Carnage in the Caves

[etcircenses]

Who| Participants in the bloodbath
What| Murder and mayhem ensue after the jabberjays chase people into the caves.
Where| Deep within the caves. This area of the caves cannot be broken into or escaped from until 24 hours have passed.
When| Over a twenty-four hour period beginning now.
Warnings/Notes| Violence, death, gore, etc. You have been assigned a target to kill, but you may run into other characters in the caves as well.

The jabber jays begin their screaming, driving you deep into the caves in an attempt to escape the cries of your loved ones being tortured, beaten, or killed. When the maddening sounds finally cease, you will find yourself trapped in a series of corridors and caves, sealed tight with no chance for escape. Luckily there are plenty of weapons and supplies at hand (machetes, axes, hunting knifes, swords, maces, spears, clubs, hammers, scythes, bows & arrows, food, water, clean clothes), but any delusions of good fortune are soon squashed when an announcer assigns each person a target and gleefully informs you that you must kill your target within 24 hours or else you will run out of oxygen and die.

Over the next 24 hours, you will be tasked with killing this person in any manner you can. You may also happen upon other unfortunate souls trapped in the caves, but be wary of befriending them down here. They're on a mission too, and there's no rules against collateral damage.  

Good luck, and don't forget to put on a show.

Comments

[carnagecarnival]

Teeth sink into his arm, blunt teeth making a bruise like pressure before the skin manages at all to tear. It's no slow-motion scene but he feels his reaction come all too motherfucking slow in the wake of it. The indigo bubbles up and spills over around the daywalker's mouth and down his arm.

He jerks back with a cry. Or tries to, rather. He feels the pump of his pusher wasting its efforts on his arm, feeding this fucker more and costing him. No. No, no, being eaten is not how he wanted to go it's not how he wants to die.

He claws at Rick, less to hurt and more to kick his fighting instincts back into drive.

[rictator]

The oddly-hued blood is not what he would have expected, not that it does anything to deter him. It's hot, it's living, and the rest doesn't matter. In truth, he doesn't have the mental capacity necessary to taste it anymore, the colour little more than meaningless sensory data. Feeding was the priority, the only thing left, and be it animal, alien, or human - meat was meat.

The movement ripped another snarl from his mangled throat, which might have been mistaken for annoyed had he been capable of such things. Instead, it only served to make him clamp down like a dog wrestling for a bone, struggling to keep his grip against the pull - All he managed was to tear away the chunk of flesh, indigo blood flowing freely down his beard, mingling with the thick trails of crimson.

The force of the movement was enough to knock him off balance, and he swayed in an attempt to regain his fragile sense of equilibrium; that in itself proved more effective than the scratching had, the cuts barely fazing him.

[carnagecarnival]

Hot? Not so much. His blood was cool as a corpse-- fittingly. Living though, yeah, that was something he was and really, at this moment, wanted to motherfucking stay. There's nothing quite like seeing one's own blood flow between another's teeth, but he's never quite had a close up show like this.

His flesh is torn off in a great chunk. It's the price of his freedom but fuck if it don't pull from him another cry. He can take a lot of pain. It don't mean it hurts less or that he can make on being more silent for it. That's not a bit of his old avoxing as what he managed to keep.

But at least with pain he can think. The daywalkers off-balance. He lifts a foot high to kick the motherfucker back, and then while that stumbling's going up and on, he spins in a proper round-housing at the nugbone.

[rictator]

It wasn't close to enough. It never would be, and he'd barely swallowed before he was searching for more, teeth bared, egged on by the noise the other had made.

The blow hit him hard, forcing him back another few unsteady steps, his blanched hands scrabbling at the air for purchase, more concerned with keeping his meal than actually saving himself. The cave wall was the only reason he didn't wind up on the ground, and he was left reeling for a good long moment - Enough for the other to land a solid kick to his face, snapping his head back with the momentum. His knees gave this time, and he crumpled to the floor in a heap of tangled limbs, growling as he tried clumsily to extricate himself.

[carnagecarnival]

His training is back into recollection. It's the only thing what keeps him from pausing and staring. He feels no shame in turning tail, it's simply what needs to be done.

With one hand gripping his bitten arm, he runs onward. It's a throbbing and stinging pain both, a whole chunk of his arm gone out, flesh torn like putty. But again he reminds himself; he's been hurt worse.

He finds it effecting him a lot more than it should, in light of that. It gets harder to focus. It gets harder to keep on. He has to. Julian has to kill him or they might both just die. The least he can do is offer a chance to live.

And with that ill curling up inside him, he knows for certain now it won't be him.