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Post by Tonks on Feb 25, 2014 8:46:30 GMT
Michael Finch awoke the next morning with the sun already up and wondered how far through the day it was. He looked down at his broken foot, all bruised and bloody, and held back the tears. There wasn't a chance in hell he had any sponsors to give him anything for it. All he had done was run away and then get himself stuck in a net. He didn't even get anything from the cornucopia. He was thirsty and hungry, he couldn't remember when he'd last eaten or drank. He headed East, limping. He'd not gone this way before, maybe he'd find some water.
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Post by Light on Mar 2, 2014 23:22:45 GMT
The next morning, after some more application of the cream to the burns, which were starting to feel better with the medicine, they were out hunting again. The trail was easy to follow and she picked up on it soon; someone was moving very unsubtly and was clearly wounded. The question was who was it? They knew at least two tributes were injured, and both of them required caution; one was a career, and the other had those explosives.
Carefully, she lead the way after Michael, and he finally came into view ahead of them. He was the only one around and he wasn't one of the ones who posed any real danger, especially not in his condition by the way he limped along the ground.
Taking aim for his body, she hefted the spear towards the boy.
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Post by Tonks on Mar 3, 2014 8:23:08 GMT
Michael Finch could hear the rustle of footsteps behind him but didn't want to turn around and give whoever it was the satisfaction of seeing his face as he died. Instead he kept limping forwards until the spear stabbed through the right side of his lower back and he fell to the floor, struggling to catch his breath as the blood rapidly left his body. Tears rolled down his face as he grimaced and prayed to die quickly. He'd done even worse than he could have imagined in these games. He found slight comfort in the thought that he wasn't dying a murderer, but it was overrided by the image of his dad's inevitably unimpressed face.
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Post by Light on Mar 16, 2014 21:51:42 GMT
He was down, but no cannon sounded. So he was still alive. Drawing her swords from her belt, Persephone moved over to the wounded tribute, planted a foot on his back just above the spear and wordlessly plunged one blade between his shoulders and sliced his head off with the second. Fuck theatrics, it was the killing that counted.
The audience wanted blood, they would get blood, straight up and simple. No snappy lines, all they really wanted was to see you murder people, and murder was as routine to her as waking up in the morning after all the training and indoctrination. Especially now. You flinch and you die. In a world of death you were the reaper or the reaped. There was nothing else in a world like this one.
As the cannon sounded, she slid one sword back onto her belt, yanked the spear out of the lifeless body and turned to Neil.
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Post by Tonks on Mar 17, 2014 9:03:51 GMT
The cannon boomed to mark Michael Finch's death.
"Huh." Neil said to Persephone. "I'd forgotten about that guy. Well, that's another one down."
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Playle
Talking In Your Sleep
Posts: 441
Deadly Sin: Sloth
Hogwarts House: Ravenclaw
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Post by Playle on Mar 19, 2014 2:40:15 GMT
The tribute stirred from his slumber with hazy eyes, but the cannon made him alert to what was going on – frankly, whatever it was, it was not occurring all that close to him. Onyx looked at the treeline, pretty much undisturbed since the night prior. He was not faring so well in terms of hunger, and he knew he needed a full belly before he could confront anyone or any challenge. Being hungry made people weak, and with the number of tributes dwindling it increased the likelihood of a clash sometime soon. He could not afford to make any mistakes.
With his weapons at the ready, Onyx began to make a move through the trees – he was only scavenging for food now, not hunting for tributes, but he had to be careful. With each step he surveyed the greenery, and little had changed. He slinked through some bushes with his knife poised and ready. In the other hand was the axe, held a little limply on account of his missing finger. It still was useful, and he couldn’t wait to inflict some damage with it.
When Onyx came across the shuffling hedgehogs, he couldn’t help but smile. In the chaos of the arena, with carnivorous fish and tracker-jackers and other tricks, these docile little creatures bumbled along amongst the leaves. It was a mother and two young moving alongside a felled log, but to Onyx it was a new meal. The blade plunged through the head of the mother, killing her quickly. The babes were attempting to scurry off, but Onyx got them too. Grabbing the spiny beasts, he returned to his plateau and crafted a fire with his tinderbox. Cooking whatever meat the critters had on them would keep him going for a while; after he had his fill, some marauding for tributes was in order. It had felt like an eternity since he killed, whilst other tributes dropped like flies.
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Merlot was grinding his teeth, a habit only done when he was at his most anxious. With one tribute, it could be likely that his district would not make it to victory. He did not ever like to accept that fact, that losing was a possibility, but it sure was in this years games. He had tried to cheer himself up, dying his forked facial hair into new shades of red and donning a new suit jacket the colour of tangerines. It did little to perk his mood. An interview with Flickerman later did not bode well later.
It felt like his agenda was preparing to lose. He couldn’t help but feel like Caesar’s interview would be about how District 1 was not likely to make it. Onyx was wounded, hungry, away from the others. Amee was dead. That was not the games of legends. Merlot had to devise something to change the nature of the game. He could not override the game makers. He could not defy the great President Snow. But he could make things in Onyx’s favour if he could muster the right support and sponsors.
The mentor watched the screens with crossed arms, eyeing the boy’s effort of cooking hedgehog. The gears were turning in Merlot’s head. An innovative sponsor could make or break Onyx’s game.
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Post by Tonks on Mar 19, 2014 18:36:41 GMT
Finley heard the cannon boom. That meant there were only 5 of them left and he was one of them! He did not know how he had made it this far but he was grateful for it. The scenery in the arena may be computer-generated but it was beautiful all the same. He wondered whether the games would end today or go on to tomorrow. It couldn't go on for much longer now. As soon as the numbers dwindled the gamemakers were sure to find a way to draw them in closer together. He wondered if he'd be alive to see that part. 'Curiosity killed the cat' he thought, and so decided to stop thinking about it. He wondered if he would run when a tribute came towards him, fight or even do nothing. He didn't know which one he'd want to do but figured his fight or flight response could decide that for him when it needed to. He sat on a branch and looked up at the sky in a day dream.
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Post by PenguinNinja on Mar 19, 2014 19:03:07 GMT
The cannon sounding had woken Tara up and she pulled a face at the pain that flared in her arm. She looked down at it and remembered the spear, the burning tribute and the running. She sighed and tried to think about how many of them were left. Six? Four? Something around there. She wasn't sure. But she was one of them and she decided that if she could do that once she could do it again.
She pulled her bag onto her shoulder and slipped down out of her hidey hole and onto solid ground. Her eyes found the tree line she had come from and she decided against that. There was a team of two somewhere over there so, she turned right, eyed the tall grass and decided to wade through that.
As she walked slowly, her eyes looking for any movement, she munched on berries. Her stomach begged for something more but she had nothing and berries was the only way forward for her. A sound trickled into her ears and she waited a few seconds before the familiar sound of running water greeted her ears and she ran. When she spotted the glistening stream she dropped to her knees, scooped a helping of water into her hands and brought them up to her face.
But she stopped. Would it be poisoned in some way? Would drinking this water kill her? She sighed, let the water fall back into the stream and eyed the surrounding area. Through the haze of the tall grass she spotted more trees and decided to see what was lurking in them. Before she moved she made sure she had another make shift grenade and the matches in her hands before she moved towards the edge of the tree line.
She stopped again just moments later. A pair of feet dangling from a branch caught her eyes and she smiled. It would be easy. Another one down and another chance for her to get out of here.
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Post by Light on Mar 19, 2014 20:23:28 GMT
There were not many now, which increased the likelihood of betrayal, moreso than usual that was. By her count that made five of them remaining. Three Careers, that girl from 3, and one more regular tribute.
Ideally they'd find one or both of the two tangible threats whilst their alliance held, and go from there. Everything was drawing to a close, and that meant that there was a strong possibility that the Gamemakers would draw the remaining tributes to a 'feast' sooner or later, to thin them out even more or end it all in one final bloodbath.
Everything borne in mind as usual, it was time to move on. "Yep. Now, let's go get another one."
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Post by Tonks on Mar 19, 2014 22:26:13 GMT
Neil walked with Persephone, wondering how long they'd stay together now. Was she planning on slitting his throat in his sleep? How was this going to work? There were only three other tributes now, they really needed to go their separate ways. It wasn't a topic he wanted to bring up in conversation, what if it led to a blood bath right then and there? Instead he stayed silent thinking of ways to escape from her, or if it came to it, ways to kill her.
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Post by PenguinNinja on Mar 20, 2014 18:50:23 GMT
Finley's shoulders sagged as he eyed the blue sky. He wondered when the game makers were going to get on with the arena game, with the change in environment to draw everybody together. He dropped his eyes to the floor and jumped down.
Tara side stepped into the bushes, behind a grouping of trees and watched around the edge. She lit the match and held it to the make shift fuse.
Finley stretched his arms above his head and scratched the back of his neck.
The fuse caught alight and Tara stepped out, still behind Finley's field of vision, and counted... "three, four, five."
He turned his head to the left and decided to take a drink from the stream. His mouth was dry, and he started to walk.
Tara ducked back into hiding as Finley moved in her direction, still counting. "Seven, eight, nine." She dropped to the floor, gave a small toss of the grenade and watched as it landed a few inches away from where Finley was about to step.
Finley tilted his head to one side as something dropped in front of him. Was it a gift from a mysterious sponsor? He frowned and within the next instant there was an explosion. Fire erupted and engulfed every inch of his body. His flesh sizzled and turned to nothing but crispy flakes and his screams were drowned out in the roar of the flames. As he dropped to his knees, his last thought to the world was that at least he was still him, at least he hadn't fallen into the game makers hands of killing other children.
Tara sat back, her eyes turned away from the sight. It made her sick, watching what she had done to somebody else, but it had to be done. Him or her. Fight or die. Survive.
She wanted to survive. If she did, she would win a place in the victor's village. Her Dad could live with her, they wouldn't have to work another day in their life. Safe, away from the factories, away from the dangerous chemicals and materials. The victor's village would a place where he wouldn't have to worry about going hungry, about his health.
It could be better.
She just had to hold on and survive.
As his screams started to dwindle she felt bile burn the back of her throat and she vomited. It was a lot more retching then actually throwing anything up, but her chest heaved with every dry retch and her throat was sore as nothing but half digested berries reared their faces back up at her on the ground.
She dropped her head to the floor as a cannon sounded and tried to take in large gulps of oxygen. Right now, she was an open target to the Careers that were still alive and hunting her.
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Post by Tonks on Mar 20, 2014 19:22:40 GMT
Neil almost jumped with surprise as the cannon sounded and he looked to Persephone. Another down, that meant there were only two others left besides them. He gulped, how long before they got into a fight now? He hated the suspense, so while she was distracted by the cannon sound, he ran through the trees away from her. He ran and he ran and he ran, twisting and turning and changing direction in an attempt to make it difficult to follow him.
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Post by Light on Mar 20, 2014 22:35:02 GMT
Another one? Four left, so, who else had just died of the previous remaining five?. The audience had to be loving that there were two kills in the space of mere minutes.
As the cannon sounded, she looked straight at Neil, ready, and fully expecting him to turn on her now that they were half of the remaining tributes. Instead he ran. So he wasn't willing to risk fighting her yet.
One of four. Two careers for certain, possibly a third, and either one or both of the non-careers, dependent on who had just died alongside Michael Finch. She had supplies to last with her, but with so few left perhaps some of them would risk the cornucopia now? She decided rather than chase Neil down recklessly through the trees to head back to the cornucopia and see if anyone turned up to risk it. The faces in the sky later in the evening would show who had fallen today.
Carefully, with weapons ready and making sure to stay alert, she started back.
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Octavian watched the feeds on the screen with the other past victors. This had been a turnout for the books, the way things had ended up in the last days of the 65th Games.
Persephone and Neil had separated, though that had not been something he had expected. Rather he had thought that it would be more likely for them to fight it out straight away, given that they were both careers.
A little more sponsorship in the wake of this new development would keep his chances of bringing home another victor this year. Time to mingle with the big spenders again.
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Playle
Talking In Your Sleep
Posts: 441
Deadly Sin: Sloth
Hogwarts House: Ravenclaw
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Post by Playle on Mar 20, 2014 23:58:52 GMT
The gift descended from the sky in a trail by a silver parachute. The thick wooded area reduced the likelihood that it highlighted Onyx’s location, but it was a fear which crossed his mind. He would open whatever this was and then make a move.
The tribute was sat on his peninsula, picking out the pieces of hedgehog meat from his teeth. He opened up the canister from his mentor to receive not one but two gifts. The district one boy grinned as he inspected the items.
The first was a type of capitol food stuff, something his father had once brought home. It was a twin pack of gooey bars filled with glucose and carbs, some kind of thing that peacekeepers would eat on breaks. The wrapper was filled with advertising, emphasising the benefits of such food when it came to workouts or hard labour. Only thing was, people who did hard labour could not afford such luxury food. It was a food product which could keep a man sated for almost all day, giving energy to keep you awake. It was clear – Merlot was signalling for Onyx to stop hunting for food and start hunting for people.
The second item was a whetstone, a small one but it would sharpen the weapons Onyx had. He hadn’t even considered his weapons being blunted, but cutting through bone and flesh would cause wear and tear on his arms. Merlot was smart it seemed, and Onyx got to work with giving the blades a sharpen. First the small knives, then the axe. Either would be useful in the next fight, and hopefully that would be soon.
Stuffing his items like the tinderbox and remaining scraps of food under a nearby log on the plateau, Onyx slid down onto the forest floor with an axe and knife in hand. The other small knife was tucked into his shoe, but there was no point wielding it now. With a ferocity in his eyes, he began to stalk the woodland. His footsteps were loud and deliberate. His eyes darted from left to right to left again, vigilant for anything. His breathing was rabid, sharp, angry. He took a chomp out of one of the glucose bars, and felt bloated even after the first mouthful.
He would kill someone soon. The cannon had tolled and now there were so few of them left – Onyx had to dwindle them down even more so.
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Post by Tonks on Mar 22, 2014 14:41:45 GMT
The hours leading to sunset passed quietly, the sound of cannons absent from the sky. Four tributes were remaining. Persephone, Onyx, Neil and Tara. Tomorrow was doomed to be the last day in the arena, but at this stage it was anyone's game.
Neil had travelled to the West and settled in his sleeping bag by a tree, his body mostly hidden by the leaves of a bush. The area was so quiet, he hoped that maybe he was the only one in this part of the arena. He knew there were four tributes left, but the only ones he was certain of were himself and Persephone. Did the other career make it through or was it his cannon he had heard? What about the little guy, or the girl who had set Amethyst ablaze? In a couple of hours the Capitol music would play and reveal it all. Whoever had made it through was tough competition, and Neil hadn't killed anyone in a while. He was big and he was tough and he'd shown that right at the beginning, but now he had just ran away from a fight with a girl. He didn't want to kill Persephone, that was the truth of it. He didn't want to die either but he reckoned he could beat her in a fight. The whole place was starting to get to him, the whole nature of it. He'd been looking forward to this, he loved the adrenaline that came with a kill. But on facing Persephone, he couldn't do it. He didn't even know why, he just knew he didn't want to fight her. He realised that the sponsors wouldn't be on his side now, so if he was going to win this then he had to make it a really good show.
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Meanwhile head gamemaker, Howard Rinter, sat smirking on his chair with his fingertips pressed together. Tomorrow was going to be epic.
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