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

Initiate | OTA

[carnagecarnival]

He gets in and out without a kill. Not a good start. But it's impossible to see anything around here, what with the fog. It's like those colder nights when the ocean would roll in as a mist. He'd have to stay on the bottom floor of his hive, lest he dare risk getting culled on his own traps.

But more than that, he heard a scream. To be fair, he heard a few. A good motherfucking handful of people getting a hurt on and at each other. But the one scream rang to sharp and it ran down his spine with its familiarity. He prays he was wrong.

He's got enough for his trouble though. The bag he's claimed is full of things he can use. And a motherfucker can't go wrong with a pickaxe. Blunt enough to feel alright in his grip, but something that will still spill blood. A win-win.

He picks himself up and starts to head into the fog, where something calls to him, far off and distant.

[shenunigans]

Dave had avoided the cornucopia out of suspicion, and it seems like it's paying off. The whole thing looked to be a blood bath, hardly worth the chance of finding a shitty sword or whatever they hand out around here. He figures his best shot is to be sneaky and find his own weapons in the plentiful span of this creepy ass Silent Hill remake.

Unfortunately, you can only sneak so much in a place you aren't familiar with when you can't see past your fuckin' nose. From a distance, he figures the troll is a junk pile or a mound or something, but he barely blips on his radar when he hears a scream in the distance. He's turning around while he walks, trying to look for the source of the sound and the culprit while also backing the fuck up. This, of course, risks him bumping into that trash pile. That very solid trash pile. It's feeling less and less like a trash pile. God he hopes its a spider.

"Nice day out, huh?" He fumbles for words as the figure of the massive troll starts to become clearer, silently cursing the day he was born with dumb feet. "Wow you're.. big. That's gotta be good for you."

[carnagecarnival]

The Initiate feels that bump and turns, eyes wide and snarl forming. He looks the boy over, but he doesn't recognize him, not really. More importantly, he doesn't know him to be a friend of anyone he knows.

First cull of arena? Motherfucking maybe.

He lets a growl slip, low enough not to press, but still there to provide threat. The boy is unarmed, human by the looks of it, can be taken apart easily. The Initiate can't tell if he's eyeing the supplies claimed, but the pick axe he wields in hand should hold promise enough.

"It is very good. AND IT IS INDEED A VERY NICE MOTHERFUCKING DAY, BROTHER," He returns with a grin.

[shenunigans]

Right, so on top of being huge, this guy is armed. Dave could be in the running for his fastest death yet, he usually manages to fuck around a little more before he gets to this point. He can't time travel, he can't flash step with the same speed he once had, he's pretty much a deer in the sitting ducklights.

The growl doesn't go unnoticed, but it's not the only aspect of this situation urging him to step backward as slowly as he can. "Calm down, big top." Probably not the best thing to say in a situation like this. "I can hear you just fine, but if you want I can take a few big ol' steps back and we can yell this thing out just fine." He says, already taking those big steps ever so casually as he speaks to the troll.

[carnagecarnival]

He laughs. Throws his head back for it and all. "Brother. MOTHERFUCKER. Oh sad sorry spectacle in bright of blessed bethel. CALM IS A THING WHAT HE'S ON BEING AND IS. He is motherfucking serene up in this."

He doesn't sounds serene. He doesn't look it either.

That said, he certainly doesn't look unhappy.

"DO YOUR PRAY, BRIGHTVEIN?"

[shenunigans]

Well, he might not be the Makara he knows, but he makes about as much sense as one. Dave should have taken the chance to run, instead he's furrowing his brow in an attempt to translate what GHB is telling him. Something about it is pissing him off, perhaps residual malice for Gamzee. He'd encouraged Kanaya not to pursue him, the last thing he'd wanted is more murder and it had just seemed wrong. He wouldn't want to kill a guy in cold blood like that, but he could stand to pelt a rock at that stupid, whacked out head.

So, when his eyes fall to a rock just innocently lying there, he'll watch it through his shades and lower himself toward it. "Yeah, I pray." He says, artfully scooping up the rock along with a fistful of dirt. "Pray you'll shut the fuck up, asshole." And with that, he's flinging the contents of his hand at the troll's face and getting the. hell. out. As fast as his skinny legs will take him.

[carnagecarnival]

He ain't stupid. He ain't got no thing fooling what this motherfucker's got his want on to do isn't to go motherfucking collecting. Not very amusing, brother. Not very motherfucking funny up at all.

His hand is up to stop the rock but it ain't a thing to catch dirt of the air. It gets up on his paint and that won't goddamn do.

He snarls and his pickaxe is swung. Dave's lucky he's already moved because it slices through the air he stood. Coward running. He grips the rock he's caught, readies it, and tosses it back so that if all he's real damn lucky it will hit or at least spook the fucker.

[shenunigans]

It would have been too much to hope that this guy is a dumber than the brickhouse he's built to resemble. Alas. Dave can't feel too bad running when he's pretty goddamn outmatched. There is a vague sense of manly pride berating him for it, but the louder voice in his head is telling him to get the fuck out of there. He won't die now, not this early, and it won't be at the hands of a goddamn Makara. No way.

The rock misses, just barely, but it hits the ground near by him with a force that makes him skid and change directions suddenly. Through the fog, it's hard to imagine where he's going, but he holds onto the hope that the bigger guy will lose him if he keeps on trucking.

[carnagecarnival]

He hears the rock crack on the ground. No crack of bone, no outcry, no thump of a downed soon-to-be-corpse. It is not nearly as satisfying. He roars, loud and sharp out into the fog. It echoes over.

"Come before him again, brother. COME BEFORE ONCE MORE AND YOU BEST HAVE DONE YOUR PRAYER WELL CAUSE YOU'LL MOTHERFUCKING NEED FOR IT!" He calls after.

But for all that, he lets the fucker go. He's not got the patience for cowards at the moment.