ARENA 10-Placid Hollow

[etcircenses]

The Tributes are taken early in the morning, most of their support teams seeming in good cheer as they dress them in warm clothes, getting them to their tubes. There is obvious comfort in the familiar for the prep teams, and they chatter with, or in some cases, over the heads of their Tributes as they get them ready and load them up.

20

19

18…

If the Tributes could see the area they are passed up into, they would see a deeply overgrown, dilapidated town green, with a large bandstand rotting away in the middle. The spoils of the cornucopia are not gathered in one spot, instead scattered throughout the thigh high grass and weeds around the town green.

Around the edge of the green, the old business stand a silent sentry, looming out of the fog as it thins and winds into them, providing much desired cover.

8

7

6…

But the Tributes cannot see the ground around them. The fog, thicker even than it will be in the rest of the arena, makes the world small around them. The sound of the count down echoes strangely, the tributes seeming too close as the fog brings sounds of their breath, their coughing, the snap of twigs under their feet right to ears of the other Tributes. But with the fog bringing visibility down to only a few feet, it's hard to tell what is a true danger, and what is only the fog playing tricks on them,.

3

2

1

The gong rings out, and the countdown's voice announces "the Arena is now open". The Games have begun.

Comments

Re: Open

[orestes]

For some reason, he'd expected the Arena to feel different. In his rush to accept the reality of his situation, Enjolras supposed that he had perhaps romanticized the notion of a return to the Arena. The same rush overtakes him. The same fight to flight instinct drives him to dash wildly through the fog. He'd meant to head away from the Cornucopia, but there was no telling now what away actually meant. He was blinded, disoriented, with only the tall grass occasionally appearing on the edges of his vision.

Still, he has the distinct knowledge that he is not alone, cannot possibly be alone. He hears something snap, the rustle of another body moving through the grass, and then nothing.

"Who's there?" He calls into the white mist, bringing his hands up to guard his face.

[shedevilwithsword]

Who was this person? She glanced over at him, did he really believe that she would reply back? As much as she wished to trust others here, Sonja still practiced caution. You cannot trust absolutely anybody. Much less those who are enrolled within a gladiator tournament.

And so she stayed perfectly still, and instead contented herself to watching and listening for this apparent fool of a man. Honestly he may as well have just announced his presence in the most to all around him, not just her. Thus almost completely ruining the advantage that it would have given him.

[orestes]

He realized his mistake about ten seconds after the words left his mouth. He was unarmed, and if by some chance his perceptions had somehow tricked him, or if the person whose presence he noticed hadn't noticed him, he had just tipped his hand. Potentially fatally.

Enjolras peered through the mist, but there was nothing for it. Without pressing forward, possibly into a hostile presence, he would never know. Without pressing forward at all, however, he would effectively trap himself, blinded as he was. He resisted the urge to sigh and took a resigned step forward.

"You have nothing to fear from me. I am unarmed." And even if he were, he was well aware that even as a Victor, he wasn't a match for a good number of the Tributes anyway.

[shedevilwithsword]

She still stayed perfectly still and quiet. She was not going to be like him and get rid of her current advantage. Even unarmed men could prove to be dangerous. At least those who carry tools and weapons made their intents well and clear. Someone who has no weapons do not.

Perhaps she should toss a pebble to lead him away? He was getting rather close, and the last thing she wanted or needed was someone tagging along with her. Someone whose voice and footsteps she did not recognize. Sonja thought it over for a moment or two before stealing herself to stalking silently forward. Making as little noise as possible.

She wanted a weapon and supplies first and foremost. Then perhaps she could go on to claim a portion of the arena for herself? The town seemed like a good place to defend for a short while.

[orestes]

Abruptly, the fog seemed to overtake him. Enjolras breathed heavily, the coarse air seeming to catch and burn in his lungs and throat. It was overbearing. He needed to move.

"Very well. I wish you the best of luck." The words were accompanied by rasping intakes of breath. Higher ground and cleaner air were needed. This miasma could potentially have been poisoned and even if he wanted to dismiss such notions as the hypochondria propagated by Joly, it wasn't certain. This could all be psychosomatic, the adrenaline catching up with him, or the Gamemakers could have made short work of his return.

Blindly, he charged forward. The urge to escape had become all consuming.