The Bloodbath

[revel latimer, 11b 🔍 jay]

d9f dahlia wolfsbane | attack 1 | 1178

     

dahlia ♔  wolfsbane

district      nine        female

These skies were not blue - but a midnight darkness with no light shining from burning suns and gleaming galaxies. Claps of thunder jolt her awake. She could feel every beat of heart against her chest, begging to break free from this skeleton cage. Her back lays against the cold and damp stone cellar walls when the echoes of footsteps outside her door. Blurs of white entrance her as they greet her with calloused hands and bound wrists. Shackles bind her hands and feet, cutting into her already raw wrists and chaffed ankles.

The men in ivory suits drag her to her feet and push her out of the cell. One foot after another, feet shuffle toward the gates of fire and brimstone. She could feel death breathing down her neck—an aphid on a daisy. Every step felt like an era of time, death lingering all the way.

They stopped in front of another cage—her breath hitching and heart burning. The peacekeepers flung her into the metal room and she couldn't help but think they were smiling as she awaited a battlefield of ash and caskets.

The room shuddered under her feet and butterflies flew throughout her stomach. Shadows of white hid in corners of the chamber. Then they came to a halting stop and light flooded the room. She recoils from the light like it was a burning star. "Move," one of the peacekeepers commanded with a raucous and guttural voice before pushing her into the light.

It was an arena—a stadium of steel and stone. The peacekeepers unshackle her and they drop to the sand with a clang. A sword sticks out of the ground, seeking the coppery taste of skin and blood. Her hand wraps around it's cold handle and when she picks it up it's like the hunger from the blade seeps into her veins.

Death stands in the middle of the arena, his inky robes floating and awaiting a heart to stop its rhythmic beats. Blood flies through the air and she can hear the cries which are like melodies to her ears. She raises the sword in her hands and swings.

These skies were not blue - so she'll paint them red.


[attacks ram tapsol d11m]

PbYBm2N6Yasword

[sc -- 1178]

sword

[pearl mcclain d4 [ryan]]

[Aurora Delphine D5F| Intro/Attack 1| ####]

They weren’t gentle with her one bit.

They escorted her off the stage and into a train cart before the district, and even though she could hear her father calling in the distance, they did not stop for a second to let her say goodbye. 

Good. She didn’t want too.

Fuck her father, that is what she would have said.

This was retribution for something, she was sure of it. She was being punished for his crimes somewhere down the line, and the very thought of that made her blood boil. The car she was in was barren, peacekeepers on both sides to make sure that she didn’t try anything funny. She stood by the train car door and began to pound furiously against it. She could let down the shell that she had worked so hard to create around her father.

She was angry.

She was pissed.

Maybe this was a good thing, get her out of her comfort zone and redirect the amount of anger that she had let pent up inside of her and let it all out. It would be cathartic, therapeutic even.  Something that she needed. The peacekeepers had to pull her away from the door before she seriously injured her hand though.

Her rage was just starting and she hated every minute of it.

---

She didn’t even try to think about anything good, because she had a feeling that it would be dashed away quite quickly. She was not someone who would hold onto such empty things anymore, because her father obviously did not value her life the way she valued her own. Maybe that was why this was all happening, because she didn’t try harder to stop her father. His choices brought this on, and while she did not blame the rebels for fighting for a cause, if she knew that it was going to lead to this, she might have fought against her father. At the end of the day, she knew this was all about self preservation, which meant the world to her father, and she was here.

He was not.

That was the part that ripped her to shreds.

---

She was huddled into a room and given clothes to change into. Aurora knew better about of lot of things, but she still had the anger of a lion in her, and she did not want to do whatever they wanted her to do. She shook her head in refusal and she quickly got the back end of a baton to her face. It stung, and she spat out blood before their eyes. They simply shook their heads and threw the clothes at her again. This time she was more receptive, because now she knew it was in her best interest. The last thing she wanted to do was die before she even stepped into the battlefield.

She hadn’t talked about it much, but she was good at watching others and taking note. Her mind was a sponge after all, why would it be different here? Right? 

While she changed, she thought about the days she would sit out on the veranda and watch the boys take care of the animals. She always had an extra day or two off because her father usually needed her to do other things, like run packages or clean around the house. But her brothers always picked up the slack for what it was worth. Of course, she also watched them fight in the middle of animal fields for fun, or at least, that is what she thought, until her father came out of the shadows and congratulated the one who one. 

It was always something that she tried to ignore, but of course, a curious mind couldn’t do that, and she watched intently while trying to pay most of her attention to the books she was given to read. Her father always thought that she was more interested in them, and so when she would sit out on the balcony, he always thought that she was doing no wrong, but little did he know that she was watching them closely.

It was just unfortunate that none of this was coming to light until now.  She stripped off her best attire and donned a uniform that her body wanted to reject, but she knew if she did, she would feel the wrath of another baton across her face, and she didn’t want any of that. Her hand still hurt anyway, all that pounding on the door really did a number on her. She needed to conserve what she could before she rose to a higher meaning.

She was sure that her death would culminate to something glorious.

But that would entail her making it up to the battlefield.

---

She doesn’t even know how to react as she is escorted into this place. She realizes quickly that it is a coliseum, something that she had only read about before. The books she had been given had at least taught her that. She just didn’t know why it was important. 

This was going to be a show wasn’t it?

That’s what she thought as she watched in awe as they announced that the bloodbath had begun.

She felt like she couldn’t breathe, but maybe that was the blood-stained taste in her mouth. She didn’t know, all she knew was that there was carnage all around her. She watched as children grabbed the swords in front of them and started to hack away at each other. Aurora wasn’t sure how to react to any of this. She had done so well at keeping herself out of situations like this, but now she was in the thick of it.

She was going to have to acclimate like she had always done right? 

Maybe.

She picked up the sword in hand and held it up for a moment, trying to get a feel for the weight of it. She realized that it might have been a bit too heavy for her one hand to hold, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t try. She had banged up her hand pretty bad, but after seeing a good amount of blood spilled, this was do or die now. She was going to have to fight her way out of here, but seeing as she didn’t know a single person here, how would she even try to justify it? No amount of knowledge could have prepared her for something like this after all.

She was going to have find her own way in here, if she was going to make it out alive.

---

Everyone seemed to be focusing on each other rather than try to focus on her, which gave her a little breathing room. Aurora though had to decide if attacking someone was going to be worth it in the long run. She could tell that these swords were sharp, and ready to carve into flesh like a hot knife into butter. The capitol was going to get what they wanted out of them whether they liked it or not, and so maybe Aurora had to acclimate.

Maybe she just had to take a chance.

But the fear was still paralyzing her, and the moment she watched a boy run up and slice the arm off of one of the girls who had already been taking a beating, she realized that this was real. 

If she was going to survive this, then she needed to be proactive? Right?

Maybe she needed to rip a page out of her father’s book to make a decision? Maybe being as cutthroat as he was would give her the edge that she needed to survive in here. She didn’t know, and while there was screaming, and slicing, and all the chaos one could ever want going on around her, she needed to lift her weapon and strike.

Aurora Delphine didn’t want to be known as a wimp here, and that meant just going for it.

She watched as a girl with dark black hair and a complexion opposite of her own went in for an attack on a boy. Her back was turned, and if that wasn’t a sign for her to make her move, then she wasn’t sure what was. She looked like she was out for blood, and Aurora knew that taste all too well thanks to her father.

She hated her father.

So it was time to show the world what she actually thought of him.

”I can smell the copper-thirsty breath you emit from here.” She spoke with refinement as she tried to make sense of all of this. ”How do you stand the taste of blood?”

The sword still felt awkward in her hand, but she had watched the others here enough to at least learn how to swing it. If she was going to commit to this, then that is what she needed to do. So she lifted the sword above the girl "Ive had a taste and I cant stand it." thinking about the blood that she spat from her mouth just hours ago as a peacekeeper had smacked her upside her head. She didnt miss a beat. This is what Aurora was going to do, just like it was done to her, and she wasnt going to change her mind.

And so, she struck.

Aurora Delphine D5F attacks Dahlia Wolfsbane D9F | Sword
f_IJRLETW_sword
[1139 -- Deep Gash on Right Bicep -- 8.0 damage
(Sword)]

sword

[d6a georgie cham 🍓🐢 frankel]

Jan 18, 2020 13:16:08 GMT -5 d6a georgie cham 🍓🐢 frankel said:

d12f emmi coulter | post 2 | no attack

d12f emmi coulter | post 3 | no attack

A guardian angel whose wings are so easily clipped away. It is truly not meant to be. Nobody is out there to protect me; I just exist to care for others, but I am a healer and not a fighter…I cannot help this girl. Blades cut at her skin and I bite my lip as the blood pours. One swing of a boy’s sword and the arm form the girl comes loose… My gut slurs with acid and it is hard to fight back the tsunami of this morning’s breakfast as it makes its way up my throat. I am good at avoiding anyone’s feet as I step away to let it escape and catch my breath. I cannot just stand and watch this; I need to get out of here.

”I am so sorry, I don’t know what to do.” Every inch of my body trembles as the sword goes limp in my grip. I am not a soldier in this war. This is not my battle to fight. I cannot help her. ”I am so sorry.” Tears are constant and the words of the boy who speaks highly of the Capitol sting me with a flight response "But tsk, tsk, protection isn't the name of this game. Cleansing, however, is at the top of the menu." I cannot be in the middle of this.

My eyes scan for an escape and a fleeing boy catches my focus. He simple evades any contact from the kerfuffle, setting my path away from the danger. ”I am sorry.” No matter how many times I say it, it won’t heal the wounds that have been left on my unnamed angel. I will remember her face for as long as I can.

My overalls are dripping with moisture, my sleeves rolled up to my elbows as I simply run, not looking back to see if any blade follows. Right now, I could just run for miles without stopping. I could run for days, weeks even. Just to get as far away from here as possible. There is no escape from this circular dome, trapped until the last one breathes. We are like rats in the traps they leave in the crevasses of the mines. Left for weeks until there is no movement within them.

I stop when the boy I am following stops. ”I am not going to hurt you.” I call out to the red headed boy. ”I just want to get away from the madness.”

[Emmi does not attack]

[tick 12a / calla]

Jan 18, 2020 13:12:28 GMT -5 tick 12a / calla said:

d12m jett davies | attack 1 | 1035

d12m jett davies | attack 2 | 1136

j e t t

The girl takes off and I almost move to follow, feel the copper rust of blood on my blade as I hold it as high as I can.

But there's a commotion nearby, a glint of silver that catches my eye. I remember the timber of the voice from the cells, the declaration from the chaos of the gates lifting, you better hope another rebellion don't start because'a me, and I remember the body that had darted out like a wildfire.

A confirmed rebel.

I think I can feel something stir inside of me.

The body, a girl who leaves a trail sulfur in her wake, slashes an arc of light and I have to blink once, twice, three times. Because for a single moment, the boy she attacks looks like Joah. There's already blood on his face, a red sun rising, something familiar, and I can't help thinking of my big brother, all alone in his idiocy now, back in Twelve.

My eyes flit to the sea of white above us, to all the soldiers Joah'd always been so afraid of.

I wonder if my parents can see me now.

I don't know what exactly happens, but I'm suddenly moving.

"Fuckin' scum," I spit at the girl, remembering again and again how the rebels had tore my family apart, "Leave him alone."

jett attacks avonlea ; sword
sDjzCTaBhDsword

severed left arm at shoulder -- 10 damage

sword

[mat]

Jan 18, 2020 12:50:50 GMT -5 mat said:

ram tapsol; intro; no attack

ram tapsol; attack one; 1177

[googlefont="Srisakdi:400;"]

ram tapsol
-=+=-

She catches him by surprise with a quick swipe at his leg. He jumps, startled by its stinging nature. It burns, and his natural instinct, grabbing at the cut as if to somehow protect it, creates a sensation foreign to Ram. All his life, he's told himself that words could not hurt him. And they never did. But as the old saying always starts off, sticks and stones can break your bones. Similarly, so can the sword of a gladiator.

He stares at his assailant. A girl no older than him, dark haired and a dark complexion. She's confident, at least against Ram. His hands masked nothing, not the wells of tears that pour the drops from his eyelids, nor his quivering lip. This is a dome, no bigger than the fields he was just getting used to tending to back home. The only difference here is that the rows of wheat that he once used as a barricade have been replaced by grains of sand dusting wooden floor boards. Ram is frozen in time, and so is she, waiting for a reaction from the boy she had just provoked. He fails to move a muscle, unsure if the end, his victory, justifies the means, killing this girl and likely others.

He makes a bit of distance between himself and the girl. The tip of his sword digs deep into the floor.

For a moment, his thoughts are covered with family. He imagines what it was like when his father pushed away his mother and ran away to who the hell knows where. Ram ponders what it felt like when her father denounced her actions as treasonous to the Tapsol family and threw her out to the wolves. He remembers crying with his mother, embracing each other and saying that they'd make it through the trials of life together.

His mother gave up her father, her lover, her family, her friends, her life because of Ram. It consumed her, working days to support him and spending nights tending to him and making sure that everything was alright before he went to bed. Thunder held her hand and the lightning helped her to deliver him, and she chose not to give him up.

Sacrifice. She made the ultimate sacrifice for her son, and she's still reaping the consequences back home, watching him get sliced open.

Anger fills up inside of him like the storms of District Eleven that uprooted all of the fruits and vegetables from a year's harvest from the ground.

She gave up her life, and all you can do is stand here?!

Ram pushes the sword further into the floor, carving a sharp indentation into the ground.

A girl was coming up to the back of his assailant, her eyes just as determined, if not more, than Ram's. It pains him to see bloodlust simply for the sake of bloodlust. He would search for any excuse before he'd even lay a hand on anyone else in the room. These two, though, have nothing to lose as their swords cut deep into their victims.

She gave you your rationale, what else do you need?

His mother sacrificed her livelihood.

His assailant gave consent to battle.

Seventeen years. He would not allow his grandfather to be proven right. A bastard boy can redeem himself. Money. Fame. Power. Influence.

Picking the sword up, he watches the chips he broke apart from the floor fall back onto the ground. Flashbacks return. Burning houses. Burning photographs. Burning bodies. His blood turns scalding hot.

"Fuck society, right?" he points out the girl behind his assailant with his blade. "Always manages to fuck you over, even when you do what it commands of you."

Ram swings at the girl without any hesitation, not even to shed a tear. Revenge roars through the air.

[ram attacks dahlia wolfsbane d9f; sword]
bIz|spci4asword
1177 -- Miss -- 0.0 damage

sword

[gamemaker tallis 🧚🏽‍♂️kaitlin.]

Jan 18, 2020 12:11:08 GMT -5 gamemaker tallis 🧚🏽‍♂️kaitlin. said:

axel moreau | intro | no attack

axel moreau | attacks avonlea | 1021

A X E L      M O R E A U

I haven’t even taken a step into the arena when a girl comes at me, screaming. She hails the rebellion, my home, my life, the thing that killed me and brought me back to life. She swings a sword, shouts madness, and it stirs something primal in me that I can only barely recognize. Her sword dogs into my bicep, probably cuts some vein that’s deathly important because it makes some guttural sound come out of me.

It’s been a year. Longer.

I remember watching the first games in the screen in my living room. I remember screaming. Just screaming and screaming and screaming—at Adder, at the boy who nearly killed her, at the little girl who died fighting and crying and fighting and crying and fighting. She’s been so small, smaller even than Ma had been.

That he been chaos. I had thought I understood what battle was like, understood what it was like to watch people kill others, but this is something different. Familiar, but savage.

There’s no honor in this girls eyes.

“The rebellion is fucking dead, you idiot,” I hiss, anger boiling faster than I know what to do with it.

Then a boy cuts off her arm, and I decide it’s not enough.

This is no place for ignorance.

CANARY IN THE MINES

axel attacks avonlea, sword

RUXNuj0x7Bsword

1021 - sc right hip - 3.5

sword

[*]

Jan 18, 2020 12:52:35 GMT -5 * said:

Avonlea Angevin - INtro/Attack #1

Avonlea Angevin - post #2

I don't take kindly to those standin around. Cowards, the lot of them are because who stands around while a war is ragin around them? My eyes glimpse upon several of them off to the sides. Scared little kittens, pups with their tails docked already for the capitol to control. I waste no time making it known that my life is more important then any one of them and I won't die a cowards death. Whoever it was that I struck with my sword doesn't fight back and I move on. The thing with war and bein a rebel is not stayin to find out what happens. You get in, do yer shit and leave before the enemy has time to react. That's what I'm gunna do and as my blade is no longer glistenin with a metallic shine, it harbors a crimson paint just waiting to be spread. My voice will be heard or my blood will mix with dirt. Blood upon blood is war. Flesh against flesh is hate. As I look around, I can't help but try to look out for my own kin. He came here with me, held into the same prison I was and probably fed the same gruel and meager portions that I was. My stomach churned with anxiety. Weren't no different then when I was almost ready to set a bomb and lure these white bastards into our trap. How many of them did I kill with each grenade or explosion right from under their feet? Blood and screamin is etched into my mind and ears that this isn't nothin. This is ordered chaos. "Fuck the capitol." I let my breath come out, heated. That's when I see him standing there. My own district kin was hidin away. "Why aren't you fighting, Tector? Don't you remember what they did to us? How can you just stand there?" My words are my vice. Anger in my heart makes it hard to concentrate knowing that Tector would rather die and let someone kill him, then try to fight. Just like that, in the middle of my rant, some kid with a sword just the same as mine catches my attention before I can react. I am forcefully thrown back to the day my brother was shot and my family ripped away. Shock. then - Pain. A missing limb is severed from my shoulder and I feel my heart hammer against my chest. "You little twit!" My vision tunnels and there he stands. Dark, curly hair and a simple emotion on his face but it's what he said right before he launched his blade. It reverberates into my skull. "Fuckin' scum." Scum? I am considered scum to this little kid barely old enough to be my little brother. "Shouldn't you be under your momma's dress hiding from the scary people?" Doesn't matter in the least what his age is to me. I ain't goin to let some pup make a fool of me. Without a moment later, I see the next one coming back for seconds. I snarl at this one because he's already bleeding. His words hail into my ear trying to beat down my cause. "No shit, sherlock. Why do you think I'm still fighting? What they did to us was WRONG."

[Avonlea attacks Axel with the sword]
e4Qd9Y3J1Ksword
1134 -- Miss -- 0.0 damagesword

[gamemaker sloane ♕ kaяi ♕]

Jan 18, 2020 12:48:45 GMT -5 gamemaker sloane ♕ kaяi ♕ said:

( harley d4f | intro | 1122 )

( harley d4f | attack 2 | 1128 )

The sound of metal cutting through flesh filled the entire stadium. A sound that was so sickening that it made my stomach toss and turn. It made three suns in the sky instead of one and it made the people in the crowds dance in waves, just like back home.

I know battle. I know war. But what I do not know is children killing each other because someone told them to do so. The worst part is we are all participating.

Because none of us truly want to die.

It takes all of my strength to hold myself up, to not vomit in front of all the people who are staring down at us, some who are probably cheering for our deaths. I won't throw up.

Especially not in front of him.

I can feel his eyes watching as my sword lays into the girl in front of me and tears her flesh apart. I can't hear if she screams or not, there are too many others begging for their lives or crying out in pain to really know who is saying what. I don't see her lips move, but maybe I am imagining things, maybe she doesn't need to say anything.

I should already know.

The girl is worn down and bleeding, inches away from Death's doorstep. She is down, waiting for her last breath to leave her body. I can not hit a person while they are already down, we were taught better than that. The Sinclair's may be a family of killers.

But we still have some integrity.

I turn around, my eyes searching someone, anyone else, and that's when I see him.

Kol.

Him and another girl are ganging up on a girl, the one even dared to attack when her back was turned. Rage entered my body again and I ran towards them, raising my sword ready to attack. I turn to the boy, a bizarre smile on my face.

"You look just like him, ya know. Almost identical."

My mind is whirling. I know that it is not him, but something in brain is telling me it is. Something is telling me that this is my moment of redemption. This would be the best I was going to get. I would not be making it out of here alive, deep down I knew that, I think most of us do. But him, this boy, was right in front of me.

And it was time to make a message.

Especially while I knew he was watching.

"He ruined my life. I vowed that I would get revenge, and you're the closest thing. I'm sorry."

I'm sorry, I say.

But am I really?

One word can only mean so much.

( harley attacks ; ram tapsol 11m with sword )
exK7aga_YTsword
( sc on forehead - 4.5 )

sword

[pup]

Jan 18, 2020 13:31:50 GMT -5 pup said:

[iris oak, attack #2, 1101]

[iris oak, not attack, post #3]
[googlefont="Zhi Mang Xing:400"]

iris oak

my heart thuds. i can feel the blood pooling. they don't know what it's like. they don't know my life. i don't know theirs. they don't know i used to live in the capitol. they don't know that i experienced everything they could never have dreamed and i left it all. it wasn't my choice to leave in the dead of night. but i know my dad made the right decision. how could there be people who sat there and watched as districts crumbled, as the country began to turn on itself because of the violations of basic human rights, as a cruel capitol filled with the complicit crooks and wretched gluttons took more and more, and still say that the capitol is fair, that it's just.

"They shouldn't have lost because that stupid war should have never have happened," the boy says, and i ready myself for his next attack. im surrounded. "You stupid rebels started all of this and cost us everything. We were all fine before, now no one is safe."

i glower at him, glancing between him and my two other enemies.

the girl behind me vomits, saying over and over again she's sorry. then she escapes. i hope she lives. i hope she wins. i hope the capitol will look at the girl behind me, broken, and realize what they are doing is just wrong. i hope that my friends from another life will see me, that they'll realize what's going on is wrong. maybe they do see me now. the friends i left behind in the capitol watching the screens. do they remember me, the girl who disappeared. maybe they found out i was a rebel. maybe they hate me. i hate them.

i spit a glob of blood that had been accumulating in my mouth out. "You think they fucking care about you?" i let out a shallow laugh broken with coughs. this was the weakest i had felt since they shot up my veins with venom. "I was one of them once. They fucking don't. I didn't care until I realized the mess we left the districts in while we had the time of our lives." I raise my sword again in my right hand, my left hand going up and flipping off the roaring crowd. "Then they killed my mom, kidnapped me and used me to trap my father and execute him before banishing me to fucking district seven, all because we saw how they left the districts starving and hated it."

"Your father wasn't the only one executed," he says, his voice cold, dead. "Your fucking people killed mine."

his sword swings, taking off my arm. i scream and fall to my knees, tears pricking at my eyes. i look down and feel a sickness rising in me. there was blood. there was a bone. my arm was on the blood-stained ground. that's my blood. that's my arm. it lay there, fingers somehow unmoved after i had flipped off the stadium. it lay there, middle finger extended as the sword falls out of my other hand and i hold myself up on my knees, stopping myself from collapsing from the pain and exhaustion.

i grimace, stopping my screams, my breaths ragged. it's near the end. i can tell. the last time i felt this sick i was watching my father get shot in front of everyone, in front of me.

"What do you think this is? The rebellion would have never created this fucking mess." i keep my eyes locked on the boys towering above me, holding back the tears as the blood continues to pool beneath me. my vision gets hazy. "You think that the capitol is noble? Because they kept you starved? Because they threw you in here to die for something you didn't even do?" I gasp, picking up my sword and trying feebly to strike at the nutso from two, but the sword just fell out of my weakened grip.

my vision hazy, i hold their gaze, barely keeping myself propped up on my knees. "Think about how many more will be in this situation. Getting slaughtered. Think of 70 years from now when children will still be dying. Did you really let the capitol fucking brainwash you that much?" i spit another glob of blood out of my mouth, "Now go ahead, cleanse me if you think that will make it all better."

[swings @ ajax but misses per plotting]

[WT]

Jan 18, 2020 12:18:01 GMT -5 WT said:

[D5M|N Samiyuq Hernández Huapaya | intro | post 1 | attack 1 | 1123]

[D5M|N Samiyuq Hernández Huapaya | post 2 | no attack]



"¡Jodete!"^{1} Samiyuq freezes. Ze hasn't spoken more than a few passing phrases in kastilla simi in months, but ze sure as hell knows that much. "No te volveré a decir."^{2}

Seconds in the fray and ze's fucked this up.

"Yo—"^{3} Ze stumbles, scrabbles with words, gives up on that sentence. "No necesitas me decir—"^{4}

"Anndan chou pouri!"^-1-

That, Samiyuq doesn't know the meaning of, but ze can imagine. "Urwaq!"^[1] ze spits back as ze lurches away from a new arrival, avoiding a sword to the eye but thrown enough to allow the kastilla simi-speaker to dig into zir leg. Ze arcs the sword in hir hands down and back as ze screeches and buckles, nearly falling—bleeding from both ends with her hair strewn across the ground or no, Kastilla packs a punch—but prepared to jam it backwards under hir arm and into hir first target's torso if this doesn't work. "Suyay^[2]—¡es—espera!"^{5} Without taking hir eyes off hir attacker ze swivels hir head, just far enough to catch the Kastilla—and their second attacker, diving after some other target and conveniently no longer Samiyuq's problem—in hir peripheral vision. "Era une soldade. Con—con los rebeldes."^{6} It's a gamble, but ze thinks it's a good one. The Capitol would happily bury all of their languages, runasimi and kastilla simi and whatever the new arrival is speaking, and throw their bodies down after them, and Kastilla already doesn't sound like the type of person who takes enough shit to fall for the type of political pandering that draws people to work against their own self-interest. "Lo siento, no sabía que eres de nosotros."^{7}



[Samiyuq does not attack]

[1] Fucker!
[2] Wait!

-1- Nasty crotch (lit. rotten cabbage inside)!

{1} Fuck you!
{2} I won't tell you again.
{3} I—
{4} You don't need to tell me—
{5} W—wait!
{6} I was a soldier. With—with the rebels.
{7} I'm sorry, I didn't know that you were ours.

[lance]

Jan 18, 2020 13:22:19 GMT -5 lance said:

ajax craine | intro/attack one | 1086

ajax craine | attack two | 1088

You remember with an unfortunate jolt that thinking you know how to wield a blade and actually possessing the skill to do so are two very different things. For a moment, you had let yourself believe that you were superior, that sending one scumbag rebel to the grave made you equal, greater than the rebel soldiers who likewise populated this place.

But for the first time in your life, you drew blood personally. And even though it was but a flesh wound, a superficial cut, you see the crimson leak from the girl's pale skin, drip onto the dusty arena floor-

-and you feel exhilarated. And suddenly you wonder why so many wars are fought with guns and artillery, for if the rush you're feeling right now with one measly cut on a girl is anything to go by you feel like you could channel the strength of ten men, run across Panem in a single gallop-

You chance a glance towards the stands, where she was sitting. And perhaps tear that rebel scum's throat out with your bare hands, too.

There's a tirade of angry words, a swish of a sword, and you turn back just in time to see another boy chop off the rebel girl's arm right in front of you. Blood sprays, several pounds of flesh and muscle and bone plop to the ground, useless, and your grin grows wider.

The girl talks a lot for someone on the brink of death. But you let her. It's more fun that way, to let them exhaust themselves before severing their souls from their body. You'd heard that once, from a Keeper back home.

And you can see the appeal.

But wars of words pale in comparison to the real thing, so instead you turn your focus towards the boy that had spat venom nearly equal to your own, the boy who had severed an arm from the elbow socket. "Good, good," you say towards him. "Let your hate, let your anger become your strength. Let it course through your veins. Let your hatred of these rebel fuckers guide your blade-"

And as you swing your own sword in tandem with your words, your voice reaches a crescendo pitch.

"-And send this rebel scum to the hell she deserves!"

ajax attacks iris; sword

Vz7DxnNex4sword

1088 -- Shallow Cut on Left Calf -- 3.5 damage

sword

[Tom]

Jan 18, 2020 12:52:16 GMT -5 Tom said:

[Jonas De Lange D4M | Intro | No Attack]

[Jonas De Lange D4M | Post #2 | No Attack]

Jonas stands frozen at the edge of the chaos, his lungs failing to bring in oxygen, except the shallow breaths of a terrified boy.

A storm is over them all with violence in their blood and blood dripping from wounds. Metallic clanks and crimson sands lead to his fear, his reality, his disaster of an experience in life. All of his life had lead to this, just a boy from Four who had a crush on some boy back in four that was crushed in the old bakery on the corner because of the war. A boy from four who never met his father who was surely dead by now. A boy who took care of his sick mother, not knowing much time she had left to live. A boy who spent his days on the waters with his grandpa, living and laughing while trying to pretend there wasn't any ruin in their wake.

A lonesome star trying his best to not flicker out.

They were all humans from different place with different stories. They've survived something. They've survived a war. A war that no kid should go through, but all of them had. All of them had loved and lost and nothing will bring that back. Instead they're all here fighting for the capitol's amusement, swords in hand and crimson sands below. There's a hollow pit in Jonas' stomach that burst to flames with an anger he's never really felt, but he's scared, oh so scared of this game.

I'm not afraid to die.

His Ma had said to him a week before his own death sentence.

If only he could be as brave as her, he's scared of dying. There's so much more that he wants to do. A world he wants to experience. A love that he wants to find. A family he wants to create. He doesn't want to be here. He doesn't want to be here. He doesn't want to die. Except, he's here and he's afraid to hurt people, especially people who don't deserve it.

Fuck, they were just kids from the districts.

As his breaths grow shallower and shallower, there's a moment where he almost drops the sword from his grip, until a smack hits his shoulder, harder than he expected. His whole body jumps with electricity as he spins around, backing away a good few feet before stopping, shallow breaths and heavy eyes staring back at the scariest guy he has ever seen. A guy who towers over him with short, messy dark hair stars back at him, heart beating out of his chest as he almost dares to pull the sword, but for a second he can hear a voice coming from the terrifying guy.

"Deep breaths, man. Take some deep breaths."

Oh.

The breath that comes in reminds him of the days spent on the sea when the boat rocked a bit too much and the memories of soldiers drowning filling his vision. It's deep, but sharp with a pain that spreads throughout his chest for a second too long before it escapes from his chest, letting out a spray of anxiety in its wake. The emptiness filling up with something more comfortable than the fear on his shoulders. It takes longer than he would have guessed, but once he's breathing again, he gives a small sound of appreciation.

T-Thanks."

The tall guy continues as he gives one of the most awkward things Jonas has ever seen. A fake hate tipped his direction in a no problem sort of gesture. An anxious laugh breaks from Jonas' chest, lighting up his body with bursts of relief. Thankful to whatever was out there watching over him. A chill runs down his spine as the rest of the laughter leaks from his tongue. For a second, he's watching the bloodshed. Wounds cut so deeply that Jonas almost wants to run in head first to patch them up, but that wasn't the way this game was played. No, they were all victims of violence and would die to it once more.

As soon as the limbs start falling and two people who are clearly close to dying reach his eyes, his feet begins to push through the sand, pushing his muscles to work before he's standing in the center of the field, staring out at the audience of white and one single girl who clearly wasn't having a good time watching them. He's silent as he watches the area spin in his head, the storm blazing on above them, wanting to scream at all of it.

He can't take it no more.

He's not a fighter.

He's not a killer.

He's not a monster.

They shouldn't have to be either.

"STOP!"

The voice leaves his body, shaking through his skin as loud as he possibly can make it. Stop. Stop with this fighting. Stop with the bloodshed. Stop with the loss of humanity. None of them deserved this. No one deserved this pain. A chill runs up his spine as he starts, with no breath upon his lips, trying to speak his heart to others. Violence was not the answer. Violence would be their ruin. How many corpses would come after them? How many kids would suffer this same fate? How many more would it take for the capitol to feel satisfied?

"Haven't we suffered enough? Haven't we all lost enough from this fucking war!"

Jonas sets the sword into the sand, stabbing it into the ground as he lets his hands rest on it. This war had taken so much from them all. Their youth, their family, their lives now. Violence would take them down and they needed to make some sort of change here and now for the future and for themselves.

"I've lost so many people in my life, just as all of you have I am sure. W-We can't let it keep happening. This war and the repercussions of it are gonna lead to our demise as a species."

He's shaking again.

"How many more bodies do you want? How many more kids will die if we don't do anything right now?"

Be brave.

He wasn't.

"I don't know about you, but I'm tired of all this suffering!"

As he finally finishes he can feel himself shuffling a little more before he lets himself breathe for once.

If he's to die, at least he'll be able to say that he tried.

That he tried to change things.

A star still flickers for now, beckoning for life.

Jonas De Lange was at the center of it.

[Jonas shouts to everyone and does not attack]

[✨ zozo.]

Jan 18, 2020 13:16:02 GMT -5 ✨ zozo. said:

aisha aquino | attack 2 | 1187

aisha aquino | post 3

AISHA -

One language, two, three muddled in her brain - then none at all, Aisha's lost the ability to understand anything they're saying underneath the screams and the fighting except "Fuck the Capitol", that she understands. It's all she understands.

"¡e-espera-!"

She does as she's told.

Aisha freezes mid-swing, blade hovering in the air on a single word. She lets out a hiss of breath and sucks it back in between her teeth,

"Que-?"

One language. Her language.

"Tu hablas mi idioma? Pero-"

She's on guard, letting the blade lower slowly as she cranes her neck around for enemies - stepping back on her heel, spinning around slowly, following the tip of her sword, back to the kid with her tongue. For all she knew it was a trick. A sick Capitol trick.

"Con—con los rebeldes."

"Creer que solo One lo tenía..."

Abuelo, again, and his stories of their ancestors fighting for the right to speak their language, marching to keep their families together, standing together in solidarity. Honourably. Not a trick, no, it couldn't be. The good ones spoke her tongue. Her friends on the battlefield who learned from her and she from them. Allies, rebels, family. One in the same.

She shakes her head, wiping what was once enemy blood from the hilt of her weapon with her overall sleeve. "Vamos," it doesn't matter now - they are together, one force, one language, for now. "Conmigo."

Aisha steps toward the stranger, and a girl she swears is her angel, and turns her back on guard.

"Juntos, si?"

- AQUINO.

no attack

[revel latimer, 11b 🔍 jay]

Jan 18, 2020 13:49:42 GMT -5 revel latimer, 11b 🔍 jay said:

d9f dahlia wolfsbane | attack 1 | 1178

d9f dahlia wolfsbane | attack 2 | 1008

     

dahlia ♔  wolfsbane

district      nine        female

Dahlia's sword grazes the boy's leg, scarlet trickling down his calf. Her eyes meet his - pained and teary-eyed. The boy shuffles farther away from her, his sword carving into the wood beneath the sand. But she doesn't let him get far, closing the gap he's trying to put between them.

Her heart hammer's against her chest—a deafening thump thump thump in her head, but she follows the tangy smell of copper like a wolf hunting its prey. "Fuck society, right?" He points his sword to something behind Dahlia, it's silver blade gleaming in the bright light. She whips around but it's too late before a silver blur digs into her arm. Her arm screams in pain, the burning sensations like a thousand burning suns.

"I can smell the copper-thirsty breath you emit from here." Dahlia can feel the enmity of her assailant's words prickling against her skin."How do you stand the taste of blood?"

"It's not blood I'm yearning for - but life, my life. He has to die if I want to win. So into the casket it is." She spikes her words with hemlock and nightshade: her favorite poisons. Then another figure surfaces, snarling and ravenous for blood. She goes for the head, nicking his forehead. Dahlia's spent three years working with rebels and the new girl stinks of rebellion.

"These two are capitol-loving dogs hungry for my blood! Please save me from them!" She sniffles and tears pour down her face. This will not be her swan song - rather a performance of a lifetime.

[  attacks aurora delphine d5f  ]

gy0nFakva5sword

[  sc on back -- 4.0  ]

sword

[pearl mcclain d4 [ryan]]

Jan 18, 2020 14:11:42 GMT -5 pearl mcclain d4 [ryan] said:

[Aurora Delphine D5F| Intro/Attack 1| 1139]

[Aurora Delphine D5F| Attack 2| 1142]

Things were starting to get dicey here in a place where nothing but pain would live at the end of the day.

It was hard, thinking about it, but Aurora knew better than to dwell on the depravities of this situation, because she was in it at the end of the day. Was she going to die here? She didn’t know, but she would have to try to do something in order to survive? 

The answer to the last question of course, was yes.

She wanted to make it out of here alive at the end of the day, and in order to do that, she was going to have to take this situation into her own hands. Attacking someone was not in her nature naturally, but it could be if the situation called for it. After all, she had learned all the shady tactics she could have from her father, and maybe that is what would give her the upper hand here. Though she would have to remember them as she tried to dodge and evade blades coming down on her.

She was good at studying, she knew that much. 

---

She listened to the words of the girl she laid her blade into and simply gritted her teeth. She wasn’t sure if she believed her, because the way she moved seemed like she was well too versed in all of this. Like she knew what it was like to take the life of another, like she was born to be a killer. Aurora Delphine was nothing like that, but under the right circumstances, maybe she could be as well.

Maybe this was the circumstance that she needed to break free of being known as daddy’s little girl.

She hated that more than anything, and she was more than ready to denounce that here and now.

That would be her last dying wish.

And then a blade came up and Aurora tried to dodge it like her brothers had showed her how to dodge a fist, but she was not quick enough. Instead she felt the blade come up on her back and she let out a small whimper. It hurt, but not as much as the bash she took in the face earlier.

”Why do you want to win? There is no winning here.” Aurora took a moment to compose herself before she realized that the girl was not alone in her plans. Another girl came up and slashed at the boy previously targeted. A blade on his head looked like it was painful, but he was still moving.

They all were. ”Were all here for a reason? Yeah?” Aurora spoke to the girl she had attacked? ”Here we are, spilling blood for fun.” Aurora hated those words as they came out of her mouth. ”This is fucked up aint it?” Aurora sighed as she felt the blade grow heavier in her hand.   She wasn’t sure if this was the right choice, but she was good at analyzing the situation, and right now, she had to keep going. She was already going to be made out as the villain, so why not villainize for the sake of villainy right? 

Apparently it was all in good fun.

She wanted to throw up at that notion.

---

But she was brought back into it by the girls words. Capitol dog? 

Never.

”Words can cut as deep as these swords you know?” Aurora said a little perplexed before letting the anger take over.  She was far from being a capitol dog, and even though attacking someone like this girl was a choice that she shouldn’t take lightly, what she said before was true.

If Aurora did want to make it out of here alive, she was going to have to spill some blood.

”If only I was a “capitol dog.” Then maybe I wouldn’t be in this situation?” she raised her sword. ”Fine, my name is Aurora, I guess Ill put you in your grave.” She took a step back to give her a little leverage. 

”En garde… bitch.”

Aurora Delphine D5F attacks Dahlia Wolfsbane D9F | Sword
11EMTkQX2Ssword
[1142 -- Shallow Cut on Right Shoulder -- 3.5 damage
(Sword)]

sword