Oh, Revenge & Its Thrills >> ID/LPG [day 2]

[semper]

s h a d o w b i s o n

The night was not kind to you. Everything had come back in a whirlwind and you wept bitterly into the fabric of Cassie’s shirt until all the tears had fled your eyes, leaving nothing but an itching ache. The blood occasionally would pour over your quivering lip and down your chin, tasting terribly vile on what taste buds you had left. The taste itself would have made you vomit if you hadn’t thrown up your breakfast earlier in the bloodbath, and in that moment you had never been more grateful in the span of your entire short life to have vomited. You felt oddly guilty for rubbing your nasty tunic against Cassie’s but you were certain she didn’t care; your district partner occasionally rubbed your back and even sang songs you had never heard before. The words and her quiet voice were very comforting, and so it was within her embrace that you soon fell into a dreamless sleep.

The morning was no different. However, when you woke up, it took a few groggy minutes to realize where you were. Cassie’s warmth was right up against you and you immediately scooted closer to her, refusing to get up. When you tried to swallow, though, pain flared up like a fanned flame and you whimpered, clamping a hand down over your mouth to keep yourself from yelling. Your eyes produced no more tears; the ducts were dry and you had no water to replenish them, so you just whimpered into the ground and her shirt, trying to steady yourself and ease the pain.

You wanted nothing more than to be at home with your dad. Was he embarrassed by you now? Has anyone stopped by the house to offer even the smallest of condolences? He found you to be annoying and a few times he was on the verge of disowning you, but he never did. He’d groan and complain when you fled to him for security, though at the end of the day he’d make you a cup of hot chocolate and sit with you by the fire, fabricating stories about knights and queens and lands far, far away. You hung onto every word of each story, dedicating them to memory in order to dream about them as you tried to fall asleep. (And, during the first night in the arena, you tried to make yourself dream of the ginger night again, remembering how he had cried after the fight with the spider that was three times his size. It did not make you weak, it only meant you were human.) A gentle nudge was felt on your shoulder but you refused to move, choosing instead to just bury your face deeper into the ground. A few more nudges went unnoticed until a pair of hands grabbed you under the arms and hoisted you up. A yelp escaped you and you thrashed around, hearing Cassie’s voice behind you. You were off the ground and quite startled, immediately seeking the faces of Brendon and Hope, finding neither of them looking frightened at all. Their expressions doused only a small portion of your fear and it was up to you to look back, finding Cassie singing a rather strange song. All she did was hold you up in the air and, when you thought about it, you found it quite comical. The ghost of a smile drew across your face and you even found yourself laughing quietly, amused by your friend and thankful she brought the smile to your face.

The morning went by quietly and you liked it that way. You couldn’t speak so you just hung by Cassie, occasionally reaching out to grab onto her tunic and remind yourself that she was there. She hadn’t been able to save you but she never once left you; she had kept her word (partially) so far and you were eternally grateful, knowing full well that if she were to die then it would be the end of you. (There was no way you could possibly keep your sanity if you lost her. Reality was far too harsh for a naïve child such as yourself.) She was your rock and the sister you never had, and she didn’t even scold you for going out of your way to avoid stepping on a shadow.

The four of you ventured longer than you had anticipated, stumbling upon what looked like rows of apple trees. The sight of the trees brought another smile to your face and you tugged on Cassie’s shirt, pointing excitedly at the apples and sprawling branches.

And then you saw them.

They were there, the devil boy and his group. You were not sure what they were doing but the fear and resentment reared their ugly heads, unsettling your empty stomach. The stub of a tongue in your mouth began to ache again and you fought the urge to hide behind Cassie. (But why were you hiding? They would not hide from you, no – they would chase you with their weapons, including the one that took your tongue.) Not a single one of them would reserve any mercy for you, so why should you try to be merciful to them? Because it was the right thing to do? Just ignore their taunts and make yourself a punching bag with no retaliation?

Dad would not approve. Nor would any good knight.

You reached around and took up your massive sword, using both your hands to even hold it up.

You were going to make your Dad and Cassie proud. Watch this!

[attacks Iago - (sword)]
[dice=200+1000]
Miss -- 0.0

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[Deleted]

Cassie Radke

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Panicking. It’s a thing we humans do far too often isn’t it? We plan things to the smallest detail, and anytime any small thing goes wrong, we panic. We suppose the world will revolve around us and attend to our every need. We don’t understand that there are other people with other plans, and we can’t possibly imagine their lives intercepting with ours (unless we’ve planned for them to).

But besides panicking, everything in this wretched place was apt to make me feel dizzy at this point. From sprinting at full pace to the simplicity of taking a step. Every pace is another towards the simple death of a heart attack. It was all too much and it should have been for me, for I’m just a kid; I don’t know what I’m doing, and I don’t really want to. I’m striking blind in the dark, as is almost everyone at this point. What are you supposed to do? How are you supposed to prepare for whatever the hell this is? This definitely hadn’t been a part of my plan, but was it in anyone’s?

And getting killed by a bunch of kids also wasn’t quite in my life plan. Things had happened so quickly, I mean one minute Shadow was presenting his little present to Emery, and the next thing I knew, I was watching the boy have his tongue forcibly ripped out of his mouth, helpless. That’s what I was, being held back, struggling roughly, fighting against the fingers digging into my back. I wasn’t suffocating, at least I didn’t think I had been, but the girl was strong, and I, being not, could in no way break free. So I watched. That was all I could do. I’m so sorry.

But the night passed, slowly, granted, but it passed. I wasn’t surprised, as I was still slightly numb from not being able to move the entire night, hence waking Shadow. The boy had lain against me all night, drenching my clothing with tears. So he cried, and I held him tightly, pretending that we were back home and imagining that the world around us was not as it actually was. I didn’t know how to console him; I mean “tongue cut out” wasn’t exactly in the handbook. All I knew to do was follow the stereotypical guidelines of consoling. I held him close, rubbed his back, and sung the first thing that came to mind. More or less hummed, I suppose, as I didn’t want to make too much noise. It was calm, and the sky, as artificial as it was, was quiet. I could appreciate that at this point. The silence was nice.

The sun rose at last, the rays warming each of us, but it didn’t quite shake the very last ashes of cold from my body. I looked down at Shadow, who had finally fallen asleep at some point, probably from crying so hard. He hadn’t stopped, at least not before I had finally passed out. I shook him gently, even though I really didn’t want to, letting him sleep would’ve been really nice. When he hadn’t woken up, I stretched my legs up and maneuvered myself out from underneath him and looked down. Sheesh you’re a heavy sleeper. Or maybe you’re just exhausted from dehydrating yourself. I needed to wake him up, and my first plan hadn’t quite worked now had it? So, I did the logical thing, and lifted him up, my arms almost giving out at first because a.) tired, b.) not strong, and c.) it’s too early to be doing anything more than just waking up. I sat him back down briefly, and then tried to channel the little bit of energy I had into one burst, pushing him up to the sky and attempting to hold him there. Was this kid seriously not awake yet? So I began to sing, softly at first, and then increasing as time went on. The language was kind of—what’s the word—inaudible? I didn’t know what I was saying, and I was pretty sure no one else did either; at least I hoped they didn’t. I felt the gradual squirm of him waking up, and deciding that enough was enough, I set him down. “Nice to see you’re awake.” My laugh matched my tone, and I ran my hand through his hair, as if he really was my little brother.

I forgot about Shadow for the moment, and attempted to make something—anything of our surroundings. Trees. Lots and lots of trees and maybe a few people coming towards us in the near distance—wait, that wasn’t good. Well I guess it could be, but let’s think worst case scenario here.

That’s when I realized it was the group of kids we had just slipped away from. Well I guess we really hadn’t gotten away from them had we? I looked to the others I was with, Shadow, Hope, and the boy that I really didn’t know much about. Now was not the time to find out his life story however, and I watched as Shadow took a first swing towards the boy I was pretty sure had cut out his tongue. I decided following suit was probably the best option.


[attacks Iago Izar-McClaine, flail]
[dice=200+12000]
[Deep Gash on Back of Head; 9.0]

GM note: I'm not really sure what made the die fluctuate like this—usually when it's ever done it in the past, it's been immediately after it was posted—but as you can clearly see, I had the original attack logged in the engine long before this strange change happened. So I'm going to make an executive call to leave it as the gash on back of head, because that's what was logged in the engine, so it was definitely what she originally rolled. The original roll was 12165, deep gash on back of head, 9 damage, but down to 4 because Iago's helmet absorbed 5 damage.

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[Deleted]

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[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: 2B2B33; border: 303045 solid 0px; width: 500px; height: 6px; padding: 0 0 0 0px; border-radius: 0px 0px 0px 0px;]

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[atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: e1e1e1; border: e3e2f2 solid 0px; width: 500px; padding: 0 0 0 0px; border-radius: 0px 0px 10px 10px;] I don’t know why I stay with them. Maybe it’s because I feel bad for Shadow, the poor boy who got his tongue cut out by the psycho kid from Eleven. Maybe it’s because I saw something in Hope Woodards when she stood up to said psychopath. I decided when I watched her go in with blazing eyes and unsheathed sword that she was either very brave or very stupid, maybe even both. That’s a combination I’m familiar with, and so I clung to it, let it convince me that maybe going it alone wasn’t my best option. After all, the crazies were still running around in the maze, and I was an easy target with one hand and a body rapidly going into shock. Everyone was more concerned about Shadow’s injury, and I didn’t fault them for it. Another version of myself would have demanded the attention, but looking at him, I felt more pity than irritation. I’d take a missing hand over a missing tongue any day. I’m nothing without my comebacks and snide remarks. My words will do me more good than my body in this Arena, and I don’t want to think about what would happen if Crazy-Eyes McGee decided he wanted my tongue next. So while everyone fawned over Shadow and his bloody mouth, I curled up into myself a few yards away from the action, looking at the ragged stump where my hand used to be and falling into a fitful sleep, my last thought one about whether or not Hope Woodards might ever stand up for me if I needed it. She’s gutsy. I’d stand up for her. I would. It’s slow going that morning, all of us sluggish and aching from our various injuries. Everyone but me has a ton of stuff to pack up, but all I’ve got is my weapon and the two sponsorship items that smacked me in the head last night. I mull over the medical kit silently as I shove it in my bag. I’ve got no idea how to do stitches. Hope’s from Eight, though, so maybe she can help me out once we find somewhere safer. As it turns out, finding anywhere is kind of a problem. The hedge maze twists on into infinity, and while I try to keep track of what turns we’re making and which way the rising sun is in relation to where we are, I’ve never been good at things like that. I have brief, unvoiced thoughts of getting lost and starving to death. Maybe the whole Arena is nothing more than a giant maze, designed to confuse the tributes to death. But that idea gets squashed when the four of us eventually stumble into an oversized orchard, apples the size of our heads hanging heavily on the branches above. I blink up at the massive lattice of limbs, brushing my fingers along the underside of a low-hanging fruit. “Woah… You guys think these things are safe to eat? If so, we’re set.” It’s a struggle to wrestle the apple off the branch one-handed, but after a couple minutes, it snaps clear away, the sudden weight knocking me off balance and sending me to the ground with a muffled grunt. Grumbling to myself, I stand up and dust off my pants, readjusting the stupid hat that’s the crowning piece of this year’s uniform. I don’t notice Hope watching me until a few seconds later, offer her a toothy grin as I shove the apple in my bag. “Wonder if there’s any cinnamon and sugar in this dump. I could fry us up some apple dumplin’s for lunch.” The smile dies on my face when a rustling sound comes out of the foliage and the crazies from yesterday emerge right behind us. Cursing, I make a grab for my axe, hefting it and looking between them all with growing apprehension. This is going to lead to a fight, because a fight is what they’re looking for. There’s no talking our way out of this, no non-violent resolution. Shadow and Cassie both dive at the psycho kid, obviously hungry for revenge, but I hang back for a second, fiddling with the handle of my weapon nervously. I’ve got to hit someone, got to pull my weight, but the question is who? Definitely not King Crazy. I’d like to keep my tongue, thanks. I think back to yesterday, how Emery Moreno had taunted with her silky voice and knife-edged smile. I was raised to never hit a girl. Ever. But there was something in the lilt of her voice yesterday that lit up the angry indignation in me, the streetrat hero that always stuck up for the underdog. I was raised to never hit a girl, but the more I look at her, the more she seems like a snake. A cobra. Something deadly that will kill you if you don’t kill it first. I could apologize when I lunge at her, but I don’t. [brendon attacks emery moreno with his great axe] [dice=200+11000] [dg cheek - 8.5] Funny. Back in the training center, I’d constantly been thinking about how pretty Emery Moreno was. She’s not quite so pretty now with a huge hunk of her face missing. don't try to sleep through the end of the world and bury me alive 'cause i won't give up without a fight

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[rook]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, border: F5F6FA solid 4px; width: 500px; padding: 0 0 0 0px; border-radius: 0px 0px 0px 0px 0px;][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true]

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[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: 1f0b0d; border: F5F6FA solid 4px; width: 500px; height: 181px; padding: 0 0 0 0px; border-radius: 0px 0px 13px 13px;][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true] HOPELESS something stops me from seeing too clear a misty haze floats 'round the room the murmurs make it hard to hear the voices and the words "I don't know if it's guts or insanity. No one in their right mind would stand up to Iago after that display of ruthlessness." Shadow's groans aren't exactly ideal considering our location. His wails cut through the heavy night air, alerting everyone around us to our presence. Iago and his crew are long gone, and I doubt that they're coming back. I'm more concerned that the sound of a dying tribute will attract other groups who are looking for an easy kill. My job is to prevent that from happening. Me, and Brendon. We've done all we can to nurse Shadow's wound. It still hasn't stopped bleeding, and he's mentally unstable too. Cassie has been the biggest influence on him by far. She's held him through his sobbing fits and spasms, comforted him with kind words. She's like a big sister to him. I only wish I had someone to snuggle into and feel safe. I like to think Pandora is watching over me, but I've never believed in ghosts or spirits a whole lot. I'd even want Rubik here, he always made me feel safe, even if he wasn't the most confrontational twin. Things I want. Things I can't have. Shadow and Cassie are cautious of me. I left them, only to come back and potentially save their lives with my presence. I've made up for my error with Eden. Have they forgiven me for that? I wonder. Poor Shadow. The things that Iago put him through just to send a sick message. What was it he said? Something about sending a message, even if it kills him. Well, hopefully I'll kill him before he has the chance to terrorise any more people. The guy's obviously got something wrong in his head. Last tribute I can remember who was this driven on humiliating others was that Wednesdae guy from Nine, and even he wasn't this bad. Iago needs to learn a few lessons of his own. As night sinks from purple to black, my eyes grow heavy. Shadow's moans die down a little as he falls into a broken sleep. All the while Cassie strokes his hair and comforts him with hushes and lullabies. Brendan and I sit with our weapons out, scanning the surrounding orchard. Trees as big as buildings silhouette around us, and the ground is damp with dew. It's not an ideal place to sleep, but it's better than that damn maze, where death hides behind every corner. The anthem lights us up in a faint blue light and we all look to the stars to see the faces of our fallen Tributes. Eden's face is the first to judge me, followed by Linus and Ivana, the boy with the burns, the girl from Four, Siana and lastly Kyle. That leaves seventeen Tributes left to kill. I groan, but not as loudly as Shadow does, and roll over onto my back. Cassie continues to comfort the boy from Five, and I only wish that I could have shared the same trust and affection with my District partner. Linus was arrogant and wanted to know about my personal life. He was rude and got what he deserved. Did he deserve to die, or am I being immoral again? Who cares? He's gone now, and he's one less threat. Morning comes too soon for my liking. The sun is unwelcome and forces me awake with its harsh rays. I sit upright, realising that I must have fallen asleep during my watch. Embarrassed, I swivel around as do a quick inventory check whilst the others begin to wake too. I am well supplied for the day ahead, thankfully. I suppose we'll try and avoid the other groups of Tributes and then make camp nearer the mountains - They seem a good vantage point to see others Tributes coming, and there's more shelter in the caves up there. I explain this to the rest of the group as we re-equip ourselves with weapons and armour. Shadow is more quiet, the pain obviously numbing overnight, but he's still in clear discomfort. We walk through the oversized orchard, amazed at the sheer size of the trees around us. Apples as big as my head hang dangerously above. I wouldn't want one of those falling on me, for sure. I anxiously grip my sword, awaiting danger behind every tree trunk. My body is tense, sensing an ambush, but one never comes. As it happens, Shadow starts the fight. Before I even fully understand what is happening, Cassie has followed him and jumped Iago. "Oh, shit." I take my sword in two hands and jog after them. So much for our plan of sneaking through the orchard unnoticed. [Hope uses one Jar of Tar and firemaking to set her Broadsword on fire] [Attacks Emery Moreno, Flaming Broadsword] [dice=200+1000] [Block - 0.0] [dice=50] [Minor burn - 2.0] the days seem to drag away my speech is sparse and tends to slur i wonder what happened to my friend today can't hear the words your name has slipped my mind again lyrics by ultravox - graphics by rook - template by kire

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[Rosetta]

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The teddy bear gives me some solace when I lay down to sleep that night. Next to Ewe,of course, because Emery and Iago reek of blood. When I close my eyes I see Shadow writhing on the ground in pain. I clutch the teddy bear tightly to my body, caving my body around it. I’d never had an affinity for stuffed animals and dolls disgusted me, but this teddy bear has that same, comforting moth ball smell as Ardal and when I press my face to the dirt, I can catch hints of Carlos and Bertie’s hands.

The startling details of the day blur past my eyelids. I shouldn’t be tired, but I am. I shouldn’t feel my mind drifting off, but it does. My body freezes into sleep and the next thing I know, I’m thrust away on a moonlit journey past dancing tongues and rivers of blood. Vespasian Minx holds my teddy bear high above my head and taunts me, “You’re going to have to jump to get it! Jump! Jump! Jump!” But, when I do, I fall onto an ax and my head splits open and out comes from gooey stuff and in the morning, I am drenched in sweat, my teddy bear clutched so hard against me, I find I can’t get the stuffing quite even around its middle when I stand up.

Iago, Emery and Ewe lead the way. I am numb from sleep. The sun blinks down at me, almost innocently and when I blink back up, I feel unclean, like the mangy mutt that once wandered down our dirt road. The neighbors had gotten all scared, like this mutt (it looked sick and moved slowly) was going to suddenly bound forward and rip out one of our throats. Maybe it was. I’ll never know because Bertie had scooped me up and, despite my protests, threw me into the house and the next thing I knew, there was a gunshot outside and the white retreating back of a Peacekeeper, the same one Ardal had called. We weren’t allowed near the carcass because Ardal said it was impure, that it would make me sick. That’s what I am. That’s what Iago is. That’s what Emery is. That’s what Ewe is.

Every single tribute.

We will make each other sick and then we will die.

This time, when we walk, I try and speak with Ewe. The way he’d nodded in understanding yesterday when I’d shoved him up against the shrub made me suddenly attracted to him. Not in the mushy, silly way that Bertie and his girlfriend are, all kissing and rubbing up against one another (one time, I had the misfortune is glancing through the keyhole into his room and saw the weirdest thing: he was taking off his shirt. Why would she want to see his hairy chest?), but in the I-might-need-you kind of way. Iago and Emery sent shivers down my spine and last night, I had sucked on my tongue every time I woke up (alerted to consciousness by every little bump in the night), fearing they’d take mine next. Ewe wasn’t much better-nice, but inhibited by his disability. But then, a crippled kid made it far a few years ago and one time, a girl without legs won. Besides, I could feel Ardal’s stern glance in the sky; he surely does not approve of my company and as we walk, my cheeks burn.

Ewe is limping alongside me, so I try to busy myself with him. I embarrass Ardal in other ways. I ask incessant questions. What’s your favorite color? Do you like blueberries? You smell bad, do I smell bad? I bet I do. Do you think we’ll find water soon so we can wash off? I’m thirsty. The more I talk, the thirstier I get.

[/i]

All the while, in my efforts to erase that dazed expression on Vespasian Minx’s face from my mind, I had neglected to pay close enough attention to the proximity of Emery to me. Suddenly, she’s right up in my face. “Look, the baby still carries about her teddy bear!” The teddy bear that I’d been holding this entire time is wrenched from my hands.

“Emery! Give it back!” There’s a whine in my voice, but also fire as color rushes into my face. “Give it back!” She turns and runs, me chasing closely after her. “Give it back! Give it-!”

Suddenly, there are four more people than there were before and we’re no longer in a maze. I scream as fire rushes just past me and towards Emery. She drops the teddy bear and I scoop it up before backing against a tree. Apple trees. The subtle reminder of home, climbing up into the apple trees with Ardal sitting at their base, book in hand, fills my eyes with tears. Yet, there’s no time to be nostalgic because Iago is being attacked next to me. My heart is racing as I turn and place my teddy bear on a branch in a tree and draw the ax at my side.

He’s my District partner, a vile, evil, disgusting District Partner, but when he’s attacked, I scream, “Leave him alone!”

[attacks Brendon, ax]
[dice=200+11000]
[shallow cut on right forearm-3.5]
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[shrimp]

[bg=040201][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true][atrb=style, border-radius: 30px 30px 30px 30px;] EWE~ When I woke up I was the tin man, rusted over and smelling of iron. The four of us lay in a clearing just outside of the maze, and I stretched, allowing my stiff joints to begin their job again. The sun's just rising out from the horizon, spreading gold, violet, scarlet across the sky and it would be so breathtaking if my heart wasn't beating faster than normal and my eyes weren't on alert to see any signs, any movement of something or someone watching us. The paranoia is overwhelming. I wish Eye were here - well, not here here, but here. You know? If he were really here I would be at home, watching him die on television and I'd rather be the one dying than the survivor. It's much easier that way. Admittedly he would have done better than I could; he could deal with Iago with a quick punching session, Emery with his spitfire wit. The two lie farther away from Scout an I, almost like a schism has appeared in the form of a detached tongue and puddle of blood. Of course, it's mainly the disgusting scent and also the fact that each of us know that we're being used that makes our alliance a fragile one - why couldn't I join the ones who stood up for what was right, who told us to get out? I'm with the bullies I've hated all my life now, but I suppose I'll just have to deal with that. As we walk, the leaves cascading down are breathtaking. The green that the sun shines through is bright, friendly, strangely serene in a land of chaos. But the strange fruit hanging from the trees, the ruby red apples the size of my head are something else entirely. They're not safe - they can't be safe. There's got to be something here that's going to pop up if we even attempt to touch the stuff, or maybe they're poisoned. Or maybe they're perfectly fine and this is an elaborate setup to freak out tributes who think too much, like me. Matilde seems to be ignoring the apples for the most part, as she spends most of the time talking to me (I love the color that the sun radiates just before it sets, a gold but more orange than that. Blueberries were amazing the one time I was able to get my hands on them in the Traning Center, but not as good as the strawberries that were both tart and sweet and succulent and hit the spot. We all smell bad. We might die of dehydration. Just a thought). "Gold is pretty nice." "Blueberries are good, I like strawberries better though." "We all smell bad." "Probably." I can sense Emery's doom-and-gloom aura as she approaches, swiping Scout's teddy bear (she must have taken it from the cradle, because I saw no such thing scattered around Linus Cohen's body or the girl from nine's corpse as Iago choked her to death) and running away with it. She's more immature than I thought, petty, selfish, vicious - and yet she's so much better than me in these games. She'll probably win, or at least get to the Top 8. I'm super lucky if I can ride their wave of madness to make it there. At least she seems slightly more humane than Iago, though by maybe two degrees of separation. But suddenly they appear once more, armed and much more dangerous now that we've stumbled upon them (oh how the roles have switched) and right away they attack the ones who they won't get the chance to touch when they're guarded. Emery's face is dripping and Iago's helmet is cracked as I see a medieval sphere with spikes on it (did the career trainer call it a fail? I don't really know and as long as it's not hitting me do I need to care what it is?) smash against the back of his skull, wielded by that girl from five again. Shadow's there too, swinging at the one who scarred him forever. Well I have to do something, lest my alliance turns on me for being useless this early in the games, and I'd rather have an angry Emery attacking me than an angry Iago (and the boy from 12 - wasn't he some victor's nephew? - is literally right next to me, swinging at the girl from 1) so I attack, mask hopefully hiding all the fears beneath its flimsy structure. {ewe flails at brendon; glaive} [dice=200+13000] {Deep Gash on Left Thigh; 8.0 damage}

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[Deleted]

I a g o
I z a r – M c C l a i n e

•••

{I feel numb most of the time}
{The lower I get the higher I'll climb}
{And I will wonder why}
{I get dark only to shine}

•••

The anthem comes and goes, though my mind turns to those that are still alive rather than the faces of the dead. Both Emery and her district partner are still alive, which comes as no surprise; Beatrice, all full of blood and anger; Cerise from three (still smarting from her arm, I hoped); The boy from three whose name escapes me; Ewe, slow and steady; both of the district fives, though one without a voice; pathetic little Sticky was still alive (and strangely, I smile

[/color]); the Woodards girl; the bird from nine; both tens, (which surprised me more than anything[/color]); Matilde; and finally the boy and girl from twelve. There are a few shocks, most of which coming from the lower districts. Perhaps the careers didn’t get real training until they hit puberty? It would explain how we’d managed to keep up with the lot of them.

I let my pride sink in during the evening as I watch the rest of my allies sleep. I’d volunteered the first watch, seeing how little I trusted the rest of them and the amount of restraint it would have required not to think about killing each of them in their sleep when they were immovable later. I found myself paces forwards and backwards after some time, looking up now and again at the stars above and listening to the strange calls of the arena. I fidgeted in my armor, and turned back to where the rest of them were sleeping. A small amount of pride fills me at the thought that Scout and I have survived the first day. How long has it been since both the boy and girl from eleven made it past the first day? I wondered how much anyone would be celebrating after watching all of us take a life with our hands. Not that I cared what the bumpkins of my district thought.[/color]

Morning brings an unsettling calm. Wind rattles through the hedges of the maze, and I make sure to keep pace at the front. There’s no use in talking now, not when the other tributes are so close. I want to growl at little Scout and Emery for beginning to quarrel, but there’s not enough time before we come to the exit of the maze. It’s a thicket of trees that greet us, with hanging apples the size of our heads. Most unsettling are the faces of the four that lie in wait, and I mutter a silent fuck[/color] upon seeing them. We must have gotten turned around in the night, which had left us open to attack. I light my blade with the waiting match and tar, and rush toward the group. Better to go in first and duck around—let them swing at me. Pathetic Shadow is in my face, but his blade goes wide. Where has the new found courage come from?[/color] Not enough time to think, though, as a shower of stars fill my eyes.

The girl from five has struck through my helmet, and I let out a horrible yell. The pain isn’t enough to leave me on the ground, and I give a snarl. The fives are not my target, however—no, neither of them would recollect enough to take me on if they dared. The first day has already brought the casualties of the weak—the ones that were left to die. Now the strong were left, and stronger still—the ones that would prove more dangerous the longer they lived. The ones that could put thoughts into their heads with a brand of courage, of hope[/color], that led them to take on the same boy that sliced out a tongue. I duck around Cassie with a grin—she and Shadow were for later, they were still easy targets to pick off. No, it was the head of this machination that I wanted to destroy—for as the saying went, cut off the head and the body would die.

“Have you ever heard the one about the rat and the snake?” I say, still snarling and full of rage. My heart beats double time and I can feel the drip of blood coursing down my back. “Rats are so lovely at crawling around, working together, surviving. Fickle little things. Whereas snakes are straightforward—you know what they want and see them strike. Not scavengers, no.” I lick my lips as I swing forward, my glaive high above my head and angled toward her neck. Scout’s cry gives me a grin—protecting me and landing a blow—but I move away from the boy and girl behind me. “I think it’s time you learned the way the world works. It’s time for the snake to devour the rat—and show the rest of the you what you’re up against, too.”

[Iago uses jar of tar on his Glaive, and uses 1 match to light it]

[Iago Izar-McClaine attacks Hope Woodards with the mighty fury of his Glaive]

[dice=200+13000]

[result:13188 -- Deep Gash on Right Calf -- 8.0 damage
(Pole Sword)]

[dice=50]

[result: Extinguished][/blockquote][/size][/justify][/color][rand=93916729907505212589239627122879467633489985018977974174381233752]

[Deleted]

After a long night of stumbling through the maze, we finally found an exit – well, it was mostly my own intuition that got us out, but I suppose Scout helped a bit too. Oh god, Scout. I don’t really like anyone in my alliance, but that isn’t a relevant matter. Sure, Ewe and Scout are practically useless, but it makes me feel more powerful, more important. Iago, on the other hand, would be a nice subtraction from the group. He thinks he’s boss, but he’ll see.

His eyes are lit with the same hue of greed as my brother’s. Those hands that had torn the district five boy’s tongue right from his mouth were all too familiar to be a stranger’s. I didn’t sleep more than half an hour last night, too busy fearing that the boy with the malicious eyes would crush me just the way my own brother tried to on multiple occasions. However, even I know that my brother was more dangerous than this District eleven boy could ever be. Though all his threats and blackmails, his glaring eyes and his total despise, my brother, Aaron never hurt me; he only ever let me hurt myself.

If anything, I can’t let this Izar boy know that he has the power to do that – the power to assert his control over me the same way my brother so easily did. I’m not afraid of him, I’m not afraid of my brother, and I’m not afraid of myself either, right? If I can only pretend to be strong, maybe I might wake up one morning with that reality fulfilled. Either way, this morning I feel anything but powerful as we pull ourselves awake beneath the great orchard trees with apples the size of my head.

Every moment I spend standing around trying to play these games I feel like I’m falling deeper into someone’s trap, whether it be my Moreno parents’, my brother, Aaron’s, or the gamemaker’s themselves. Every time I try to pull myself out of one trap, I only find myself in another. Every time I push aside my emotions and try to play the toughie, I’m just becoming a more perfectly molded Moreno statue; and every time I let the emotions in – the memories, the pains, the excitements – I’m falling into the most vulnerable trap of all.

Disliking the thoughts that swirl through my mind as I awake, I try to find something else to busy myself, thus quickly grabbing Scout’s teddy bear from her hands. “Look, the baby still carries about her teddy bear!” I tease because I have nothing better to do, because I never will have anything better to do, not if I get out of here alive at least.

I don’t know how to make myself happy anymore, but I at least know that if I can’t feel content with the moment, no one else should either. So I keep running, until I feel a sharp pain in my cheek, forcing me to stop. I put my hand to the newly opened wound and turn around. There they are: the same idiots from yesterday. Excuse me, I didn’t ask for a follow-up party. One birthday celebration was enough, thank you very much.

Shadow and his redhead girlfriend start attacking Iago while the younger girl tries to take down me, but luckily my alliance isn’t totally useless because the next moment I see Ewe and Scout throwing their weapons in front of them. Good to know we’re all on the same page. I scan the four people in front of me, taking more time than I really should thinking of who to charge towards. Recalling the Avoxing incident– the one that I’d played over and over and over in my head during my sleepless night – there’s an inch of respect lingering somewhere at the edges of my mind for this young boy who is attacking the single person who’d taken out his tongue. I think back to the day my brother’s gang had found me on the streets and pulled me into their house, remembering how easily I submitted to them. Maybe there are people here that are stronger than me – obviously not physically though. I could take down all of these wimps with a single punch.

So, because I seem to be in a strangely empathetic mood this morning and because I think an Avoxed victor would be quite entertaining – would they replace his tongue or what ? –, I run towards the girl who looks like she could be selling Girl Scout cookies if it weren’t for the weapon in her hands.

[uses jar of tar & firemaking on brass knuckles]

[attacks Hope, unarmed]
[dice=200+5000]
[Tripped - 0.5]

[fire]
[dice=50]
[minor burn - 2]

header by Stare <3

[/justify][/blockquote][/color][rand=7599949222058058838022305397316863142520957626411613807594403625]

[semper]

s h a d o w b i s o n

Your sword sailed clear past Iago, much to your dismay. What the hell had happened there? You were mad, yes, but to the point of being blinded by your own rage? Not even close. (You were becoming hell-bent on revenge, however.) Soon enough you knew you would become blind by an overwhelming sense of anger from missing that just made you shake and hiss (and miss even more). The sword’s tip dug right into the ground and it was almost pathetic how much effort it took to hoist it back up. What kind of a sick game was this? None of the weapons were even remotely a decent size for the little tributes. Your arms strained until you were able to pull the blade back up, wielding it once again.

It baffled you as to why you had been so eager to jump back into the chaos of a bloody fight. Was revenge your only motive? Mostly. It wasn’t any of them that murdered Eden (no, that revenge would come later) and the only wrong they had done you was take away one of your senses and the ability to communicate. All you wanted to do the entire night was tell Cassie how much it hurt but you couldn’t. (“You don’t have to understand everything, just accept what you don’t get.”) It was almost bittersweet how relevant your last words ever spoken were. You didn’t understand why Iago did what he did so you were forced to just accept it; let the tears flow free and just trudge on. You were reduced to nothing but a mumbling, blubbering mess, unable to effectively vent so the emotions just kept piling up until you couldn’t bear it anymore.

Overnight something inside of you broke. Somewhere amidst the stifled crying you came to realize that you were completely on your own. Cassie – along with Hope and even that Brendon kid – were only human; their lives were just as fragile as yours, and at any moment they could be taken away from you. And then what? Were you going to just give up because you were alone? Your dad surely would have a few choice words to say to you regarding that. (“Shadow, son, you need to stop letting people get to you. Use that backbone of yours, don’t bend to people’s threats just because they’re mean. Fight back every once in a while, dammit, don’t let them walk all over you or else they’ll keep at it because you won’t even try to stop them.”) In the few moments before you had fallen asleep, you realized that already the Capitol had done what it took to break you: proved that you were worthless and only just a meager existence.

But you were so much more than that, right?

The sword weighed heavily in your hand once again as you swung around to face the opposing alliance and your three allies. No one had attacked Cassie, much to your relief, but Hope and Brendon were another story. (Why were you even looking out for the Twelve kid? Only because Hope brought him along? Actually, yes, that was the reason why.) Hope was the only one that even tried to stand up to the devil boy for you, threatening his life for what he did. (“Leave ‘em alone, or I swear to Ripred I’ll cut you up!”) Wouldn’t you do the same for her? You surely hoped you’d find the courage too. And, as it were, she was under attack. Iago hadn’t even given you the light of day with your pathetic attempt of an attack, so you decided to try to provoke him again. (Wait – was his weapon on fire?) He was, however, going after Hope. And it made you mad.

What was that he had said earlier? That you were merely just a servant compared to him?

You were not a servant. You were not a lesser. You were not just some useless waste of flesh and blood. You would get revenge for yourself, you would get revenge for Eden, and you would come out on top.

(“Leave her alone or I swear to Ripred I’ll cut you up!”)



[attacks Iago - (sword)]
[dice=200+1000]
1089 -- Shallow Cut on Right Bicep -- 3.5

[/size][/justify]
[rand=44286899897269905218922032741829759910613643005498505865586921573]

[Deleted]

Cassie Radke

[/font][/center]

Revenge is many things, but smart is not one of them. The term “getting even” wasn’t true, you were never even with anyone in this world, someone always had to be ahead, and someone always had to behind. The cycle couldn’t continue otherwise, it’s just human nature to be the best, even when that’s physically impossible. So we try to take revenge on others, for the pain they inflict on us, or on someone we care about. We don’t seem to understand that being brave and courageous is different from attacking someone for what they’ve done. They will most likely be taken care of, but maybe that’s not our job. Maybe it’s not on us to take care of someone who’s hurt us. But maybe it is.

And that’s why I found myself swinging wildly at Iago, not so much for myself as it was for the small boy that had cried the whole night long. I couldn’t do anything now, I couldn’t give Shadow the tongue that was now who knows where, but I could fight. It was stupid, it was irrational, and it would most likely be the death of me, but that’s what you do when you decide that someone is worth your care. You put yourself on the line, no matter the cost. Which isn’t smart, granted, but it’s that part of your brain that is ruling out common sense and blinding it with love and care. That’s why we make stupid decisions most of the time, because we want to be the hero, we want to be the one that everyone praises for the great and heroic deeds we have done.

But most of us won’t live to be gifted for our actions. Most of us will die here and leave a scar on someone. Not just the physical scar where the sword met flesh, but the scar on a family, a friend, a brother or sister to the one we killed. We would leave behind pain and sorrow that would encompass a family for the rest of their lives. They won’t forget the shock of loss or pain that only time could heal until they themselves were gone. We all leave scars, no matter how small. Scars are forever; scars are permanent.

The battle had started to get busy however, with weapons and blood flying every which way. I hadn’t felt any pain yet, but maybe it was from the pure adrenaline that was coursing through my veins whispering at first, and gradually increasing to a yell; “stay alive, stay ALIVE, STAY ALIVE.” Everything was blurry, the movement of one person to one spot and the other to a next being too much for my brain to process. I turned quickly, watching as Shadow made another attempt at Iago, leaving maybe a small cut at best. He seemed okay though, I mean as okay as you could be at this point. Hope and the other boy, Brenden was it? They were being roughly attacked by all four of the others, terrifying and well-armored in their stance. Well, that’s how they looked to me since I am, well, neither of those things.

The probability of death was high at this point, for anyone. One strike could be the first and last to end the life of another. It was kind of like that at any point of life though (not the kids in a fight to the death kind of way); anything you do can be the last. We don’t like to think about death, but when you’re staring someone down knowing that this may be your last day, how can you not think about it?

I wasn’t sure how long I had been standing there, watching the chaos, but long enough where Iago had moved away and Shadow had tried to land another blow on him. Now was not the time to be frozen, and now was not the time to pretend that everything would be okay. Now was the time to be stupid and brave, and take your revenge.

[attacks Iago Izar-McClaine, flail]
[dice=200+12000]
[Broken Right Collar Bone; 6.5]

[rand=6552391604054719988711615791544333627989352680743972270900849253]

[Deleted]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, background-image: url(http://i.imgur.com/uc9ArcF.png); border: 120e0c solid 0px; width: 500px; height: 200px; padding: 0 0 0 0px; border-radius: 30px 30px 0px 0px;]

[/left][/table]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: 2B2B33; border: 303045 solid 0px; width: 500px; height: 6px; padding: 0 0 0 0px; border-radius: 0px 0px 0px 0px;]

[/color][/font][/center][/td][/tr][/tr][td][/table]

[atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: e1e1e1; border: e3e2f2 solid 0px; width: 500px; padding: 0 0 0 0px; border-radius: 0px 0px 10px 10px;] Such filler. Very boo. Much homework. Wow. So promise. [brendon attacks emery moreno with his great axe] [dice=200+11000] [dg back, 8.5] don't try to sleep through the end of the world and bury me alive 'cause i won't give up without a fight

[/justify][/size][/font]
[/color][/blockquote][/center][/td][/tr][/left][/table][/center][rand=353964063106104731204774614889174757657132018357524049171102233231]

[rook]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, border: F5F6FA solid 4px; width: 500px; padding: 0 0 0 0px; border-radius: 0px 0px 0px 0px 0px;][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true]

[/td][/tr][/table]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: 1f0b0d; border: F5F6FA solid 4px; width: 500px; height: 181px; padding: 0 0 0 0px; border-radius: 0px 0px 13px 13px;][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true] HOPELESS something stops me from seeing too clear a misty haze floats 'round the room the murmurs make it hard to hear the voices and the words "I just love skirmishes like this, Caesar. Have you ever seen Tributes more alive?!" My mind is open wide but my eyes are shut tight. Behind the safety of my eyelids the red glow of fire still burns. This is how they said to do it, back at the training centre. Douse the blade in tar and then watch it spark into flame. Emery Moreno blocked by blade with hers, but the fire still got her. She was still burned. You see, Iago? I learned a trick or two too. There's something odd about fire. It's the way it can be both gentle and violent at the same time. I have a lot in common with fire, in that aspect. I'm volatile. Yeah, that's a nice word. Shadow is a fool for getting us into this mess, but this isn't the time nor the place for me to yell at him for it. I suppose it's not my place to tell him to calm down when the boy who cut off his tongue and made him eat, it is wide open. This anger has been lying dormant inside of Shadow, and maybe what they did to him has disturbed it. There is a mixture of rage and fear on the face of the District Five boy. I see the way he looks at my sword, the way he looks at Iago's flaming glaive. He's always been afraid of fire, and he's afraid of Iago, too. I suppose I have to give him kudos to facing his fears head-on like this. "Have you ever heard the one about the rat and the snake?" Iago slithers between his allies and leaps in front of me. I raise my sword defensively, taking a shaky step back. Everything about the sadist's posture reeks of menace. His eyes stab me in the chest whilst his smile makes my skin crawl. He doesn't even have to touch me and I'm already submitting. It's a facade. It's all a facade. "Rats are so lovely at crawling around, working together, surviving. Fickle little things. Whereas snakes are straightforward—you know what they want and see them strike. Not scavengers, no." He talks like a deranged child, eyes searching my soul for something. He'll find nothing there. My soul was ripped out of me a long time ago. He leaps forward with a grunt, swinging his long pole-sword for my neck. I instinctively roll to the side, but his weapon catches my calf. Luckily I have the thick leather pads to protect me from what could have been a key artery rupture. The pad is sliced in two, and so I kick it off, before scrambling to my feet again. "I think it’s time you learned the way the world works. It’s time for the snake to devour the rat—and show the rest of the you what you’re up against, too." He declares with all the confidence inside of him. Rats. Eden. She was a rat-catcher. I remember when we met she was smashing the thin walls of the training centre, desperately trying to find where the bastards were hiding. She was good at it. She could make traps and she knew the best places to set them. She was a master of her trade at the age of fourteen, which begs the question: Why volunteer? The same could be said about me. Many people in the Capitol wanted to know why I volunteered, but hardly anyone asked Eden Angelis. Somehow she avoided the media's spotlight, darting into the shadows... Like a rat. Iago is right, we are very much like rats. We work well as a group. Cassie protects Shadow to the best of her abilities, whilst Brendon and I fight to defend them. We survive yes, but only because the larger predators allow us to, and we are fickle. We lost Eden and I thought I'd lost my mind, but we found our way back together in the end. If I were to compare Iago to an animal, it would certainly be that of a snake. He knows it, too. He knows just how devious and slippery he is. He knows when and how to strike prey best. But he's on his own. I've seen the way Ewe and Matilde look at Iago. It's not passive. They're as afraid of him as we are, though they may deny it. I know it's true. They've seen his displays of ruthlessness and what he's willing to do, not just to win but to enjoy himself too. They've stood and watched, knowing that he could turn on them at any second, wanting to send them a message. Emery is the only exception. She seems every bit as dangerous as him, but without that insane edge. I don't see fear in her eyes, I see a determination that overwhelms all fear. A snake on his own against a pack of rats. Sure, he might get a mouthful of one, maybe two rats, but he's outnumbered. As his jaw hyper-extends and crushes the windpipe of one rat, another rat will dig its surprisingly sharp and powerful teeth into the neck of the snake. The snake will try to shake off the rat desperately, but a rat's bite is every bit as dangerous as a snake's. Before it can get the rat off it, another will sink its two front teeth into its scales. It isn't long before the snake is being eaten alive by a horde of stinking rats. Back home, in Eight, people would rather see a snake in their back garden than venture down an alleyway where a swarm of rats are lurking. I decided long ago that I was going to die doing the right thing. I volunteered to save Andorra, to save Charlie, to save Rubik. I gave my life so that three people could live theirs. I chose the path of the moral and the right, but that path of honesty has plunged into a black road where I am the villain. The things I've said, the things I've done. People don't see me as a sweet little girl any more, they see me as a dirty little rat, doing everything she can to keep surviving. Well, that's just fine by me. Iago can play the snake all he likes, but I'm here to die, and if I'm going down, the snake's coming down with me. It's always been about sacrifices, right from the start. Emery lashes out at me with a red-hot brass knuckle. Her fist connects with my shoulder and I'm knocked out of my thought process and onto the floor. The fabric of my tunic has burned away, leaving a sear across my collarbone. "Agh, shit..." I roll over, grabbing my sword and doing my best to ignore the fresh burn. My potty mouth has worsened during the Games, and that's Pandora's influence. All he did in his Games and at home was swear. I suppose now that I'm away from Rubik and his rules, I can swear all I like. There's some more interference for my already inaccurate moral compass. [Attacks Emery Moreno, Flaming Broadsword] [dice=200+1000] [Shallow Cut on Chest -- 4.0] [dice=50] [Minor Burn - 2.0] the days seem to drag away my speech is sparse and tends to slur i wonder what happened to my friend today can't hear the words your name has slipped my mind again lyrics by ultravox - graphics by rook - template by kire

[/center]

[/justify][/color][/size][/blockquote]
[/td][/tr][/td][/tr][/table][/center][rand=8456597374752164972591687692329329991968604736038161173611879349]

[Rosetta]

s14.postimg.org/92kjgxsrl/Scout.png

[/img][/center]

Ardal used to bring apples home for Carlos and I to share. The sight of the brown paper bag in his hand would nearly send the two of us into hysterics and after a crinkle of paper and the flurry of hands, we'd each have a substantial apple to enjoy. I remember that they were always so juicy and shiny. The skin was firm and red and the insides were brimming with flavor. I wasn't as adept as Carlos. I'd gobble mine down in a matter of seconds while he savored his and I'd look on longingly. Sometimes he'd give in with a sigh and hand me a little piece. Other times, he'd stick in tongue out at me, turn away and continuing eating his apple in peace.

District Eleven was full of apples, but none were ever ours to take. I can still feel the adrenaline pumping through me the day I dropped down from the tree I'd just been harvesting from and approached the basket I'd just filled. The juicy, red apples appeared to delicious, so perfect, I was possessed and I just wanted one...but Ardal caught my hand.

"No, Matilde," he pulled my arm around so I was facing him and his stern face with his set jaw and slightly flaring nose. His eyes were droopy, though, as if sad. "They'll flog you if they see you stealing."

"But, Ardal," there had been a whine in my voice, "they look so nice. And I harvested them. It’s not fair!"

"It's not fair, baby," he agreed and my shoulders relaxed just a bit knowing he was on my side. "But you still can't take any. You should value your skin more than an apple. I do."

On that particular day, I'd turned away in irritation, casting glares at the basket of apples all day, still not quite getting it.

Two weeks later, though, I saw what Ardal meant as Mr. Dowdy was caught for stealing an apple and whipped in front of everyone. I knew he had three children at home. I heard the youngest was sick and dying. Maybe all he wanted was to give his child a last, juicy meal before she met death. Or maybe he thought the apple could save her. To meet death with life. It was no matter. He was caught and dragged into town. I can still smell the thick, metallic blood, still feel the sticky flies as they swiped themselves once over the rest of eyes before settling on Mr. Dowdy's back. After that, even the sight of an apple made my skin crawl.

In the Arena, I am suddenly surrounded by apple trees. If I had been naive enough, I would've believed them all mine with no price to pay, but my second day in the Arena had already indoctrinated me. The apples are extraordinarily large. I’d never be able to fit even two hands around one. Four other tributes are surrounding us and fire leaps and blood spurts. This is our punishment for wanting life that is far too big for us to even hold.

The sight of blood splattered across my chest suddenly makes me scream. Is it me? Is it me dying? Who has stabbed me? But to my horror (and surprise too), the warm blood, permeating through my shirt and laying itself sticky and hot on my skin, is not my own. Hot bile rises in my throat and my eyes water as I back up once more into an apple tree. It is Emery's, Iago's, that boy's I had attacked before and that girl's Iago is turning his fury on next.

They are turning me as red and shiny as the apples around us, but I am sure if I reach up and try to take a bite, my teeth would slice through worms and a soft, bitter core.

I fight the urge to scream. I fight the urge to call Ardal's name for help. I bite my tongue, eating the name right up. I am not back home. I am not dangling from a branch. I have not scraped my knee. I am in the Arena. No one will come to my aid now. Fathers are irrelevant.

Ewe has leapt into battle beside me and I thaw out at the sight of him, trying to defend Iago and Emery...or is he? If our allies fall, where will these other tributes turn next? If our allies fall, who will supply the manpower that Iago and Emery overwhelming show? If our allies fall, I will be another apple. They were gobble me right up and my chest seizes up. It will be cold and dark six feet under. I'd rather be six feet in my air. At least I'd be able to feel the breeze.

My hands grab for my second weapon, the flail I heard it was called. I can't let them hurt us. Our alliance is a tree. If you chop off one branch, infection will find its way inside, termites will eat us from the inside out, we will die, we will burn, we will die.

I am a child, but when I speak, I scream. When I scream, I am heard. "NO!"


[attacks Brandon, flail]
[dice=200+12000]
[broken left arm, 6.5]

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[shrimp]

[bg=040201][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true][atrb=style, border-radius: 30px 30px 30px 30px;] EWE~ My lungs burn and my muscles ache from the day before but the four tributes standing in front of me show no sign of fatigue, just vengeful snarls and swords that hit too true for comfort - I can see the blood rushing down Emery's back and face, Iago's head, Matilde's shirt and my own armor; the boy we're attacking is even more battered than our two allies, but I can see the fire in his eyes; he won't quit until he's dead. Or until we are. He has a reason to fight after all, to take revenge on the ones who maimed one of their own. I mean, Eye would do that. I would do that too. I hope. I never really had a chance to do anything like that back home, where kids sneered at me at school whenever I piped up and spoke out of turn, tripping me as I walked through the cafeteria, stealing my things and telling me to catch them if I could, "cripple". And it hurt, the pain that seared through my leg and into my pride. Maybe it didn't hurt as much as Shadow's tongue, stinging with every swallow, developing sores or scabs that he can't pick at because doing so could kill him. But it hurt in other ways, just as scarring. I mean I couldn't talk in school anymore, which is kinda why I don't like talking here much because I don't really want them to tell me to shut up or make fun of me or call me annoying and then slit my throat you know? Because they would do that, Iago and Emery. They're like the kids I hated in school, the kids who threw me around and kicked me when I was down. But we're all in the same situation, so I suppose that's the only reason why I'm with them in the first place. I mean it's not like they're only terrible awful people - there are good sides to them too I just haven't found many yet. So I don't want to attack you, victor's nephew. I really don't; if anything I admire you for sticking to your beliefs, for trying to do what you think is the right thing. But I'm doing what I think is right too, and that's the awful part. I want to survive, I want my allies to survive and in order to do that, you and the girl from 5 and Shadow and Hope Woodards have to die. It's very black and white, there's no way of getting around it. I don't think my parents would be proud of me right now, nor would Eye. After all I'm a part of this, I let it happen even though anyone would be able to understand why I didn't intervene but a part of it is my fault. I always tried to stay away from trouble, not be a part of a group that starts it but now I'm standing in an orchard with too-large-too-red-too-fake apples, two sociopaths, a girl with a teddy bear and four bloodthirsty tributes - if we lose, maybe they'll cut out our tongues as well. At least then I wouldn't have to talk. {ewe flails at brendon; glaive} [dice=200+13000] {Deep Gash on Right Bicep; 8.0 damage}

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[Deleted]

I a g o
I z a r – M c C l a i n e

•••

{I feel numb most of the time}
{The lower I get the higher I'll climb}
{And I will wonder why}
{I get dark only to shine}

•••

Do they think they know me?

[/color] In the blaze of day I stagger back, momentarily cut by Shadow’s glancing blade, and struck again hard in the chest by Cassie. The two of them turn me this way and that way with the same heartless fury I saw burning in our eyes during the bloodbath. Shadow has come not just for my tongue, it seem, but my life—here, Cassie comes too, taking up the banner and dealing far more pain with her flail. They all fixate on this revenge, as though taking our lives made us pay for what we’d done. I didn’t regret it, though—if they were to ask me now I would say that it had been nothing but fun. A sick and twisted way to show all of them that these were not games, that this was a nightmare, and that all of us must play our parts until our faces shine in the sky. Just like in dreams we will fade, until only one of us wakes.

It appears that they received my message.[/color]

I let out a cough, thankful that my vest has saved me a broken bone or worse. I angle back toward Hope, who swings hard at Emery’s chest. A beat passes as I listen to the sound of metal on metal, and I let out a yell. Scout and Ewe have at Brendon, whose flagging form looks as steady as a sinking ship. Is the taste of copper in my mouth blood, or the pride I feel that they have stepped in to save me? I bet they thought I didn’t want to be saved. After all, hadn’t I said I didn’t want to win[/color]? The sentiment remained the same, of course. What was winning the games? A new life with a crown, a new home, a sense that I would never be alone again? I hear another wail and turn my head this way and that. I breathe heavily, the glaive hanging low and between my legs.

Revenge—that sick, sweet feeling that fueled so many in the games was magnified when shared with others. Having a common enemy, one to call evil—it made the world less real. Perhaps I’d been stupid to give them a reason to hate me, but I didn’t care. Let them hate me[/color]. The world was not good and evil; it was not fairy tales or black and white. It was—a boy who’d never known courage; an ordinary girl who’d been thrust into the spotlight; a little one always dreaming of avenging; a boy in a shadow. I hold up my sword again, my breathes coming slower, heavier. It was a girl who had too much pride; a boy that was anything but perfect; a girl that knew too much and said too little. I stared hard at Hope. Strike me down but as the world watched, I would show them what I had inside me.

“Put away your sword and leave her alone—you’ve done enough today,” I call out, nodding to Brendon. I would go down in flames if it meant the both of us would die. Every ounce of my being hinges on this blade. It is a fiery desire to see destruction over any sense of victory. Emery would not die[/color]. Not today, not now, not for this stupid sense of revenge. They hadn’t earned the right to kill either of us[/color]. We are snakes as much as we are cockroaches—still living, still going, somehow still there. “But if you won’t listen to me, I’ll make sure you’ll never listen to anyone again.”

There is one cure for revenge. The sloppy, dishonest jealousy that courses through veins can be undone by but one thing: anger. For where revenge is a darkness that swallows whole, anger is pure, it is clean. Anger is fire that burns all—leaving waste to what was. I let out another yell and begin my charge. There is no end to my anger now. The fear has burned white hot and come around to course through my veins like lava. I would rather watch this whole world burn to the ground if it meant none of us would get out alive.

[Iago Izar-McClaine swings full-tilt at Hope Woodards with his glaive]

[dice=200+13000]
[result:13151 -- Miss -- 0.0 damage
(Pole Sword)]

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