Sabertooth Tiger Attacks

[etcircenses]

Who| Everyone who wants to fight Smilodons or run from Smilodons or watch in horror!
What| Sabertooth tigers are rampaging through the Arena!
Where| The forests
When| Monday & Tuesday
Warnings/Notes| Violence against humans and animals!  Make your own threads as you like.  You can also tag in to run from the tigers, rescue people from them, or watch others fighting them.

The first signs of trouble are noticed on Monday morning. As the snowfall ceases, a foreign rustling could be heard amongst the trees of the forests. The rustling became louder and closer, and soon it was obvious that there were dozens of massive furry beasts roaming the woods. But they weren't the peaceful herbivores of the autumn, oh no. These things were massive, vicious, and on the trail of something to eat.

Those who had taken shelter in the woods would notice them first and likely need to run away. However, the cats would not be contained to the forests for long. By Monday evening, the sabertooth tigers were rampaging through most regions of the arena, ready to tear apart any sorry soul who crossed their paths.

The cats are looking for blood. Will you give it to them?

Comments

Dorian, Bull, and later Maxwell

[tevintage]

It was supposed to be a routine supply mission. Down to the river to get some water, maybe find some fish, or a deer or something if they could find one. Dorian had been lucky, so far - Jason at least had been true to his word, if a complete ass about it, so he'd had a fairly regular stream of supplies. But those only went so far, shared with so many people, and even then it was barely enough for one. So extra supplies were constantly needed.

He heard a scream, first, followed by a blood curtling roar. He stopped, putting a hand out to stop Iron Bull in his tracks, and listened. They were in the woods now, and though it was midday, the canopy kept the forest dark, with long shadows. Who knew what was prowling beyond those trees?

Dorian flashed Bull a look. "Bets? I'm almost hoping it's a bear. Would be just like back home."

[meravas]

His eye slid sideways and down to Dorian, meeting that look. "You already know what I'm hoping it is." There might have been an excited edge to the words, already pulling out his knife and rotating it in his grasp.

There were only three dragons that stuck to the snowy and cold terrain. Of course that was back in Emprise du Lion, but what if there were one of the three dragons here? The Highland Ravager, the Kaltenzahn and Hivernal.

It would be wise to retreat what with Dorian being without his magic and Bull only having a one-handed weapon that was several feet shorter than what he used to wielding and cleaving with, but Bull stayed where he was and tried to strain his ears through his hat to hear, expecting to hear the snow give way under any approaching steps or what might charge them.

"On a more serious note - that didn't sound like any bear I've encountered," he added then as another roar carried through the forest and he took a cautious step forward to put himself in front of the mage, holding an arm out.

[tevintage]

"Of course you'd want a dragon, when the best I could possibly do to one is stab vainly at it with a pocket knife," Dorian said wryly, standing behind the Iron Bull's arm.

"You're right, however. I can't place it. I've heard that they can make all manner of beasts, however, and even bri--"

He was interrupted by another deep growl, much closer, and a pair of eyes appearing in the dark of the foliage. Huge paws, crunching the underbrush beneath.

[meravas]

Bull couldn't make out much of the beast. He could hear the crunching of the snow, the twigs snapping with its movements, the growls. But Bull couldn't see it, other for the eyes. This wasn't looking to be good.

"Back," he ordered in a low tone from the corner of his mouth, not taking his eye off of the beast as he pushed his arm back toward Dorian to give him no other choice but to move back. Bull, however, stayed his ground and waited for the thing - whatever it was - to make itself completely known.

[tevintage]

He didn't have a good deal of choice, considering that Bull was already shoving him back, but he drew his knife anyway, and didn't go any farther than Bull pushed him.

He knew better than to speak up, no matter how the silence grated, but luckily he didn't have to wait long.

The beast took a step from the shadows - it's giant paw coming into view first, before the muzzle - and those teeth. Dorian tensed, gripping the blade, his muscles drawing taut as he prepared himself.

"Well at least that's inventive," He muttered to Bull under his breath, unable to keep holding his tongue.

Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, maybe Bruce Banner later

[tookthewheel]

Bucky and Sam left the cave early that morning, setting out to do a perimeter check of the territory that their group had more or less claimed as their own now that the snow had stopped. It's still deep and treacherous going.

To get a better lay of the land and reduce the risk of someone getting the jump on both of them, they're walking apart, about twenty feet, along the edge of the pine forest. Well within shouting distance should something go wrong. Bucky is the one closest to the trees, the place he views as holding the greater risk (which is why he took that position) when he stops in place.

In the distance he hears a roar, then turns to look towards Sam to see if he heard it too.

That's when the beast stalking them, not the one miles away, strikes. Bucky barely has a moment to turn round and throw up his metal arm to protect himself. It's sheer luck that the Smilodon's massive jaws close around that instead of Bucky's head.

The force of the pounce still knocks him off his feet and onto his back in the snow, with the great cat on top of him, snarling as it tries to get around the mouthful of metal to the man underneath.

[sizeofyourbaggage]

Oh, yeah, Sam definitely hears that. The look he gives Bucky is pure 'what the hell now,' as his hand flexes over his hunting knife.

And then something flies out of the trees and takes Bucky down. Sam can't see much but the cat scrambling over him, but he doesn't really have to in order to figure this is bad.

"Bucky!"

There's a brief moment of panic, that reminds him way too much of the last time he'd seen Steve disappearing from sight, over the edge of a helicarrier. He acts just as quickly now as he had back then, lunging in with his hunting knife. In the second or two before he makes contact, he twists his knife around, getting the best grip he can on it, because he's pretty sure the giant snarling tiger cat thing is going to be really damn unhappy about getting stabbed, and he needs to hang on to it.

The knife slams home, sliding in between two of the thing's ribs. He drags it down, but can't risk staying there for too long, because - shit yes there it is. Sam yanks the knife out as the cat turns on him, narrowly missing getting swiped at. But the cat's attention is on him now, and he doesn't manage to dodge the second swipe. Claws rake down the side of his leg as he twists, and he lashes back out with the knife, trying to keep it at bay.

[tookthewheel]

The cats weight has pushed him down into the snow and Bucky strains to keep those jaws from getting any closer to his face, all the while worrying that his layers of clothing weren't going to stand up to those claws. He gets a good blast of its hot, stinking breath in his face before suddenly the cat let's out a yowl, releases his arm and turns its attention on someone else.

Sam he thinks, sluggish for a moment before snapping into the mindset that's kept him alive all his years as a weapon. There's no time to do anything else but act.

He scrambles his way back onto his feet and pulls out one of his hunting knives, eyes quickly flicking over the scene to assess the situation and making a decision. The cat, lion? whatever it is, it's big and mean, is too focused on Sam for hurting it to pay Bucky adequate attention. Taking a deep breath he throws himself forwards and onto the animals back, using the metal hands unyielding grip to get a hold on its fur and plunge his knife into it's ribs, close by where Sam's initial strike landed.

Immediately the cat is snarling and wheeling, twisting to try and get on the pest that has hold of it while Bucky holds on grimly for dear life.

[sizeofyourbaggage]

That’s definitely one way of keeping it at bay. Sam’d be impressed at how well Bucky was managing to keep his grip on a giant angry, squirming cat, but he doesn’t know how long he’s going to be able to keep it up. He’s got to take advantage of it while he can.

The second the thing’s attention is off of Sam again, he lunges back in. Bucky’s on its back, stabbing into its ribs, which means he has to choose his plan of attack more carefully - but really, Sam’s confident in his abilities with his knife, and his reflexes are fast enough that he doesn’t worry about accidentally hitting Bucky instead of the cat thing.

He waits until it’s twisted away from him in an attempt to get Bucky off, exposing its side, and goes in for a gut shot. Sam stabs under it, coming in from the side with his arm twisted a little at first, so he can use his forward momentum to slice sideways through the cat’s stomach as he rolls away from it. It’s not as fluid of a movement as he would like and he’s a little slower getting back up on his feet, because damn does his leg hurt, but it does the job. And he can ignore the pain as he circles back around, getting ready to move back in if he needs to, if Bucky can’t finish it off.

[tookthewheel]

The answer to that question was that Steve Rogers wasn't the only guilty of pulling off reckless, impulsive moves, as much as the old Bucky Barnes would have protested it. The other answer was that a metal hand which could grip very hard and also not get tired really, really helped.

The knife digs deep, sawing at the skin and then tears free as the cat spins. If he lets go though Bucky thinks he'll be dead, it's too fast to allow a single mistake. If he goes to the ground again the cat will get him but luckily he's not alone.

Sam's attack to the cat's stomach causes it to let out an ear-splitting yowl of pain. Bucky approves of the point of attack as he lets go, tumbles into the snow and then throws himself back onto his feet. The animal, preoccupied with its own already mortal injury, has no time to react then as he weighs the knife and with pinpoint accuracy, throws it so it pierces through the sabertooth's eye and into it's brain.

It's still not an easy death. The cat falls and starts to convulse, it's steaming blood rapidly staining the snow around it.

Bucky ignores those death throes to focus on Sam, breathing hard as he staggers a little and then steadies himself to move through the churned up snow towards him. "You're hurt." he's not walking away from this unscathed either, his back and chest are going to be heavily bruised by tonight but it's not as bad as the wound Sam has sustained.

Cullen, Cass, maybe Adella later

[revocation]

When they venture beyond the general vicinity of their cave-camp, Cullen tries to make sure everyone goes in pairs or threes. It's just safer this way - and of course, he needs to set the example himself if he wants everyone else to follow suit.

Cassandra makes a good hunting partner - certainly far less awkward than Dorian or Maxwell, and he's feeling far too overprotective of Adella to want to risk her safety, much as that rankles her, no doubt.

A knife is not a sword, but in some ways it works better especially in the heavily wooded areas across the river from their camp, where a full length sword would just be awkward. When he hears something, he crouches down immediately and waves to Cassandra - hoping she heard it, too. There's clearly something approaching - something large.

[alwaysshielded]

"Our first bear?"

It's said low, barely more than a mutter, but Cassandra cannot imaging a timeline where Cullen had not been regaled, by Sera at least, with tales of the oddly aggressive nature of Ferelden bears. She has no knife herself, her winnings at the first rush isolated more to food and clothing and a 'flashlight.' But she's acquired a makeshift club of heavy oak along the way, which is not so different from wielding a mace when done properly.

She joins Cullen in moving close to the ground, indicating he she take to the left of the sound, she to the right. Perhaps they can flank whatever is there before it has a chance to notice them.

[revocation]

"Possibly," he mutters, and judging from the sounds it's making, it could be about the right size for a large bear. He's definitely heard a few stories, and he's not positive the two of them can take one down without help, but they are here nonetheless - and if they can, they should.

He slips around to the left as indicated, his knife out, and when a growl splits the air, the hairs on the back of his neck stand up - it's an unholy sort of sound, and then it emerges from the underbrush and -

"Maker," he breathes to himself at the sight of the beast. It looks like a cat of some sort, though far from any cat he's ever seen before.

I have to stay true to the spirit of bad AI on this one

[alwaysshielded]

This world was not growing on her. A bear would have at least been familiar. This creature, however was another matter. Though the teeth and claws may be of some use. But she could tell from the way the beast shifted that, while they may have made visual contact first, their approach had not gone unnoticed. It sniffed the ground, turning in her direction with teeth bared-

And Cassandra was not going to wait for it to come to her. Cullen may still have some element of surprise, angled as he is. But the Seeker charges forward, swinging her club. And sorely wishing for her shield.

it's so beautiful

[revocation]

And... there she goes. Maker, what is the woman thinking? She doesn't have a shield or a proper blade!

Groaning faintly to himself, he circles around as quickly as he can, knife at the ready. The big cat is utterly distracted by Cassandra, allowing him to get at the thing's flanks, stabbing out with the knife quickly, making it scream in pain as he draws blood - hamstringing it.

closed to Ellis

[streetsmarts]

If you asked Nick to fight a sabertooth tiger about five months ago, he'd probably either tell you to fuck off or ask what the charge was. The fact that he took one on with no gun for no money is absurd even to him, but what's weirder is the fact that he came out alive. Fight or flight instincts had kicked in, and for some reason he was coming at that tiger with every need to fight in him. Maybe all the zombie attacks got to him, maybe his reflexes are better and maybe the rumor that they can't die is a little too alluring to squander. It's be interesting or be dead around here, and he knows which he prefers.

By some god damn miracle, his worst injuries are deep scars across his back that are bleeding badly. He needs a patch up, and fast, but he can't exactly reach and he won't really be able to hide it from Ellis. He's almost embarrassed to have done something so incredibly risky, but the adrenaline it gives him assures him he did fine.

He staggers off from the scene, with every intention of dragging Ellis back once he finds him back at their meeting place. He had only left to get water, so he shouldn't be too far off, and Nick imagines he heard the screams.

"Ellis." He calls out in a stage whisper, not lingering far from the dead cat or his supplies. "Hey- Ellis. C'mon. Where are you?" He glances around, feeling the need to sit down rising in him very quickly.

[shiftingurbulls]

Ellis had been watching the whole mess from a distance, far away from the big cats skulking around and raising hell on the other Tributes. He was reckless but not Keith-levels of stupidity. But out of all the people in the universe, Nick had been the one to take on the saber-tooth beast. Nick, the man who pitched a fit over a sewer trek, fought what was a monster truck made organic. Of course he heard the screams, El knew them intimately.

It was an all too familiar sight to see Nick covered in his own blood, but this was pushing it. "Nick! Jesus CHRIST, YOU FUCKIN' IDIOT!" he yelled out of frustration and fear, that was a lot of blood his friend was losing, "WHY DID YA DO THAT FOR?!" There's putting on the show and then, "ARE YA FUCKIN' SUICIDAL OR SOMETHIN'?! I'D BEAT YER ASS IF THA' PUSSY DIDN'T BEAT ME TO IT!"

[streetsmarts]

Even if he's on guard for a lot of things, Nick isn't expecting Ellis to pop out so fast or so frantically. He doubles back, but he keeps his footing so he can look nothing short of surprise in amidst a hurricane of powerful Southern concern. Normally he'd laugh Ellis off or chide him, but he just looks surprised. He doesn't actually have a counter argument, so it slows him some, then a wave of pain reminds him why he was looking for the guy in the first place.

"Ellis." He says in an even, wary tone as he holds out a hand to indicate that he needs to calm down while bracing his other hand on his knee to keep steady. "Ellis, we can talk about this later, alright? You can- Ugh." He grimaces from discomfort, shaking it off. "You can patch me up first, right?" He hardly needs to ask, and that's as close as he'll get to indicating that he might need help. "C'mon-" He jerks his head back towards their little camp. "We've gotta protect our shit."

[shiftingurbulls]

"Yer not gonna make it to camp like this," Ellis glared at his friend with enough rage that it could make the snow around him melt away, "Where's the first aid kit? I'mma need a lot more than jus' bandages." Gone was any sort of joy that made El stand out in the crowd was gone and replace with contempt at best, seething anger at worst. "Fuckin' two-bit idiot."

It would take a lot to get the mechanic out of this justified funk. "Tha' wasn't a Witch or a Tank...Nikita wha' am I gonna do with you?" He took Nick's outstretched hand and swung his arm around his shoulder. El knew that Nick hated when called girl names, in particular that one, "Lean against me, make sure y'have pressure an' stop the bleeding."

[streetsmarts]

"I'm bleeding, not dying." His voice is a little tired, but it doesn't lack the passionate irritation Nick is so well known for. "You can tell me off when I'm dead and I don't have to listen to it, alright? I'm already suffering enough without having to listen to you." He says that, but he gratefully lets Ellis support his weight. He learned long ago not to let pride get in the way of shit like this, but that doesn't mean he wants to hear about it.

"It.." He gives pause, still a little winded and a little woozy. "It came at me. Alright? Running had about the same odds as knifing it, and I won." He doesn't care how smug he sounds when he leans his weight against Ellis and starts to hobble along. It's fortunate timing when a parachute from Jason starts to descend in the near distance.

"Please god, let that be a medkit." He glances upward at the sky, at the potential sponsors, and back to the parachute that most assuredly carries a medkit. He doesn't know that he's in for another prize, but that will come a little later.

Haruto, Gary, and Iskierka

[wizardplease]

Things have not been getting all that much better since Haruto crawled out of his cave and attempted to team up with some of the other Tributes. Because Gary Epps was among them, and he felt no small amount of duty to take care of Gary. Who was the sort of person to steadfastly refuse to need that care and to put himself in all sorts of grave danger.

Haruto may be a city boy, but that growling and yowling in the distance cannot possibly be good or friendly. And it's new. Something that he hadn't heard until now. Gary went out, hadn't come back, and damn it he does not want his districtmate to get eaten by whatever it is. So he's out, dressed warmly in sponsor-gifted gear, tromping through snow with a hunting knife in hand, attempting to find any trace of the guy so he can grab him and haul him back to safety.

...and that was just one of those new growls somewhere far, far too nearby, wasn't it? Crap.

[a_minute_younger]

It was supposed to be a quick venture out. What started out as a trip to the edge of the camp to piss turned into a wander through the snow, following the delicate, icy ridges from the wind, and soon thereafter became a dedicated search for food. Which he would find, obviously, because it's his birthday (or close enough to it to count--birthdays last at least a week, don't they?) and nothing can go wrong. Gary has told everyone who would listen over the past two days, so that means everyone in the Arena knows and will be accommodating for him. That's how birthdays have always worked. Therefore, Gary is functionally invincible.

It's that thought that keeps his mind off of the loud cats prowling the forest. Far away and not his problem, he figures. Even that one that sounded really close. Still not his problem! The rapidly approaching Haruto, though, that's worth paying attention to. Gary turns and beams at him.

"Haruto! Hey!" He waves, as if this is the most normal thing in the world. "Find anything good?"

[letthemburn]

Snow is most definitely not Iskierka's favorite thing. It's been a relative rarity in the course of her life to date and the idea that something should be cold and wet at the same time is not at all appealing. Especially when she's warm enough to leave partially-melted footprints in her wake. It's worse when she can't even wear most any of the warmer clothes that she's seen other people wearing.

On the other hand once she settles down for the night she can at least make things warmer for a time, and that's good enough for the most part. Even if it does usually mean that she needs to find a cave, once the sun sets. Sleeping in a puddle of partially melted snow is hardly good, even if one is a little bit like a space heater at the best of the times.

That said she is still curious about what this means about the Arena and she can tolerate the cold well enough. Enough to not simply hole up somewhere and hope to weather it out anyway, and that means exploring. It's mostly luck that has her running across Gary and Haruto - she's never been trained in tracking and hasn't any real interest in following footprints besides. But other people is always a plus, regardless of how she manages to run into them.

"I have certainly not found anything," she answers as she draws near. Sure, she's heard the growling, but what could possibly be so desperate as to attack her?

[wizardplease]

Haruto does a startled double-take when Iskierka shows herself, for it takes him a moment to remember things like 'I know this dragon' and 'this dragon isn't bad' and 'since when were dragons part of a glacial landscape, anyway'. But during that moment he does manage to leap closer to Gary trajectory and put an arm up as though he was prepared to defend him. Hero reflexes, after all.

"Really? Because I've been hearing things all day. They must be good at hiding." And he casts a look back at Gary, more worried than anything else. Good job, you've avoided a cranky scolding from big brother Haruto.

[a_minute_younger]

For all of his confidence, Gary can't help but jump when Iskierka appears through the scattered brush and snow. She's honestly the most terrifying creature he's encountered in this Arena so far, and he knows her. Which means she's on his side.

This is an excellent thing to realize. Gary's startled little jump and wide-eyed stare rapidly shifts back to a grin, and he's quick to push past Haruto's protective arm so he can get a better look at her. The gesture's significance, naturally, has gone completely over his head.

"Or they just don't want to mess with a motherfucking dragon," Gary points out with an enthusiastic laugh. When it fades, the others might notice that the forest has become comparatively, eerily quiet. Like something is watching and trying to stay quiet.