The Bloodbath

[[Ree]craft]

Ember Milan

Lemon tree very pretty
And the lemon flower is sweet
But the fruit of the poor melon
Is impossible to eat.
Dreams. Non reality. Horrors… Nightmares. I am in the games. I am starving. Dying actually. Thirst closes my throat. I hold a lemon, neatly cut in half. I want to eat it. I want to sink my teeth into it’s bitter flesh, but I can’t. It’s impossible for me to get my teeth into. I lose strength and fall to the leafy ground. As my stomach seems to light on fire, and darkness begins to fade I awake with a start.

Above me is the neatly tiled ceiling of my capitol residence at the training center. My forehead is damp with sweat. My sheets lie tangled down the lower half of my body. I have been tossing, I have been twitching, and somehow I know, I have also been singing.

I sit up in bed and push my blond hair out of my face. It’s still dark outside but I get up anyway. I know I won’t be able to sleep again so what’s the point of trying? I dress in black. A black long sleeved shirt, long black pants, a black vest. No not a vest, more of a bodice. You can lace it up. And I do. I lace it up even tighter than my corset was laced for the interview. I don’t know why, but I want rigidity.

I sit at my desk and pull myself a piece of paper. I pick up a pen and let my hand wander on the smooth white sheet. Good quality paper. Smooth, thick, unblemished. After an hour of random lines my hand makes on it’s own, I look down. I’ve drawn a lemon, cut neatly in half. I’ve drawn a lemon flower surrounded by sugar. I’ve drawn a seagull, taking flight from a dock. That remind me… of a song. My father used to sing it. Something like: Beyond the sea… I’ll see you there… It had a catchy tune: Jazzy, rhythmic, but it was actually about death. I smile. Very fitting. I start to whistle the tune. I get up and exit my room. I think it’s nearly time to leave for the arena. I go into the hallway and scream:

“GET UP EVERYONE. IT’S A BRAND NEW DAY. EVERYONE UP, UP, UP!”

After a moment, people stumble into the hall wearing robes and rubbing their eyes blearily. I laugh. I sing. I skip. Some part of my mind says that this is wrong, but I ignore it. People grumble at me, and some people glance at me with a strange expression in their eyes. It take me a few moments to figure it out: Pity. Why do they pity me? I thought capitol people were incapable of it. My cheeks burn. I don’t like to be pitied.

I’m walking out to the hovercraft as cheerfully as I entered the hall. But as soon as I see the hovercraft. I stop dead. It’s like a cold electric current has run through my body. I saw the great silver shiny thing and it triggered some reaction in my mind: I’m going to the hunger games.

“I don’t want to go,” I say suddenly.

“You have to,” someone replies roughly. They steer me forward a few steps.

“No…” I complain. I’m nearly at the ladder. “I DON’T WANT TO GET ON THE HOVERCRAFT!”

I thrash, I fight, I scream. But they pick me up and stick me to the ladder. The ladder freezes me and brings me up into the hovercraft. I want to cry, but I'm frozen. I don’t even feel them stick the tracker in me. When the ladder finally releases me, the people on the hovercraft seem to think that I should be restrained. They bound my hands behind my back, but I feel like that’s pointless. All I do is collapse onto the floor of the hovercraft and sob.

“Lemon tree very pretty…” I hiccup and three tears stream down my face. “And the lemon flower is sweet.”

Another voice reaches me from somewhere. A light musical beautiful sing song voice. “But the fruit of the poor melon is impossible to eat.” The voice is perfectly on key, singing each note to perfection.

I look up in amazement for the speaker. I smile. Someone looks around and seems to be relieved I’ve calmed down. I sit up straight and don’t move. They unbind my hands, and it leaves red marks where the bristly-ness of it stuck into my skin. I feel slightly nervous and find myself twisting my hands behind my back. I don’t attempt to stop myself. If I manage to stop, I’ll find myself chewing my nails.

I am not crazy, I tell myself. I still have control over my mind. I am not crazy.

But the lemon tree song keeps playing in my head. Evidence towards the contrary.

Beneath the arena I am calm. I drink a glass of water, even eat a little. I sit and stair at the ceiling. I don’t pray for luck. I don’t even hope for anything. I don’t review my plan. I just sit and count the tiles on the ceiling. I am numb, unfeeling. I feel as if no one can touch me right now. I am under water. At the bottom of a deep deep pool, surrounded by beautiful blueness. I’m drowning, but I can’t get myself to be bothered about it. It’s like I’ve turned the switch for sound and feeling, off, but I don’t mind. I turned that switch willingly.

Somehow, I find myself on my metal plate. It lifts me up and I am blinking into the arena. I cannot hear anything except the thumping of my heart. I am still underwater. I look around and take in everything, but see nothing at the same time. I feel the cool wind on my face, but don’t feel it at the same time. I see the trees, I don’t see the trees. I see the great cornucopia, but don’t see the great golden horn. Some part of my mind tells me to focus on my plan remember what I need to do, but I ignore that small voice. I am content for now to stay underwater… alone.

But then a small voice out of no where starts to sing. A child’s voice.

Lemon tree very pretty
And the lemon flower is sweet
But the fruit of the poor melon
Is impossible to eat.

Like shattering glass, like emerging from freezing water, all the senses come back as the gong rings and I sprint for my life.

[Sunrise Rainier D2 // [Thundy]]

Blood.

It filled Mercury Duval’s thoughts completely as she stood there on that plate, waiting impatiently for the gong to ring and the Games to finally begin. She had waited so long for this moment that the sixty second wait seemed agonizing as she stood there. It had been a long and difficult race, and finally she was at the finish line of this venture, traveling swiftly towards her goal only to find that the last sixty seconds, that last sprint, was the worst of all. So close to her goal, and yet still sixty unbearable seconds away.

And yet the finish line was only the beginning.

She couldn’t help but look around at her fellow tributes and wonder what they would look like with their throats slit open or their guts spilled all over the ground. All she wanted right then was to jump off of her plate and fling herself at one of them, unarmed but still wildly aggressive. To punch them and kick them and bite them until they lay bloody on the ground, motionless and cold. Maybe they would still have a look of shock on their frozen dead face. She would be the last thing they ever saw. And the smell of their blood.. Oh, it would be overwhelming. Blood and death and glory and items! The bloodbath was the most amazing part of the Games.

But it was coming too slowly.

Mercury’s nose wrinkled and she began to tap her foot impatiently as she waited there. She wasn’t sure how much time had gone by, how many seconds had painfully ticked away while she was lost in her fantasies. It couldn’t be much, maybe 20 seconds, for the tributes still stood there as they were only moments ago. Their expressions had hardly changed, but when she looked around, she could tell that this moment was more upsetting and frightening than it was fun.

Wimps.. She thought to herself, pulling the corners of her lips up into a slight smirk at the idea. She would get to kill them, anyways, not that she needed much incentive to do so. She was a professional, and this was her greatest skill. Her stage. Her spotlight. It was her time to shine, and she was going to enjoy every single moment of it.

Though there was one tiny flaw to the situation- the outfits. Of all the colors that they could have possibly made the tributes wear, they chose orange?! It was absolutely disastrous. The moment she had seen what she was going to wear, she argued with her stylist (as if that was going to get her anywhere) and fully considered the idea of taking on the Games shirtless. Anything just so she wouldn’t have to wear anything vaguely shaded orange. And she would probably do so, for who could really control her decisions anyways?

Sure as hell not anyone other than herself.

The only pleasant thing about the tribute uniforms had to be the green headband. Not because it held her hair back out of her face- the majority of her hair had already been cut off by Nala in a jagged line- but rather because she found it to be fashionable. She had to look good if she was going to be on camera 24/7.

Lost in her thoughts once again, the only thing that brought her completely back to reality was the sound of the gong and the heavy footfall of 23 tributes throwing themselves viciously towards the Cornucopia or away from it entirely. She stood there, dazed and confused, while the situation fully clicked inside her brain.

It was game time.

Almost instantly, the expression on her face changed from a dreamy-eyed look to one that could only be described as bloodthirsty. Not angrily, but more so with a glint of utter satisfaction and enjoyment in her light-hazel eyes.

In the next instant, she flew off of her plate and ran wildly into the thick of things, peeling off her disgusting orange shirt and running towards the Cornucopia ferociously, all the while screaming at the top of her lungs, ”DEATH DEATH DEATH DEATH DEATH!”

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[Lulu]

Topaz decided to take a break from attacking. She'd gotten a large number of good ones in, contributed to the death of three people and the injuring of another. She wiped the blood that currently stained her glistening golden trident onto the dirt of the ground, which was already so stained with the stuff.

Bodies were everywhere by now, but the carnage was slowing up some. There were less people in the area now, because the majority had seen the damage the Career pack was inflicting and had fled. Good. They were smart. Unlike the people Topaz, Nash, Anani, and Takeba had killed already. It was clear who was dominating this Bloodbath, and that fact made her smirk.

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[cameron]

Luyu Nimmons

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Step out the front door like a ghost into the fog
Where no one notices the contrast of white on white[/size]

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Luyu ran closer to the Cornucopia, looking for possible Tributes to murder or items to steal. There were so many things piled inside of the horn and all around it. But when she saw it, she knew she had to have it.

A match.

The item struck out over all the others filling the autumn object in her mind, and Luyu quickly flung herself at it. However, some girl was in her way. Luyu scoffed and ran right at her, slinging her arms at the girl as she ran past.

She reached the item, but she underestimated her speed and lurched to a halt onto the match. It cracked underneath her grey tennis shoe.

Her life ceased to exist for a few moments, and she stared down at the broken stick of wood. She could have used that to burn some Tribute alive, but now it was gone. She was pointless.

So she fled.
--Luyu has left the Cornucopia--

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And in between the moon and you, angels get a better view
Of the crumbling difference between wrong and right

[[Ree]craft]

Ember Milan

Lemon tree very pretty
And the lemon flower is sweet
But the fruit of the poor lemon
Is impossible to eat

Death, blood everywhere. And I don't give a damn. The song keeps replaying in my head over and over and I can't help but sing it as I skip through the wreckage around me. I see my alliance around me and I remember my plan. I know I should flee now. That was our plan.

I look at the cornucopia and see what's left. I don't want any of it, really. So I won't get any of it. I can leave now. I glance up at the sky. Is that a parachute. I jump up and catch it. It might not be mine, but who cares? Attached to it is a knife. Lovely. Just what I needed.

I grin at my alliance and head away from the cornucopia. Everyone left there can stay there and rot.

[Sunrise Rainier D2 // [Thundy]]

She was the best. It was just one of those little facts of life that she had learned when she was much younger. She was the best of them all, and she could not die. She would not die. She would kill them all.

But living came with a price. If she was going to live, she had to flee. If she did not flee, she would surely die. I’m such a target. That’s it. I’m so freaking amazing that if I was to attack them they would all target me and I would die.. Yes, that’s it. She thought to herself, holding her head just a bit higher because of it. She was special. That’s why she had to flee. And if she fled.. she could kill no one else.

But she would have more chances later. Of course she would have more chances. This was the Games. Death was common. She would get to kill some more.

It was kill or be killed, and she seeing as that first option was a hobby of hers, Mercury did not hesitate to turn and flee with a glance towards the rest of her alliance... one of which whom she realized had just attacked her by accident.

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[kitsune]

In the early skirmishes, Joshua had hung back; terror, real and undiluted, had frozen him or kept him away from the conflicts. He should have been looking for an opening in the battles, an opportunity to dart in, grab something, and retreat before getting stabbed, but instead of strategies the only thing running through his head was a series of frantic curses.

Now was not a good time to discover that he was a coward.

It was pathetic, and he was apparently not growing a bit of bravery any time soon. He would have thought that the Bloodbath would be cacophonous - he was used to hearing an undertone of dramatic music while commentators exaggerated their reactions - but instead it was eerily quiet; all he could hear was the dull sound of minors scuffling in the dirt for equipment, shouts and curses that sounded feeble in the crisp air, and the sickening sound of weapon meeting flesh. (And that psycho, Mercury Duval, bellowing something ‘death’ at the top of her lungs.)

By the time the meek tribute worked up enough courage to get involved with the fray, the fight was already over; everyone still breathing was either one of the Career pack or fleeing. Joshua’s incredulous gaze flicked from Topaz to his Amazonian alliance - they were all hastily making their escape.

It wasn’t a tough decision to make.

He scrambled in the direction of the creek, nearly tripping over Alkin Fletcher’s disembodied head as he left.

[Joshua has left the bloodbath.]
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[Prince Inigo]

Takeba Suzumi

Breathing hard and experiencing the harsh pounding of the chest, the District 4 Tribute girl stood there, a stiffened stance only broken by the intake and exhale of air. Feral looks shot around, attempting to detect any other presence than those familiar and the dead - or falling dead. Nobody was coming up. There was no swinging of metallic blades or firing of arrows. Takeba straightened, still breathing abnormally, and lowered the dagger to her side. She was starting to convert the unusual levels of adrenaline injected in the body to a calm demeanor most appreciated.

Her eyes rolled down to the new victim of her blade, Timothy Hearst. Deep pain hit her heart, something akin to which she would actually cry about. She knew she accepted the consequences of the Arena wars, the bloodshed, the biting in flesh, but a thought did not occur to think that she would have slain anyone so soon. Out of the group, Takeba had dealt the fatal blows. Though the rest had chipped damage, all the kills were under her name. Recollection to what she noted earlier was made, and a sigh was released.

Minutes passed before confirmation of the District 1 death was made evident. Takeba bent down to scoop up the dagger dropped. Purple orbs turned to Nash, contemplating an action to take. Not much time was spent before the other dagger was gripped in the other hand and the same eyes looked away, towards the scene of the massacre.

Four futures disrupted; four webs swept; four roads decimated. As far as she could see, four Tributes laid on the ground going cold. Soon, the blood present would congeal, and the acridness in the air would go stale and disappear in the winds of time. Bodies of the dead shifted the atmosphere to bright darkness, a grimness apparent even in the sunlight. Everything was painted in morbid light colors, with the exception of the red punch spills. Those stains would never come out unless the particles of dirt were removed from the premises.

Takeba took a peek at the sky. Between the depressing thoughts, bloodied ground, and strewn bodies, the clouds were the prettiest and most pleasant to her eyes. Such overcast weather reminded the District 4 Tribute of home - just like a lot of other oddities and objects. Days like today resurfaced memories of drizzling sea afternoons, a net full of fish, and - most importantly - the fragrance of rain water. She did not hold the reason why rain water had such a nice aroma, but Takeba took the fact as it was: Something to feel happy about rather than to ponder.

Before long, her gaze fell onto her alliance members. Nash and Anani did not sustain any damage, which she mentally smiled to; on the other hand, she and Topaz had gotten slashed up. Hopefully not too bad, she wished. She twisted her body towards the three, now fully relaxed but ready to strike if and when necessary. Filtering the vocabulary to their wishes somewhat, she asked, "How is everyone? Any medical assistance needed, or shall we wait for some later time?"

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[WT]

The Cornucopia is beginning to quiet, the sounds of screams and clanging metal changing to those of footsteps and fading yells- tributes calling for their allies, the defeated screaming parting words over their shoulders. The fewer tributes left standing, the calmed and easier to discern the area became.

Calm, however, while easier on the tributes, is not nearly so much fun for the watchers as bloodshed. The final tributes settled into an uneasy silence, each for whatever reason standing warily rather than attacking the others; perhaps fear, perhaps guilt, perhaps a need to catch their breath after running around and fighting. It didn’t matter; all that mattered was that rest was not the same as killing, and that somewhere not so far away as the tributes might expect, a small square of fabric was plummeting down to an unsuspecting nose.

How the events of the Cornucopia may have played out would never be known, because before anyone had a chance to break the stalemate and attack, a massive greenish-black creature appeared in their midst. Cerba skidded into the fray, pushing aside one tribute and then another in her haste to get to the District Four male. She didn’t know who he was or why her instincts said to rip and kill, but the human boy’s scent reverberated in her every system and sang outward with each panting breath.

It’s hard to say, but Bolcco probably felt his neck snap and his limbs tear before his brain gave out. That said, he probably never understood why. The Hellhound came out him from behind and took his fragile spine in her jaws, knocking him over in the process. Just a split second was given to him to rest on the ground, then she lifted him and thrashed her head back and forth as years had taught her was the best way to dispose of prey. Pieces flew off, splattering blood that showed up only dimly against the mutt’s dark fur.

Blood. The prey was gone, but the hunt had arrived to overcome her. Cerba dropped what had once been her prey to turn gleaming eyes to the nearest still-live tribute: unlucky Johnathan. Without wasting a moment the 'Hound leaped for him and closed her jaw around his shoulder, then took off running, dragging the boy beneath her as she took off for parts unknown.

It wasn't exactly what had been intended when Cerba was drafted as the attack mutt, but it was all certainly very exciting.

Along the way, Johnathan sustained a number of injuries, but considering what a Hellhound can do he actually came out of it relatively well. Cerba managed to sever his right forearm, but other than that he just sustained some various cuts and bruises; all in all, he came close to death, but managed to make it through the night in the Oak Forest, where Cerba dropped him so she could fight off another Hellhound that tried to steal her prize.


severed right forearm (9)
bruised head (3.5)
bruised ribs (3)
gash/bruised left wrist (3)
fat lip (1.5)

Final: 39




Meanwhile, back at the Cornucopia, Team Strikeoutthrough had managed to claim the Wealth, because they were the only ones left.

All tributes have been given the items they earned from posting here. The recipients of the Wealth should split up the items amongst themselves, and contact me saying who wants what and what, if anything, should be part of the general hoard.


5 Arrows
Crossbow and 10 Bolts
Crowbar
Crowbar
Harpoon
Hunting Knife
Throwing Knife
Throwing Knife

Armored Vest (+10 torso)
Armoured Vest (+10 torso)
Combat Boots (+3 feet)
Combat Boots (+3 feet)
Combat Boots (+3 feet)
Combat Boots (+3 feet)
Combat Boots (+3 feet)
Combat Boots (+3 feet)
Combat Boots (+3 feet)
Combat Boots (+3 feet)
Gloves (+3 hands)
Gloves (+3 hands)
Gloves (+3 hands)
Gloves (+3 hands)
Helmet (+5 head)
Helmet (+5 head)
Helmet (+5 head)
Shin Guards (+5 legs)
Shin Guards (+5 legs)

14 Empty Water Jugs
16 Matches
28 Iodine Tablets

2 Bags
3 Satchels
4 Backpacks
Rucksack

4 Medical Kits
7 Needle and Thread
7 Rolls of Bandages (25 ft each)

3 Tents
Sleeping Bag
Tarp

2 Compasses
2 Cooking Pots
2 Insect Nets
2 Lengths of String
2 Ponchos
3 Bolts of Cloth
3 Duct Tapes
3 Fishing Lines
3 Jackets
3 Sunglasses
4 Pairs of Socks
6 Strips of Bubble Gum
8 Pliers
Flashlight
Lantern
Magnifying Glass
Nightvision Goggles
Pants
Rope
Sunscreen
T-Shirt