcclain d4 [ryan]]

his blade is deflected right back and marcus can feel a bit of pressure weighing down on his body. he is uncertain why this is happening to him, why he was picked. that was just going to have to be what it was. or something like that.

he thinks about home fondly, thinks about how he had promised prisma that he would take care of her brother if he had made it out of this alive. how much he wants to see his family again, and then how much he wants to punch his own brother in the face.

it should have been him.

but its not, and he is probably out there enjoying the show. they did not end on good terms, and there was nothing that he could have done about that. they wanted different things after all.

marcus just wanted to survive.

when the boy takes a step back, other people start to rush in. all marcus can hear is metal on metal. it was light everyone had forgotten how to strike for blood. they were all able to do it the day before, but now they are probably too weak to focus.

the promise was fueling them, not any actual food after all.

marcus thinks about his brother in the moment when the other boy calls him a pompous ass. rich. truly truly rich. the pot calling the kettle black. he reminded marcus of his brother, and his fury intensified. he did not want to be known as a murderer, but for once, this could be a good way for him to get all of his feelings out about his brother.

"last time i checked, you were the one that was attacking me." marcus is stoic for a second until he feels a blade plunged right into his chest. it hurts, it is intense, but he is not going to die here.

he takes a deep breath and lifts his own sword. "right where i want you." marcus smiles.

and swings.

[D10M marcus emberstatt attacks D12M Jethro Branstetter| sword]
YTxvtLPj3Osword
[8.0]

sword

[revel latimer, 11b 🔍 jay]

It's a blur.

The strident clang of steel grinding against itself, limbs avidly swinging around the table to avoid said steel, and a stunned "The fuck is that-" when a mechanical beast charges into the eye of the storm and slices into one of the boys. It's a multi-legged monstrosity, reminds me of Carlos kicking up sand on all fours.

Then, it was easier to wrap your mind around everything. It was simple, him or me, but this is juggling while balancing on a wire. My mind is a broken mirror, my vision and thoughts the shattered glass on the ground.

"Get it the fuck together," I think, shaking my head, my hair falling into my face. My focus is uncentered.

I grind my teeth together, dig my heels into the sand and breathe. Just for a second, though. I know where I am, the hurricane of whirling blades twisting around me. Narrowly, I avoid a strike from dark-haired beauty, the sound of our swords connecting leaving a ringing in my ears.

It's a snarl more than a grin, canines poking out from my lips.  "You know, it's too bad you missed. You won't be getting that chance again."

marrow attacks veala | sword

agOX72HQp4sword

[ block ]

sword

[Deleted]

"What the FUCK is that?!" He yells out shortly before the monstrosity pinches down on him, Delta unable to slip away quite in time. It's something out of a nightmare, his sleep deprivation meeting his fear in the form of paralysis. Move, move, move, it's all he can do to join the fray with the other tributes. As it stands, they all partake in one corner and he and the abomination stand in the other, it's a labor just to look at it. Delta runs his ass to the others, in hopes that, with more options, he'll never be touched by this thing again.

If he were to die, please, please, not to that.

He holds his sword in front of him, chest pounding as he finds himself in the blur of white togas. Delta takes the second to count exactly how many, all of them unrecognizable to himself. Five, and himself, and he can't stop himself from thinking of how many will remain when this is over. None, he believes - what if they can't until the beast is dead? It feels hopeless, that they fight for nothing but a prolonged grave, he'll never be able to unify them against it. 

So he joins in, hands shaking and uncertainty in his knees. He looks like shit and no one else looks much better, but he focuses on he who looks the worst. Blood cakes the boy's body, whether it be his own or someone else's, and Delta grimaces at the idea of making things worse. He isn't built for this, killing, but he has no choice. He feels the Capitol's collar around his neck, him nothing but a vessel for violence. 

Delta gives into it, against the screaming of his heart.

[ attacks jethro ]
eCbZLylVxL200+1000
[ -- ]

"Hey, blue eyes," he says as the body falls, "you and me on the same side?"

200+1000

[gamemaker tallis 🧚🏽‍♂️kaitlin.]

I was born in the early days of the war. I want this to mean something.

In every universe, there is a bright screen somewhere that I cannot see. An entire world, kept out of my reach, little pieces of my own that someone else decided I wasn't good enough for. I hear the words meant for the screen I'm sure I'm on now, forced into another fight I didn't earn, didn't ask for. Stuck on ache, on repeat; the story of a girl, or a country, a clean house where everything is supposed to know its place.

I'm tired of someone fitting me into their boxes.

The boy I'm running away from strikes me / I'm in a universe where people do bad things for the sake of freedom. Blue eyes / blue / blue / blue / I remember when I used to practice saying it over and over until it felt like mine / learned to speak by catching the words tumbling out of my sister's mouth / you and me on the same side? / yes, I can speak your language, —

My words are bricks in my lungs / Indigo with her hands on my shoulders, my back against her, keep your heart close to your chest, / I know
     survival, I speak in survival, sharpened tongue
     I know what to do with,

"LOOK OUT!" except it's too late / skin bisected, this skin of his cut open by the ugly thing lumbers up from the hedges. It's all I can do to keep trying to get away from it, away from all of them —

In another universe there is a girl
     tugging at the stars / a universe in which no one lies / a universe where the waves control the moon &       not the other way around.



Thing is, I stand by my choices. This skin, well-worn hide, I've swallowed every name I've been given. Blue Eyed Monster, I cradle her in my arms and welcome her home to greet the rest. 

blue attacks veela

tOlEP0zAkgsword
3.5

sword

[Tom]

The shuddering sound of metal echoes through the maze as the metal biohybrid screeches at the boy from Six. Blood barely coats it's sharpened metal pincers as Link furrows his brow in confusion. The pesky kid seemed to be able to move faster than he'd calculated. No matter, Link enjoyed a good challenge. The crunching sound of bone and metal rings through the arena as he stares intently on the chaos swirling through this feast. Boys and girls choosing to strike against one another. War in a smaller form; he could see the ways their animalistic faces screamed in pain. Interesting observations to be made about the longevity of the different district kids. Only, he stays silent as he hums under his breath speaking to Harlan once more with an observation.

"Six is fast. Didn't expect that."

Letting his fingers move the analog stick once more in a specific pattern, he presses one of the buttons as the metallic beast moves around the fight, chittering with it's mandibles as drool continues to drip in the surrounding ground of it's steps. The metallic grating rings ever so slightly in the air as if the creature could hum, but that's not really what was happening. Link Vandergrift had tried to make the machinery quiet, but the biologic part of the Grief Eater wouldn't allow for the silent moving metal. Too breakable. Instead the hum was the gears beneath the skin rotating and preparing the sharpened pincers for it's next attack.

Watching the reactions, he feels a pride burning through his hands. Sweat starting to drip slightly as he has to rub his hands on his nice pair of dark jeans. Only, the tributes strike out and he can tell the one from Twelve is dead. Easy enough to see from this distance as Six cuts the boy down. An interesting development. Maybe this Six was going to prove to be worthy of making it farther, but for now, Link had to do his job. The tributes were still too many and Harlan clearly sent the Grief Eaters for the purpose of cutting down the competition. Like a good soldier, he continues to follow the orders of his higher ups.

Better to be obedient and trust his superiors than to end up in another crisis like before.

"Okay, lets really see what these kids can do."

A click of a button and the analog stick moving to the left, the creature moves with absurd speed despite it's missing eyes. The drool leaves a small trail, but the sound of metal on bone is heavier in the air. The creature begins to climb the wall, getting above the tributes with it's metallic whirling of gears and life. It's ready to feast once more. The creature's body seems to shift towards the body on the ground, but Link tugs the controls to keep it focused on the living ones. A loud screech of it's yell comes through in a high pitched whine of biological sound and machinery. A smile tugs slightly on his lips as he sits back and moves the controls to use the sharpened pincers at the closest tribute to the beast. The hunger was already starting to make the beast even more feral than before. Mandibles clicking excitedly against bone.

Rolling for Target:
1. Delta
2. Blue

DVjJlDzs|51-2

[Grief Eater attacks Delta]
sword
[Miss]

Only Link's thumbs were covered in uneasy sweat. The flick was a bit too uncoordinated as the chewed gum-like creature goes uneven on the wall and climbing down quickly for the attack. Sharpened pincers missing as Link looks intrigued at the boy from Six. Looks like he needed to collect more data. So much for this Grief Eater being a success if it couldn't even strike the tributes. Though, they seemed to have things covered themselves. An intrigued raising of his brow is all he gives as he speaks to Harlan once more. "Intriguing."

1-2·sword