caves of hunger | rhys vs lucky (day 7)

[mat]

Lucky stayed beachside overnight, wrapped up in the shady protection of his cloak. The only things that disturbed his peace were a flock of creatures, poking at the boots, gloves, and the rest of the armor that he stripped off to better enjoy the weather. Lucky chased the stupid things down the side of the beach before losing them, but they did the right thing. It could've been worse. For the harenaces, anyway.

They couldn't swipe his eyepatch, thankfully, but all that remained were his cloak, jeans, undershirt, and the pair of sneakers he kept buried in his bag. The rest of him was entirely exposed. The boy marked the way they flew, away from the setting sun and towards the mountains. If they had a nest out there, it might hold the best stash in the entire arena. Lucky wandered toward the palm trees that seemed to root over the old ice sheet overnight, resting there for the night, fully intending to crash in on those things' home tomorrow first thing in the morning.

But the violent waves in the water and flying scraps of sand interrupted Lucky's early morning plans on the beach. His cloak, wrapped around him like a blanket, whipped east, and he rolled with the gusts. "Shoot, ODIN!" Lucky pulled himself upright between the palm trees, calling out for his new god's name. Vali taught him quite a lot before she died– poor girl. Odin. The One-Eyed Allfather who she claimed blessed Lucky when Eden Le Roux tore his eye out. And he believed her, even when Xylia rolled her eyes at the thought when Lucky first told her. Gods don't bless just anyone, they bless those who were born special (check) and have the potential for greatness (check!)

Losing was not an option if Lucky was blessed to win. The boy ran with the wind. His only instinct was to survive, the only thought allowed to scrape his mind was the crown on his head. It was so close, the time to falter was over. Lucky held on to the snow and the sand for a week now, hoping Gunner or Rita would reach back out, but he had to let them slip away. He dreamt of them both each night, and that was pain enough. To think of them all day? He preferred to let the wind take them.

His run through the disjointed mountain paths was certainly made easier by the winds that propelled him. They took him somewhere familiar in the mines. He recalled the entrance from the snowstorm, how he almost tripped on the uprooted and rusty outer tracks before ducking to avoid the teetering BEWARE sign hammered above the tunnel.

A couple turns in, the wind hushed. The tunnel was hardly a tunnel anymore, it was more of a crawl space. Lucky pushed the boulders around rather than trying to out-maneuver them. Careful not to get his cloak caught underneath, he moved further and further down. Easily, the collapse was his most perilous test so far. Lucky remembered every turn, every old miner's graffiti around each bend. His feet crushed the shell of a helmet as he moved– Gunner's.

Lucky could taste him, his boy, and spit him out instantly. "Stop distracting me," he hissed toward the empty memory of Gunner. "I'm hunting." Sure enough, he gave no response. But someone did, further down the cave. "See?" He stomped on the helmet again, squashing it like a finished cigarette.

He moved faster after hearing the sounds that echoed from wall to wall. Someone was down there, beat him to the cavern. Lucky didn't care much about making noise. The only way out was back into the windstorm, and with the force that was building in there, it might have blown each of them into the forcefield and bounced them about they were toys in a pinball machine.

As he got closer to the cave, he started to get excited. Who would he find? Perhaps Xovvy and Ines, girl-powering it up? Axyl or Marguerite, who he held responsible for distracting Rita from the lightning? (His mind itched to think of her again– later, Rita, later!) His mouth watered, spit-take at the ready in case it was Lionel. And Hal… he didn't want it to be him, but if push came to shove.

Lucky rounded the corner into the expansive cave of peridot and citrines jewels, just as full as when he left it.

Rhys. A name he hadn't heard of or thought of since the Bloodbath when the boy struck him. District Nine. Oh, Xovvy was going to hate him for this.

"Howdy." Lucky tugged at the tip of his cloak's hood in his rehearsed District Ten accent. Nine and Ten, after District Six, they all melded together in his mind. He looked Rhys up and down until his eye caught the barrel of a gun. Smudged through wear and tear, the unmistakable G of the Grudge.

The joy in his face was wiped away in an instant. "I want that gun," he said, eyes trained on the shotgun's width. Gunner's gun. Lucky ran at Rhys without another word. He did not ask, he told.

He wasn't being sentimental. He was being possessive.

lucky attacks rhys ; pike (axe)
ZV04iiJda5axe
[ 11036 -- Shallow Cut on Left Forearm -- 3.5 damage ]

axe

[parsnip]

Rhys Peace

The Mines were desolate. They stole all company from Rhys, but he chose to go there for that very reason. He wandered aimlessly throughout the numerous caverns and shafts that made up the wretched place, hoping that being here would mean safety. Nobody would find him for hopefully a day, and he could wait out the storm as it continued around him. The darkness enveloped him with an oppressive presence. Each footstep echoed (and he didn't know who long for). The labyrinth that he found himself in was a haunting of both memories of his fallen allies, and the spectre of what remains of Marceline. She fell not by his hand, but by his lack of ability. I could've saved her, he thought.

The silence that persisted among the abandoned depths mirrored his emptiness. Thought he chose to be there, he was instead adrift in that silent sea.

The many corridors offered nothing for him spare various sets of overalls. Their worn fabric offered a semblance of comfort. The turmoil that were his emotions began to tremble to the surface, causing the tremor in his hands that he'd raised up to what little light was left in the place, to inspect the damage that had been wrought on his person. He shed the bloodstained garments of the arena. The weight of their grim reminders fell away with each discarded layer. The overalls provided renewal, washing over him to wipe away the horrors of the Games. Still, it failed to supplant the uncertainty that laid ahead.

By boredom or by chance, he found himself gazing down the sight of the heavily damaged shotgun that he'd gained from Garnet. He'd always thought the inspired 'G' was a token of his ally. The reminder of his loss crushed him with every passing second, but glancing down the iron sight offered a simple escape until he remember he might one time choose to use it against someone. As he looked, a newcomer arrived within range. It was sudden, like a reaper emerging through the midday breeze that stalled in from the entrance. He stood before Rhys with an air of cautious determination. His presence starkly told the kid from Nine that he meant business. He wanted for something. To Rhys, he wasn't just another obstacle in the Games, but an adversary he would rather avoid entirely.

"Howdy" was about the only thing that stopped the kid from Nine from turning away and rejecting another confrontation. He was so burnt out. And it might have worked, had Lucky not caught sight of the gift from Garnet.

It seemed to mean more to Lucky, though.

"I want that gun" he said with what Rhys perceived as a crazed attachment.

"Fuck off" Rhys said, wrapping the gun around his back and receiving a punishing slice across his arm as he did it. "I keep warning people to get away from me, and look what happens..." His grumbling coincided with the unsheathing of his glaive, the blood still not washed off despite the fights on the Beach.

He threw a swipe at Lucky, aimlessly, and bolted at the first chance into the depths of the Mines.

[Rhys Peace attacks Lucky Nachtnebel with Glaive]

VZZfQPWxEaglaive

Stabbed in Foot -- 8.0 damage
(Glaive)glaive

[mat]

Lucky swiped at the strap of the gun in hopes that he could cut it off in one fell swoop. That or chop the boy's arm off entirely, he was not picky. "Fuck off," the boy said as he pulled away with no more than a slight cut past his arm. "I keep warning people to get away from me, and look what happens." Rhys's glaive crashed down near Lucky's foot. He tried to give way and dodge it the best he could, jumping back against the cave's walls to evade it.

Between breaths, Rhys ran back into the minds. Lucky tossed his bag into one of the abandoned carts, another weight lifted off of him, before building up to a sprint. "I love a chase scene!" He shouted into the hollowed-out strip mines. Lucky's voice echoed back to him. He was reverting to the part of himself before things got messy, before he lost control of everything.

He sprung over the mine's debris, making up ground on the scuffed footsteps that banged and clashed off the tracks beneath them. Every stride made the wound on his foot ache. It was the determination to catch him that propelled Lucky forward. "I'm coming," he yelled, swinging around the wooden corner post. The boy who tried to earn everyone's trust in the Training Center swapped out for a storybook villain. Cartoonish as it was, the time to be well-liked in the arena was over. No one was buying it, anyway. Harley knew from the moment he hugged Rita during that collapse that he wasn't the heartthrob boy next door. Lucky acted out of convenience, doing whatever the moment called for. One day, heartthrob. The next, heartless.

Within touching distance of Rhys, Lucky raised his axe and swung at him. "Stop… running!" He wanted desperately to get under his skin. Lucky did not want to play a game of cat and mouse. "Why don't you stop and fight me like a real man?" he asked, fully aware that it was probably in his best interest to do anything but stop running.

lucky attacks rhys ; pike (axe)
3UKAkjj6aCaxe
[ 11070 -- Shallow Cut on Left Shoulder -- 3.5 damage ]

–

self-defense on rhys's 13022 attack
3-8

axe·3-8

[parsnip]

Rhys Peace

Lucky's ability to dodge was clearly newly found, if his lack of eye was anything to go by. Rhys eyed it carefully hoping that doing so would give him the advantage. Any advantage, really, is all he needed to win. Since the mutts stole and damaged whatever benefit one had over the other, it really was lucky of the draw. And Rhys intended to prove that Lucky was indeed unlucky. Their chase through the dark winding tunnels commenced with an initial race. Sure, a few blows were traded, but nothing substantial. Nothing that would merit Rhys the chance to stop and reflect for even a second. He intended to use the darkness against Lucky. He'd been there longer. He'd learned a couple of routes that Lucky surely wouldn't have seen, but he will.

While Rhys had no intent for further bloodshed, he still wanted to make it home. His only wish was to find a way out of the nightmare. His District called for him. In amongst the chase, Lucky still managed to clip Rhys' shoulder deftly, adding to the pouring that began to take place upon his left side. But Lucky was driven by a determination that Rhys couldn't have. He didn't know the importance, and he didn't recognise it himself, but the determination was one that he could only emulate should Garnet or Jericho's belongings have fallen into the arms of another tribute. Still, Rhys caused the chase to wear on.

His resolve wavered with every step. His tired muscles protested every step. He knew that he wouldn't be able to keep the chase going forever, but the thought of having the blood of somebody else on his hands meant that dread filled his thoughts completely. He would give in to it, if only to stop the racing thoughts of escape. He just wanted to find a way to outmanoeuvre Lucky, and return to safety. Yet, the claustrophobic confines fought against him at every turn.

Lucky's voice cut through the reverberation that followed it. The blade-like mixture of whispering and shouting causing a chill down Rhys' spine. "I'm coming." With a grim determination in his eyes, Lucky revealed his true intentions, his plans for Rhys far more sinister than a mere struggle for possession of the shotgun. Is he going to kill me over a shotgun? Couldn't he just be real and say he wants to kill his way to the win? Rhys knew that the only way forward would be to face him eventually, but only when it was right for him to do so.

"Stop… running!"

Exhaustion threatened to drag Rhys down into despair itself, yet his pushed himself onward. His resolve failed to yield in the face of adversity. Though, the twisting corridors and shadowy alcoves definitely tried. While Lucky was a hunter, Rhys was the prey scouring the battlefield for an opportunity. Escape, mainly, but inevitably the time would come to face his foe. With each passing moment Rhys would note the lack of solace, with eerie shadows dancing and taunting the pair of them in the fires of their battle.

"Why don't you stop and fight me like a real man?"

He was right, and Rhys knew that because it caused a sinking drop in his chest. It heaved with exertion, and he turned to face Lucky with a mixture of weariness and defiance. He was still determined, though. It was about who was more determined, in the end. "Because," Rhys retorted, his voice rough with exhaustion but laced with a steely resolve. "Being a real man," Rhys continued, his voice low but firm, "is about knowing when to fight... and where." His gaze shifted from Lucky to the narrow path that stretched out before them, a precarious ledge carved into the sheer rock face of the crevasse. The crumbling rock offered no solace either, yet it was the perfect place to pose for the fight of their lives.

Rhys did a swift salute of his glaive. "I did warn you not to follow me."

Then, he struck at Lucky. With each attempt, he hoped it would be the last.

[Rhys Peace attacks Lucky Nachtnebel with Glaive]

Xr3GT2CPLKglaive

Shallow Cut on Left Shoulder -- 3.5 damage
(Glaive)glaive

[mat]

The sheen on Lucky's axe glistened through the cracks of dull light scattered in the mines as he took another chance at Rhys's arm. One wrong turn and they were in an area of the mines completely unfamiliar to him. The boy kept running, he couldn't down him yet. With seven days of non-stop watching his back, even Lucky grew tired midway through the fight. His body burned with every rock he kicked or edge he bumped passed to keep up with Rhys.

"Because," the boy spoke as he moved with a much easier swiftness than Lucky. "Being a real man is about knowing when to fight and where." His palms slammed against the mine's stiff walls as Lucky pressed up against the crack within it. The crevasse was small, barely large enough for one person of normal height to make it through, let alone Lucky who neared six and a half feet. Rhys's glaive tweaked his shoulder from just within. "I did warn you not to follow me."

Rhys had a head start once more. Lucky bent partway, squeezing through the crevasse sideways. The walls were slippery and cold to the touch. Clearly, the warmth of the arena hadn't reached the mines' depths yet. Lucky groaned as the opening between the walls got tighter. The cave's openings crushed him, forcing the boy to shift and cut his skin just to get through the fissure. Lucky took a swipe at Rhys from behind, just barely missing him. The axe scraped against the wet-glossed stone, screeching across the distance between them as it returned to his side. "I've only got one eye, but I promise you, it's very keen."

Lucky's body went from bending to crawling as the crevice got wider but much shorter. "It's always better to fight your demons head-on," he exclaimed, knowing from experience how far that got him with his own family. His father's grip on the collar of his shirt, refusing to yield until his boy gave up. Maybe Rhys could be tricked into the same trap he fell into years ago. Lucky's free hand grabbed at the bottom of Rhys's shoe ahead, unable to hold on. The monster clawed from behind, his breaths quick but booming in the small space they traveled through.

As they rose from the lowest point, he managed to take a realistic shot from the boy's back with enough pace and strength to do some damage. "If you keep running, I'll keep finding you. I'm nothing if not excruciatingly relentless. That's me warning you." Lucky's cloak swept the ground as he rose from the crevasse.

He recalled the first day in the Bloodbath, when Rhys and his friends chased Gunner out. How they embarrassed him and made Lucky poke fun at him. A week later, calling Gun a coward was the one thing he regretted, even if it was just to mess with him. Lucky knew nothing else of the boy's experiences, but it motivated him to chase and hunt Rhys down if that's really how the boy wanted to die.

lucky attacks rhys ; pike (axe)
gQ|jqvRcZ4axe
[ 11105 -- Miss -- 0.0 damage ]

accuracy re-roll / day 7
axe
[ 11096 -- Shallow Cut on Right Forearm -- 3.5 damage ]

axe·axe

[parsnip]

Rhys Peace

The dim light of the Mines set the backdrop perfectly. Fleeting hope was the mainstay of their duel. Perhaps not for Lucky, who's resolve seemed untested. To Rhys, that hope was escaping without him. He was left behind in the chasm of doubt, not of his chances but of his ability to even try.

That same eerie light shook as they moved across the crumbling rock. Rhys' brow formed a furrowed visage, contemplating was Lucky was saying throughout.

"It's always better to fight your demons head-on."

"Maybe," Rhys replied, his voice tinged with a hint of resignation, "but you've got to outsmart a demon to beat it."

Rhys' demons were new. He was one of few that brought little in with him, but (if successful) would emerge with the most. The losses of his allies and friends were harsh. It's as though the Games are designed to bring the tributes together only to rip them apart. The memories of the fallen, the spectres that followed him, were his demons. If only he took his own advice. Instead, he'd opted for the path of least resistance. The way to navigate the darkness without playing the Gamemakers' game.

With ragged gasps now becoming his norm, the kid from Nine still pressed through the winding tunnels. Lucky's relentless pursuit was ever-present and continuing, suffocating Rhys as badly as the fumes. With each echoed footstep the distance between them would shrink and stretch in a dance of dust.

"If you keep running, I'll keep finding you. I'm nothing if not excruciatingly relentless. That's me warning you."

Lucky's words were as harsh as always. But he was in the right in this situation. He was doing exactly what the Gamemakers' wanted. Rhys wouldn't do that. If he was going to win these games, he would do so as himself. "Then we're at an impasse," he replied, his voice steady."Because I'm very fucking stubborn." Stubborn, and exhausted.

That stubbornness meant that Rhys would keep running from Lucky. How can the odds be in the favour of someone against luck itself?. He refused to give in. He wanted the same resolve Lucky had, and he wanted to throw it through his face.

The narrow passage he'd led them to flickered. The cracks in the rocky ceiling cast ebon shading across their new environs. The atmosphere bore into their shoulders until Rhys came to a halt. The secluded spot he'd scouted offered a brief respite from Lucky, who was hot on his heels and inevitably would find him eventually. With a weary challenge in his eyes, Rhys turned to face his pursuer, his back pressed against the cold stone until he lifted off it with a leap. His glaive was what went first, shimmering in the midnight air. Their confrontation was anxiety-inducing for Rhys, who could feel the sudden urge of adrenaline as he lifted into action. His lunge forward hasted by the glaive that sliced it's way forward. His weapon arched towards Lucky fiercely, it's razor-sharp edge poised to strike.

[Rhys Peace attacks Lucky Nachtnebel with Glaive]

AslXEN6xbLglaive

Shallow Cut on Forehead -- 4.5 damage
(Glaive)glaive

[mat]

"Then we're at an impasse," the boy said to Lucky, the strength in his voice unwavering. He hadn't knocked him off his game yet. "Because I'm very fucking stubborn."

Lucky's eye rolled as Rhys was on the move again. Each time he caught up, the swipe at his sides only seemed to give him another boost of adrenaline. "C'mon," he whispered as Rhys dashed through another thin passage. The mines tested his agility. Between the tumbling rocks a few days back and the million ways to escape, run, and hide, the winds pushed him in this direction as another challenge to his resolve. Lucky killed Marcellus, a boy who refused to run, and Xylia, a girl who couldn't. Could he take down a moving target?

The passage broke off in multiple directions. With every turn, Lucky grew more and more confident that he was running in circles, completely turned around by the darkness that enveloped him. His head swung in all directions as his eye squinted against the void of razor-sharp edges around him. "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH," he howled and tapped Xylia's glaive against the walls in hopes of exposing where Rhys was. The blade carved marks as he dragged metal across the stone. "Where are you, dude?" Impatient, Lucky called out. He had nothing to lose by giving up where he moved. He looked for the fight. It was what had to be done.

He spun between corners, Lucky's only eye hunting for the slightest variation amongst the blackness. About a minute passed before he saw something new for the first time, a glaive gliding past his hairline. It connected, just barely. Blood dripped quickly from the horizontal cut across his forehead, an unfamiliar wetness soaking his brow. Lucky turned his head to the right, letting the blood drain across his patch instead of his eye. Rhys caught him off-guard for the first time in the fight. The boy smiled, a single drop of blood bouncing off his top lip and across his front tooth. "Finally," Lucky exclaimed, spitting the blood in his mouth to the side.

"This labyrinth is going to be a pain to climb out of, you know." Lucky swung his axe in retaliation before Rhys could find another opening in the cavern. "Stop inconveniencing me. And the Gamemakers, for that matter. I don't think Mr. Ivan wants to dig through a cave to drag your dead body out of here." After he took his shot, Lucky hugged the walls, moving toward the next layer of the mines' depths. He anticipated more running in about three seconds.

Three things were inevitable: death, taxes, and Rhys Peace making another break for it, with Lucky Nachtnebel not too far behind.

lucky attacks rhys ; pike (axe)
fEct8insm9axe
[ 11189 -- Severed Left Hand at Wrist -- 9.0 damage + 1.0 Strength]

axe

[parsnip]

Rhys Peace

The duo were locked in what can only be described as a deathly cat-and-mouse chase. While Lucky was not merely a cat but a venerable hunter, and Rhys was the rodent scurrying through the Mines that held them.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

His chaotic clamouring caused a torrent of fear to rush to Rhys' fingers, especially the ones that grip his glaive.

"Where are you, dude?"

Hiding, Rhys thought. Until the opportune moment, where his advantage was clear and his intent aligned. He didn't want to kill anybody else. He wanted sleep after the Games, yet the rush of brutality that'd occurred in the past few days were almost enough to deny him that permanently; all that remained was Rhys' determination to do the right thing. That was until he revealed his presence with the swing of a blade.

"Finally."

Lucky continued to talk. It was something Rhys couldn't quite do in that moment. Not only had the black musk of the Mines crept into every thought of his, Rhys could only respond in action it seemed. While as stubborn as he claimed to be, in the end he was just a kid with too much to lose. They all were. "Stop inconveniencing me," started Lucky, which gained a moment of pause between the two. Both of Rhys' eyes locked on the singular one of his opponent. "I don't think Mr. Ivan wants to dig through a cave to drag your dead body out of here."

In that space of time, Rhys managed to erupt a response through the miasma of silence he'd wanted to keep. It was involuntary, the kind of vomit-of-words that happens at the peak of emotion. His were on fire, fuelled by the brisk breeze that seemed to remain in this place despite the outdoors' great change. "How cute, you've remembered his name" he spouted. "Too bad nobody's gonna remember yours."

What followed was Lucky's axe bearing down upon Rhys. His hand, targeted or not, was due to be the victim of the most crucial of blows. The kind that would make him wish his words never existed, that he kept his wit, and didn't for a second lose his composure. But that wasn't possible, the damage was already en route.

Regardless of what happens, Rhys would never go without a fight. Not after everything he'd been through. The fire and pain caused his body to ignite, and he continued to strike against Lucky who had started to anticipate Rhys' running tactics. Too bad he was done running.

Too bad he was done losing.

[Rhys Peace attacks Lucky Nachtnebel with Glaive]

OfhFltTJa6glaive

Stabbed in Stomach -- 9.5 damage
(Glaive)

[Rhys Peace uses Light Step on Lucky's 11189 attack]

1-10

[Fail]glaive·1-10

[mat]

Finally. His words got the boy to stay put. The boy spat out some insults about how nobody was going to remember Lucky's name. Now that was the most unserious thing Lucky had heard in his time in the arena. And he spent two of his days in there battling Xov the Hero! His axe swept clean against Rhys's hand.

He could hear the bone crack under the pressure of his swing, and for the first time since he picked up the axe in that pit of bones, confidence welled in him. Not the natural confidence that he tended to carry, but the kind where control burst into his palms, a craving he'd missed dearly. No day has been a victory yet. Not even when Juno, Gunner's killer, showed up in the sky. None of that was good enough.

Lucky leaned against the damp walls of the cave, doing his best to get out of the way of Rhys's oncoming blade. No hide and seek this time, just fight. Fine with him. The boy, blade pointed directly at his stomach, lunged forward. Lucky turned Xylia's cold glaive horizontally in defense to try and keep it from burying deep into his stomach. Rhys was mad now. Running from Lucky only offered a temporary respite. He trained for the better part of six years to track people down and catch them.

Axe in one hand and Permafrost in the other, Lucky growled, channeling most of his might to keep Rhys's blade from plunging into his stomach. "At least you… stopped running. That's a good first step!" The words croaked from his throat as his arm surged to push him back and give him some space, whether the blade connected or not.

"Everyone will remember my name, by the way. Lucky. Seriously, the puns and jokes make it impossible to forget." Lucky continued to smile as he put the glaive back into the hilt of his jeans and raised the axe in both hands. "Like.. 'Ah, I found a four-leaf clover, How lucky!' or 'Oh no, Lucky Nachtnebel found me, how unlucky!'" He took a shot at Rhys again.

"I promise that I'll remember yours. I'm nice like that."

lucky attacks rhys ; pike (axe)
4LH9RAzMjtaxe
[ 11066 -- Severed Right Ear -- 8.0 damage ]

light step on rhys's 13195 attack
1-10

axe·1-10

[parsnip]

Rhys Peace

The obvious impacts him first. Nobody can prepare a youngster for the brutality of losing a hand, but Rhys was faced with it nonetheless. Sound becomes irrelevant. What died there alongside his nerve endings were actually his hopes of making it out alive. After all, how was he to survive against anyone else if he was losing a hand? Half of him wondered how Lucky had the sense to execute such a move with just one eye, but then he was exactly that: Lucky.

His opponent said some words, but Rhys didn’t hear them at all. In the Mines all that was heard were his screams canonising his defeat. That, and the aftershock that occurs when his ear is taken too.

There was little he could do against such reckless hatred, so he tried his best to fight back. Hope might be lost, but the fight wasn’t over yet, so he merely swiped cluelessly at Lucky in an effort to prolong things. He wasn’t going down without fighting tooth and nail.

[Rhys Peace attacks Lucky Nachtnebel with Glaive]

2aQSH7TEh8glaive

[Rhys Peace uses Self Defense on Lucky's attack]

3-8glaive·3-8

[mat]

Lucky's axe sliced ruggedly against the side of Rhys's face. He recalled the explosion of lightning and thunder amid the Fold and how he could barely hear Xylia speak as they pulled each other away from the chaos. But losing an ear? He wasn't surprised the boy did not respond or if he heard Lucky speak at all.

All Rhys did was scream point-blank at him. The screeching irked Lucky. His head turned away from the shouting. It was obnoxious, but Lucky understood the feeling. The memories of being put on a stretcher and brought to the backrooms of the Career Academies, one eye burning red with terror and the other forced to watch the medical staff try and salvage his eye. The pain forced the screaming and groaning out of him.

His eye twitched with agitation, but Lucky kept himself from mocking it. It wasn't like he'd be able to hear him do it, anyway.

After a desperate swing caught his lower leg, Lucky took a short breath. The outdated caverns probably had a safety violation or two, one of which felt to him like the thinness of the air. The further they got from the exposed entrances, the weaker the oxygen felt as he took it in. Nothing could grow down in the mines except moss, and aside from the Capitol's eerie mutts and other creations, nothing could survive in it for long.

Axe gripped tight in both hands, Lucky swung as soon as Rhys's screaming ceased. Make them feel everything. Throw them off in every way you can. While out of training with his injury, Lucky took notes on the children sparring in the academy and tributes fighting in the arena.

He hadn't forgotten what he told Mr. Ivan, Hades, and Maryn in the Training Center. If you don't understand the strengths and weaknesses of the people you're up against, you're leaving a million things up to chance.

lucky attacks rhys ; pike (axe)
1J61UaKoLnaxe
[ 11123 -- Block -- 0.0 damage ]

axe

[parsnip]

Rhys Peace

Rhys, who’d killed a god in these Games, was brought down to a stumbling mess. His attacks were mostly deflected by the seasoned Lucky, whose ability to dodge and manipulate the battlefield were the ultimate challenge for the kid from Nine. He didn’t know where to take himself with his attacks, he seems to forget all his training.

The memories of the Games flashed across his vision through the hurt. He saw the frozen wastelands, wishing he could start it all anew and go a different direction. He saw Marceline outside the Mines, a promising instead to side with her before their chaotic fight. He saw many possibilities of what could have been yet none which that actually happened, because to Rhys there was no way this was the outcome. There was no way he’d hide in the Mines only to be routed out and slain over a piece of equipment.

He was embarrassed. Wild accusations of cowardice would’ve been better than his plan failing. He thought about how his parents would be so disappointed, or relieved, that he’d die in the last leg of the Games, where all attention was on them, and to cause their grief to require therapy.

Despite it all, his singular grip on his weapon remained. Even through all of the fighting and trauma, there would always be Peace at the end.

[Rhys Peace attacks Lucky Nachtnebel with Glaive]

FxTg11TLN0glaive

Miss -- 0.0 damage
(Glaive)

[Rhys uses accuracy]

glaive

Deep Gash on Chest -- 9.5 damage
(Glaive)glaive·glaive

[mat]

His axe clamored against the jagged wall, completely missing Rhys. Lucky's wrists bent upward on impact, the uncomfortable connection twisting his body in discomfort. Rhys, either by luck or skill (he could see him being capable of either,) took his chances amid Lucky's struggle to go on the offense. His blade glided cleanly across Lucky's chest, bicep to bicep. His ribs rattled as the glaive's tip poked and prodded. "Ah-AH!"

Lucky swatted at Rhys's arm, trying to keep him at bay. It was the most his body ached since stepping foot into the arena. He pushed himself back against the wall as the nerves in his body constricted, hoping the searing pain in his body would dull with the cold cave at his side. The fabric of his undershirt dangled further down his chest from the tear.

"Ow," he said, louder this time and in the direction of the one ear Rhys had left. He'd let him hear it: he hurt Lucky, congratulations. Lucky huffed. It hurt his upper body to raise the axe more each time he did it. His shoulders twitched, quivering as he tried to hold himself up through the pain.

It was clear Rhys worked better in the silence. Lucky cleared his throat in hopes of throwing him off again. "That one was impressive, I'll give you that."

He lifted the axe, fighting against the resistance from the pain in his chest. "I'm not dying down here. I'm taking that gun and I'm walking out. Do you hear me?" Lucky's voice struggled to stay firm with a shake of uncertainty coming through. He spoke to distract Rhys and convince himself that it was still possible.

lucky attacks rhys ; pike (axe)
lm6IbSXXlXaxe
[ 11133 -- Block -- 0.0 damage ]

axe

[parsnip]

Rhys Peace

Rhys' battered body stood firm as he gazed at Lucky in silence, his unyielding spirit burned brightly within him. Blood dripped from his maimed hand. It stained the rocks. It glistened in the haze of sight that the two had left. For Rhys, it was a bloodshot nightmare. He could only imagine what Lucky was seeing - probably half what Rhys could. The absence of his ear reminded him of it with each passing second.

His voice was hoarse when he finally croaked. Pain had subdued his very essence, with his words dragged with defiance through gasps for air. "I hear you" he responded, his voice laced with a quiet confirmation that conveyed the agony of his wounds. "But you're not the only one fighting for a way out... I'm not..." His voice trailed off into an airiness that couldn't be heard very well. He paused, his eyes teetering off somewhere, before swelling back to his senses. "I'm not done yet. But you will be, soon." His voice had been changed for some time, but now it seemed the transformation was complete. It was as though he'd passed his Peacekeeper Training, finally, yet still he had one last trial to complete. Survival.

He let his words hang heavy in the stale air. He vowed to defy fate itself, clinging to hope among the dark that threatened to take them. His whole being existed to use any remaining strength and pour it into this final showdown. It seemed to matter less now that he survived well - only that he survived at all. In any capacity necessary. By all means necessary.

In the most primitive of fashions, Rhys roared through the pain in a valiant strike against Lucky. He saw it as oppressing everything that he'd overcame so far, dominating it through action, and pouring his very will into the motion in hopes of turning the tide. He knew Lucky would win - at least that's what his doubt was shouting at him. The anxiety to turn back, or worse, to just let things end swiftly, was overcoming him from forehead to toe. Yet, he didn't give in. He would never give in.

[Rhys Peace attacks Lucky Nachtnebel with Glaive]

hyazzSMoCGglaive

Deep Gash on Cheek -- 8.5 damage
(Glaive)glaive

[mat]

The width of his axe knocked against the bare walls, the metal's thud ricocheting against the tight cavern walls. Lucky's eye narrowed, shoot, not good enough. Why wasn't it good enough? He overshot the silhouette of his competitor not once, but twice now.

Lucky could hear his father's voice scolding him. It was about how he got himself into this mess, and the consequences for a boy who brewed a gnarled concoction of confidence and recklessness. That settled in now more than ever, those consequences. He wanted things back the way they were when everything was perfect. Before Gunner laid his hands on Lucky, kissed him, and got himself killed without any kind of closure.

His head roared at the thought, but Lucky wished Gun had never done it. Never talked about love, never acted on the frustration that Lucky caused. He convinced himself that between Gunner and his district partner, Rhys, they were destined to ruin him.

Fuck Nines.

"You're not the only one fighting for a way out…" Lucky caught what he said between the crushing beat of his heart that pounded from his ankles to his ear drums. "I'm not done yet. But you will be, soon." Persistence as ever, the thrust of the glaive scraped across the side of his face.

The tight black leather that wrapped around his head snapped in two. Lucky's hand instinctively rose to catch the patch, but it swept from his face to the gravel beneath. Lucky looked up, blood smeared up and down the right side of his face. It was the first time he'd felt exposed in the arena. As much as he utilized his eyepatch as a personality trait, it held him together. The coldness brushed against the flat skin and its decaying scars. Empty eyelids with no muscles to blink, stare, or cry.

"Oh," the calm of his voice brought eerieness to the mine's alcove. His right hand rose, brushing the build-up of body oil and dry skin. Lucky couldn't bring himself to clean it with all the cameras around. The most he did was tear an inch of the bandages from his medical kit to wipe away the most egregious excess. But now, it was out in the open for everyone to see, the nothingness he hid.

Lucky stared, his eye blank against the shadowy nature of Rhys's body. Hate, fear, and invigoration all at once. "That was…" his voice shook, accepting the only possible reaction: stun. "That was not kind, Rhys."

Blood trickled through the cracks of his lips. Lucky raised his axe again, a familiar routine that he'd be fine doing a million times over if given the chance.

Do you see it, Gunner?

He blamed him for this, for everything. Lucky hated that sick son-of-a-gun, but loved him all the same.

Look at it. He thought. Laugh, you know you want to.

Lucky shuddered, his axe cracking down toward Rhys.

lucky attacks rhys ; pike (axe)
Rs6oYkCx6Baxe
[ 11107 -- Shallow Cut on Left Hip -- 3.5 damage ]

axe