The Bloodbath

[rook]

p a n d o r a + w o o d a r d s

_{This is a call to arms
Gather soldiers
Time to go to war}

[/sub][/color]

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

<sub>Endgame. The only word that makes sense. The only word buzzing through my head as I sit in the waiting room. Waiting for death. The room is miraculously clean, but so dark. There are few lights in here, which I prefer. I just want to close my eyes and sleep. Sleep and not wake up. I've been left on my own, my escort and I were never close, so I didn't get more than a brief "Bye" before I was left to my sentence. Now just Capitol officials, looking at their watches and waiting for the time to come where I'm put in that tube and propelled up to the Arena.

I sit miserably on the bench, my head in my hands. How are the other tributes feeling? Prepared, pumped and excited? Or as glum and depressed as I? I'm hoping the latter is the case. I think about the Arena, about the terrain. Last year was desert, so my fears of dehydration are quelled. Year before was snow, so it's going to neither be scorching or freezing. Good. Maybe a simple woodland, I'd like that. Mountains are also likely to come up, as a rocky terrain hasn't been forced since the Volcanic wastelands of the 57th Games. What's my fate to be?

Simple lives we lead. Simple and boring. To get away, to change would be ideal

I stood in the market of District Eight, telling Hope the words I lived by. How I always wanted to be something more. Something incredible. She had thought me funny, told me to get off my butt and work for it. She was right, so right. I wish I had worked. Been the example that Rubik had set. Vigilant and hardworking. I was never going to be him, just his shadow.

The Games had always been an option in my head. I almost volunteered once or twice when I was mid-teens. Boredom. Fame-seeking. Who knows? Maybe I wasn't right in the head, because I realize now that this is not fame, nor fortune. The Games are vicious and cruel.

The girls I was with. Countless girls. I used them, and in a way they used me. I was attractive, charming and easy. I was a pushover. Anything for a good time. My regrets are that I never felt anything. Never loved or was loved. It's sad that I will die having never loved a girl. Never held someone special and cared for them. I'm heartless.

A coward. A loser.

Them too. I'm all of it. I'll die as all of these things. No dignity and no honor. I laugh, but don't smile. A Capitol official glances confused at me, so I show him my middle finger. He huffs and walks off, at least I grin at this.

"Time's up!" Says a Peacekeeper, rather rudely. I smile as I realize he's from my District and was in the Justice Building with me. He sees me and sighs, I wave at him but his face is just as bland. I get to my feet and he directs me in the direction of my tube. He makes sure my Tribute Uniform is all in order. This year is a simple white shirt with navy shorts. I’m guessing hot by this, desert again? Or mountains? I grunt as I’m given a sailor’s hat and realize it’s sea-based.

I step into the tube. No one is there to say goodbye, the District Eight Peacekeeper merely gives me a blank nod, I mock-salute back as the tube slowly rises. In this short space of time where I'm in darkness, I think about home. Hope's face, my dead mother's face, my father's face and lastly my own face, the face of Rubik. His hair is curlier than mine and his features younger. I wipe all the arguments between us from my mind and have a pure memory of the good times. I smile.
"Goodbye Rubik..."

60</sub>

[/font]

Endgame. The light is ridiculously bright, I cover my eyes as I rise to the surface. Too white. I can't see my surroundings. Then, a shape, dark and solid. The Cornucopia, littered with goods and weapons. The tributes are all there, looking around stunned or focused. I can name all twenty three. All in the same uniform and all now targets. I need to focus. These people will all be killed, spare one. I need to think that I'm going to be doing some killing too. Starting now.

We're on a stretch of sand, the sea is some distance away from this almost-island. Behind me is a forest, a jungle if you will. I spot something out to sea, but can't make it out. A sandcastle, as tall as a real castle stands tall and visible. I already know I'm heading for the jungle if I make it out of here. My breath quickens as I realize I'm a target. It's time, so it seems. My time. The Games are about to begin.

45[/font]

Time is short, I need a plan of action. I glance around, trying to make sense of the items in front of me. Bags and boxes. More importantly weapons. Axes and swords, knives and bows. I want a sword. Desperately. I was good with a sword in training, clearly to the Gamemakers, who gave me a Nine. It's all I have to go on. Water seems to be aplenty in the Arena, but I need a bag that will contain some kind of Iodine or purifier if I want to stay alive. There will be game in the forest, I have squat knowledge of plants so I'll be relying on meat for a while.

I look at the tributes around me. I see Jae, who will be one of the big threats. I can take him out. I could run to him before he gets a weapon and strangle him. Then again I could easily be stabbed from behind then.
Just get what you need, then get out.
Yes, just the necessities. Kill anyone who's in your way.

30[/font]

I see Klaus, the tribute who also got a Nine in training. Together we rank second best score. He must be dangerous, I make a note to target him at some point. Then there's Cyrus, who I don't have beef with, but he's an older tribute. Stark's a clear threat with her Ten. I see Elon and avoid thinking about him. I like Elon, which is annoying... I'd kill him if he attacked me, but he's too nice of a guy to hunt down. Maybe if it came to the final five.

Then I see Destiny. Does she have allies? How do I know she will be okay? Maybe I'm hoping she'll be killed here, so then I don't have to think about her or how to deal with her. She's the closest thing to an ally I have in the Games. I gulp as the clock silently falls and falls. Rubik would have a plan. He would know how to survive. He'd be smart and make some kind of hidden den in the Jungle. Me? I have no plan, just get a weapon and kill. The Games have never been settled in the Cornucopia alone, but it usually halves us down to Twelve in the first twenty-four hours.

15[/font]

My life has never been anything important, nor worthwhile. I have so many regrets... So many apologies I owe, most of all to Rubik. What I would give to say sorry to him. For holding him back and pushing him to support the family. Support us alone. I'm his twin for Ripred's sake, we are supposed to be one and the same. Everything he went through to support the family, I should have been right there next to him. I look at the token he made me, the dualism necklace. Equal and opposite tears. I don't deserve his kindness. He's watching now, watching me hold the token in my hands. He knows I'm thinking of him. Does he know I'm sorry?

I look to the sky.

5[/font]

I can't see the cameras, but I know he's watching.

4[/font]

The world is watching.

3[/font]

Waiting.

2[/font]

And this is my time.

1[/font]

My moment....
Endgame...

Gong.[/i]
[/color][/sub][/blockquote][/blockquote]

---

<sub>narrative
thoughts
personal speech
speech of others
singing

notes: Let the games begin.
theme: “This is war” - 30 Seconds to Mars.</sub>

[Spesh]

Now that I have my weapon, I feel like I am in total control. It’s awesome. Hopefully I’ll be able to find my alliance so then we can team up and cause some carnage. I’m still scared as hell and I am now sweating profusely from the effort that I am putting in.

That bird though, all I want to do is stroke its fur sensually.

Never mind, got to focus. So I move on to attacking again.

[Pandora (that's rook, right)][Pike]
[dice=200+3000]
[3197: deap gash on right calf, 8.0]

And then I go and pick up a backpack.

[rand=5161024774424732716218359302729422687336592935026740253547206521]

[Naya]

-----------------------------------------

Have you ever wondered about our old nu-metal friends
And what became of them?
Turns out I saw them a couple of days ago,
They were laughing and drinking and smoking and singing.

I woke up to the escort I got stuck with - Tasmain, looking as bubbly and cheerful as ever. He seemed happy, with all that cheerfulness and full of energy. Almost like a teenage girl (although he was a grown man). I hated him for that. "Fallstreak, it's a happy, happy day!" He said, almost ripping the sheets off of me and pulling me off the bed so I was standing up. Right in front of my escort, and I was only wearing pajama bottoms, no shirt at all. Which, revealed my bare chest. I guess I should be embarrassed, but I'll probably never see this guy ever again in my life. I tried my hardest not to see him staring in shock, he blushing and I just standing there, doing nothing. I just about kick him out when he says, "I-I will leave, you get... dressed, and come to breakfast." He tip-toes out of my room, although I'm guessing Taylor is already awake. The golden finger-tipped escort was extremely naïve. She was always an early riser.

A few minutes after that embarrassing incident, I get dressed into a t-shirt, with my pajama pants, not bothering to get fully dressed. I know my stylists would do that for me, and put on whatever I was going to have on for my death sentence. Breakfast was already wafting from the table, a smell I have learned to recognize over the past few weeks. "Fallstreak Hayes! Why aren't you fully dressed?" Tasmain shouts, and I just roll my eyes. "Who are you, my mother?" I stifle a chuckle, and over the table, laughs could be heard. "The stylists are just going to put me in a new outfit. What's the point in getting dressed when I'm just going to be putting on a new outfit soon?" I shrug my broad shoulders and keep my trap shut for most of the duration of breakfast. I made sure I ate as much as my stomach could handle, but not stuff myself so I was at my weakest during the bloodbath. Savour this food right now, because I won't be able to eat it while I was in the arena.

Tasmain directed Taylor and I to the control panel, where the stylists were waiting for me. I could tell Zell was displeased with my attire, pajamas and all, but she tried to hide it behind a fake grin. "OK, lets get you dressed!" The energetic neon-green haired girl dragged me behind a curtain, and showed me our outfit. A jumpsuit. "I think that will be tight during the arena." Zell looks at me with her piercing icy blue eyes, that sent chills down my spine. "It will help you, trust me. Every other tribute will wear the same thing." She offered me a grin, and I just rolled my eyes at her attempt to burn me. Outside, I seemed like a snarky, screw the world hormonal teenage boy, but in inside I was just as afraid as any other tribute going into the arena. I was not experienced with this at all. "Put it on, and meet m- I mean, Tasmain, outside. He'll take you to your next stage in preparation." I nod, watching Zell open the curtain, carefully closing it behind her. I hope I had no issues putting it on. Last thing I need is to see that girl come in here when I'm half-naked. It already happened with Tasmain.

When I step out, I realize Zell was right. It was really comfortable, and I could do physical activity in it really well. "I'm ready." I look at Tasmain, probably my last look I would exchange with him. "Ok, great. We just have to wait for Taylor." When Taylor came out, Tasmain tells us that he will escort us to a hovercraft, and there we will receive our trackers. Tasmain's feet was way too fast for me to keep up, that I eventually found myself jogging to keep up with the escort. We soon find ourself near the hovercraft, and Tasmain tells us good luck. I give him a thumbs up, as if we were old friends, and continue on in the line. The hovercraft was wonky, and floating in mid-air. Technology like this, I cannot imagine how it was discovered. I shrug it off. I thing way too much when I'm extremely anxious. My escort offers me one last smile, and leaves the hovercraft. I never thought I would miss that face so much.

On the hovercraft ride, I kept to myself. I hope I didn't make a reputation for myself. And even if I did, it was good. Good for my survival in the arena. A girl comes up to me and tells me to hold out my arm. "Why ?" I ask, my Curious George side showing definite. The unfamiliar girl tells me that it's my tracker, and I need it in the arena so the gamemakers can tell where I am and my status. Dead or alive. When the tracker identifies me as dead, a cannon will automatically fire. She takes a needle, and injects me with something. I'm guessing that was the tracker. I flinch at even the slightest of pinch, so of course I jumped a little when I the needle pinched my delicate skin. A couple of people laugh, and I just roll my eyes in my head.

The hovercraft comes to a stop, and I'm guessing that it is at our destination. I am close to my death penalty. Multiple people escort the tributes out the door, and right into a room. They tell me to step into a plate, so I obey their orders and step onto the plate. My wild imagination thinks that the plate will trigger a bomb, and will blow me up. That's what will happen if I step off the plate too early. Sweat dripped down my forehead - I was extremely anxious. I wanted to get this over with. But I still didn't want to die early - I wanted to make a name for myself in District 11. I wanted to die a hero. I bit my lip as the plate raised. I never thought I would be so afraid of heights right now. My mind raced from one thought to another - sometimes wandering onto topics that had nothing to do with the Games, or the fact that I was now up and in air. I was surrounded by a cool breeze and warm air - a tropical paradise. The warmth reminded me so much of District 11 during harvest time, or work time. Palm trees were all around me, the ocean crashing against shore. District 4 was going to rock this, with the swimming.

A booming voice played over a sound system I can't seem to find. I felt like pacing - but if I did, I would step off the plate and die. It counted down. 23, 22, 21, 20, 19, 18, 17, 16, 15. The voice continued on. I realized I now had 10 seconds to think of stuff that was very important in my life.

10 - District 11, the warm weather and the crops growing ever so beautiful. District 11 was much prettier in a way different then the appearance of the Capitol. it was still really pretty, just not as pretty as District 11.

9 - My dog, Rusty. I named him when I was young, most likely seven or something. I had an excuse for his terrible namesake. The border collie had black fur all around, except on his chest where it was white, and his snout, where it was white as well. I found him on the streets of District 11 where nobody wanted him.

8 - Ruphalia, or Rue. The only love of my life, my sister. Her bright red hair, green eyes. Nobody could really tell we were siblings if they saw us from far away. But our facial appearances were very similar.

7 - My mother, Theta Hayes. Always working, always wanted to please her family. I could never think of way I could thank her for all of the things she has done for Rue and I.

6 - My father, the main provider of the family. He was always very shy, Leporis Hayes. He always made sure we had food on our table. Like my mother, I could not ever think of a way I could thank him for the things he's done for us.

5 - Hunter Gem, a great friend of mine. We met on the street, when Rusty pulled me too tightly and face planted me into the ground. The scar on my forehead I got while with him - a group of kids ambushed us and nearly killed us. Thank goodness, I didn't die. But I probably will now.

4 - My district partner, Taylor Muncie. I flirted with her once. Not that big of a deal. I'm pretty sure Hunter is Taylor's boyfriend. Taylor has been through a lot more then me, and to be in the games to top it off must really suck.

3 - The two girls I met a while ago. One tripped, and of course, she was pretty, so I helped her up. The other girl helped her as well. I remember them vaguely, but I still want to remember them as much as I can before my death.

2 - Tasmain, my escort. I hated his guts. He always seemed like a spoiled teenage girl, and to me that's a complete turn off. He still helped me a lot, though.

1 - Zell, my stylist. I didn't hate her as much as I hated Tasmain, but she still had her flaws. She was pretty nice. My opinions change really fast. I used to hate her, now I miss her more then ever.

BOOM!

A cannon goes off, and all I can hear are the beat of tributes running. I realize that I should now be running, so that's what I do. Run, baby, run. I am unsure of what to do next, so I just pace around, biting my lip, moving from direction to direction. I almost pull at my hair and scream, but I keep it inside of me. What should I do? I try my hardest to be a bad boy, but in reality all I am is an innocent boy who's completely lost. I am near certain death, so I better get moving before anything bad happens. My heart is beating faster then my shoes can run. What do I do?

[Baby Wessex d9b [earthling]]

This arena isn’t anything like what I’d expected. My internal default for arenas these days is ice and sleet. I would’ve liked to have seen snow, if I’m being perfectly honest. Not that I would admit that to Mace, or Julian, or anyone who’d been inside of an arena. I mean it’s not like I’m on vacation, seeing the sights, although this place is bizarre. Sand and a warm but not-so-sticky breeze. It’s almost pleasant.
The thought grinds everything to a halt. Nothing – nothing in this arena could ever be present. I am witnessing the murder of children, I remind myself, feel the twist in my gut. I glance briefly at Mahlah, reminding myself that I am fighting for the children I left behind in Ten, and steel myself mentally against the next attack.
[[ Elon attacks Pandora; dagger ]]

[dice=200+2000]

[[ Deep Gash on Right Forearm -- 8.0 damage ]]
[[ Elon has acquired the next item on his list. ]]
[rand=19079179642722010921166534535586896427785581909122005497431382537]

[sbeeg]

Mahlah Shea

It was all a blur. An insane mess of color. The girl's dark hair kept whipping into her face, blocking her vision. Something hot and sticky sprayed out, clinging to her skin and face. Blood. She was covered in blood. In that instant, everything fell apart- the entire Bloodbath and all the tributes fell away. Mahlah was numb to everything around her, trying so hard to keep from completely freaking out.

Alba.
Papero.
Dominic.

Don't scream. Someone could have attacked her and Mahlah did not feel a single thing, she felt dead already.

Dead already.

Turning, she slashed her weapon out at whoever happened to be next to her, despite the blood drying on her cheeks.

[Attacks Fallstreak]
[dice=200+2000]
[Block- 0.0]

She grabbed a water jug, only to find it empty, still it might be of some use. She tossed into her rucksack and continued her battle.
[[Acquired a Empty water jug]]

[rand=999259857228025868494602362625341460721730254595850813444703817]

[cyrus]

-----
It's difficult in times like these: ideals, dreams and cherished hopes rise within us, only to be crushed by grim reality. It's a wonder I haven't abandoned all my ideals, they seem so absurd and impractical. Yet I cling to them because I still believe, in spite of everything, that people are truly good at heart.
-----

[/center][/color]

And so the morning came for this young boy not yet a man, this child of awkwardness, cast from a different stone but altogether the same. The others had yet to rise from their sleep, and Cyrus could not help himself. For all the bravery that he had in his heart the night before, it had vanished through the rising of the sun. Where had it gone? Had it too been temporary, disintegrated in the rays of the morning sun that threated all twenty-four of those young, terrified but so wanting faces? He could not help but flap his arms, a nervous habit from childhood, as he stared out the window toward the city below. The sun was just coming up from beyond, bringing with it signs of life on the streets. Cyrus closed his eyes, searching for something, anything that would give him something to rid this anxiousness from his heart.

There were times when he was young, when he was a little boy, and the sun would creep through the window and touch his cheek. He’d lie there with his eyes shut, letting this fresh morning gently pull him from his slumber. He would while away the time tucked into his covers, deep below this warmth and waiting. He’d wait for her to come, for the one who understood him, the one who knew his anguished cries as to meaning more than just simple confused grunts. No, she saw him, not what the others called difficult or unfortunate. How could a mother ever love him less? Here she would come, dark hair hanging down past her shoulders, her tiny frame done up in a dress that withheld too much of her beauty.

He would feel a brush against his cheek, and a hum. A whispering from her lips that it was time to wake, time to meet the morning that he has brought for us. And she would sit at the side of his bed, watching her little boy open his eyes to the unknown. He would open his eyes to a new day, one unbroken and free from pain or joy. Just a simple hum of life in this room, this small room with his bed and covers and few toys scattered about his floor. Nothing to fear just yet, even if what lay beyond his door was all unknown. You will have a day unlike yesterday, or the day before. She would say to him as he sat up from his bed, slowly wiping the sleep from his eyes.

Where was she now, at this moment? Was she in her bed, resting, for the day to come? No, she had not slept that night, or barely any night before that since her son had left. Her prayers sat in the air as she watched the sunrise then, knowing that this was the day. She would be anxious and unsettled. But she would not weep tears—there was nothing that had been done that warranted weeping. She would cast herself to the ground only when he had been claimed by the g-d above. She would keep open to the morning, fresh and new. For there was nothing known yet, only that life would come and she would have to answer to its calls.

Seatak was gentle with Cyrus, having picked up on the boy’s lack of affinity to touch. The elder stylist sighed as he sat back to let Cyrus look over himself in the mirror. Cyrus was quiet now, having not said more than a few words this morning. While this was just like before, there was only blankness in his eyes. “You know… I’ve been doing this for some time now, Cyrus…” Seatak stood as he watched the boy tug at his shirt and make a face. “And I can tell the difference between strong resolve and stone faced in terror… now… you have a few moments… just try not to get blood all over that will you so when you give it back to me, we can use it next year…”

Cyrus let the words pass through him, and felt a little grin come across his face. Even though there may be danger ahead, I have to hope. I have to believe that there is love. That [/color] He would not be undone by his own guessing at the future. As a child when they would leave his room, when he had finally dressed and been readied, his mother would turn to him and say: You are my son, my love and joy. And when you leave me you are still my son, and love, and joy. And when the day breaks or the sun sets… you are still my son and love and joy. You are who you are Cyrus… don’t let anyone take that from you.

“I will… I will make this the best year District Six has seen in some time,[/b]” Cyrus stood, preparing to be readied into the chamber and onto the platform. As the countdown started and he lifted upwards, he was filled not with fear, but with hope. With passion, not with dread. He would be free—perhaps he already was—from all this soon enough. And as the timer clicked down he readied himself, not even looking at Fawn but at the pile of weapons in front of him. With the sound of the gong, his feet hit sand, and he was off.

-----
Now children come and they will hear me roar!
So give me hope in the darkness that I will see the light…
Cause oh that gave me such a fright…
But I will hold on as long as you like,
Just promise me that we'll be alright…
-----

[/justify][/size][/blockquote]

(OOC: credit quote to Anne Frank; Lyrics Mumford & Sons… Happy Hunger Games!)

[Sunrise Rainier D2 // [Thundy]]

<div align="justify">

We're the lifers here till the bitter end
Condemned from the start

[/i][/font][/right]

I can see my allies, somewhat, through the haze. It's not easy, at first, to make out their faces, but there they are. Walker, Elon, Mahlah..

Oh, that's weird.

For a moment I feel something for them, a bizarre sensation fleeting through my chest as other tributes drift around them, blood dripping down their weapons and onto their arms and legs.

These are my teammates.

And who knows how much of a team we really are. I can't say I'm great at working with others, can't even say that I care about them.. They are simply here.

I shove the feeling away from my chest, away from my heart, away from my head as I fling my anchor and chain around in a circle, meeting the eyes of a tribute next to me. I think of Reyes in his bloodbath glory, running and leaping around like an idiot, telling people how sorry he was for attacking and killing them, that idiot.

He wasn't sorry, I think, as I fling my anchor towards another and pick up another lump of an item.

[Attacks Fallstreak - Anchor]
[dice=200+12000]
Miss

[Grabs Tiki Idol Statuette]
[/color][/size][/blockquote][/blockquote][rand=1718884185363485377302178145416674846695745469831049401525428499515]

[rook]

p a n d o r a + w o o d a r d s

_{This is a call to arms
Gather soldiers
Time to go to war}

[/sub][/color]

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

<sub>Running, running. The wind in my face, the panic in my eyes. I need something, something to pick up. A bag or a weapon or something. I have nothing, continuing to run and run. Other tributes are around me, some already grappling with others for supplies. What do I do? Where do I go? I'm so lost and without a plan. I have nothing to go on.

Fight...

Water flasks? Iodine? Things to survive. Why didn't I take any survival stations? Fire-making or edible plants? I'll starve, I'll rot and die. The slowest and most painful death of starvation is my fate. I know it. I need FOOD. I need SUPPLIES. I can't breathe. I can only run. Run where? Forwards? I get closer to the Cornucopia without a weapon. I need something to go on. What do I do? Rubik would know... He would know and I don't. I should have let him volunteer. I'm so clueless.

Fight!

I stop running. I stop and look at the bloodbath around me. Kids screaming or yelling, fighting and scrambling. My breath is fast and raspy. I'm hit, I don't know by what but the pain in my arm in unbearable. I clench my fists, tight and compact. My muscles twitch as I set my eyes on Elon...

FIGHT!!!

I lunge forwards at the nearest kid, nothing held back, I attack.

[Attacks Elon, Unarmed]
[dice=200+5000]

I grab a sword of sorts.</sub>

---

<sub>narrative
thoughts
personal speech
speech of others
singing

notes: Ohgodohgod.
theme: “This is War“ - 30 Seconds to Mars.</sub>
[rand=61004708028452654726791055736449492858569359102550019592695844407038]

[Spesh]

Now that I have a bag, I need to find something to put in it. But wow, that bird is so beautiful. I really, really, really want to pet it and say hi to it. I would never kill that bird. It is too cute.

I wonder: does it like me too. Does it feel my pain, my scared feelings? It must. We are true loves, we are, I know it.

Again, I have to keep my focus, and I decide to attack.

[Fallstreak][Pike]
[dice=200+3000]
[3035][miss]

So then I pick up some boots.

[rand=169213076354935772015645327046513658817289397120489419156520161778]

[cyrus]

There was confusion all around Cyrus as his fellow tributes sauntered off their pedestals and towards the cache of weaponry. Time seemed to slow down as he took a step onto the sand—god was it warmer than he thought it would be, and what was that sound in the distance—but he would focus on what he needed to do. You have to get what you need and leave. This is no place for you, this is no place for you to stay and fight. You do not want to hurt anyone here more than you need to! Each step seemed to take an hour, everyone moment a rush of sound and screaming.

There, sitting near Cyrus was a trove of long shafts with jagged points at their ends. He could grab them, if he was lucky enough and fast enough. Isn’t this what he had trained for? To rush and grab, to bob and weave, and to get out with what was necessary and not whatever he could carry? But there was so much going on around him, he wanted to make sure he was paying attention and not about to get a knife in his back. He couldn’t even tell where Fawn was in the pile of bodies—oh how he wanted her to be all right—and at last he neared a jagged silvery harpoon.

“Excuse me!” Cyrus politely shoved someone—he could not be sure in the blur—to get his necessary weapon. Now was the time for courage. Now was the time for not looking back. Survive, and then weep.
(Cyrus attacks Pandora with unarmed)

[dice=200+5000]

(Gash/Bruised Right Femur; 4.0 damage)

[/size][rand=5794996952172369619198168395087198502887948416178508988847024739]

[Baby Wessex d9b [earthling]]

[/ul]
[rand=1114306927192956214570039138197940473322174511853144937416072935]

[sbeeg]

Mahlah Shea

Confused, lost, already dead. Mahlah Shea was not sure if anything around her was really happening. Everything seemed too blurry and out of focus. Tributes swirling around her- was that Elon? Where was Jae? Everything mushed together in her head and red was everywhere. The blood painted the ground, weapons and people's skin- including her own.

I have to get to them. I have to get to my brothers. She was hardly aware of the attacks she threw out. Her arms swung out at another tribute- if she made contact, Mahlah could not even tell. Other things were more important- like finding her team and helping them. Saving them from the Bloodbath.

[Attacks Fallstreak with switchblade]
[dice=200+2000]
[ Shallow Cut on Right Calf -- 3.5 damage]

They're all I have. Her fingers grabbed at random supplies, which happened to be a pair of sunglasses, on the ground, collecting them and defending them from other tributes who may lay an envious eye on them. Defects. Every last on them.
[[Acquired a pair of sunglasses]]

[rand=0511969700455665601365483109839260679488509683869785368494226131588]

[Spesh]

In the craziness of the games, I spied a huge bird take out my bird. HOW COULD IT! Gosh, I would be angry but this new bird is so beautiful to. I guess I found my new true love.

The bodies though, they are everywhere, at least I think they are. Everything is going so quickly that it is hard for me to understand. I know that I have to slash here, perry there, get hit there. Wait, I don’t want to get hit.

And now there is sand in my eyes, so I flail my weapon wildly.

[Fallstreak][Pike]
[dice=200+3000]
3021; block

I then pick up a water jug, I hope it’s full.

[rand=099058926338329913750764834694564383678132435306919620218421332538]

[Sunrise Rainier D2 // [Thundy]]

<div align="justify">

We're the lifers here till the bitter end
Condemned from the start

[/i][/font][/right]

I shove the item into my bag, but not before taking a peek at it. It's some sort of.. wooden statuette with a face on it. I don't know; I've never seen anything like this before. Really, though, that's the theme of the day, this awkward sand beneath my feet. This is what Reyes felt beneath him in the hourglass arena, though this.. seems more stable. Solid. I don't get the idea that I might be dragged down by quicksand or that my shoes weigh ten pounds. Still, I can feel it, unsteady and uneasy beneath my toes so that I'm not gaining good traction.

Damn sand - I don't like it one bit.

A breeze from the water rushes around as I fly towards the Cornucopia, my anchor drifting behind me, trying to pin me to one spot. I lean down, doing my best to stay balanced as my eyes drift from tribute to tribute in a slow pattern. My hand clings around something lodged into the sand, something small, which I don't dare to look at because another tribute rushes by me.

"No!" I shout, bringing my anchor around.

[Attacks Fallstreak - Anchor]
[dice=200+12000]
12044 -- Deep Gash on Stomach -- 9.0 damage
(Flail)

[Grabs Sunglasses]
[/color][/size][/blockquote][/blockquote][rand=21847903507909716549986245254942880589473161246489826107640122612]

[cyrus]

The sound of fist against flesh startled Cyrus and he snatched the harpoon quickly, mouthing another polite sorry

[/color] before sauntering backward, trying to stay out of the fray. Bob and weave, up and down, bob and weave, this way and that-a-way. No touching, no touching no whammies no touching! He was a ball of nerves and nothing seemed to make sense to him at that point. How many had been hurt, who was doing what, and why couldn’t he find Fawn yet? He pulled himself together to face another and dodged, wondering if and when his feet would take him from this place.

His sights set on another target, seeing that there was an opening for something at their feet. Sometimes, even in the worst of times, we must do what we ought to in order to survive.[/color] And yet he knew that this was wrong. This was definitely not what he should have been doing. There was nothing right about the blood curdling screams that were all around him. No, instead he needed to focus on getting that backpack in front of him. It was just like in cutting sheet metal at home: nothing else mattered, just do what he needed until it was done.

He turned once again toward Pandora and launched his Harpoon. “I’m so sorry![/b]” Was all he could croak out.

(Cyrus attacks Pandora with Harpoon)
[dice=200+3000]

(Shallow Cut on Right Calf; 3.5 damage)
[/blockquote][/size][rand=460659390781074768891952398698777559628207935020340363479568623006]