ARENA 04-Decay

[gamemakers]

For some this is starting to be routine. For some it is new, and little is done to ease them into it. The peacekeepers are never warm on these flights, but they are rougher, quieter today, and after having their tracking devices inserted or reactivated, the tributes don't see them until they are lead to small, metal rooms.

They are dressed quietly by their stylist, and the stylist move quicker this time, dressing them in heavy cargo pants, boots, thick socks, an undershirt and sweater. A light, plastic jacket is laid over the top, with a hood and plenty of pockets.

They are lead to tubes, with a reminder not to leave the pedestal. The tubes are metal this time, thick, the door sliding closed over them and leaving the tributes in the small, dark area. Entombed until they start the smooth rise to the surface.

25 - 24 - 23

Rising to the surfaces, they can see before them a building, ravished by time but still standing. Behind it, cliffs fall to the ocean, glittering in the sun for miles and miles, a dark blue distance that offers no escape. Behind them, the last trails of fog lead into a forest, still spotted with the lingering remains of the buildings that had once stood there. The air is cool, crisp, and the warmth of the sweater can be appreciated quickly.

20 - 19 - 18 - 17 - 16

One wall of the building before them is gone, exposing deep into the building's heart. There, about 50 yards into the ruins, lies the cornucopia. It's weapons and supplies are scattered among the ruins, dropped haphazardly among crumbling walls and exposed rebar.

11- 10 - 9 - 8

Warned not to move from their pedestals, they are given the last 10 seconds to plans their attack.

5

4

3

2

The gong sounds, clear in the crisp air. Let the games begin.

[OOC: Check here if your character ran for the cornucopia to see your results. Post here to play those out.

Characters on reserve have until Wednesday, Nov 14th to be eligible to tag into this arena and this post, but anyone who did not sign up for the Cornucopia will be handwaved as having not not been part of the Cornucopia battle.]

Comments

[the_marshal]

Other tributes might have taken advantage of that, her obvious terror, and scored the easy kill - especially now with that new bounty rule supposedly in place - but this was Wyatt. His sense of morality and fair play meant instead of attacking, or even simply walking away, he was carefully raising his hands, palms out, and trying to soothe.

"I'm not gonna hurt ya, Miss," he said gently. "I apologize if I scared ya, but I'm just tryin' to put some distance between me and-" he pointed a thumb over his shoulder, gesturing back the way he'd come, where even now the distant sounds of the Cornucopia bloodbath could be heard, "-that."

[itwasrhetorical]

Her breath caught when she took a breath in a little hiccup. Lurline preserve her, she was making an utter show of herself. Her hands were clenched around the branch still, making her knuckles go white, he may have said he wasn't going to hurt her but she had no way of ensuring that he wasn't. Glinda wasn't about to let go of her improvised weapon.

She glanced toward where the Cornucopia had been and paled. If he was coming this way then undoubtedly other people would be doing the same soon. She gave another little hiccup of a dry sob. "What is all of this?" She had to ask, desperate to know what was happening here.

[the_marshal]

His eyes softened, sympathetic. He'd been there, Lord knew, and not all that long ago.

"This is your first time, ain't it?" he asked softly. It was phrased like a question, but the tone was more of a statement.

She looked a bit like that other frilly little blonde, but now, with a second look, he could see the difference. And he was quite certain he'd never seen her before.

In person or otherwise.

"How much did they tell you?"

[itwasrhetorical]

She nodded her head and shook it in quick succession.

"They said I had to fight everyone to win or die. And don't move off the platform until the gong rings." Glinda told him, recounting exactly what the stylist had told her.

"There's been a horrible mistake." She announced.

[the_marshal]

That sounded about right. They'd told him more or less the same his first time... only his reply hadn't been as nice as hers.

"Wish I could tell ya that it was," he told her as his hands slowly lowered, figuring by now that if she'd meant to swing that stick, she'd have already gone and done it. "But, unfortunately, we are exactly where they want us to be."

He paused a moment, then exhaled a heavy breath, and seeing no way around it, explained, "This is the arena. They send us all in here and... only one comes out a winner."

[itwasrhetorical]

She was only going to swing if she thought he was going to attack her. She didn't have much experience in protecting herself, she'd lived a long life of being pampered and looked after, but she knew how to swing a staff or in this case a branch hard enough to surprise someone and put them off their guard. It couldn't be that different to her staff after all.

Glinda swallowed hard. She didn't like this at all. "I'm a politician, I shouldn't be here." She protested weakly, knowing that it was useless but unable to stop herself.

[the_marshal]

One of Wyatt's eyebrows lifted - she was a politician?

His mind took a moment to turn that over, surprise and disbelief and amusement flitting through him, then he shook his head and chased it away.

Not the time.

"Ma'am, none of us should be," he replied flatly. "But that doesn't change that fact that we are." He glanced briefly over his shoulder, then back at her. "My advice? You should put all that that yer feeling aside for now and start thinkin' about how you plan to survive. The Cornucopia won't keep them forever."

And yes. He'd come this way, found her... so would they, sooner or later. And not all of them would be as gentlemenly.

[itwasrhetorical]

It wasn't an uncommon reaction by foreign politicians either when they found out the tiny, befrocked, blonde, frilled and generally superlative suffix and prefix speech abusing young woman in front of them was the leader of Oz.

Glinda gave another look in the direction he had come, the sounds of the battle going on audible all this distance from the bloodbath. It was a horrid noise and it caused a lump to pull up in her throat. She didn't like this. Not one little bit. She forced herself to bite back her fear though.

She pulled herself up with the use of her branch which she was holding onto for dear life. "Lurline knows I shan't do myself any good by staying here." She solemnly commented. She didn't like the idea of fighting other people but she would protect herself if she had to.

[the_marshal]

Wyatt respected gumption and watching her pull herself together, physically and otherwise, he couldn't help a brief, friendly, upward twitch of his mouth.

"That's the spirit."

Shifting the bag on his shoulders he lifted a hand to gesture past her, toward the deeper trees. "Yer plans are yer own, but I'm headin' that way, iffin' you wanna come along."

[itwasrhetorical]

Sometimes she merely needed a nudge in the right direction to get her to calm down and think of things logically. Glinda looked in the direction he had pointed. Her pretty face crumpled into a frown.

"I'm going that way." She pointed to the right. "I need to find a source of magic here." And something was calling her in that direction.

Glinda was wary to add. "But I wish you luck in your endeavours."

[the_marshal]

Magic. That make him think of Neeshka.

Had she made it through the Cornucopia? Or would he see her in the sky tonight?

If he was even still here tonight. He kept dawdlin' around he certainly wouldn't be.

Shaking his thoughts free, he nodded at the woman. "Same to you, Ma'am."

And with that, he slipped around her - kinda sideways like, just in case - and, picking up his easy jog once more, headed off deeper into the forest.