I Offer to Thee // [ Conqs v. Jags Day 2]

[Baby Wessex d9b [earthling]]

there's a sick little suicide in all that we do
you decide, which one's for you?

The night had been very long indeed. Asunder had half-heartedly been listening to Gypsy’s glee over the box and its clue. The rest of his mind was preoccupied with sorting his things. He’d given the match to her in good faith that she would share the bounty, and when it turned out to be a slip of paper with another mandate for them (kill, kill, kill, and oh yes, search for these clues, too), he couldn’t share her enthusiasm. He passed the clue back to her after Pyrian had a long look at it. Almost immediately he forgot the wording and only retained the sentiment.

Where the innocent die. Couldn’t that describe the entire fucking arena? “Not exactly, helpful was it?” Asunder squeaked, just before Cricket began her tirade. He stared at her, wide eyed and frozen with his hands deep inside his backpack. He had never, in his whole life, met anyone as entrancing as Cricket Antoinette. It was like she was on television, which she was, but even right here, in front of him. The way she moved, the way she talked, the way she bent and tumbled and screamed. It was all so theatrical, so diverting. For a time, he simply watched her. Her glee over the lighter fluid was equally baffling.

But then, he’d just sacrificed one of his matches to burn a box. What did he know about resource management? He finally snapped out of his trance and got back to counting. He came up with two remaining matches. Just two. He’d be less frivolous with them. A few of the items puzzled him, including a pair of pliers which he held towards the crack where a fainter, greyer light streamed through. They didn’t seem to be anything special, and he couldn’t even remember grabbing them.

He had moved on to wiping down his bloodied arrows on the side of his backpack when Owen announced his departure. Asunder’s head snapped up. After pushing him down into the pit, after being the reason they were all in this dark, dank place, he felt he owed Owen Rook something. He just wasn’t sure what that something was. He looked around at his remaining companions and knew the answer before he asked. He curled his hand around the harpoon’s hilt.

“Don’t suppose you want to go after him? You?”

He shook his head, zipped up his backpack, and heaved himself up. “Uh, if you could watch my stuff, that’d be cool.” He indicated the backpack and bow and arrows. He took only his harpoon with him as he ducked out of the crevice into the writing dark.

And that was how Asunder passed the long hours, dark night to dark day. Fending off snakes, kicking them when they struck and otherwise moving with the flow of them, dancing when they thinned, pausing when they came to sniff at his calves. They were no better or worse than the creatures that lurked deep in the mines of Panem. He passed hours without realizing it, the weight of the harpoon becoming more familiar, becoming lighter as dawn approached. He hadn’t found Owen and in the process his internal compass, usually so steady and truce, had gotten tied in knots. It was by pure luck that he relocated his alliance, just before they stirred. All three of them were there, and he found he felt almost hopeful in his exhausted delirium. He collapsed near the entrance and pressed his back to Owen’s for warmth. It felt like his eyes had been closed for a nanosecond when Gypsy’s singsong voice was calling them to greet the day.

Asunder opened his bloodshot eyes, his body curled around his harpoon. “No!” He cried, petulant, before he sorted out her words. Hot? He uncurled his fingers, felt the bite of arthritis in the early morning, and touched his forehead. They came away slick with sweat. He wasted no time after that, scrambling onto his feet and fumbling along the wall until he found his ditched supplies. He outfitted himself as best as he could and ambled after Gypsy out of the cave. “Nothing but motherfucking snakes to eat,” he mumbled, the exhaustion a razor in his throat, cutting up his words. He dogged Gypsy’s footsteps before he accidentally came down on her ankle. After that, and a very fumbled excuse which wasn’t quite an apology, he ranged, sometimes head of the twins, sometimes behind. He began to walk with his chin tucked as the day blazed on, let his eyes droop against the power of the light.

He found a rhythm in that place between sleeping and waking, jerking back to consciousness just before he face planted. Mostly. There was one unfortunate incident with a snarled tree root. But otherwise Asunder kept up, kept going, kept hoping the day would end and he would be greeted with comfortable dark once more.

Maybe it was because he had his eyes closed and his mind blank as a sheet of paper. Maybe it was because he was used to listening for sounds, like Pyrian. But when he heard it, he looked immediately to his deaf companion, his harpoon coming up across his chest. He caught just the barest shiver of the foliage, a pattern dark and threatening stalking through it. An old feeling, from when he’d been an adolescent in the bowels of the earth, snaked up his spine.

And he was right to be afraid.

“I am so not ready for this,” he said, as he lunged.

[ Asunder attacks Dart Jaguar #1 ; harpoon]

[dice=200+3000]

[ Block -- 0.0 damage]

banner credit: thg's izoe
song: the matches sick little suicide

[rand=720003627240657882825461518950761729975871276110411755500524304807]

[Lulu]

.:.:.:.:.:.:.
here are my place and time
and here in my own skin
i can finally begin
.:.:.:.:.:.:.

The morning sun streamin' through the fissure and the rattle of a snake's tail woke me bright and early, not allowin' me to forget even for a moment where I was. Before I opened my eyes I went through the previous day's chaotic events in my head: Py and I had been shipped off to the arena to begin our frantic fight for life. We'd teamed up with Asunder and Owen, and at the Cornucopia I'd gone all batshit crazy and killed not one but two people, and it hadn't really even bothered me. Then we'd picked the golden horn clean of everything useful to take with us wherever we were going, along with a box containing a cryptic clue, and we'd started our trek through the massive chasm full of slithering, scaly creatures to reach whatever mystery lay on the other side. We'd fought and killed two more girls along the way, I'd burned the box with the clue so no one would attack us for it, and we were here, in our makeshift camp in the side of the snake pit. Once I accepted the fact that I was really and truly in the Hunger Games, I opened my eyes.

The boys weren't awake yet, and I noticed Owen was back, returned from wherever he'd slunk off to after catchin' some adders the previous night. "Rise and shine, sleeping beauties," I insisted sardonically, givin' them each a sharp prod in the side with my sandaled foot, particularly Py who wouldn't be able to hear my demand. "The sun is shinin', the snakes are hissin', and it's hot as hell in this damn cave and I'm not stayin' cooped up in here for much longer." Though I'd just woken up, I could already feel myself beginning to sweat; the air in our little hidin' place was stale and old and musty, and the rocks seemed to trap heat between them so even though we weren't directly under the sun, it was still like a sauna in here. Don't get me wrong, I liked heat—wouldn't be such a pyro if I didn't, now would I? But even I had a limit.

We got movin' right away, managing to scale the wall of the pit with little difficulty; it wasn't as high as I'd originally thought. I stopped at the top for a moment to gape in awe at my surroundings; we seemed to be on some sort of island or somethin' deep in the heart of a jungle, because far off I could see the shoreline of a river and beyond that, a smear of green jungle trees. I'd never seen a jungle except in books (usually before I burned 'em) and some photos in dad's lab, so I was pretty amazed. But that wasn't even the craziest part; risin' up directly in front of us was some sort of golden, crumbling temple, shinin' in the sunlight just as the Cornucopia had and standin' tall and proud, even though parts of it were clearly in ruin. Where the hell are we?

"I've got a feelin' we ain't in Panem anymore, boys," I said, slowly takin' a few steps forward, testin' out the springiness of the foreign grass and leaves under my feet. I signed to Pyrian to come closer to me and watch his step, cause there was no tellin' what could be lurkin' in this undergrowth and it was hard to be constantly on guard when you didn't have ears to help. Plus it made me feel safer, havin' my brother next to me, my only constant in this strange, alien world. We would experience it all together, explorin' and experimentin' like we always did, my brother and I. There would be no separation—not until it was absolutely necessary.

I was literally about to place my foot on the steps up to the exotic temple when it happened. Out of the corner of my eye I spotted something colorful slinking through the ferns at the foot of the staircase, and nearby, two similar forms. Alarmed, I signed to Pyrian to move backwards slowly and hissed a warning to the other two. "Mutts!" I spat, cursing our luck. At that moment, not one, not two, but three dart jaguars—they were infamous from Games past—exploded out of the shadows and came right for us. With a cry of anger, I reflexively unsheathed my sword and sent it stabbing at the closest one.

[attacks Jaguar 1]
[dice=200+1000]
[dg right forearm, 8]

.:.:.:.:.:.:.
let the century pass me by
standing under night sky
tomorrow means nothing
.:.:.:.:.:.:.

[/color]
[/size][/center] [/justify][rand=5878084029536694799014316871762318880639271810657910861403215677]

[Python]

- - - - - -

There was something unsettling about this structure, the way it dauntlessly reached for the heavens and shimmered gold against a vegetative backdrop as if beckoning them to its treasures.Treasure is exactly what we’re looking for - but at what cost would it be reached? The last golden structure promising treasures had granted their wishes, but only at the price of blood and innocent souls. Five corpses, to be precise, mangled and bleeding into the dirt as if the arena consumed their life-force and accepted such gifts as a sacrifice in exchange for treasures that promised victory. But for how long would their lucky streak continue? What did this treacherous building offer that the cornucopia had not? It offered adventure, opportunities, perhaps treasure. It was carved of gold, the color of riches, of luxury, and yet Pyrian felt nauseous as he approached it, palms slippery in a layer of cold sweat in a humid mist, because the dark aura coating its golden exterior reminded him too severely of the cornucopia and how casually death had lingered by its shell, awaiting the slaughter of children. Everything was wrong about this building, this temple, but it did not stop the pack from exploring its depths. Why should Pyrian abandon his risk-taking habits so suddenly when this was the place he needed it most? I’m not scared. Mutts, humans, traps; he was prepared for all of it.

Seven faces had illuminated a cloudy sky the night before, as tributes squinted past crystal rain droplets just to take a peek. Pyrian had recognized a few of them; Gypsy’s kill from district two, a boy meant to be mighty but had fallen honorably at the hands of a queen; the girl from district eleven, pretty despite her scrawny stature; the two tributes from eight, particularly the boy they had ambushed at the bloodbath. All were familiar, all were insignificant, all were gone. Cruel as it was, a life that ceased to exist was no longer of importance in this arena, at least not to Pyrian. They were merely eliminated obstacles, melted statues in a path to potential victory. If we want to live, everyone else has to die. It was a simple rule, kill everything and anything until there is nothing remaining but ash and bone. But Pyrian was not one to familiarize himself with such limitations, especially when it involved something so drastic as spilling blood for the sake of fame. It’s not just fame, though, it’s survival. Survival of the fittest, they always called it. It was a bitter truth. Pyrian was in no way suitable for victorship. But Gypsy? She was destined for it, whether the freaks of Panem could acknowledge it or not. All he had to do was make sure everyone else died. Is that really so simple?

A serpent had waved its way into this temple in the form of an empty corridor, promising only one path, one end and no escape Whatever. It was nothing the Keenis couldn’t handle, especially Gypsy, with Owen and Asunder by her sides as valuable supporters and steel soldiers. Pyrian, meanwhile, brought up the rear. He was a deaf burden carrying a sword, practically useless. But not completely. No, he would not be deemed worthless, not when he was as determined to kill as the next line of tributes, not when he had scored an eight in the training center for his bold efforts, not when he had so much potential to turn this arena into one, mighty torch and watch everything crumble beneath his flame. He may not be the handiest when wielding a sword, but for a deaf boy who seemed so clumsy and defenseless he could achieve wonders if fueled by enough motivation. And in a place like this, where death could surprise them at every turn, motivation was no scarce resource.

Anticipation crawled excruciatingly sluggish through his pulsing veins as they found themselves imprisoned between two suffocating walls that stretched beyond vision, leading to who knows where and who knows what. Sleeping tributes seeking shelter might’ve wandered in here, and they could still be lingering, waiting, or perhaps they thought they were safe, that no other tributes would dare explore such an intimidating building. He wouldn’t blame them for believing such a thing. Mutts, on the other hand, that was a possibility as well, and not an idea he was fond of. Humans he knew how to deal with, he’d displayed that skill during the bloodbath. He knew exactly where to hit them, how to hurt them, how simple it would be for them to outnumber some of the strays. But animals? They were unpredictable. They could be large, small, poisonous, carnivorous, they could be mutants of any kind with weapons of every type, capable of tearing through flesh like paper. He wasn’t sure what would be worse, facing another human being and watching the soul abandon the blacks of their eyes, or bearing arms against a dangerous mutt that could tear his ribcage out of his chest. Actually, never mind. He changed his mind; a few people sounded lovely right about now. However, his wish was granted perhaps too soon. He noticed his allies change in posture, the way their backs straightened as if on full alert. He caught the warnings and followed their gazes, hand gripping the hilt of the dead boy’s broadsword until his knuckles were stained white. Then, he saw it; a movement. He didn’t catch what it was right away, but this did not stop his heart from attempting to leap into his throat and strike him with the illness of cowardice. Nice try. He would not fall at the hands of fear, fear would be his to control. Fear would be his flame.

Conquering this flame like he did all others, he lunged for the nearest blur of movement with one word singed into his brain by hot iron: attack.

[attacks dart jaguar #2 - broadsword]
[dice=200+1000]
[Deep Gash on Back -- 8.5 damage]

[rand=6623358349315822373715398134663784287553280591969564869925379753]

[aya]

You're on in five,
It's time to rise or fade
For what it's worth,
Defend your kind from shame

Owen Rook —

[/i][/color]

The previous night, something — someone — had given Owen away, had alerted Ezra to his presence, he was sure of it. His blow was well-placed, but the District Three boy had turned away at the last second, causing the longsword to clip his neck instead of hit it straight on. It infuriated Owen, who had been poised to behead the boy he'd sworn vengeance against, that Ezra had managed to avoid death at the end of Owen's blade twice in the same day. He'd thought to give chase — and he did, for a few moments — but that girl from District 10 came crashing into the way (was it her who'd ruined Owen's assassination attempt?) leaving him fuming and grumbling as he headed back to camp.

He hadn't noticed that Asunder was gone when he returned, as the boy was lying next to Owen when Gypsy kicked each of them awake. Her remark about the heat triggered the realization that he was soaked in his own sweat. He stood up, tried to shake the overheated feeling, to no avail. The oppressive heat made it difficult for Owen to focus much on anything, but he managed to pack up his belongings — pouch of snakes at his hip, longsword in his grasp — and file into line next to Asunder. Owen had wanted to bring up the rear, but Pyrian seemed intent on it; he didn't want the deaf boy wandering out of his sight without much of a sound.

Trudging along though the heat, Owen allowed his mind to fuzz up, to let his focus drift from the walk, the methodical rhythm lulling him into a false sense of security. Instead, he cycled through all the remaining tributes: The girl with the axe and the Harper boy were still alive from One; either would be a considerable threat if their paths were to cross again. Gypsy had taken out the boy from Two during the bloodbath; his district partner kept showing up everywhere that Owen looked, as if she were stalking them, tracking them. Perhaps after their cache of items? There had been the girl from Three, who had killed Sampson, the one that Asunder took out with a well-placed arrow to the neck. Her district partner, of course, was still alive, thanks to whatever had spooked him last night. Owen simmered at the thought, but moved on with his count:

Both from Four were still alive, that goofy Ripley boy and the curly haired chick who'd already taken out two tributes with her flail. There were the District Fives, the boy who'd always come off as kind of obnoxious, the girl with the bird-like name; the Keenis of course, from Six; Owen left and Sampson gone from the lumber district; and neither still alive from Eight, thanks to both him and Gypsy. The lower districts were always harder to remeber. Was it the boy who was dead from nine? No, the girl? Both? Neither? And from Ten, the girl who kept showing up inconventiently was still alive, while the boy who'd seated himself at Owen's table had his head split open yesterday. The girl from eleven died in the second big skirmish, but the boy was still alive. Last — and, by most counts, least — was Twelve, which miraculously still had two living tributes. Owen did not pay much attention to them, but from what he could tell, they did not often make it past Day Two.

Eventually, they came upon a crumbling building, gilded and glinting in the sharp sunlight. As Owen gawked at the incredible structure, Gypsy's voice cut in. "Mutts!" she warned, snapping Owen out of his trance. He glanced around, but with their bright coats, the Dart Jaguars weren't hard to spot at all. Planting his feet for combat, he readied his sword and prepared to strike as the beasts lept.

[attacks Jaguar #2, longsword]
[dice=200+1000]
[1066 -- Severed Right Arm at Shoulder -- 10 damage]

Armor: +5 legs, +3 feet
Combat Stations: Stealth

[/size][/blockquote][/justify][rand=328100494109094142889207352418452589316374855116014564569564536214]

[WT]

Aaqui stilled and pulled her paw slowly away from the leaf, flicking her ears back as it crinkled again. Her prey continued to flutter silently against the dirt, gold and green and enticingly oblivious. With a growl so deep in her throat that it made no sound, she stepped around the leaf and waggled her entire body as she prepared to pounce—

—straight into the golden face of Tonatiuh. Yowling, she pulled short and scrambled backwards while her younger mate fluidly turned her defensive crouch into tight pacing. Between them Xocotl's tail continued to lash. Aaqui shot a resentful look at Tonatiuh, then relaxed her ears and raised her paw to bat at one of the green spots. A sharp growl stopped her—not Xocotl noticing her at last, but Tonatiuh again glaring at her, ears flat and lips pulled back. Slowly, keeping her eyes on Aaqui, she angled her body toward Xocotl's head. Aaqui huffed—these mates of hers, she couldn't have any fun with them sometimes!—but obligingly turned her head.

Instantly her ears flattened and she jumped forward, landing by Xocotl's head in an aggressive crouch. He flicked his ears in acknowledgement but didn't take his eyes from the small group of intruders. From this distance she could only just smell the warm, half-familiar scent of animals she hadn't seen in a long time; her mouth watered but her heart raced like a kitten's.

Tonatiuh joined them, sitting where she could see Xocotl over Aaqui's shoulder. She mewed softly at her mates, ears moving slowly—hesitation, wait and see. Xocotl huffed and shook his head as if clearing his ears. Aaqui kneaded the ground, looking from green to gold and then staring pointedly at the intruders.

Xocotl made the decision: soundlessly he surged into and through the long grass. One of the creatures saw him in time and moved its long, claw-like limb; as he deflected the blow Xocotl roared in equal parts anger, triumph, and challenge. From behind him Aaqui answered with a high-pitched and burning compliment to Tonatiuh's slower rumble. These impudent strangers were so sure of their right to trespass that they would fight for it? Fine! Let them try to—

—fight. Xocotl's moment of inattention left him open to the second intruder, who dragged a shining claw down one foreleg. Snarling, he lashed out with his other, but his balance failed him and his claws caught only air.

[[Xocotl --> Gypsy]]
[dice=200+2000]
[[Miss, 0.0]]

Seeing the damage, Tonatiuh skidded to a stop, tail lashing and attention split. Aaqui snarled once at her, more a sound of encouragement than anger, before bounding after Xocotl. Another of the strangers appeared in her path, this one's claw pointed right at her throat; she ducked but couldn't stop, and the weapon gauged a long hole in her back. Shrieking in rage, she turned while still skidding and launched herself back at her attacker, teeth bared.

[[Aaqui --> Asunder]]
[dice=200+2000]
[[Shallow Cut on Left Shoulder, 3.5
+ Poison]]

In the middle of her arc pain exploded and she veered to the side, missing the intruder's throat. She hit the ground and fell, screaming as the full extent of her injury hit her. Adrenaline pushed her upward, but she couldn't balance; weight was missing on the right side and pain effectively killed her focus.

Suddenly Xocotl was at her right. Mewling quietly, she leaned against him, trying to find a position where the gaping hole in her side wouldn't rub against his fur. Xocotl rumbled and licked Aaqui's ear; she mewled quietly and tried to pretend that the red in the corners of her vision was nothing more than her spots, pouring from her skin to find adventure while she collected new color.

Tonatiuh's indecision vanished. Her mates were wounded, one too badly to flee; these strangers had to die, and now. Teeth bared and claws extended, she leaped for the intruder that had taken Aaqui's leg.

[[Tonatiuh --> Pyrian]]
[dice=200+2000]
[[Deep Gash on Left Bicep, 8.0
+ Poison]]

It should be blatantly obvious that this is a WIP.

[rand=84665698511525994531706830020994388040073681622743764667268842459]

[Baby Wessex d9b [earthling]]

there's a sick little suicide in all that we do
you decide, which one's for you?

Clearly, he had not been ready.

He lunged and tumbled, rolling over the Jaguar's back and onto the hard stone. Asunder moaned, his arms and legs kinked around the harpoon. He'd missed entirely, which was evidenced by the gleaning clean of the harpoon prongs. He stared at them, catching his breath as his companions fended off the cats. And if he hadn't been flat against the ground, he would have missed it in the commotion. The stone spoke to him, rumbled a warning he'd heard many times. But he was still entangled with his weapon, still all elbows and knees.

So even though he knew the shuddering was a warning, there was very little he could do to avoid it. "Earthquake!" He shrieked, using his harpoon to leverage his weight. He'd gotten one leg under him when the sky fell.

He'd trained and prepared for years for a moment like this. And he'd survived two cave-ins before with only dusty lungs to show for it. But this wasn't like other cave-ins. This was engineered by man, and the roof didn't fall in the pattern he'd been taught to deal with. Instead, as he ducked to make himself into a ball beneath his harpoon, a stone came straight down and decided to use his calf as a cushion for its fall.

Asunder screamed, the sound dampened by the collapsing roof but not wholly eliminated. He had felt the moment of impact as a searing burn that laced up his body and stopped his heart. And then, it was gone. There was nothing but a dull ache, and the knowledge that he was pinned in this place, in this Temple of Sacrifice. "My leg, my leg," he whimpered, dropping the harpoon to twist around. He wrapped both of his hands around his thigh, just a few inches from his groin. He tugged and whistled through the blind knife of pain it elicited. Salty tears tracked down his dirty face as he decided to twist around and try to crawl out from beneath the stone's hold.

He turned to find a Jaguar advancing on him. He had become trapped and easy prey. He didn't have time to even react before the jungle cat was upon him, its teeth skimming his arm. It left a trail of fire and Asunder found new ways to scream for mercy, the sound coming from his stomach, from his bowels. It burned, burned, burned, through his bicep and up his shoulder, creeping towards his heart. He was bleeding, and he was crushed, and for the first time he saw death waiting.

Asunder picked up his harpoon and shoved the Jaguar back.

[ Asunder attacks Dart Jaguar #1; harpoon]

[dice=200+3000]

[Block -- 0.0 damage]

;;;;;;;

banner credit: thg's izoe
song: the matches sick little suicide

[rand=9907447232399136782195094507187647932947729714215476776335388422]

[Lulu]

.:.:.:.:.:.:.
we watched the end of the century
compressed on a tiny screen
a dead star collapsing and we could see
.:.:.:.:.:.:.

I managed to slice a gash across one of the legs of the first beast, while Asunder missed entirely. Even though he couldn't hear, Py had deadly eyesight, and I watched as he and Owen double teamed a second mutt. I gave a cry of shock as Owen sliced one of its legs clean off. The jaguar gave a yowl of pain but it didn't stop; at the same moment all three of them lunged at one of us. I ducked aside and the first one missed me, but the second scratched Asunder and the third gashed Pyrian right across his arm.

My vision was red with fury, with fire, and every muscle in my body longed to attack the mutt that had done it, the mutt that had made spilled my twin brother's blood and a lot of it, but I knew that if we could kill one or two of them, the third would be much less of a threat. So I took a deep breath and turned to the jaguar I'd attacked the first time, but just as my vision focused I heard a great rumblin' sound and I snapped my head to the side to see where it was comin' from. The temple. It was comin' from deep within the temple, like a roar building up, and then in an instant I watched as the roof of the majestic building began to crumble and fall, an avalange of gold and stone comin' straight for us.

Quick and nimble, I jumped to the side, managin' to avoid all but one chunk of rock that came flyin' into my shoulder, givin' me a sizable bruise. "Look out, guys!" I cried frantically, watching the rocks head straight for my unsuspecting allies. "Pyrian! Pyrian!" but I knew he couldn't hear me, and he wouldn't be able to see me sign unless he was lookin' at me. So I could only watch desperately as a big slab of gold from the temple's roof slammed him right in the head. Checkin' to make sure that the jaguars were preoccupied—they'd moved to the side and were growling at the building as if their anger could stop it from collapsing'—I rushed to my brother's side, and then I noticed that Asunder's leg had been completely crushed by a ton of falling rock. Shit.

Owen was hurt too, but nowhere near as bad as Asunder, and to my surprise Py got up almost immediately after being hit. I was shocked by his resilience, but I'd always known Pyrian was strong; that's just the way he was. "We've gotta keep fighting!" I said, my eyes widening in fear as I saw the jaguars advancin' over piles of fallen rubble. They had hunger in their eyes, but I wouldn't let that scare me—I had fire in mine. Hoping that the others would find it in them to get up and attack as well, I lashed out with determined strength at the first jaguar, the one that had tried to attack me.

[attacks Xocotl]
[dice=200+1000]
[shallow cut right shoulder 3.5]

.:.:.:.:.:.:.
that something was ending
are you through pretending
we saw its signs in the suburbs
.:.:.:.:.:.:.

[/color]
[/size][/center] [/justify]
[rand=7078776690177622788306230213493530448278412222907556409249082208]

[Python]

- - - - - -

Colors danced across gleaming skin that bled at Pyrian’s touch. A ribbon of streaming liquid appeared across the creatures back, spattering and soiling his neon cloth as the edge of his blade tore into its back. They were terrifying, whatever these mutts were, but pleasant to look at when their claws weren’t extended like daggers dripping in acid, or their fangs not bared as if ready to sink into his neck. Fortunately, the instant his blade was out of the creature’s back he was able to scramble away before its claws could snag him. He instantly whirled around to survey their situation. There were three of them; vibrant, lethal, merciless, hunting his alliance like they were walking slabs of raw flesh ready to be eaten. He could not hear their growls and snarls, but there was no need, he could see the flames in their eyes, fueled by instinct and hunger and a lust to kill. His alliance outnumbered them by one, but how useful would a fourth person be against natural killing machines? They were quick on their paws, swift as the wind and could easily vanquish him if he didn’t tread carefully. He watched them whirl on their hind legs, planting their paws against solid ground as they tensed their muscles and prepared to spring. Pyrian stared them down, glowering with disgust and irritation as he smothered his jangled nerves with the flames of battle.

They pounced, then, blurs of colors heading straight for three of them, one fortunately soaring past his sister, one (missing a limb, thanks to Owen) catching Asunder in the shoulder and one launching itself right for Pyrian. He could only helplessly watch and attempt to dive out of its path as its claws aimed for his neck. Instead of ripping his throat out, though, its fangs sunk into his arm and tore through muscle and spilled more blood than he realized he possessed. He cried out and staggered sideways, his arm practically erupted in flames from the searing pain of nerves having been damaged and yellowish venom oozing between ribbons of muscle. It burned like hell, and he wasn’t sure if it was the wound that burned him or the venom that was perhaps sizzling through his flesh like acid before it scorched him from the inside out. He hissed through clenched teeth and tried to blink through the pain, gripping his sword with a newfound source of rage and raising to strike the beasts into the fucking dirt for trying to rip his alliance part.

Dust suddenly rained from the heavens, scattering into a hazy cloud that smelt of rubble and stone. He didn’t hear the structure crumble or the roof caving in; he saw only white dust particles brushing his skin, a sensation insignificant to him when his mind was so focused on the dangerous mutts. He could not, however, ignore the chunk of debris that blew stars into his eyes, shattering his focus and twirling him into a dizzy sickness until he tumbled to the floor. He blinked wildly and winced at the pain burning the back of his skull as debris plummeted and showered the corridor with dust and fragments of stone. When he searched the roof it was not a solid surface he found, but a blue patch of the sky greeting him rather unpleasantly with splotches of white that he knew were clouds. The damn roof caved in. Well that explained why his skull felt split - one of the falling pieces must have struck him while he was darting for a mutt. Speaking of mutts - where were they now? Had they scattered when the roof collapsed? Had they been crushed by a few of the large chunks? Were they still present, concealed within the storm of dust and waiting for the proper moment to pounce?

As the dust cleared, two things became evident: one, the mutts were still there, unharmed by the rain of stone and still a threat, and two, there was a shadow of a figure among dust piles on the floor, one which was all too familiar to his keen eyes. As he rose to his feet and stepped closer, he confirmed his suspicions; it was Asunder, his leg having been crushed by pieces of the damaged roof. Shit. He was a sitting duck. Pyrian rushed over to him, determined to help him up before he turned into a meal, but before he could attempt anything the boy was up again, seemingly able to continue fighting despite his weakened condition. He swung at the nearest mutt, but with no success; the creature countered it with its claws and swatted it out of the way as if it were born to fight humans. Pyrian mentally cursed at their misfortune and spotted a second mutt in his peripheral vision, its gaze set on him and his dangling left arm stained in scarlet and yellowish molasses. Gypsy appeared, then, occupying Asunder’s mutt with a slash of her rapier and nicking it across the shoulder. With that little bastard distracted, Pyrian reeled on the one that was eying him like a meal and lashed out before it could move another inch.

[attacks Jaguar #2/Aaqui - broadsword]
[dice=200+1000]
[Stabbed in Chest -- 9.5 damage]

[rand=903092890977859542146296240389347046945174224674708263273118063807]

[aya]

You're on in five,
It's time you rise or fade
They've gone before,
Stood by your door all day

Owen Rook —

[/i][/color]

His blade made contact with the jaguar's front leg, slicing it clean off at the shoulder. It was impossible for Owen not to grin; he couldn't help feeling powerful after dealing such damage. Was this the same rush Alexander felt when she'd cloven*** legs from torsos, ears from heads, hands from arms? Although it had been easy for Owen as slicing through butter (on the rare occasions his family could afford it) the common truth was that separating limbs from the creature in charge of them took incredible strength and precision.

Off to the left, Owen's peripheral vision caught Asunder tumble, slamming hard into the ground. Get up, he urged in his head, silently willing the District Twelve to scramble to his feet and keep fighting. But before his ally could manage, there was a deep rumbling from within the temple — but it couldn't be an earthquake, could it? Blocks and bricks came tumbling down from above their heads; Gypsy managed to avoid the brunt of it and Owen managed to duck his head enough to catch a falling hunk of rubble on his scapula rather than anywhere too major. Pyrian didn't manage to dodge the debris quite as gracefully, taking a blow to the head, but at least he wasn't as unfortunate as poor Asunder, who'd been pinned under a particularly large piece of roof before he could regain his footing.

The District Seven gritted his teeth in sympathy as his ally whimpered, but refused to allow himself to get distracted. It was better for Asunder that they kept fighting, that they focused on taking out the mutts as soon as possible. He planted his feet and whirled around, sword brandished, aiming to finish off the jaguar that he and Pyrian had already made such short work of.

[attacks Jaguar #2/Aaqui, longsword]
[dice=200+1000]
[Stabbed in Chest -- 9.5 damage]

Armor: +5 legs, +3 feet
Combat Stations: Stealth

[/size][/blockquote][/justify][rand=903925834689289361122514260932878988966671749955380340127740055]

[WT]

My apologies for both the delay and the filler. (I'll probably write a proper post during English class tomorrow.)

Aaqui is in massive pain. She goes down still trying to claw at the intruders and may or may not even notice her own approaching death. Everyone else is Very Angry.

[[Tonatiuh --> Gypsy; Teeth]]
[dice=200+2000]
[[Shallow Cut on Forehead, 4.5 damage
+ poison]]

[[Xocotl --> Owen; Claws]]
[dice=200+2000]
[[Deep Gash on Chest, 9.5]]

[rand=80566275515593597539477634709328314199669519439342973074240144342]

[Baby Wessex d9b [earthling]]

there's a sick little suicide in all that we do
you decide, which one's for you?

WIP!

Riiiight, it's my turn again! Posting order is biting me in the booty.

Asunder is going to do stuff. And be unhappy. And mooch from Owen.

[ Asunder flees with the help of Owen's strong back. He also uses his anti-venom <3 and needle and threads, possibly also uses some bandages. ]

banner credit: thg's izoe
song: the matches sick little suicide

[Lulu]

.:.:.:.:.:.:.
we watched the end of the century
compressed on a tiny screen
a dead star collapsing and we could see
.:.:.:.:.:.:.

Guess I forgot to flee, whoops.

[gypsy uses first aid, 5ft bandages, and antivenom, then flees]

.:.:.:.:.:.:.
that something was ending
are you through pretending
we saw its signs in the suburbs
.:.:.:.:.:.:.

[/color]
[/size][/center] [/justify]

[Python]

- - - - - -

The kaleidoscope of color thrashed at his feet and bled into the rubble, scarlet bubbling against the shimmering coat of his silver sword as the tip buried itself deep into its chest. He did not hear its yowling, its hissing, its sputtering as he twisted the blade and gritted his teeth. The creature was missing a limb and bathing in its own blood, but it was determined to continue slashing and writhing even as the cold steel licked its pulsing heart. Pyrian struggled against its might, muscles tensing and arms aching and wounds burning as he tried to keep the weapon embedded and kill the evil mutt before it could lay another paw on his allies. Strength was no friend of his, however, and it was only a matter of time until he could not match its power and withdrew his sword, arms consumed in flames of pain and skin glistening in sheets of hot sweat. He took several steps backward and angled his blade for another attack, refusing to grant the beast a second chance to strike, but as soon as he could go in for the kill a second flash of silver smothered his own and permanently bound the creature with its deathbed of cracked stone. It was Owen, sinking his longsword into the jaguar’s chest and forever ceasing the howls Pyrian would never hear. It twitched and fell limp against fallen debris, its flames of war finally extinguished. He sighed with relief, taking this moment to recapture his breath, though he knew the battle was far from over.

There were still two jaguars remaining, and before Pyrian could react one of them was launching itself toward Owen and gashing him across his chest with its claws. At least it didn’t use teeth. He was bitterly reminded of the poison seeping into his veins, searing his nerves and making him cringe with every movement. He had no time to consider the consequences of this misfortunate occurrence because there was still danger on the loose, mutts pouncing and biting away as the tributes tried to absorb and process the chaos with weapons brandished and wounds leaking. Poor Asunder was still without the function of one of his legs, and Pyrian himself was beginning to feel light-headed and uncomfortably dizzy, summoning a bout of nausea to rise in his empty stomach. Must be the poison. He mentally cursed at his rotten luck and scanned the room for the missing jaguar. He spotted it sprinting across the temple grounds in an elegant blur of colors that stung his eyes, but it was not the weak, vulnerable Asunder it was aiming for; it was Gypsy.

He shouted her name in a fit of helpless panic - he was too far and too sluggish to act quickly enough to save her - though the sound that actually escaped his lips was incoherent. The creature launched itself forward with a wide, gaping mouth littered with rows of dripping teeth and managed to graze the surface of her forehead before she could dodge its movement completely. For seconds that seemed to stretch to minutes he stood in terrified silence, staring at the enormous jaws that could’ve crushed her skull in one chomp. Fucking mutts won’t touch my sister. His shocked expression faded into a nasty scowl, jaw set and right hand steady as he narrowed his eyes and locked onto his next target -

But then, suddenly, everyone had broke off into a sprint in the opposite direction, leaving the jaguars in stirred up clouds of dust as Pyrian blinked in astonishment. Even Asunder was in pursuit of another location, his crushed leg dangling limp by Owen's side as he carried the boy away and headed straight into the corridor leading further into the temple. Pyrain hadn't been informed of this sudden change in plan, but running away seemed like a pretty damn good idea compared to gambling his luck (and Gypsy's) with a bunch of rainbow-colored freak mutts. So, without the slightest hesitation he followed suit in somewhat of a clumsy stagger, feeling his head spin and his insides curl as the poison coursed through his vessels and slowly tried to demolish him from the inside out, like a flame gone rampant and too powerful to be controlled. Luckily, he was pretty sure he had one of those weird syringes in his bag, the one Gypsy had mentioned being an "anti-venom" of some sort. Maybe that would cure him of this burning sickness. He could only hope.

[Pyrian flees, uses antivenom, uses first aid, uses needle and thread, and uses 5 ft of bandages]

[aya]

We used to wait
Sometimes it never came
We used to wait
Still moving through the pain

Owen Rook —

[/i][/color]

WIP (ack)

Tbh I don't know if I'll fill this in ever but yeah, hopefully, just can't right now. Ick.

"Haha I keel you.

Ow, my chest, you bastard.

Lol Asunder you're like a sack of leaves."

Owen flees with Asunder. Uses first aid and a needle and thread and 5ft bandages on himself. Uses antivenom on Asunder.



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