the sun may never rise again } excalibros vs 2 yetis

[Flynn Garner d6m [Tribsit]]

j e n o a h

The flames died out quickly after I killed him. It’s the glaive and its possessive power, a blade so powerful it has already slayed two. I can blame the blade but the others won’t see it that way. I am sure Asha will be pleased with my kill count, probably jealous. A boy from Eight out doing him, I’d probably feel embarrassed in his situation.

But I don’t feel it; once again I don’t feel the pain that I expected. My mind collapsed worrying about the moment that I would have to kill and now on two occasions…nothing. What is wrong with me? Where is the immorality creeping from?

The families, the families that I have put into instant grief…Mordecai’s and Myara’s. Oh why did I have to kill someone related to a victor? If I win this I will be met by hatred as soon as I step out of here. I have never met them but I have for sure created enemies, enemies with strangers. Strangers I may not ever be able to apologise too, I’ll likely never get the chance to beg for forgiveness but who would accept it? If anyone killed my family as merciless as I have today, I’d never give them to light of day…

It’s all over…for now. Desimae and Asha retreat together, their wounds just as bad as each other’s. Mitchell tries to snatch an item from Ansgar as he skedaddles, somehow able to steal a prize from the false god worshiper and then it’s just me and Mitchell. The fight is extinguished and now I am left to contemplate it all in the ashes.

Mordecai’s lifeless body reveals a few valuables, it feels wrong to steal from the dead but it’s the only way to survive. I leave his water, a thirsty tribute will be in need of that and well I am fully stocked with the liquid.

And so it’s time to start again, the process of wandering to a destination to add fuel to forever burning fire. I may not be able to see the flames right now but it’s always there…following, for it’ll be likely my destiny. The destiny to fall into the pits of hell.

But first, I have to get through tonight.

Everyday seems to be so recurring and predictable. We wake, we fight, I kill, Desimae and Asha skedaddle, me and Mitchell are left behind in the aftermath and then we sleep… I bet I can figure out what will happen tomorrow.

Somehow I acquired a variety of items, some that I already possess and amongst it all, another weapon. I test the durability of the hammer, a weapon I am more familiar with but I feel the glaive’s power. It’s jealously as I handle a new weapon…I simply cannot abandon it.

One thing I have learnt about this gamemakers, is that they enjoy to make a mockery out of the tributes. The uniform that I was forced to wear before stepping into the arena is an embarrassment but here they have a chest filled with just as ridiculous costumes, although they seem far comfier than what I am wearing now. There seems to be a theme with the costumes, they look familiar to some of the illustrations in the books back home but I pick out an ideal costume before the others get their hands on it. A mask, beige trousers, a white shirt (not ideal with the blood that will likely coat it in) and a hat…I don’t feel anything when I remove my family’s token from my head, the ever so famous flat cap. But that isn’t me anymore, I have a new uniform now. Although I can’t just abandon it, the only item that reminds me of home. I just won’t be wearing it for I am not proud of the story that it tells.

"Nice cape" I swing the cape towards Mitchell as it rests on my back, he comments on my new uniform., the mask on my face half covering one of my eyes. "Nice hood." His outfit is an exact replica an illustration in one of the books although I just can’t figure out which one.

Burrowing through my sporran, I organise all the items within it. Half of the prizes that I won today, I gave to my allies, I doubt I’d be able to ferry them around the arena, unless of course the gamemakers bless me with a donkey. I pull out the joke book that sits on top of the bag. I haven’t exactly shared any of the terrible jokes with anyone else and well, seeing as we’re dressed as fools, we might as well act like them.

"If children were allowed to dig for coal, would they still be miners?" I share one of the District Twelve related puns with Mitchell, a chuckle follows my words as I immediately understand it. Although, it seems Mitchell does not. "They are allowed to dig for coal." Well that disastrously failed, whoever wrote this book needs to find a new career. "Ahh uhmm, this joke book is really bad."

I hand to book to Mitchell, to prove that it is not I that has conjured up the lifeless puns. "How do you catch a bra? With a booby trap." Mitchell immediately finds the textile related puns, the one he shares being one of the most childish within it…really who thought of these? "These really are bad." At least we are on the same page. "Oh wow, I agree"

The pair of us fall into a pit of laughter, we have literally allowed the book to succeed, it is hard not to laugh at the dreadful jokes. "I have no idea who gave me it and what they were thinking, but hey at least we are laughing." For a moment, everything that I witnessed today vanishes from my memory as I relish in Mitchell’s laughter. Even in such dark times, we are able to pick out the blissful emotions. Is this normal? Or am I losing my mind? "Laughing in the face of death, what a way to spend the day. You better show me more later." His words stick for me longer than what they should, Laughing in the face of death, that is something that my father would say. Aren’t we meant to fear it? Death? I have so many unanswered questions, so many questions left hanging and the one person that used to answer them in the past, I abandoned as soon as I stepped in this arena. But would Ripred answer me if I started to believe again? No. I just need to find something else, something more real…

Night dawns on us quickly, as it always does. I don’t think I have had a full nights rest in here and I intend to have one tonight, even with the mess that is my mind. I just need to wipe the slate clean…again. I won’t have to kill anyone, not again. But that is what you said yesterday.

”Oh shut up, just shut up!” Scrunching up my fist, I bash my knuckles on my forehead, my figure hidden in the darkness from the others. This devilish voice that has set up home in my mind needs to vacate…right now. And yet, there is some familiarity in its tone, something that feels like home…

The sun blesses me; it confirms that I at least had a good few hours last night, despite everything. I gather up my belongings, being the first to awake as usual. Slowly everyone follows suit and we’re off to the next location, just another predictable motion in the recurring schedule.

Today I intend to guide everyone up to the mountain, it has forever looked over us and well, an adventure is in store. I have always wanted to see the arena from a great height, I may not be able to see all that it has to offer and one thing that I can praise the gamemakers on is the design of it all.

With the glaive in hand, I take the lead; I’ll likely be the one to face whatever threat is ahead…as per usual.

Attacks Yeti #1 | Glaive

BOsFiCt2glaive

13162 -- Stabbed in Thigh -- 8.5 damage

glaive

[kousei ♚]

a s h a

Slain kings and the corpses of giants blur and burn as I hold back yells of agony as I stumble away from twisted mirrors of bitter wounds. Shattered armor blends with suffering incarnate, the arena weeps for obsidian flesh violated and porcelain skin seared shut. Until now, I had never felt like an intruder in the face of my still beating heart and warm skin. I wince, cringe and stumble when I turned my head, almost outright tearing the wound open.

Kicking up water, sword dragging across the ground at my side, it feels like arrogance and confidence slowly fades into static background noise. No rest for the wicked, no mercy for the righteous; I collapsed to trembling knees and clutched the smile etched across my neck. I do not care to be thankful that the knife missed the network of veins and arteries, teeth hold onto the inside of my cheek as my eyes swim in countless shades of grey.

Hissing in my ears, seared flesh clouding my brain. When I see feet appearing from the ashen smokescreen of deceit constructed from steel and agony, I almost yell out through gritted teeth ('take one more step and I'll fucking kill you!') and a bitter tongue.

I dare stop and pause, recognition flooding through my veins and the grip on my sword loosening when I feel the heavy hands of Mitchell and Jenoah begin to poke and prod at the wound in my neck and hole in my hand. Distrusts speaks loud, untouched by the blade of the enemy, I do not put it past Mitchell to pull off his twisted mask of deceit and for Jenoah to plunge a glaive through my chest.

Who would help a madman anyway?

I turn a shoulder to my distrust of my new hunting pack when I feel no new violations added to the network of violations across trembling flesh and a fresh new helmet and medical kit sitting at my side. I'm satisfied by the goodies we've gained from Mordecai's corpse. Tall waves to swallow up the dwarf who was never a king. I plunged the sword of his district through his back without hesitation and Jenoah did not hesitate to slice through bone and taught sinew. With one swing he shattered the twisted mirror of bitter suffering; there can be no empathy in these veins.

When Desimae's hands touch these flesh I almost push her away and put my sword to her neck. Yelling and screaming ('don't fucking touch me!') but distrust lost the edge that it had in the hollow space in my ribcage during the first two days. She drank with me, she slept with me, she almost killed me and I still managed to turn a shoulder to distrust and logic and pre-determine my own downfall.

"Why are you helping me?" I ask, the grip on my sword loosening as she begins stitching together the holes in my hand and neck. Hollow words falling from the cracking voice of a mad man.

"Because I see through your viscous act Asha, you are mine. I will protect you." My heart numbs to the first sentence of her statement and races to the second. I came here because I was finished with playing pretend and I followed the calling of glory and gore. Look at the name Asha Lumiere and there is the word monster within the plethora of labels. The corners of my mouth still twitch at the concept but there is no pride in these veins.

Everyone's wanted to make me their own, they should've realized that I'm already a slave to the whitewashed walls of my mind just so I can fulfill the bloodlust that lingers in the corner. They should've physically locked me up.

"Why would I need protecting? Why would I be worth protecting? Other than the fact I can kill people with a smile on my face." And boy to I enjoy it. Bodily lust is nothing compared to the sweet nectar of the taste of blood. I'm good at this.

You're worth protecting because even in my worst pain you stayed true, even when I had fallen to fear to torment, you didn't run. You haven't turned on us thus far, and I don't think you ever will. You are so much more than just another of their weapons."

Even though my heart rate quickens, each hollow heartbeat still adds to nothing in the end. Father did say I got confused too easily; he said that's what made me feral.

"I... I don't get it," I do not think twice about the next words, "I belong here because I asked for this."

('I volunteer')

I wanted to feel something.

Stitching comes to a halt and I feel her hands on my cheeks.

"No one belongs here Asha. You did not ask for this, and all of this is not your burden to bare. This was forced upon all of us by Snow, don't blame yourself for the wretchedness of those around you."

Blind to the truth, she does not see that I am the wretched one and I love it.

I do not think twice when I look up from the ground and see her. Pushing her away, I turn my back to the shrouded trap of my own planned downfall.

"I'm gonna go look for supplies."

And I walk in the other direction until my feet get sore.

---

I wake up past the Capitol's lullaby somehow.

Stepping past the trap that could of been and the canons that were, we step away from the quarry with canon fire fresh in our minds. Mordecai's helmet proudly sits on my head and narrows my black and white vision to slits. I'm grinning at the added weight of the medkit in my bag; the confusion (distraction) of yesterday sitting in the back of my mind like a virus.

Gears grinding, bones clicking, muscles twitching to the promise of canon fire. I swear, every step I can still see the shards of bitter mirrors of agony littered across the ground; Mordecai's blood didn't even wash over from the length of my sword.

('Where is the method to your madness?')

No method, but I think I'm beginning to see a goal in sight. A mountaintop remains draped in grey clouds but I still barely see its outline in the clouded sky. The key to my freedom begins to seem unreachable in face of a mountain that seems as crooked and jagged as the shards from mirrors broken the previous day and the method to a madness unanticipated at thirteen.

Icy veins begin to thaw, adrenaline forms a tidal wave as the face of the Capitols genetic engineering makes an appearance before us. Giant apparitions of the Capitol's blood lust saunter towards us. Giant beasts resembling bears with white fur draped across muscled flesh. White teeth bred for ripping and tearing, white claws bred for laceration.

I cannot distinguished between the two beasts; shades of grey bred to paint whitewashed walls red.

Undefined on a spectrum of absolutes - there is no shiver in my voice or slight tremble in sturdy hands clutching the steel key to chain rattling. Movement automatic, I lift the sword and point the tip to the nearest beast. I do not consider the method to my madness or think to pin point the 'X' across my fragmented map of goals. I only want the key to bloodshed; since when was a method ever required?

[Asha Lumiere attacks Yeti #1, Falchion]

djqWyL0bsword

[1172 -- Block -- 0.0 damage]

Accuracy Reroll:

sword

[1039 -- Shallow Cut on Right Shoulder -- 3.5 damage]

sword�sword

[grim.]

d e s i m a e

    The peak of the horizon glints in ivory light, I see the faces of those that I can still call my own. Jenoah, Asha, Mitchell, they were all with me, they were all living. After four days of surviving, this was a gift not even thinkable, but here they were. I smile because I have them all, but my smile is quickly broken because I knew it wouldn't be eternal. I feel the dried blood still remaining upon my face. The thought of that foul smell lingers within my head. I take the cloth form my old clothing and use it to fleck the crust from my face. I had been granted a new get up. Covering myself in a flurry of spandex, charcoal clothing. It resembled the thieves that we had read about back in days of old. I was never much of a thief, though I had known a thing or two about stolen hearts.

    My three boys had stolen my heart the moment I realized that they were pure. That they cared and protected me when no one else would. Sure they all had different ways of expressing their fear, their love. They were mine because without them I would have been lost on day one. My lack of confidence, of moral. I had to make it home, and to do that I knew that they would have to fall, it wouldn't, it couldn't be by my hand. I will not stab the pieces if my own heart, they are my boys, my guardians. We had finally made it to the peak of the crooked mountain I had always seen far in the distance, the ridges peak bringing the four of us so much curiosity.

    I had yet to see any natural growing plants since our time in this arena, it was beginning to seem like an alien of a world. I had remembered that altitude had the possibility of increased plant growth, though there was no way of knowing for sure. I only hoped there was something up there, we would soon starve if we couldn't find something. We had made it to the peak of the mountain when a sort of huff grabs my attention. Beast unseen by man before. Beasts that only fairy tales could speak of. They are gargantuan in size, their fur thick and coarse looking. You would think beasts the size of these would cause a girl of my size to scream and run, but I would not run. I would fight knowing that if we fought hard enough, no children would have to die.

     "Hey Mitch, I bet I could batter up that meathead faster then you can. Who knew there were bigger meatheads then you in this world." I say shrugging my shoulders in sarcasm. I pull my black mask up over my nose, the trim of the charcoal cloth can be seen just below my tear ducts. I sprint toward the second creature, a knife in either hand. "Hey you, ya fat ass, how about you stop buttfucking your buddy and taste this!" I scream up to the mindless Capitol creation. I then pull my knife behind my ear and launch it at the beasts face, praying these things are much weaker then they appear. In reality I was practically shitting myself. 

Table by Kousei

Desi attacks Yeti #2 Jack // Throwing knife

tF2uT7Pvthrowing knife

{dg on bicep +8}

throwing knife

[Kingston Cesaire D3A [Tom]]

I'LL MAKE IT THROUGH, BUT NOT THIS TIME mitchell laws YOUR HOPE IS GONE, AND SO IS MINE

The world cries for Mordecai Wu, the constant pitter patter of the rain against the ground mixing with the blood that had come from the injured. A pool of blood and water that lays wet upon the ground. The rain was warm like tears that fall from eyes, except missing the salt. Hands move to push his hair back away from his forehead where it would lay annoyingly. Eyes stare at Jenoah as he begins scavenging the items he can, Mitchell's voice escapes like a whisper, "I'm sorry, Mordecai." Jenoah is silent like the world watching them fight for the enjoyment of sick minded individuals. A sigh escapes his throat as he nods to Jenoah, the ally skedaddleing into the day, leaving him all alone with Mordecai Wu's form. Hyacinth Mortuus had left him. Ansgar Todd had left him. Bolts Spark had left him. Jenoah Rasoio had left him. All that was left was Mitchell Laws and Mordecai Wu. A man who had someone back home who wanted him to come home to them. A family, a friend, a sister, a brother. Mitchell wouldn't know. He would never find out who truly was waiting for Mordecai Wu, unless he made it out, but he wouldn't. Mitchell Laws was made to die. Mitchell would end up like Mordecai Wu, dead upon the ground with no one left but a lone tribute standing over his corpse, but that's not how Mordecai's corpse was going to end up. Not on Mitchell's watch. Leaning down to stare at the man who was dying or soon to be dead, either way he couldn't care as Mordecai would fade from the world, a name lost within the rocky arena and the minds of his loved ones. A gentle hand strokes Mordecai's red hair, the color of the blood people had lost, out of his face. Peaceful in death, yet he could see the unfortunate end of Mordecai coming closer. The boy who's thin frame and small form shines in the rain, clothes attached to his skin like a new coat, except for the wounds upon his body. As Mitchell can see not only the new wounds, but scars from a time before the games. Cigarette burns that line his back both horrifyingly and beautifully and all Mitchell can think of is the scarring upon his own chest. The whips that had created the walls that held his heart in the first place. This could have been you. His conscience speaks to him like a ghost telling him everything that goes wrong. The voice comes off as Jack's but Mitchell knows it's himself. Fingertips circle scar after scar on Mordecai's back, until he can't feel his walls around his heart. Tears were for fools. His brother had told him this long ago, but in that moment, the signs of something so bad make Mitchell's heart ache with something else. Signs of Mordecai Wu still shove upon his body, the man was gone, but Mitchell wouldn't forget the scars, just like he wouldn't forget his own. Pushing softly, he puts Mordecai onto his back, staring up at the sky like the district four boy deserved. This should have been you. The voice is right. It should have been him, Mordecai could help Hyacinth more than he could, but this wasn't a perfect fairytale. Kings rise and fall with every second. Mitchell was only a twelve of hearts, useless and weak. Mordecai didn't deserve to die, but it had been his time. The face of Mordecai Wu looks soft to the touch, it had felt so, but Mitchell couldn't care. Honor amongst the dead. The dead deserved to be honored like the kings and queens that they once had been. Mitchell wasn't the type to believe in a god, but there was something about believing in something more that always spoke to him. People were meant to become something else, born into one life and taken to the next. Myara Lowe was the cousin of Saffron Lowe, but her next life, she would become a field of flowers, red and pink, beautiful in everyone's eyes. Myara Lowe was going to be beautiful, Mordecai Wu was something else entirely. Mordecai Wu seemed like the type of man to be like a tide, calm and loving to the people nearby. A gentle wind with salted gusts of ocean water that falls upon the people. The ever so soothing waters that Mitchell had never seen, but could imagine within his dreams and knowledge. Mitchell speaks calmingly to Mordecai Wu, "Mordecai Wu. You'll become the gentle tide of your home. Comforting the restless and troubled people with your calming embrace. They'll breath in your air and feel comfort in their life. You'll become something entirely new and perfect. Whomever is waiting at home for you will find you out upon the shore, a gentle movement and calming wind. Mordecai Wu, it is time for you to move on to your next life. I'll see you again. Goodbye." A sigh of relief escapes his breath, mother always told him saying something to honor the dead creates peace within yourself, but all Mitchell had was questions that would never be answered. Eyes stare down at Mordecai's face. A breath of air as he calms himself and the emotions that threatened to fall out. This could have been him. This could have been Mitchell's last stand. The burn marks reminding Mitchell that not everything was right in the world. They all had their own pasts that will have their own endings, Mordecai Wu's ending is sad. A man who feared fire, only to be killed by the thing itself. Mordecai Wu had a story that Mitchell would never hear, only the fortunate could hear his story. Mitchell was not the fortunate. He was only just a fool. A hand upon Mordecai's cheek, Mitchell leans forward kissing the dead man's forehead. A sign of respect within the Laws family. The dead received a kiss for safe passage to whatever came next. Mitchell hopes that Mordecai Wu will have a safe and peaceful journey into whatever life waits for him, but in that moment, it was time to leave. A kiss to honor Mordecai Wu, the fool leaves the king to rest peaceful in the rain. ~~~~~~~~~~~~ Mordecai's dead body flashes in his head every second since he's left the boy for death. The canon that had sounded sent shivers of cold air into his skin, another metaphorical scar to add to his ever growing list of failures. Mordecai Wu would become a tide that comforts the lost. Myara Lowe would become a field of flowers, pink and red, that would bring joy to those around it. Mitchell Laws had nothing, no future, no life to move onto. Nothingness to him, all that would remain was the memories of a thief trying to keep his sins down. The greed drowning him within regrets of the past. He regrets never truly saying I love you to Jasper. He regrets not spending more time with Carter. He regrets Jack and him losing their bond over the years. Regrets overwhelm him, but he stays steady with his walk. Walls hold him still from the sins that threaten to shatter him. Jenoah's silent like the sins and shadows that threaten to take the man that he used to be away. Mitchell studies him, two kills upon his blade. Jenoah was a killer, strong and steady, but yet he was a person with emotions, feelings, and dreams. Jenoah had killed, but in the end he still has morals like them all. The outfit that Jenoah wears looks rather weird compared to what Mitchell picked up. Green and brown upon the tunic that he wears. A hood was the better of the blessings to his outfit. Something to cover from the rain. The costume thrown over his outfit of plaids, he continues to walk, speaking up to Jenoah about the costumes, "Nice cape." Only a reply from Jenoah as they continue, a comment on the hood. "Nice hood." Silence eats up the space between them again. Jenoah shuffling items within his bag organizing the haul from Mordecai's body. That reminds him to check what item he truly took from Ansgar Todd. He curses at the thing in his mind as he slowly looks at the item, inside a medkit with needle and thread and bandages. A smirk upon his face as he realizes that he made out big. Medical items were useful and could come in handy later. As he shoves it back into his bag, Jenoah speaks up about the book in his hand, "If children were allowed to dig for coal, would they still be miners?" For a joke, it wasn't that good of one to Mitchell. Miners and minors. There wasn't anything funny about it. Kids dug in the mines too, just to make it by with a life in District Twelve. It shouldn't be a joke, but Mitchell speaks up with logic rather than a laugh, "They are allowed to dig for coal." Jenoah looks distraught, but speaks up again, "Ahh uhmm, this joke book is really bad." The book gets handed to him, eyes scanning the jokes and all he wants to do is cringe in disgust at the atrocities that were lining the book. He speaks up as he picks a joke, a terrible one, "How do you catch a bra? With a booby trap." His eyes roll in annoyance at the atrocity that was the joke book in his hands, his words fumble out, thoughts of the thing, "These really are bad." Mitchell hears him agree and then they both break into laughter for a second, "I have no idea who gave me it and what they were thinking, but hey at least we are laughing." A smile forms on his face for once, a rare instance of something to truly smile at in the games. Mitchell speaks up, Laughing in the face of death, what a way to spend the day. You better show me more later." Laughter dies down as night relinquishes the bliss of a moment. Sins dig through their bodies searching for weaknesses to find. Insanity threatens them all, but Mitchell feels his muscles ache with every second. The anthem pulls at the sky, and Mitchell pulls out the contraption that he figured to be a recorder of some sort. No one would heard him in the end, but recording his own voice helped him sleep. The nights before had been nothing more than silence except for the dead's names. As he notices the faces, Mordecai's is first. "Mordecai Wu." Then Jackson Samuels appears, an unknown name and face, but someone was waiting for him. "Jackson Samuels." And lastly is Ryan Summit, a girl who he never spoke to or knew, but she held a giant family, everyone knew of the Summits and Tates. "Ryan Summit." SOon after that, Mitchell falls asleep. The dead haunting him until morning. Morning rose beautifully, the sky was clear. Calm winds blow across the mountain as they continue marching onward to whatever destination waited for them. Mitchell's breath teased the air softly. Warm air intermixing with cooler air. That's when the parachute fell from the skies above. Gloves that fit his hands perfectly. A new warmth to them as he grips his sword comfortably. No emotion upon his face as he thinks of the gift. Silently they walk, but camaraderie was growing fast. Mitchell knew that they would have to part ways eventually, but his mind pushes him out of that area. As they reach the area, he can hear something in the distance. Jenoah and Asha move to the first thing, whatever the hairy monster was. A good hit from Jenoah. A alright hit from Asha's blade. Mitchell laughs out and says, "You can do better Asha!" Desimae strikes the other one straight away, speaking out to Mitchell like he expected her to do, "Hey Mitch, I bet I could batter up that meathead faster then you can. Who knew there were bigger meatheads then you in this world." That was Mitchell Laws, the meathead of the group. A useless man with useless skills, the best he could do is steal items from tributes, unless something bites him. Whatever the hell demon beast Ansgar carries around for fun in his pack. He mentally curses the thing and smiles at Desi. His words leak out softly, "You're on Desi. At least I don't smell like them!" His blade swings within his grip as the bonding continues between the four. Sins upon their shoulders, laughing in the face of death, they were strong. They had taken down Mordecai Wu. They had taken down Myara Lowe. The monsters wouldn't be any different. Mitchell, Desimae, Asha, and Jenoah would take out the monsters quickly and be on with their day, after all they had a meal to plan as he was starving. His stomach growls, but Mitchell strikes anyways. It was them or him and he'd prefer if it would be them who falls.

Inspired by the lovely Chelsey <3

(Mitchell attacks Yeti #2 Jack with sword)
9U7achafsword
(Shallow cut on left bicep 3.5) sword

[Baby Wessex d9b [earthling]]

ENNIS THE YETI

The evening prior, Ennis and Jack had sat atop their mountain and watched the glorious sunset. Not even the grotesque face of a crying woman could ruin their evening. They were celebrating. At long last, the tributes had entered the arena, scaled the mountain and dispatched of the Yeti named Rave. Now they had their clean, quiet cave to themselves. Ennis had spent the last day sweeping it out of fur and dust and snow while Jack prepared a vegetarian dinner. It was all very civil and domestic.

They slept that night on the mountainside, blanketed by stars.

Ennis was the first to hear the tributes crawling up the mountain. He always slept with one ear to the ground. He roused his partner and together they cleared a few trees on a level slope. By the time the four tributes crested the lip, they’d grown rather bored. It was with no small measure of relief that Ennis rose to meet Jenoah. The tribute’s weapon sunk into his thigh, robbing Ennis of the first blood. Another tribute swiped pitifully at his shoulder.

He scowled as he swiped down upon Jenoah.

[Ennis attacks Jenoah; knife and sword]

G7rOEzk5knife

[Two Severed Fingers on Right Hand -- 9.0 damage]

sword

[Block -- 0.0 damage]

JACK THE YETI

Jack meanwhile did not much feel like fighting. He hadn’t been down to the Rift Valley in an age and his stomach yearned for the flashy fish running in the stream. Ever since he’d been relegated to the mountain, he’d been forced to subsist on plants. They never filled his belly, but Ennis was too much of a good boy to ever disobey the Mutt Tamers. So he turned his hunger for food into hunger for something more. And really, he was quite content with his life and didn’t see any reason to fight at all.

Until she came to the top of his mountain and made a mockery of his love.

[Jack attacks Desimae; knife and sword]

knife

[Shallow Cut on Forehead -- 4.5 damage]

sword

[Shallow Cut on Back of Head -- 4.5 damage]

”knife”�”sword”�”knife”�”sword”

[d6a georgie cham 🍓🐢 frankel]

j e n o a h

The descent up the mountain is as expected, the view is so beautiful and the climate of the arena today really adds to the scenery. I can’t say I have ever seen a mountain in the flesh before, only ever illustrated in books and well, this one doesn’t seem like a normal one. The top of it looks…rather obscured, a likely added design by the gamemakers. For everything can’t be normal in the games. I can’t say the games as a whole are normal. But I know this tranquillity will not likely last long, a hoard of tributes are likely wandering the summit of the mountain.

Plants decorate the surface of the mountain; some look similar to those that were edible at the plant station in the Capitol training centre. My stomach still feels full from eating the meat collected from Mordecai’s body although I know the rest of my allies are likely starving, maybe we could forage some of the plants. Fortunately, there is an expert in such field in the alliance and hopefully Desimae won’t lie about a poisonous plant.

And as predicted, the peace is broken but surprisingly not by a fellow tribute. Grizzly creatures, matted in ivory fur and towering in height, block our path. I haven’t laid my eyes on a mutation in the flesh before and well, with the structure of the ones in my vision right now, I do not believe them to be those of a kind nature. At least if I kill today, I won’t feel bad about it.

Just as every fight has started, I am the first to swing the glaive to the creature, it is as if the blade yearns for blood, despite being coated in it just twenty four hours ago. The glaive sinks into the leg of the creature but it isn’t enough. Asha swings his sword to it, doing very little damage; the other two, take on the other furry beast.

Whatever actions happened next, are a flash to me but the result triggers an instant flush of pain in my body. This is the first time I have been attacked in this arena, I somewhat felt special but now that I look down at my right hand a mist of red coats my vision. My index and middle finger are no longer there.

”AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.”Tears stream down my cheeks as the adrenaline subsides; the full force of the pain pulsates up my right arm. I swap my glaive into my left hand, the stickiness of the blood from the wounds making my palm slippery. I need that adrenaline back right now.

”Asha…your career train- training…. would really come in han-handy…right now." My words sound muffled as they fall from my lips, the adrenaline slowly creeping back into my system.

All I can do now is attack and this is very well the right moment to kill.

Biting my bottom lip to try and contain the agony that wants to burst from my insides, I swing the glaive with my left hand, hoping that I am just as skilled in wielding it that way.

Attacks Ennis | Glaive

YNXINZz7glaive

13153 -- Shallow Cut on Left Thigh -- 3.5 damage

glaive

[kousei ♚]

a s h a

I do not understand.

Jenoah's glaive sinks into the first beast's thigh while my sword veers to the top and licks its shoulder. Barely licking its flesh through white fur and something black and thick weeps from the wound and sinks into its heavy fur. For a split second, the confusion becomes overwhelmingly unbearable. I stumble back, the weight of chains and expectations weigh me down and carry me back. Through the angry growls of the beasts and my own heavy breathing, I can hear rattles and clinks with every stuttered footstep.

It's strong and I do not understand.

Angry and pain-stricken growls from the second beast fall against deaf ears. I dare to tear my eyes away from the beast I barely cut and cast a sideways glance to the dark gorge across the second beasts' arm.

"You can do better Asha!"

A call to arms from Mitchell Laws and I clench my jaw; I do not understand.

He makes another thin black scratch against that same maimed arm on the beast and they do not wait for the white flag of surrender. I swear, for a moment I brace myself for whitewashed walls to become a canvas of crimson. Blood spatter, red droplets, shades of black and blue caused by two indistinguishable shades that thrive in the cold and were bred to paint my monochrome world. It stopped existing as nothing but fiction the moment I felt District Four's bones crack under my sturdy fists and blood spatter against obsidian skin.

No longer fiction, I do not understand when their teeth and claws veer from my still figure and tear two finger from Jenoah's hand and land two cuts on Desimae's head. At the sight of severed fingers bleeding against the ground, I instinctively move to fulfill the phantom itch; empty space tells me there is no commitment to be found in these hollow veins.

”Asha…your career train- training…. would really come in han-handy…right now." Trembling words fall on no longer deaf ears but meet a confused mind. I don't understand.

Twenty three tributes slain year on year and I swear, I've seen too many that fought for another. And I was supposed to be the mad one.

"Okay."

Hyacinth stabbed me in the hand and tried to split my skull open yesterday for dare touching her precious Mordecai; not one did my steel veer for her flesh. Ansgar fought for his false god and tried to burn Desimae and severed my finger at the bloodbath in the name of some madman in the sky. Jenoah, Mitchell and Desimae used resources after I nearly bit the hollow bullet and slit my wrists against the shattered mirrors that showed me a reflection of my agony.

Jenoah's trembling words fall against a confused mind, calling me to arms and I don't understand.

('Where is the method to your madness?')

No method but an attainable goal, but the real question is where is the method to their madness? Helping me, killing around me, fighting with me and expecting me to fight with them in return. Twenty three tributes killed year on year and too many times I saw them fight for someone other than themselves.

Undefined on a spectrum of absolutes, it is not fear that makes my footsteps stutter and my jaw clench.

I see Desimae, short uneven hair and all, with blood dripping down her forehead and soaking into the back of her head. In a monochrome world, she can't shine brighter than a supernova like she did on the first day and I can't see the fire in her hair. She faced me armed with the promise of death on the first day but she did not wield the scythe.

('You can do better than that, Asha!')

('Asha…your career train- training…. would really come in han-handy…right now.')

('Where is the method to your madness?')

Lust dictates my pre-emptive downfall; bottle to my lips and rationale lost on the rooftop I stop and stutter. Black soaking into her hair and dripping down her forehead, Jenoah's fingers lifeless on the ground. They're no longer shades of grey left to distinguish. I clench my fingers around the hilt of my sword and step forwards (purgatory,death,desimae,monochromia), I inhale-

(And I swing)

- and I fucking understand.

[Asha Lumiere attacks Yeti #1 (Ennis), Falchion]

7XttLcHLsword

[1051 -- Deep Gash on Cheek -- 8.5 damage]

sword

[grim.]

d e s i m a e

    As my knife gashes the large furry beast, the scent of blood is again wafted through the area before me. The crimson showing so vividly among their ivory fur. I could see as Asha and Jenoah shred apart the other Yeti, its skin being ripped from its thick fatty flesh. He had recovered so quickly, his wounds rather fatal the day before. His mind had never been at ease, but with a boy like Asha, ease was a foreign word. He was a figure of such strength, of a magnitude that i only could dream of ever becoming, but he was lost. He had been altered by the system, broken down and beaten until his only true belief was that he was a tool. A tool of mass destruction created for these wicked moments.

    He truly believes this hell was created for him, and those that are also of his kind. How a boy could fall into such delusion is beyond me, but I would not let one of my boys stray form the back. Mitchell was by my side, the two of us trying to keep this large beast at bay. Its claws lash out at my head, sending me into a state of whiplash. I shake off the shallow blows and pull myself back together. I could feel the warmth of blood trickling from my forehead. Its metallic scent just inches from my nostrils.

---

    As I sit here stitching the wounds of my boy from one, I can sense a confusion within his eyes. "Why why are you helping me?" He asks, his face seemingly distraught. I continue to stitch his wounds, my own aching more then I could believe. I had tasted blood too many times in this arena to take pain for granted any longer, He needed to remain alive, he was mine and I was responsible for his well being. "Because I see through your viscous act Asha, you are mine, I will protect you." I say gripping the thread tightly with my blooding fingers. I could still sense that he was unsatisfied. He believed that I was just a  ploy in whatever game this was he was meant to play. That I was disposable, if it meant he would be granted victory. 

    "Why would I need protecting? Why would I be worth protecting? Other then the fact I can kill people with a smile on my face." He says, his words stabbing straight through my chest. He wasn't wrong, initially I had initiated this relationship because I knew he was fearless, that he would keep my alive longer then I could keep myself alive, but now it was much more then that. He was a part of me, a part of all of us, I needed him more then I ever intended to need him. "You're worth protecting because even in my worst pain you stayed true, even when I had fallen to fear, to torment, you didn't run." I say, my stitching now stopped and my full attention on the fight that is happening within his self. 

    I watch as his head still shakes in disbelief his eyebrows furrowed at the thought of someone actually caring for him. This brought me sadness, he was bread and raised like cattle, his meaning etched in solid stone. "You haven't turned on us thus far, I don't think you ever will. You are so much more then just another one of their weapons." I say smearing away some of the blood left on his flesh from our encounter today. His satisfaction could not be quenched. A life full of torment and training could not be reversed with a few simple words and a kind voice. He would not understand how much I needed him, how much I loved him. "I...I don't get it." he mutters his words still so full of confusion. "I belong here because I asked for this." his words again pierce my very being. He believes he is nothing more then a mule. Going through the motions to complete the job at hand.

     I stop patching his wounds and I sit up to my knees. I wrap my hands around his face and I make sure that he listens to ever strand of words I have to offer. "No one belongs here Asha. You did not ask for this, and all of this is not your burden to bare. This was forced upon all of us by Snow, don't blame yourself for the wretchedness of those around you." I say, my words as sharp as the knives within my satchel. I could feel his face harden beneath my grasp, his confusion stronger then my will to pull him from this oblivion. I would not give up, this battle may have been lost, but the war would fall into my hands. He pushes me away, "I'm gonna go check for supplies." he says, I had lost his focus. He was no longer interested in being saved, in being loved. But he was one of my boys, and I would not let go of him, not now...not ever.

---

    The beast was beginning to look agitated with us, his fur coated ruby, and his face full of angry wrinkles. "Fuck off you furry bastard, I just got this haircut. I'm not going to let your grubby fingers ruin it!" I shout up to the ivory mammoth. I pull another knife from my pouch and pull it back behind my ear. The first beast had sliced Jenoah's fingers off, I could hear the tremble in his voice as fear overtakes him. I wanted so badly to run to his side and fix whatever I could, but I could not leave Mitchell for dead. I was determined to keep them all alive, i would ensure their safety for as long as I am capable. It pains my heart to know that one of them is in pain, my face was dropped in anger as I launch another knife at the second beast. I pray its target stays true, I wanted to pierce his eye, the easiest passage to his brain. 


notes: The (---) is key for a time jump to and back from the past, just for clarification.

    

Table by Kousei

Desi attacks Yeti #2 Jack // Throwing knife



mFPHRBvIthrowing knife
{sc on stomach +4}

throwing knife

[Kingston Cesaire D3A [Tom]]

I'LL MAKE IT THROUGH, BUT NOT THIS TIME mitchell laws YOUR HOPE IS GONE, AND SO IS MINE

The beautiful day was being ruined. Ruined by two annoyingly tall, hairy, smelly, and just giant beasts that make Mitchell want to stab them in the heart and enjoy the silence of the day. The calming winds hit his skin, while the memories of the rain just the day before takes him by surprise. Mordecai Wu's face contorted in fear of the flame. The cigarette burns. Everything he's seen. Hyacinth's look of surprise as Mitchell had come over the area like a fool, running straight into a mess that let Mordecai Wu die. He's now a tide Mitchell. He'll live on. The wind is him, even if it isn't the ocean's. Mordecai will be a part of the world, like every dead body. They were all a part of the same world, different backgrounds, memories, and dreams. They were all born from the earth and they would go back to it. After his spiritual and philosophical thoughts, he stares at the creatures and his allies. The creatures strike at Desi and Jenoah. All he could see were Jenoah's fingers disappearing and the scream that came with it. A scene that Mitchell wouldn't want to see again, but it would follow him into the night. The other one strikes Desi and she shouts at the beast about her hair. Mitchell yells out to Jenoah with fear, "Jenoah!" All he does is bite down his lip and focuses on watching the attacks from his allies. Jenoah and Asha striking and doing about the same damage as before. Asha's strong. Jenoah's strong. Desi's strong. Mitchell is only a fool, a boy who hasn't been in too many fights. A boy who hadn't killed. A boy whose heart was too kind to truly cause damage, but with the walls and the whip, Mitchell became someone he had to be, yet he kept his kindness. Harming another individual never happened until he was reaped and forced to. It was fight or die, but he never did anything promising. Only ever causing gashes upon people, but this thing. It wasn't a person. It was a monster who kills by nature, born for it, Mitchell could do it. As he watches his allies, only one thing pops into his head. The joke book that Jenoah had shown him last night. Desi strikes the furry beast in front of them. All he can do is remember a line from the terrible joke book. He yells out to Jenoah, "Jenoah! I just remembered something from that god awful book." As he watches his allies, who were slowly becoming his friends. The people who he truly was beginning to become friends with, even though they would have to kill one another. They would kill him easily, even if he had the advantage. They would cut him to pieces, but for now, he was growing with them. They were facing the same hell and their own problems. His grip upon his blade tightens as he looks to the monster in front of him. As his memory and frustration of not being useful form in his head, all he can do is stare at the monster. His blade glints within the sky like it deserved to be shined down upon. A breathe. One. Two. Three. Mitchell feels his grip tighten and he runs. He runs towards the mutt with a goal in his mind. He shouts out to his allies, the words with everything in him. A battle cry that really didn't make any sense, except to Jenoah and Mitchell, but he shouted it anyways as it made sense. He was beginning to grow fond of them all. Fond of everything they do together. Carter, Jack, and Jasper were his family. Desimae, Asha, and Jenoah were his family within the arena. They were fighting the same fight and he wasn't going to falter and become the weak link. He wasn't useless. He wasn't a fool. He was a thief. A fighter. A warrior. He was the twelve of hearts and still could beat others out. There was a chance but he would still fail. In that moment though, Mitchell felt strong for all the right reasons. "We're owl in this together!"

Inspired by the lovely Chelsey <3

(Mitchell attacked Yeti #2 Jack with Sword)
QdOUShj6sword
(Deep gash on left bicep 8.0)sword

[Baby Wessex d9b [earthling]]

ENNIS THE YETI

He'd done it. The little tribute roared something incomprehensible as Ennis parted his fingers from his hand. They went flying into the snow, which was really too bad; he knew Jack longed for the taste of flesh. The feeling of victory is skedaddleting. Even as Ennis swung again at the tributes, another one slashed at his head and very nearly got the better of him.

A rumble began in his throat as he shifted to fell his claws upon the attacker.

[Ennis attacks Asha; knife and sword]

CRGLJ3Huknife

[Miss -- 0.0 damage]

sword

[Deep Gash on Right Calf -- 8.0 damage]

JACK THE YETI

Jack meanwhile has been trying to assess the situation. Ennis' attacks have all been reactive, but Jack would prefer to have the upperhand. The level part of the Crooked Mountain is no bigger than the log cabin which one stood at the heart of the arena; one false step and they could all go avalanching down. That wouldn't be so bad, really. Jack casts about, looking for a soft spot in the soil as a knife clips his stomach, and then a sword sticks in his arm. Fine, he thinks, have it your way.

[Jack attacks Mitchell; knife and sword]

knife

[Shallow Cut on Right Shoulder -- 3.5 damage]

sword

[Deep Gash on Back of Head -- 9.0 damage]

knife�sword�knife�sword

[d6a georgie cham 🍓🐢 frankel]

j e n o a h

Pain has always resided in my mind but the sensation that is coursing up my right arm cannot be compared to it. How am I going to help them if I am already lame? Father always used to tell me to ”Lick your wounds and get over it.” I don’t think licking the area where my digits were once attached will do any favours. I can try my best to suck up my pain and get on with finishing off these creatures but I have literally just lost two limbs and well, I can’t say that has ever happened to me before. This cannot be compared to just a little scratch.

I wonder if Myara felt this same pain when I removed her leg. I wonder if Mordecai felt this same pain when he was fighting for his life. Maybe I am just getting a taste of the agony that I inflicted onto those two poor souls. Maybe this is Ripred’s payback. No Jenoah, just get this into your sick stupid little brain: RIPRED DOES NOT EXIST. He is not helping you, he is not helping anyone. The voice sounds different to the one that was in my head last night, why do I have so many visitors in there?

My glaive nips at the beast’s leg, the strike dismal compared to my last one. Somehow I am going to have to train my left hand to wield the weapon; I can’t say I am much of an ambidextrous when it comes to handling a weapon. But I have no choice; my left hand is going to have to do all the work while my right groans with discomfort. If I survive this fight, I have no idea how I am going to tend to such wounds, I doubt it will be possible to sew my fingers back into place.

”Jenoah.” My name is called in the midst of the fight; I put Mitchell’s face to the voice. My scream from earlier likely startled them all, I am still alive…for now. Every day it seems I have taken the lead with this alliance, always to first to wake up and decide where we head off too next. Being a leader is something that I have tried so hard to shake off but of course like everything in my life, such trait is hard to abandon. So it is my destiny then. Even on the path to death, I am the one up front, leading everyone to their grizzly end…including myself.

"Jenoah! I just remembered something from that god awful book.” For a quick second, I flash my attention to Mitchell, now not being the right moment to recite the disastrous jokes. All my focus should be on ending the creature that took my fingers but now I am yearning to hear that joke. A joke so dreadful, it is somehow able to add a spark of light to a dark moment. I just need something to keep my mind from collapsing due to the agony that is slowly ambushing my entire body.

"We're owl in this together!"

Now that is poor.

But it is true, we are owl in this to the very end. Only one of us can survive it all and I hope if it is either Desimae, Asha or Mitchell, that they remember the help that got them to the very end. If I win this, I have no one else but my allies to thank. They have been the ones to contribute to us succeeding in every fight, they have kept me sane. Each of them reminds me of someone back home, even the insane Asha, I am sure one of the men is just as bad as him. If I get the chance too, even if I don’t survive to the end, I need to thank them for getting me this far.

”We’re owl in this together? Of all the jokes, you had to remember that damn terrible one.”

I try to remember the words printed on the pages of the joke book but I cannot recall one mentioning anything about a furry beast. But maybe I can use the sick stupid little brain of mine to conjure one up myself. I was noted as being the comedian back home, maybe I can summon that side of me.

”Hey Mitchell, can you kill a furry beast just by throwing eggs at him?.” I don’t wait for him to acknowledge it, time is tight and I’d rather not die before finishing my joke. ” Of course - he'd be eggs-terminated.”

Unfortunately I do not possess any eggs; all I have is this damn glaive and let’s hope it pulls through as it has done before…

Attacks Ennis | Glaive

IJq8Rd35glaive

13044 -- Deep Gash on Right Calf -- 8.0 damage

glaive

[kousei ♚]

a s h a

Blood spatter flecks the ground shades of black,red,white decorating stone ground like paint on a canvas. Dry lips curl into a tight smile, the beast's black blood dripping from the point of my sword ever so slowly. Icy veins long since thawed but blood lust unsatisfied in the face of a heartbeat too numb to be felt in an empty rib cage.

I am a proud monster, icy veins thawed by blood lust is just proof of that.

Curses and profanities from Desimae remain unregistered by the apparitions of Capitol engineering. Barely less useful than her knives, it barely opens a thin smile across the second one's midsection. Hand pressed against the empty chamber known as my rib cage, I did not even stop to see the knife fly - I was more focused on the growing speed of thuds fueled by adrenaline.

I don't even call out her name, the smile simply drops - but I finally understand.

('No one belongs here Asha.')

Icy veins thawed by bloodshed, I doubt that's true in this moment.

I tighten my grip around the hilt of my sword. I turn my head to Mitchell to find him attempting the same action. Cutting down the product of Capitol engineering and attempts to draw blood across whitewashed walls. I don't even think to mention his name or cast a thought to his attempts. "We're owl in this together!" I sneer. I always hated that fucking jokebook but praise is caught in the back of my throat and suppressed by sneers and screeches when his sword creates a black ravine across its left arm. No words of encouragement or calls of surrender, I mindlessly lurch forwards and I flicker.

Ice encased around my still beating heart, but sinew and muscle fiber are stitched together by flames and ashes, I wonder if I would hurt any less if it were the other way around. I inhale at the flash of white and the explosion of white dull pain across my left leg. If it had not been for the tip of the sword I thrust into the ground, I would have stumbled backwards and collapsed under the weight of countless chains and labels. "Fuck! And I look down at the shades of black,white,red,grey dripping from the wound. I press a hand to my calf, as if pressure could fix years of the Capitol's engineering. A numb heartbeat does not make me numb to pain; only insensitive to the victims of monstrosity.

Shades of red do not belong in a world of grey.

Warmth running down my fingers, I ignore the shredded shin guards I received as a gift on the second day. Bad jokes and desperate humor is quick to become a blur ”Of course - he'd be eggs-terminated.”

Bitter laughter in the face of a wound that's indistinguishable from the last one. I take a step forwards, breath heaving and coughing in fits of uncontrollable laughter. "It's not even funny, but it's so fucking good." I manage to sputter between fits of laughter, no thought in the fragmented mind leading to the 'X' that marks the spot. I'm following dotted pencil lines while half-heatedly clutching at the straws - I'm okay I swear.

('Where is the method to your madness?')

I just want to run the arena red, even if I can't appreciate it. In the face of tall giants that have yet to be slain, I only now remember that not once were any of them were stabbed in the back. But it was not how they died that was supposed to live on, it was the essence of the grief they left behind and the kingdoms that soon toppled after them.

But despite their size, these are not giants waiting to be slain and the only kingdom in sight is falling no time soon. When I stare into their eyes, I see myself; the feral monster and all. Once icy veins but now thawed by a feral blood lust, I only wish to run the arena red even if I cannot appreciate the beauty. When I grit my teeth and lift a wet hand from the wound, it's the product of Capitol engineering and four years of madness.

('No one belongs here Asha.')

When I pay attention I hear gears of the Capitol grinding, feel chains dragging, the product of madness slowly ticking.

And I see a sword swing. "There's only room for one monster in this arena." And I howl.

Icy veins and a frozen heart could not be thawed by anything but blood shed. Desimae told me that I was more than a weapon to be fired or let loose to rip and tear. And she was right, only because the purpose of a weapon is to be yielded but I was labelled as defective soon after I turned thirteen - not fit for use to anyone but myself. She told me not to blame myself for the wretchedness of those around me; if only she knew I was a wretched incarnate of all things bad, a true monster proud and tall, born from the dark pits of insanity itself.

[Asha Lumiere attacks Yeti #1 (Ennis), Falchion]

_ktBb283sword

[1146 -- Shallow Cut on Left Bicep -- 3.5 damage]

sword

[grim.]

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[attr="class","DesiBar"]

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I watched as my knife slices a small slit in the beasts stomach. A single spurt of crimson exudes from the wound. I watch as their attention stirs over to Asha and Mitchell. I watch as one of the monstrous beasts slices a rather large gash into Asha's leg. A feel a sort of pain smear across my own face. I watch as he stumbles, I could feel his pain within my own heart. I could sense a sort of fear begin to surge into my bloodstream. Sure we were taking these beasts lightly, but they were not a joke. Who knows what the Capitol had equipped them with, and if we have only seen a portion of what was in store. The second ivory furred creature lashed out at Mitchell. A small scratch has been placed on Mitchell's shoulder, though the blow that followed was much harder then I had anticipated. I watch as his head flings forward, a wave of red spiraling form his skull. The beast had left a dripping wound in the back of Mitchell's the same beast still standing solid in front of me.

I wasn't ready to lose any of them, not yet. I was going to fight with every ounce of strength in me. I may not be built for this arena like Asha, but I am built to protect those that I love, and nothing was more precious to me then my three boys. Jenoah leaps forward in an attempt to protect Asha. His glaive comes striking down on the beasts leg, causing it to stumble. I smile, watching the two of my boys protecting each other brought me joy. I knew that they cared for one another, just as I cared for all three of them. "Will you two stop fucking around with those damn jokes." I scream in the general direction of all three of my boys. Though my words where more heavily directed toward Jenoah and Mitchell. "Watch his back while he regains his footing." I call to Jenoah, I'm sure he knew damn well what to do, but I wanted to ensure safe passage.

Asha seemed to be okay, regaining all of his normal composure. I watch as he glides forward toward the beast, but his blow was not as powerful as one would have hoped. I watch as he nicks the bicep of the creature, impressive considering how high up the creatures arms are, but still not enough to bring the thing tumbling. I turn my attention back to the fight unraveling before me. Red still steadily gushing from Mitchell's head. I wanted so badly to make his pain stop, but we had business to attend to. I look down to my two remaining knives, yesterday I had only gotten the chance to unleash two of these little devils, but today it seemed I would have to unload my arsenal. These beasts where thick skinned, their fur adding a thicker layer to their skin, and on top of that they seemed to have a lot of fat below that. Reaching their organs was going to be a task within itself, but it was what we would have to do if we wanted to watch them fall.

I could feel my uneven strawberry locks scratching against my bloodied forehead. I use my hand press them to the side, they had a way of up roaring annoyance. I take the two remaining knives from my pouch and hold them in either hand. I squeeze the hilt of the knife in my right hand tightly. I would let this beauty glide with all of the strength inside of me. I had to protect my boys. For the first time since we had entered this arena I can see the ruby fluid leave both Mitchell and Jenoah. Asha and I had done our duty of ensuring that the two of them remain unscathed, but these beasts had no agenda, they seemed to flail at all of us aimlessly. It would work to our advantage in some ways, but in others it made for a flurry of unwanted pain. I try to motion for then to get some distance on the creature, if only i had given my bow to one of the boys, perhaps they could have avoided all this agony. With not a single moment to spare I lunge forward. My knife launching from my fingertips toward the ferocious face of the creature before me.

[attr="class","DesiName"]

Desi.

Gorgeous Table by Anzie

Desi attacks Yeti #2 Jack // Throwing Knife

RiubxxzXthrowing knife
{miss}

Accuracy Reroll


throwing knife
{sc on thigh +3.5}

throwing knife�throwing knife

[Kingston Cesaire D3A [Tom]]

I'LL MAKE IT THROUGH, BUT NOT THIS TIME mitchell laws YOUR HOPE IS GONE, AND SO IS MINE

The joke was so terrible. The words that escaped from his lips embrace the air with a warm embrace, but the laughter that was supposed to come falters from his ears as the beast that Desi and him have been attacking attacks him. The blood splatters, or that's what it felt like. A fire burns at the edges as the pain takes him for a second. The first of his blood spilt by a monster whose fur makes him sniffle in disgust. His face contorts as the pain seers to life, but this wasn't much different than the whip's strike upon his chest. The screams and tears he had let out as the whips struck his body. The pain wasn't the worst part of it, it was the words that had stung more than the wounds. That boy deserves it. I heard he stole everything from that one rich family. Isn't that Mitchell Laws? I heard he's a monster. Daddy told me that Mitchell laws deserves to die for his crimes. Serves the boy right. He should be in a grave by now for what he did. The words echo through his head and he wants to break down again, but he can't. He mentally can not break himself down, the walls protected him from thinking of the atrocities that he grew into. It was all Jack's fault, but Jack had made it with no punishment. Jack was a monster, just like the monster in front of him that had cut his shoulder and head. They were one in the same, monsters that were meant to break Mitchell apart, sin by sin, until he was nothing more than dust upon the ground. As he balances himself and feels the anger inside of his chest burn like a fire rushing through a forest. Mitchell feels himself losing it from just one attack. This was what the capitol would want. Anger. Frustration. A boy who would give in to the darkness of the arena. A monster that could kill for fun with no regrets of the lost. Jenoah's voice breaks his anger, only for a second. ”Hey Mitchell, can you kill a furry beast just by throwing eggs at him? Of course - he'd be eggs-terminated.” A chuckle escapes for a second, but his anger burns within his chest, the smoke destroying the laughter before he could let it out. The jokes were done with, this was a monster like Jack in front of him. A furry beast that had brought back a pain that he locked up within his body behind walls and walls of concrete and mortar. Jenoah strikes the other beast with a strong hit. Asha calls himself a monster. Mitchell believes it with the howl that follows itself. Desimae speaks up now, "Will you two stop fucking around with those damn jokes." Jenoah has Mitchell's back as he gets up. Anger surges through Mitchell's head, heart, and body. As he steadies himself, he stares at Desi as she swipes at the monster that had cut him. They were all monsters in their own right. Desimae may have not killed someone like the other two, but cutting her hair had created a new fire within her. Mitchell would call her a queen if she had appeared like she was now at first, but Desi was losing herself to the atrocities. Jenoah was quickly changing, more of a leader, but he could see the internal struggle and the feeling of lost within him. Jenoah was a man who Mitchell would have not thought to be a killer, but he was growing to be wrong, a killer is what Jenoah was. Asha Lumiere was a monster from the start, Joselle stood in his way and she had lost her skull as it was crushed under his own fist. Asha was crazy and a monster who could kill. Mitchell wasn't a monster, or he thought so, but with every day, he grows uncaring of others and just knows that killing is what his reality is. Joking was getting old already and only brought a laugh out of him. Anger surges his veins, the monster within himself begs for Mitchell to open the cage and let it out. Let it out for the capitol to see. Open it so that the pain goes away for good. As his hand clenches around his blade tighter, the words echo in her head. He should be dead. Not Mordecai. He should be dead. Not Myara. Mitchell Laws should have died the moment he met Jack. Anger burns his insides and all he screams out loud is, "This asshole is mine!" Fury fills his vision and all he can see is blinding red of anger. He runs forward with every step feeling like an eternity. They all were there, fighting to survive. Mitchell wanted to survive, but he wanted to learn how to deal with the pain. He wanted to be free from the pain, but only more pain seemed to flow within his body every second he's alive. Death wouldn't be his eternity. He wants to live. He wants to survive. He wants to fight. He's giving in for once. He would become the monster that they would want. A monster that the capitol would be proud of. A monster who was worthy of a story. Mitchell Laws was dead. He was meant to die and be reborn into what he was going to become. That's it Mitchell. Let go. He swings at the beast before him screaming into the beautiful day with a new fire within his heart and mind, "Fuck you asshole!" His blade fills with his anger and Mitchell swings with the anger and pain of his memories that haunted him since he was marked with their words. This was his death, but he'd be reborn as a killer. Mitchell Laws was dying and being replaced by something that he wouldn't recognize.

Inspired by the lovely Chelsey <3

(Mitchell Laws attacks Yeti #2 Jack with Sword)
wg0bcheHsword
(Block)

Mitchell uses accuracy
sword
(Shallow cut on back 4.0)sword�sword

[Baby Wessex d9b [earthling]]

ENNIS THE YETI

Eggs-terminated.

He snorted.

What a ridiculous joke. Eggs could not be terminated. Although now that he was thinking about it, they were rather tasty. Perhaps Jack had been right and their foray into vegetarianism was merely a detour from their true calling. His stomach rumbled at the thought of fresh eggs and fresh meat. If only they could get to the Rift Valley.

Then again, there were four little meaty bodies currently trying to snatch his fur. Maybe he could make do.

[Ennis attacks Jenoah; knife and sword]

WrgyS_0Sknife

[Miss -- 0.0 damage]

sword

[ Deep Gash on Stomach -- 9.0 damage]

JACK THE YETI

Ennis had snorted at something - Jack couldn't quite hear over the wind and grumbling of the two tributes attacking him. He whined just a little, to let Ennis know he was tiring. They'd best get on with it, so they could return to their freshly swept cave and enjoy their evening.

[Jack attacks Desimae; knife and sword]

knife

[ Deep Gash on Left Calf -- 8.0 damage]

sword

[Shallow Cut on Left Hip -- 3.5 damage]

knife�sword�knife�sword