a tale of heroes and tragedies {FH vs. Aeths vs. Mor, Day 6}

[gamemaker kelsier]

Ripred fucking almighty I'm tired.

I can hear my mother in my ear, feel the pain as she pinches the upper lobe between thumb and forefinger, haranguing me for using such language. There are lions roaring now, moaning and rolling they leap, tens of feet forward and away from here, where the wild things are. I can hear their roars upon the salted, torn earth of the land we stand on and it reminds me of the state of my ribs, broken and battered they are bruised, tired, bent out of shape. I am bent out of shape, nothing is severed but the breathe that erupts from my lips, I am the son of a sea god, never meant for land and realizing this, the very air I breathe is being taken from me.

I won't stand for it.

I was never meant to die here, upon this crusty earth, baptized in the blood of an extinct species. I was meant to grow old, to taste sea air and salt on my lips, to feel human again and only smile because I was going to meet my brother. I was not meant for regret to burrow so deeply down inside of me until I am hallow. Calypso. I shape her name with my lips as I am too slow to dodge and I feel only more pain. Calypso. Her name is my heart beat, it drives me forward, it echoes with each frenzied thump inside of my chest. Calypso. Calypso. The goddess of the sea.

What a foolish thing, a mortal man is. I never realized my mortality until I stood, tired and nearly beaten midst the wreckage of the war I'd so freely entered. I want to go home. (Calypso). I want to go home (Calypso) to her. Anger rushes through me then, I feel my muscles scream as I strike out against a foe that has never asked for my hatred, but has received it none the less.

We fight the ones that attacked me, one against four, so many long years ago in the bloodbath. I still remember my anger, my rage and fear as they all fell on me at once, battering me, breaking me. My leg hurts, it still hurts from where she, the one with the axe attempted to steal it. They are the ones that caused this pain, the ones that made me burn and I do, I hate them. The rage I feel towards them isn't a misplaced sense of the vengeance I owe Ewe, or the hatred I feel for the world in general, it's simply for them and their scheming, conniving, cowardly ways.

I hate them, I do.

So then why can't I fight them, why isn't this, in my final moment, the time that I will fall on them and take them down, piece by piece. Why do I falter. I have reason, I have want. Why aren't I strong enough? I press my thumb to my forehead, anger breaking my stride, shoving all else away. I am weaker than I once knew, but wiser too. I am not afraid to die, but I am, so much. Not even for the fact that I am leaving Calypso lost at sea without anchorage, but for the fact that I'm only seventeen years old and I am far from ready to give my life up to a notion as simple, as stupid as revenge.

So the next time I swing, it won't just be for Ewe, not even for Calypso. It will be solely for me.

I will live.

[Eye attacks Savannah with katana (eyyyy rhymes)]
xnnDUIl7sword
1138 -- Deep Gash on Back -- 8.5 damage +1 blades

sword

[Python]

Tonight you can dream
Imagine a whisper

_______________________________________________________

L A I L A S Y C A M O R E
DISTRICT5 | THIRTEEN

_______________________________________________________

This pain, this fury, this red desire to cut the throats of those she might’ve once called friends – was this what the infamous descent into madness felt like? Is this what she was now, bloodthirsty and less than human? Merciless? Because she remembered the Quell, she recognized madness, but she wasn’t sure if she could recognize it within herself. What did she know about any of this? She felt the burning, felt the mourning, the hunger, the thirst, the tears, the urges, the blood, the sweat, the terror, the truth; was it madness, or was she still just a thirteen-year-old girl wishing impossible wishes and dreaming ridiculous dreams?

”Fuck you, you little bitch. I’m doing this for you!” She couldn’t quite speak for herself, but at least she wasn’t as crazy as this fucker. ”Doing what for me? All you’re doing is making me bleed, you asshole! Does it look like I want that?” Saliva moistened her chapped lips as she spat at him, blurting without thinking twice about the words that spilled out. Even though she wanted to do things to Claude that humans shouldn’t do (like what you did to Thistle? Don't pretend that you don't know his name), she couldn’t call herself mad if he was spewing shit like that to her. But then again, Claude had been an oddball since the moment she met him. Not as stupid as he was now, but odd enough for her not to question his sanity up until this point. Was that why her blade wouldn’t hit hard enough? Because she was distracted by how possibly crazy he was? Stop it, right now. That tiny cut to the arm wouldn’t do much. He had ripped hers open, and that was what she would give in return? Pathetic.

Laila yelped at Claude’s successful slice on her calf – it was a meager sting compared to the waterfall of blood descending from her forehead and the ugly gash across her forearm, but it was enough to make her stumble. She ended up stumbling right into teddy bear girl’s words. ”At least I won’t die alone,” she said, and perhaps that was true, but with her “family” there were other things to consider. It made her wonder if Savannah was just doing all of this for herself – protecting her friends, savoring their lives so she could pretend to be happy. Their longevity perhaps fed her craving for company. As heroic as it sounded to protect one’s friends like that, it was still selfish. Selfish to force them to live and suffer for her own sake. Laila knew all about being selfish, but at least she didn’t pretend that Eye and Willis were a family that she could protect. She was useless, and she knew it. They would probably die (except for Eye), and she knew it. She couldn’t protect them, she couldn’t be their shield, and she knew it. She couldn’t embrace it, but the truth was always there, always clawing away at her sanity. ”Yeah, but your friends will,” she replied, because if Savannah died trying to save their lives they would die one by one without her, and they would suffer. Alone.

Savannah’s shoulder connected with hers, and she backed away to see fire in those ferocious irises. They look like mine. Broken, she said. She was broken, yet they helped her. They cared about her. How touching. ”News flash, we’re all broken. We all have people here who care about us. You’re not fucking special,” she snapped, feeling herself burn on the inside and out. There was the fire of pain searing her skin and the fire of rage boiling within her vessels. It was almost too much. ”And who the fuck are you to tell me what I deserve? Do you think Ripred shines down on you so you can make those kind of choices? If we’re going to pretend that Ripred is real, I say he likes me better, because he’s going to let me and my friends rip your stupid family apart.”

Maybe she was mad after all, because she didn’t regret a single word. Is this what you are now? A monster? No, monsters enjoyed the chaos, they bathed in the madness. Laila just wanted a way out. She wanted to escape all of this bloodshed, all of this pain, all of the burning. What she felt now was not the side effects of some tantrum, as she had promised the Gamemakers. It was something else, something so much more real.

She hated it.

_____________________________________________________
template by chelsey

[attacks Savannah – katana]
0DQOz2wFsword
Deep Gash on Back of Head -- 9.0 damage

sword

[Rosetta]

Si

Si squeaked. All he wanted was attention! And that fine young human lass just wasn't giving it to him. Maybe if he poked her a little...

[attacks Lyric]
bEnQGTF8knife

Am
Am squawked even louder than Si. How dare Si not give Am the attention she deserved?! She swooped down, prepared to sink her teeth straight into him, but, alas, a human boy got in the way!

[attacks Colgate]
knife

knife�knife

[rook]

willis keeni

afterlife. oh my god, what an awful word
after all the breath and the dirt and the fires are burnt
and after all this time, and after all the ambulances go
and after all the hangers-on are done hanging on in the dead lights of the afterglow

The unsaid apologies lie sick in my stomach, churning over in the hazardous concoction of alcohol and bile. I am ash, somehow held together in the shape of a person. I fear that it will not be long before I fall apart completely, becoming nothing more than a pitiful pile of something that I once was. Truth is, I never was anything special. I wasn't even something normal. I was always weak. I was always hated. When I was Reaped, I was so afraid, but in fact this world is so much better than the world out there.

It's terrible, yes.

But it's better. I know I'll die in here, and that's okay. I'm crying because my friends are being slaughtered, and I am helpless, but that's okay. How can it possibly be okay? Because the alternative is being out there.

Like throwing darts with pinpoint precision within various seedy taverns back in Six, I hit my target. Shurikens are very different to darts, but my technique is consistent regardless. I can't even describe it, because it has become instinct. What I don't understand is that my hands are shaking even worse than usual, mainly fown to the alcohol forcing it's way out of my body, and yet I can still throw accurately. It don't make sense.

'Cause it matters. I'm throwing well because I need to. It's not a case of throwing darts at a cork board to impress the locals anymore, no. This is life and death. Guess I didn't really think of it like that. Guess I didn't really think of anythin' except what's going on here and now. When you're out here in the Arena, you don't think about technique of skill or nothin'. Your instincts take over. Sure, you feel all the pain and regret from your past, but you're still in the moment. You're still an animal.

With my forearm, I rub my eyes dry. My thick, blond hair is crusted with the blood of my friends and enemies alike. This is worse than the fight at the Cornucopia, for sure. I feel a thousand years old - This war has been raging on for centuries. I ain't though. I'm barely an adult. Still a kid, let's be realistic here. A stupid kid who played with fire and burned everyone he ever loved. I'm made of ash for a reason. Charred.

I have to make it up to Eye and Laila. They're still being slaughtered, and although my shuriken cut into Savannah pretty deep, she's still going. She's weak though, on her last legs. I have to put her down, or she'll kill Eye. I ain't a killer. I can't kill again. Not after Ari. You don't have a fuckin' choice. She's gonna kill your friends. I am afraid. I am weak.

"I'm S-... I'm sorry..." Not strong enough. Can't do it. So what's the alternative? Let them die, and run away? Run until I reach the end of the world, and then jump off and let the abyss consume me. It's not fair. I never wanted to kill or hurt anyone. Made myself a promise that I'd die before I would kill, and I've already contributed to the deaths of so many other kids. What's one kill next to a thousand? In the end, we're all going to die. I'm so numb that in this moment, I don't care what happens. I just do it.

Do it.

[Willis attacks Savannah, Gypsy (Flaming Shurikens)]
XDcGYQ84200+9000
[Shallow Cut on Bicep -- 3.5 damage]

range 1-50
[Moderate burn -- 4.0]

i’ve gotta know - can we work it out?
if we scream and shout ’till we work it out. can we just work it out?
but you say "oh, when love is gone where does it go?"
and where do we go?

200+9000�range 1-50

[[nyte]]

act 1: scene 6
7.5

I can feel the exact moment that I break. The exact moment when she hits the ground everything inside of me snaps in two. And I can't feel. I don't want to. I cannot see the world around me, they have morphed into shadows and all I can see is the boy. Not my district partner, the boy who had somehow managed to be so far, unscathed. The boy who had all but killed her. She's not dead yet, she couldn't be. I wouldn't let her leave me without saying goodbye.

But...

I knew this was the end.

And so I focus, on the boy whose life I can feel draining out of him just as I feel Savannah's. I want him dead. I want him dead now. I no longer push his name for my mind, dehumanize them so that guilt wouldn't eat me so.

I want him to be as human as possible when he falls.

Why?

Because he deserved it. Because the fucking shits hurt my family. And for damn sure that wasn't going to happen.

"Fuck you." my heart is now pounding within every limb. I can feel its rapid flow from the tips of my fingers to my toes. Fuck you. FUCK YOU. Oh Savannah, I never wanted it to end like this. "Are you fucking happy?!" I'm sobbing, a shaking hand running though matted hair. "You killed this girl. This girl who did nothing but get her name pulled." I choke and sputter, a mixture of tears and blood forming a sickly cocktail upon my tongue. "Why not me. Why not me! I volunteered for this! I asked for this!" My voice is shrill, almost illegible.

wipwip


[attacks eye -razor fan]
iLVQ2j8cknife


[fire]
fire

Fire can u not
1-50

attacked Eye Saw: shallow cut on stomach [+4 fire]

knife�fire�1-50

[Sunrise Rainier D2 // [Thundy]]

Soap O'Leary
8.0

The moment that knife plunges into Sav’s stomach, my brain starts screaming at me.

Because that’s just it: I know it’s over.

I know that she will never see to live another day, that her family – with so many people, just like mine – will be looking up at the screens in shock. What will they do without her? What will we do without her?

I have to force myself to breath normally, but suddenly I can’t control anything. It’s like every corner of my mind has collapsed like a crashing wave, and the only thing I can do is move forward, forward, all six and a half feet of my giant frame tumbling towards the edge of the world.

Fight me.

I’ll fight every single one of ‘em until I cut their throats, and I’ll do it with a smile, and I’ll hold my chin up to the sky like a fucking god, because that’s what I am.

And that’s what she was.

Chin up, chin up, chin up.

I can’t let it hit me. Can’t let it get to me.

Right now, I've just gotta fight.

Attacks Laila - thrown axe
AqHOHVemthrowing axe
(Thrown Axe)

Fire 3/6
1-50

Accuracy reroll:
throwing axe

attacked Laila: Axe in Calf - 8.5 (thrown axe) + 0 (fire)

throwing axe�1-50�throwing axe

[Kire]

Useless
27.5

The days never stopped being a blur. I had sworn to protect Savannah but now she was bleeding in the horrible way that told me I had failed. My eyes shut for a moment and I just wanted to shut down and fall to the ground. Not for the first time in my life, not even for the first time in this damned arena, I wanted to give up. The burble of profanities dripping from Lyric made me open my eyes and turn to her. I saw the shadow of a great beast rise up behind her, lit in fire and opening massive jaws to spit fire. Her strike followed the path of the flames, what embers licked the blade of her Sai now raged wildly on the skin of the boy from District four. My mouth dropped open and I watched as she struck him in his the stomach. It was no harsh blow, but I could tell he was thoroughly scorched.

There could be no way he would withstand that, he was already close to being finished before this if I was any good at knowing the signs. I supposed I wasn't the greatest at these signs but I was good enough to realize that he wasn't the only one exhibiting those signs. I was not exactly steady on my feet any more - what with the fucking claw marks on my legs from those cat mutts - and the fuzziness in my head was not simply poor sleep and not enough food. My stomach, seemingly having been silenced by my adrenaline, suddenly growled like a wild animal. At this point, I would have believed it - and by association I - was an animal. I would have to work on filling it soon. The thought of the bison meat in my pack was a welcome one. I would eat soon, if I wasn't joining the dead.

Soap, miraculously avoiding all attacks aside from the cat in the beginning, suddenly turned his attention to Laila and I realized that for all I was hungry there was still a fight to be fought. She was part of the horrible attack on Savannah, on me, and I had already chosen the payment for it. I had made the choice as soon as I had seen her. I would kill her, I swore it. It wasn't even for my sake - what sake did I even have, I was a worthless dead weight. Without me Savannah would have been better off, I was sure of it. Soap and Lyric too, I felt horribly responsible for all the bad situations they had encountered even if I didn't know how.

But this little girl, she had to pay for what she did to Savannah, what she did to my family. Savannah was as good as my sister - no better - and I couldn't let her pain go without revenge. Soap, my brother in everything but blood - though with all that had been shed I was sure some of it must have mixed at some point - was set to protect all of us. I had to join him, I had to show that I could be more than just a lump of flesh. And Lyric, Ripred Lyric, my fire and pride and drive. What was she to me? Not simply a sister, that couldn't be. I was not one to sleep with my family. She couldn't be a blood relation, it would be wrong, but she was still so dear to me. Dare I put a name to it?

I looked at her, trying to take in everything that made her who she was and utterly failing. She was so much more than I could ever be, that was for sure, and even trying to see all of her was an endeavour I would never manage. Instead, I took strength from her presence, knowing she at least would not fall today. She might just make it out of this damned place. I had to take comfort in that thought. Maybe one of us might make it out. Of all of us, I don't think I want it to be me. I'm tired of this, all these fucking ghosts, and these bullshit wars and the terrible killing. But maybe I'm not tired, maybe I'm just scared.

Scared of myself.

I've become something I'm not in these fights, and it wears me out. I storm and rage and strike, and I enjoy the hitting. I like it when I spill their blood. I can claim it in the name of revenge, in the guise of defending my friends, but I can't deny what it really is. I love it.

My eyes turn back to Laila and I narrow them. "What are you waiting for?" K was at my side again, whispering and yet more than loud enough for me to hear. "Do it." My mouth tightened into a grim line and I moved forward. Surely I could do this, I could put an end to this. District partner or no, there was no room for the two of us in this arena. I had to do this, before I was too far gone. I had to do it for the right reason before I was doing it for no reason. That was a good reason, right?

I think I know what I'm doing. But I don't know.

I make my move.

fWVyTBCXsword
Shallow Cut on Right Thigh -- 3.5 damage

attacked Laila: Shallow Cut on Right Thigh - 3.5
OOC notes

sword

[Python]

If you can keep secrets
Then I'll tell you mine

_______________________________________________________

L A I L A S Y C A M O R E
DISTRICT5 | THIRTEEN

_______________________________________________________

She could hear the blade sinking deep into flesh, feel the solidity of bone refusing to surrender beneath the force of the blow as skin split into a gnarled stripe across the back of Savannah’s skull. The massive outflow of blood was immediate – payback for what you did to my forehead. Her own gash still sizzled with fresh pain, and her face was sticky with wasted blood and oozing sweat. Spatters and droplets of it fed the ashy soil its days’ worth of human suffering. Yesterday it had fed on the melting flesh and ashes of Claire, then the blood of her killer – an act of retribution sacrificed to the malicious volcano and to the capitol audience.

Now it was Savannah’s turn to offer her blood, willingly or not.

She angled her katana to strike again - to end this while she was vulnerable - but a whistling fireball rushed past her and lodged itself into the girl’s arm, singing the flesh around its edges. That’s when Savannah collapsed, and that’s when Laila blinked and glanced over to see Willis wielding the flaming ninja stars. It was his hand who hurled it, his hand that swept Savannah off of her feet, but there was no way she could be written out as an accomplice. She had made the girl bleed, and her undoing could be pinned on the both of them. Laila wouldn’t mind taking responsibility; this was the Hunger Games, after all, where children and teenagers murdered each other. Why bother feeling ashamed? Why try to deny their sins? It wasn’t any of their faults, it was just shitty luck. I killed Thistle, and I helped kill Savannah. She said it over and over in her head as Savannah’s body lay against the ashen earth. Don’t reject, don’t forget, don’t regret.

There were still three threats in the vicinity, all surging with ferocity now that one of their own was lost. She could hear the curses of a girl in the distance and the swordplay that echoed with it. It was three on three now, an equal chance. One for each of them, right? Maybe they could do this, maybe they could win this awful battle. With a dragonslayer on their side, anything was possible. She just needed to find him first.

Her eyes scanned the barren wasteland of grey and black, counting each of their sides to see if she had missed something. Soap, one. It was hard to miss that building of a boy. Two, Claude. There was a maniac look to his eyes, something she had never seen before. It was worrying, she had to move. Willis, three. She moved toward the blond and his orange weapons, seeking his protection. By the looks of it he was not bleeding from any fresh wounds. He was unscathed and sturdy, perfect for a nasty fight like this. Now all she needed was Eye, their dragonslayer. The blonde girl, four. Laila halted in her tracks, shoes skidding across dirt as she saw the girl’s razor fan lacerate his stomach and scorch the wound’s edges.

He was falling.

”EYE!” the screech reddened her throat raw. Get up, get up, get UP. Her feet shifted involuntarily, and suddenly she was sprinting. He’s not moving. The girl was standing over him, her bright flaming fan burning the blood that dripped from its edges – his blood. She screamed again and again. ”NO!” Something painful caught her in the leg and sent her plummeting into the soil, grip loosening on her sword. She gasped as the wind was knocked out of her, but nothing could stop the wail that escaped her lips as she meekly tried to crawl toward his bloody form, left hand outstretched and desperate to save the best friend she had in this damned place. ”EYE!” She hoped too deeply for a response, and all that met her was silence.

She felt a strong vise lift her from the ground and spin her world sideways. She squeezed the hilt of her weapon in preparation for more blood, but then she was dangling over a muscled shoulder and watching the ground shift below her. A head of blond curls greeted her when she cocked her head – Willis. But he was carrying her away from the fight, away from Eye. ”STOP!” she bellowed, pounding a tiny fist against his back and kicking her legs until a jolt of pain coaxed her to stop. ”EYE IS BACK THERE!” She could still see him, his body. It was coated in blood, and it refused to stand up. ”I’LL KILL YOU!” she screamed at them this time, the three bodies that were supposed to perish today. ”EVERY LAST ONE OF YOU!”

Two cannons blasted, and her body fell limp.

_____________________________________________________
template by chelsey

[Laila flees]
[Uses first aid for -3, N/T for -5, and 5 ft bandages for -1]
[receives first aid, N/T treatment and 5 ft bandages from Willis for another -9]
[receives jar of tar and flint from sponsors]
[drops one empty water jug, receives purified water jug from Willis and drinks water]