rattle o'er the bogs [Feast-in-the-East]

[aya]

The tributes are situated around two round wooden tables, stacked with items:
- antibiotics
- helmet (+5 head)
- shin guards (+5 legs)
- medkit (1 n/t, 15ft bandages)
- pot of gold*
- mystery box
- jar of tar
- scythe (glaive)

* A miniature pot of gold containing 10 gold coins. These coins are nontransferable, but are redeemable for an extra +5k site money for the tribute's owner upon the tribute's victory or death.


The tributes' muttation escorts remain for a moment while everyone takes stock of the scene. No announcement plays; with the setup, none is necessary. This is clearly a Feast.

Feast-in-the-East

The following tributes are in this feast:

Dustyn
Beretta
Someith
Tyler
Kitty
Heather
Cody
Taurus
Annora
Neptune


REMINDER OF FEAST RULES:

1. Feasts require an introductory non-attacking post. ALL tributes must post an introduction before the fighting can commence.
2. In order to receive items at the Feast, a tribute must make a certain number of attacks, to be announced on the Feast thread.
3. Like in the Bloodbath, tributes must wait for at least three other people to post in between their own posts. If a tribute is in an alliance of four, they must wait for one person outside of their alliance to post before they can continue.
4. After obtaining an item, the tribute must make a certain number of posts before they can exit the Feast. If the tribute has claimed an item, they need 3 posts to flee. If they have not, they need 1 post to flee.
5. During a Feast, if a tribute with an item is attacked immediately before they would have left with their item, they must either drop the item and run or continue to attack.

ADDITIONALLY:
- THREE (3) DEATHS are required before anyone may leave from this 10-person feast.


NOTES:
- The tributes in the West Beach Feast cannot interact with the tributes from the Feast-in-the-East (and vice versa) until after they've fled.
- Tributes from either feast may not enter the other, nor may they re-enter their designated feast after they've fled.
- Tributes must make THREE ATTACKS before picking up an item
- You must follow Bloodbath Rules (quoting post timestamps and waiting 10 minutes between attacks) for the feast.

[Neptune Liefde [tribsit]]

[Neptune Liefde / Intro]

---

C O N T R O L
N E P T U N E L I E F D E

---

And all the kids cried out,
"Please stop, you're scaring me"
I can't help this awful energy
Goddamn right, you should be scared of me
Who is in control?

My fists clutch the grass around me with stilled movement, as if it were but a whisper to the other actions I've done- and it is, for all intents and purposes- but this feeling of dirt, and dew, and pebble in the webs of my fingers is not new. For the past four days, I've fought alongside my allies with a vigour that hadn't yet been exposed- it was silent, and minimized, and at some points, non-existent, but it set my insides ablaze with every slash of halberd and every wince of pain. It was invincible, but I was not, and that proved myself to be human, beyond a reasonable doubt.

Sometime yesterday, I left him, though, and now alone is the only place I've been able to be. But it is not painful, like many would expect, and it is certainly far less worrysome than even I would have thought it to be when I took sleep in their presence not even a full twenty-four hours ago. But I have seen things since then, and they have left me since then, and it is no longer an obligation for me to cry wolf in the face of the wolf itself.

(I nearly fell when I saw it, and long after we had departed, long after I had become known as 'Neptune Liefde' rather than 'Neptune Liefde and' I dipped my fingers into the infinity black of ink and took to writing a pleasant set of words that would surely describe my aggression toward the tribute who had oh-so-creatively plastered werewolf entrails to the overpass of sea cliff.

'F;-( you.')

But there is no wolf anymore, just as there is no life for the bodies of Draco and Hannah and Paige and Odile and Leo and Leticia. I am not little boy blue, nor am I a sheep; I am a tribute in the 71st hunger games, and I am going to damn well act like it.

(My scrawl was certainly not chicken scratch, but writing on somebody's arm in the mist of sea foam isn't exactly the ideal place to be doing this; 'Win for District Twelve' was the only thing I had left to say to her when it was time to part and the memory of home was too much for me to handle without rawing my throat in stale air. It was nice seeing you again, Chloe.)

When I left her- when we left each other- our brief encounter plagued me with thoughts of home for the remainder of the afternoon. It was if I was two again and the only thing I knew how to do was ask questions, but that was alright because although the answers were but a finger tip away, they were not mine to see.

How is dad? (dead.)

Has step-mother been taking care of him? (no. she's the one that got him killed.)

Do my friends miss me? (yes, but sometimes, they don't even realize that you're gone.)

I wonder how they feel about me now that I've killed someone. (they don't blame you, not one bit.)

It's foreign, this feeling, and for a moment, its all I can do not to stare at the waves and let the fact that home is something that I'll never have again sink in. Even if I were to go home today- just as I am and just like this- there would be no wholeness to me. Sure I'd get off a hell of a lot better than the majority of the victors, let alone the tributes, but there would be something missing and no amount of capitalized fame could fill that void in. Your soul, once lost, is not an item that can be replaced.

So I sighed and in that moment, vowed with all of my life to keep it with me, even past when a wooden box is all I am and that final blow is dealt to the flesh of my existence. Rock solid- that's what I'll be, and even when things begin to spiral, I will be in control. I will always, truly, be in control.

I decide it's time to go to sleep.

After a night of restless tossing and turning- and evidently no danger to myself or my belongings (thank god)- I pack up camp and head out, back to where I knew the ground well and back to where the noise wasn't nearly as terrifying as in the current. Somewhere in the distance, a Delivery Word proclaims its call- perhaps one day, if I am still alive, I can catch one. But now is not the time, and today is not the day, I remind myself; after all, I have places to be and people to avoid, both of which are promises I'm adamant to keep, and nothing- absolutely nothing- will stand in my way.

Except for the shadows playing tag on the horizon.

(Win it for District Twelve.)

---

D A M A G E :  4 . 0

---

Neptune Enters The Feast

[*]

[Taurus Hawk; Intro]

Taurus Hawk
District Nine Tribute

"Thunder. I'm scared, buddy. I'm really scared." I mumble under my breath. I've hardly slept since leaving the others. The rocky beach keeps going on and on for what seems like forever. The only thing that I can keep thinking of is that I need to see Ruth and Septys just once more before anything happens. Going solo is probably the worst thing to do, but I'd rather go out doing the right thing, then forget those that risked their lives for me.

Like clockwork, I reach into my pocket feeling for the bell. It feels cold. It feels like cold metal that hasn't been touched in so long; forgotten. "I can't forget you." The words slip from my lips and the bell is brought out once more and as tradition for each day that I can open my eyes and see the light of arena day, I let my lips touch the bell. This time, It lingers longer than before. My lips both get chilled yet warm up as I hold it close to me. Thunder, I've made it longer than Storm. I've made it longer than Jabber. Maybe there is hope that I can come home to you? Maybe, just maybe, I have the power of the almighty Hawk. Swooping down my prey and avoiding all obstacles. One more day. One more day...

I pull the bell from my lips and bring it down to look at it. Inside the bell the letter still resides. Nestled away, tucked and curled around the chain of the bell to keep it from ringing. If it rings, it means I need Thunder. If that sweet melodious melody plays then it means I'm in trouble. I don't plan on ringing it any time soon. I don't want to and I won't until the last possible moment.

It's not going to be today.

"Heading home." I mutter, and stop for a moment in the rocky sand and sit. I feel completely at ease. No one around me. No one is here to tell me what to do and where to go. No one that will keep me held back. However, there's no one to push me forward. That's for me to do. It has to be me that keeps going, for Thunder and Jett's sake. Who else will take care of them? Who else could they confide in if I perish and leave them wandering the world of panem. "I'll be home soon to hug you both."

The crunch under my foot lulls my senses until I start to get a glimpse of the sea cliffs yet again. That could be a good destination, possibly to find my missing two compadres. Maybe, they thought I'd go back to somewhere we knew? Let's give it up for hoping.

...

And in the calm of everything, I meet with destiny in a form of something I dread. Escorted to death by the creature, I am left to linger by a table, stacked with goodies and it occurs to me that this is one of the final moments that I have. With a deep breath, I make my move. First in. First out of this cluster.

"Shit..." Is the first thing and only thing I can say.


[Taurus Enters the Feast o'many]

[Sunrise Rainier D2 // [Thundy]]

[Annora Taylor ;) // Intro]

Like some child possessed,
the beast howls in my veins

In the middle of the night, I feel an odd sensation crawling across my skin. It wakes me where I sleep, curled up between soft sheets in a place that I never even imagined would exist in the Arena, all warm and cozy. This place smells like home in the best of ways, and right now my senses are on high alert. Everything seems stronger, more intense, and I shiver from the tingling across my skin.

When I look down, I expect there to be bed bugs, but instead I feel coarse black hair sprouting across my arms and over my legs and on my toes, and I yelp – probably waking up Someith, who’s here as well – and I scramble off of the bed and into the bathroom, inspecting every inch of my body.

There’s hair. EVERYWHERE.

It looks.. like the wolf. From the other day. Maybe not as thick – there are still patches of clear skin scattered around the coarse spots, and it’s the only normal part of me left. The hair on my head has grown thicker and less.. neat, and I almost scream when I reach up and touch my face, because there’s hair spread lightly across my cheeks and my nose.

I touch my lips, and my fingers come back red from where my teeth have cut lightly into my own flesh.

”SOMEITH,” I holler, bursting back into the bedroom. ”What kind of fucked up disease did you give me?”

And then I choke.

Or it feels like choking, and I crumple to the floor and press a hand to my chest. There’s something there, I can feel it, and it’s pressing through my lungs and out my chest and through my throat and past my fangs –

I howl.

The sound tears through the walls, and I swear to God the other tributes will be able to hear it a mile away.

Let them hear it. They won’t wanna come within a hundred yards of me.

Hell, I don’t wanna be within a hundred yards of me. The fur feels gross and the sharp teeth are uncomfortable in my mouth, and I rush into the shower and pick up a knife and begin shaving away the most visible parts of it – the parts that make me feel less human. When I’m done, I’ve shaved off most of the hairs on my face and neck and legs, but my arms and hands are still hairy to the worst degree.

I can’t help it, really. This takes too fucking long.

On the bright side – bless the Gamemakers – I find a different outfit stashed away, and it covers the worst of the hair.

And it’s stylish. The jacket is a warm, heavy black leather with a soft wool on the inside, and it looks sleek and elegant. I keep a part of the uniform I had before because it covers up my torso, but I slip on the new skirt, shorter and more appealing than the last. There’s a new belt, embellished with little metal studs for extra flair, and I slip my knives and feathers into it without even taking a pause.

When all is said and done, most of the hair is covered up apart from the patches peeking out from my jacket. There’s not much I can do about the new canines poking into my lip, but I cover up the sores with a swipe of red lipstick and call it good.

I emerge from the bathroom, apprehensive and a little bit proud, and all I can do now is own it.

”Someith, I’m a fucking werewolf.”

--------

There’s not much need for sleep after that, so I stay up and wander into the sitting room, staring up at the full moon through the window. Every now and then I feel another howl tear unwillingly through my chest, and soon I don’t bother holding it in. It must be driving Someith mad, but what do I care?

He can leave if he wants. We’re allies, sure, but that doesn’t mean we have to like each other. We’re not bound by some unwavering devotion to the cause of survival; Someith just wants me as his plaything.

The sun peeks up over the horizon a few hours later, and as the moon fades from sight I feel less and less of an urge to howl. But with the sun comes a pair of dots flying through the distance – not my birds, these things are too big – and I stand up and walk out the door to stare, shielding my eyes from the sunrise.

--------

I don’t know why, but I feel the need to follow them.

[Annora lights her knives on fire with tar and a match]

[Kire]

[Someith Krearns, Intro]

all my life trouble follows me
like a mystery, girl

Third Person, First Person, Says, Thinks

A day spent in a cottage with a wolf-girl could have been worse than it had been. At least the wolf-girl was pretty, and the shower was warm. Having cleaned himself up properly, he only had to find some way to keep himself entertained for the day. Many things had come to mind, and a few he had performed. The pair of candles on the dresser gave a lovely sense of atmosphere and the grinning turnips amused him.

By the morning of the next day he was restless, cabin fever had already set in despite the relatively short amount of time that he had been inside. Desperate for something to do - or better yet, someone to kill - he was up the moment the harpies appeared. Their cries eventually sent him outside with his things. Annora followed more slowly and it was he who narrowed his eyes at the creatures before gesturing to follow them. The mutts lead them along the basalt columns to the beach, where they were met by a group of equally confused people.

Familiar faces lined the crowd. The corners of his mouth quirked up as he recognized his queen, Beretta. This would be a fun time. Near her was the annoying boy, and then there was also the wanna-be flirt - he would have fun tearing into the pair of them. Soon he would splatter blood all over these rocks, just like he had two days ago. The only difference is that this would be destruction of the competition, anything that served him a double purpose was his favorite type of action. Kill, and get closer to the crown. Ahh, what a perfect day.

He swept his gaze over them all, smiling at the forms of Cody and Dustyn. Sheep, the contempt in his mind was almost palpable, lead to the slaughter.

He would be the butcher.

[umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars]]

[Dustyn Chase, Intro]

D U S T Y N
C H A S E

("Leave it to me, I guess- the rabbit.")

The words had caught behind the pearls in his teeth, aching and bashing against them to break loose. It hadn't been Dustyn truly speaking in how the loved one's viewed him back home. The memories of Bette, holding her hand under the gentle sunset before a kiss would be laid upon her lips. They've distorted themselves into something much more dark, where the hues of orange and pink of the saturation glitched from within and screeched to the ground that holds him down- just for a bit longer.

Dustyn's weary eyes could barely hold grasp on a single focal. Bags of purple and black had formed not only days before, but they dropped pounds down his once beautiful face, that'd been of great quality and pristine. A companion in his head spoke of mumbles to him in the solitude of the night, where vulnerability to night terrors made a heart pick up its pace. And everyone could tell from the inside to the out that the Dustyn they'd once known was hanging by his finger tips along the edge of an abyss. A fall to the bottom of an endless pit, and the journey down was an even greater Hell, than the smile and cold, bony embrace that awaited all along.

Blood kissed the palms of his hands and no matter how much he washed them the red tint was there forevermore. He'd assisted in the valiant efforts of putting faces into the fallen during the night sky that flashed blue and black. The desolate faces left behind to be seen only once more in the eyes of the citizens who'd sent them in unwillingly. Perhaps returning home in a coffin is worth more life than the silver and gold crown that steps foot off the train and back into a life of remorse. For when you're dead, you no longer carry the burdens of the one's whose bodies had fallen to build your empire of bones and stones.

("You wretched boy-")

His life had become ridden of sense upon entering the arena. The shallow slice of a knife, even, had left him unfeeling to the wound as blood ran from fresh cuts. Barely indicated in his mind, for the fatigue took over much more than just his precious bits of sanity that had been left. ("Dustyn Chase isn't living- look at him- practically a vegetable who does what he needs to survive.") And perhaps you were never meant to live, Dustyn Chase, only long enough to feel yourself hit the ground until it all flushes away.

Tears were incapable of falling from his eyes. Even at the sight of both his allies faces in the sky, Draco and Leticia. Losing his feelings and himself in the wreckage, he'd only felt human enough for one of them. The strength he carries upon his shoulders is only enough for his backpack and pike. ("Maybe you were never meant to feel, Dustyn Chase- definitely not in here.")

{ credit to: zoë }

I CAME TO GET HURT
MIGHT AS WELL DO
YOUR WORST TO ME

[Deleted]

[cody bowers-fox; intro]

cody bowers-fox

Shifting succession of the simple leaves the dusk of day five dead in the air.

A day spent shoulder to shoulder with Dustyn Chase had come and gone with no few words exchanged, for my stupidity had set the tone for something for something of a sobering rhythm, “You know— a fox will hear a rabbit screaming, and it’ll come running, but not to help.”

“Leave it to me— the rabbit, I guess.”

No response to be found from the tip of my sarcastic tongue I instead leave silence to be the mediator we neither need nor want. In opposition of the previous day the silence lingers, no cannons fired and no mourning to be heard throughout the span of hours spent in solitude from any other form of life. The severity of solitary confinement was the lack of sense to be found through touch, sight, and sound, and as the sun began to sink and set I found myself wringing hands and pacing throughout the clearing in which we had settled down. Dustyn seemed less bothered by the time spent in nothing but nullified thoughts and non-existent actions, and as my sight lingered on him I felt envy rising in my throat.

Swallowed pride and repressed arrogance do not sit well in the stomach.

I suppose he eats lighter meals, biting only what he can chew and nothing more, for he knows that there will always be the task of digesting whatever death and damnation we saw in the previous twenty-four hours. He knew the feelings of an empty stomach and he savored each bite— a smart man in a civil mind but not in that of the deprived.

I personify a seventh deadly sin as I lay my claim upon anything in sight. I do not see rations in portions too big for my palm; I do not find art in tastes of finer foods. Instead I place death and damnation in my back pocket as treasures to take home, besides, I’m still holding onto the heart of Hannah O’Leary for that reason alone. The system cannot crumble without seeing the symbols of its Achilles’ heel, which gives me example enough to dig up his grave no longer how many hours I waste in the process.

An anthem strikes the night to cut my grave robbing short, but after the rhythm falls to an unnatural pace I wait for faces seen but not known. However, none appear after the time spent, and I am left to face a dark sky and no hope for a future lying within twelve hours’ wake.

I speak, for the first time since Dustyn’s comment had asked for a reply I could not give, “There are no foxes in this arena— we’re all rabbits.”

Sleep has seemed simple since.

The morning sun does not give thought to past tragedies or triumphs, rising the same for all involved and letting complaints fall upon deaf ears. I grumble for this reason alone, knowing that anything to be said will dissipate in the air just beyond my tongue, wasted breath and wasted life pass through a timeline at the same speed. Hurtling towards its conclusion is a dangerous task, for there is no guarantee of risk or reward along its length.

Existence is an entitlement to which I do not wish to lay claim.

I buried my own with my brother’s coffin and hoped to never unearth the remains, but the wood has begun to rot and so have I, my skin and bones simply place holders until this soul gives way completely. The beginning of a fifth day is a hopeful catalyst for this alone, and as I bring myself to weary feet and trail behind Dustyn Chase, I pray he realizes this as well.

We’re all rabbits— repeated in mind but not in tangible thought I match his footsteps pace for pace until he brings himself to a halt. A followed suit in theory but not in connection leaves me reaching for my axe while eyeing the free pass so casually placed in the palm of his hand the previous day.

A danger to the damned, the dead, and myself— you could spell Cody Bowers-Fox as the killer of these things if you kicked away the dirt that covered my brother’s grave.

You’d find me buried there, anyway.

Axe blade and bravery coated in the same shades of red we strike, and with a step forward toward a danger indescribable, I see the paper fall from Dustyn Chase’s hand, and there comes a moment of thought to remind me that there was no safety net any longer, for with risk comes a reward of the greater sort and I was just handed the opportunity to see which side of the spectrum sides with someone who has been holding a lit fuse that has long passed its life expectancy.

[cody bowers-fox enters the feast]

[cameron]

heather; intro

Heather Tenley After the extracurricular activities of the day,I was ready for some rest and relaxation. Which was weird to have in the midst of the Hunger Games, I was pretty sure, but for whatever reason no cannons fired that day so the others must all have been enjoying the same luxuries as myself and Tyler. Maybe the other Tributes gave/received fellatio while covered in mud and muck, too! Unlikely, but not impossible! And regardless, none of them gave/received as good of fellatio as me/Tyler gave/received. That's for damned sure. And I totally got a protein boost from the aftermath, which definitely helped my body adjust to the constant ache from a lack of food. All in all, I couldn't complain about my day. I'd slept with a cute boy, I'd heard the flutter of his heart increase exponentially the second I touched him, and to close it all I smothered my face in mud and laid back to exfoliate. And I still hadn't found my clothes - not that I was necessarily looking, but I was slightly self conscious about this mole on my ass and I wasn't sure I wanted the entirety of Panem to get as much of a look at it as they'd been given. But this would be for sure killing my mother, so for that I would continue to suck sausage on camera. When I washed off the peat mask with gross, murky water I heard the scurry of feet. Tiny, little ones hiding in holes. Chatter and Spreadsheets heard it too, because his misty paws galloped in the direction of the sound and her wings shot her straight after him. I stood up, following the sound too, leaving Tyler behind to look cute or contemplate the nature of fuckboys or whatever it was that he did in his pretty little noggin. I could hear that whatever was jumping around in the holes - rabbits, probably, or maybe some moles? and not the kind on my tail - was nibbling on something that sounded vaguely fleshy to my newly acute ears. Whatever it was was definitely dead, though, that much I knew from the stillness surrounding its form. If it was the corpse of some animal, I could bring it back to Tyler and possibly make dinner out of it when reunited with Daria. Having only one person in your alliance that could make fire really wasn't the smartest of decisions, but who were we to pretend and be smart? We aligned because our stylists made us get stuck together in an elevator, not out of necessity or mutual intellect. Chatter yapped beside me, and Spreadsheets started pecking into the holes where feet were pattering. With the present distraction, I reached in the dead air hole and removed what was held within its walls. My hands traced it, every nook and cranny, and I was fairly certain it was the head of a human. Whose head exactly I couldn't be sure, but there was a matted mess atop the head and ripped flesh at the base. I figured Tyler probably didn't want to feast on a human's head, so I tossed it aside and made my way back to Tyler, nestling up into his warmth and falling asleep. I was startled awake, being rushed and basically tossed into some carriage by Tyler. Chatter and Spreadsheets jumped in behind us and we were instantly shot forward. I could smell the head from the day before was here - and on cue Chatter began to cackle. The little shit had carried it back with him. He was a fiend for body parts, that was readily apparent starting with his fetch with Leo's arm. But quickly that smell was ripped from my nostrils as another, much more overpowering and tempting scent wafted into my being, taking me over. It was a scent I'd been locked in an elevator with, a scent I'd been covered in blood with. A scent I couldn't get enough of. Beretta Corleon, a queen in every sense of the word, was in this cart with me. I wasn't sure where she got a cart or anything to pull along a cart in the Arena, but of course if someone was going to be treated as royalty it would be her. No one else was nearly as worthy. A morbid thought crossed my mind that I'd be absolutely honored to be soaked in her blood again and instead of stifling it I marinated in it. It soaked in, seeping into my veins and taking over my body. I sat entirely still, barely breathing, not wanting her to know what I was thinking when I was almost positive she could read my mind regardless. Someone as ethereal as Beretta should be able to tell what anyone is thinking. The smaller one that tagged along with the queen curled up and propped his legs up on my lap, allowing me to release my breath and relax again. I exhaled and slouched my posture as the carriage continued to rattle us forward. Something felt off about the boy's foot, and it smelled similarly to Chatter's head-soccer ball, but I tried to pay that no mind. Instead I focused on breathing in the juicy, flowering aroma that came from the deity beside me. I smiled in Tyler's direction. He was cool too, but.... Beretta. And then she kissed my forehead, her signature lipstick pressing into my skin and sticking there. As her lips pulled away, each cell in my skin fighting to hold Beretta's mouth there. The slow pullapart murdered me for a few seconds and I was pretty sure I shook in my seat, but I regained composure the second I could. That was one thing I could thank my mother for: teaching me to always regain composure. I couldn't just let Beretta know I wanted to fill a water tank with her crimson blood and dump it into a bathtub. But I could think it all day long and no one would be the wiser. Unless, of course, she could read my mind. And just in case.... please tie me up and abuse me. I thought it hard and I thought it loud, to make it easier for her to hear. You know, just in case. Then Spreadsheets HONKed in my face and I jumped, my bare breasts banging Beretta boldly across the face. Maybe it was a good thing I left my clothes in the bog after all.

ooc: heather enters the feast

[lance]

[tyler westbrook/intro post]

TYLER WESTBROOK

Of all of the nights that Tyler had experienced in the arena so far, this one definitely took the cake as "most bizarre and slightly terrifying."

At some point throughout the night, he had been abruptly woken up by the rumble of some unseen noise, almost like wheels grinding on a stone road. Yet Tyler had remained unaware of what caused such a noise until the thing had whipped past.

Two riders sitting upon identical jet black horses whipped past at a rather frightening speed, pulling along behind them a sort of carriage large enough to fit several people. The blond boy couldn't be sure but he swore that the riders had no heads. As they passed the makeshift camp, the horses literally screeched to a halt, their hooves skidding across barely solid ground. Somehow, the carriage behind them stopped as well and didn't give the horses a nice booty tap.

His attention had quickly been drawn elsewhere, however, as the other thing appeared.

Tyler heard the monstrosity before he saw it, in the form of a steady thump, thump, thump.. A chill ran down his spine, and the blond turned around to see a gigantic shape, complete with leathery wings, slowly making its way in his direction.

It was at that precise moment that Tyler had decided to jump on the nope carriage heading to fuck that shit ville.

He had quickly gathered his stuff and woke up a still-nude Heather before quite literally dragging them into the back of the carriage. A faint voice shouted out from inside, and Tyler swore he heard the words "Get in, losers!" as he jumped on.

Once he and Heather were properly situated, the carriage abruptly started up again, and in the distance Tyler could here a roar of annoyance from the nope in the distance.

Catching his breath, Tyler finally got a good look at his fellow passengers for the first time.

One was a rather frightening looking girl that Tyler recognized almost immediately as one of the Careers, the girl from two respectively. The fact that she was wearing nothing but what seemed to be a sort of bone armor didn't exactly calm the boy's nerves.

The other one looked a lot less threatening. He pretty much looked like a fetus child, if a child had a strange looking leg and...was that a tail?

Trying to keep his unease hidden, Tyler leaned over towards Heather and whispered the events of the last couple of minutes to her, right down to the bone fingers on the girl's hands.

This was going to be a fun ride, that was for sure.

table coding (c) ghosty

[tyler enters the feastbath]

[L△LIA]

[Beretta Corléon // intro]

Rioting with joy, you scream while recklessly leaning out from the pumpkin carriage — fur and blood-matted hair rippling in the wind, silver banshee helmet sparkling with sunlight as you are chauffeured from the bog by a pair of dullahans. It feels natural that the Queen should be sent a royal carriage and you climbed in without a second though at its arrival. Unafraid and unsurprised, only wicked satisfaction writhes within the empty, ringing bell of your chest. The echo of you is something like a cathedral calling believers to church. Come and worship!

Whip cracking against the air, you giggle and whoop as the dullahan cross paths with a beast nearly as fearsome as you. Serrated teeth and claws born with lives of their own, it casually threatens a pair of Tributes simply by casting its shadow upon them. You almost turn your cruel gaze to leave them to their fate, but the girl is beautiful in your memory. The last time you saw her she was bathed in blood and your strange heart skips a beat, snaring her hand as the carriage rolls past. "Get in losers!" Tugging her in, you tumble backwards, your back pressed to the floor with her sprawled on top. She's naked and you're disappointed by the bare skin. She was beautiful in red. "We're going killing."

Pressing your painted lips to her forehead, the lipstick isn't blood, but it's sanguine-bright upon her face and you grin. Teeth and teeth and teeth into infinity, your smile is wide enough for her to fall into. It is an obvious trap, but an effective one. Heather's companion pulls himself in after and you reach for him too, pulling yourself up as you lure him into you. A second kiss mars his cheek and you collapse into the seat beside your darling pet, Kitty nuzzling into your side. The toxic orange pelts of your coat fill the carriage with ironic softness, cloaking your bones — both born and borrowed — as the four of you travel in luxury to a feast for the gods... or at least one of them, you smirk.

Daydreams of blood fill the air with reverie. You see glimmers of it in Heather's eyes, her blindness unable to erase the visions in her mind and it distracts you into deadly calm. Bathtubs overflowing with blood drip drip drip from her thoughts into yours, confessing that you are a contagion. Pestilence never had such a pretty face until you, plague-mother. From outside the booming footsteps of the Balor that follows in your wake mark the steady beats of your heart. A rhythm of blood, going BOOM... BOOM... DOOM...

Lashing out at the door of the carriage with the leather dressed talons of your cat-o-nine-tails, it clatters open in a cavalcade of sound to announce your arrival. Queen Corléon with your twin headless henchmen, twelve-foot-tall inferno of an escort, three-piece gang of skin and scales and unholy markings, a war hammer in one knife-clawed hand and dominatrix whip in the other — you're still grinning. Teeth and teeth and teeth into infinity. "Bow down, bitches," you sneer at the other Tributes before rallying your troops, your precious pawns. "Off with their heads!"

[beretta enters the feast]

[анзие (Anz)]

[kitty keeni | intro]

The pumpkin carriage moves smoothly across grassy terrain, and with Beretta at his side, Kitty is safe curled up against the girl's hip. The gentle rumble of his throat is swallowed by the turning of the wheels, and even if Heather and Tyler were odd strangers, this place is comfortable. His monster leg lies carefully across Heather's lap, and Tyler's expression is the outcome of the calm that encircles their carriage.

Behind them, the winged woman-creature keeps up easily with the headless riders escorting them to the Feast. In the fog, it seems as though the landscape is running at them instead of the other way around: trees, odd rocks, and unnatural growth leaps out of the fog only to pass the carriage by.

Kitty's hand finds Beretta's, curled fingers clinging to hers; she deigns to let her hand remain tangled in his. From the moment he woke, the priority was finding Harbinger and Chloe - but with the knowledge of a Feast - two separate feasts at that - Kitty wonders if he will be able to find them in the dense blanket around them. He wonders if Beretta, with her cat eyes, will be able to see them, wherever they are.

Somewhere at his feet, the snow cat isn't sure what to think of his new limb. Kitty turns his head to watch the critter absently; the cat reaches out with a wary paw, jumping back within an inch of touching it with his ears pressed flat against his skull, teeth bared. Yeah, me too, Kitty thinks. Beretta's sphinx turns her one-eyed head, never pausing her elegant tread, to turn her nose up at the snow cat and give him a disdainful sniff. The cat shakes out his fur and settles against Kitty's real leg, chin on his calf.

A weary smile finds its way to his face. Kitty's eyes fall to his new limb, and he has to look away. He wonders what image he and Beretta make: the creature who wore human, and the human who wore creature - both sides of the same coin, their hands linked like separation is unthinkable.

It is unthinkable. Kitty grips Beretta's hand tighter, pressing his cheek into the curve of her hip. Finding Harbinger and Chloe isn't a point of want anymore. Not like it would have been two days ago - his attachment to them has grown so far beyond that.

He wants their comfort.

The carriage slows to a stop where the fog ends. The Balor at their back stops with it, the woman's head lifted high and proud. Kitty pulls himself upright, not ready to let go of Beretta. Looking up at her, he grips the handle of his weapon, silent trust in the calm in his eyes.

Wherever she goes, Kitty will follow.

"Wherever," he tells her.

A feast awaits.

kitty enters the feast

[Neptune Liefde [tribsit]]

Nov 7, 2015 13:52:20 GMT -5 Neptune Liefde [tribsit] said:

[Neptune Liefde / Intro]

[Neptune Liefde / Attack 1 / 13188]

---

C O N T R O L
N E P T U N E L I E F D E

---

And all the kids cried out,
"Please stop, you're scaring me"
I can't help this awful energy
Goddamn right, you should be scared of me
Who is in control?

Restlessness devours my mind with every passing second that I slip more and more under the deafening spell of the raging war. I can hear the horrifying screams of death returning to my ears just as the day when I had first arrived, when we all had first arrived. Fear no longer races through the hollowed bones of my body as I see the blood swirling in scarlet pools upon the ground. All my life I have lived within the confines of my own throat, never allowed to escape or be free. Now around I find myself in a storm caused by the same pointless drive I have been combating for all of my eternity. They all fight for freedom while I simply carry on the duties I was forsakenly given in life. To them this was all just a game, but to me it was just like everything else I have ever known. It was just another burden for me to carry across my chest, and now I would deliver yet another blow to burden yet another innocent soul wandering the mysterious mists of this tomb we now battled in.

---

D A M A G E : 4 . 0

---

Neptune Attacks Annora Taylor With His Glaive
SIbMgVg5glaive
{ Deep Gash on Right Calf -- 8.0 damage}

glaive

[*]

Nov 7, 2015 13:52:22 GMT -5 * said:

Taurus Hawk; Intro

Taurus Hawk
District Nine Tribute

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

Run like your heart is beating out of your chest. Run like you've never run before because I'm sure that if I don't, I will meet with death himself and be escorted out just as fast as I was escorted in. There is no sign of my allies. Ruth and Septys are no where to be found and that scares me. Instead of their friendly faces, I'm faced, once again, with Neptune. My heart flutters with happiness for only a moment and then turn my attention back to the task at hand.

"Shit." Breathe.

"Shit." Breathe.

Those words are only the things that I can say. The only sign of life in me as my chest moves. In my heart and mind, all I can picture is the bell in my pocket. Thunder sitting at him watching all this happen. Jett keeping him calm. Curious about the note that is wrapped around the chain. This is a domino fight. I only hope that not all of us fall to the weight of another.

Taurus Attacks Annora With His Knife
9QYf4Fixknife
{Results}

Accuracy because Taurus sucks. XD
knife
knife�knife

[Kire]

Nov 7, 2015 13:57:12 GMT -5 Kire said:

[Someith Krearns, Intro]

[Someith Krearns, Attack 1, 3015]

i've been chasing down a memory
like a mystery, girl

Third Person, First Person, Says, Thinks

Everyone rushed in all at once with no direction and no thought. Disappointing, in truth, but also making for easy pickings. Grinning, he yanked his pole hammer from his pack and swung it in front of him. He would stick them like pigs, gut them like prey, watch them bleed and hear them scream. This really would be a lovely day. The wanna-be flirt was first, he would take down the boy with something like glee and spread his remains around like trash. That would show the idiot not to mess with Someith and his girls. Yes, that was what he would do first.

[Attacks Taurus Hawk | Pole Hammer]
Rtqhx4yZspear
block -- 0.0 damage

accuracy
spear
Shallow Cut on Cheek -- 3.5 damage

spear�spear

[umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars]]

Nov 7, 2015 13:57:18 GMT -5 umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars] said:

[Dustyn Chase, Intro]

[Dustyn Chase | Attack #1 | 3180]

D U S T Y N
C H A S E

"There are no foxes in this arena- we're all rabbits."

The words shoot like daggers from Cody Bowers-Fox's mouth that had spurred only sarcasm from the beginning on. It was a delayed reaction truly, and Dustyn couldn't focus on each syllable- word that escaped as he said so. Instead, he looked as aimlessly as his thoughts were, uncollected in constellations, left to roam through space with no order. No order, and simply chaos.

"We're all rabbits."

Dustyn's voice was lost in the time and space. It didn't come together clearly, but he mimicked the words that were spoken to him in a broken rhythm.

"A fallacy, Cody.", he turned slowly to meet his gaze for but a second. "There is no rabbit in you, Bowers-Fox."

[Dustyn attacks Taurus Hawk; Pike]
R8oQLc0qspear
[3180 -- Deep Gash on Right Calf -- 8.0 damage]

{ credit to: zoë }

I CAME TO GET HURT
MIGHT AS WELL DO
YOUR WORST TO ME

spear