thearena | Carnage in the Caves

Entry tags:

Carnage in the Caves

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.

Threaded | Flat

"Tch. What a pain..." Zed didn't appear to be particularly upset at the idea of having to kill someone else so he didn't die. It was more a nuisance than anything else, just one more thing he had to do. How annoying. He was, however, glad for the clean clothes that were scattered around, at least insofar as he was able to throw on a couple of layers over what he was already wearing. Freezing to death would be a pain, too. The food that he found was also a plus; it's not like they'd dropped him off with anything.

There was also the matter of weapons. Zed had already secured a sword that he'd strapped to his back with a spare shirt, but something else had caught his eye. "Now that's pretty cool!" Worry? What, him? Nah, he was just going to start playing around with that scythe he found like a little kid. He'd deal with having to kill his target when the time came--for now, he'd have himself a little fun.

She had scarcely recovered from the trauma of Gemma and Ann and Pippa's horrible screams when the announcement fully registered with her. She already had her bow and arrows with her from before, but the bounty of weapons was still a beacon to her in her frazzled state. As she approached the cache, she glanced cautiously over both shoulders before grabbing what she could. A knife. A hammer. More arrows. An axe. Yes. She was ready to stand and deliver, even if she loathed the idea of being forced into action. Nothing against Anna, of course.

I. - Sam

It's a normal day, or as normal as things can get in a death Arena, and Albert's just returned to the caves from a successful hunting trip. The animals may be getting more aggressive, but they're also getting bigger, which means full bellies for both their parties when they manage to fell something large like the sloth that they'd lugged halfway across the Arena, or at least that's what it feels like.

A brief rest at the first cave in the complex is in order, so Albert calls a stop and lets the giant hairy arm flop, the two large clawed toes clacking on the stone floor. No Tributes have taken shelter here and it's easily clear why considering the back of the cave goes into darkness but not visible end. Anything could be living back there. Still, it'll do for a brief rest before the couple miles left to their neighboring caves.

Albert sits heavily on a rock and breaks out a bottle of water, removing his hat and scarf as he's sweating from the exertion. He takes a long pull and offers the rest over to Sam. "There is no earthly way these things were ever actually on the Earth. They're just being silly now."

II. - Hawke

He'd run without stopping for what felt like an eternity until there was nowhere else to go. A dead end into a circular chamber cast in soft blue from an unseen light source shining through the thick ice on all sides. It shimmers in places, not like ice but metal, yet Albert pays it all no attention, whirling around to find the door again, find the direction of the screams.

"Jet?!" He screams himself, trying to find his partner, to stop whatever was happening to him, but instead his call has the room fall utterly silent, eerily so after the cacophony of screaming. A bird flits past his cheek from a jut of the wall behind him, letting out a jarring, human scream, and then vanishes back into the tunnel network. So he'd been tricked.

It's comforting, actually, knowing Jet may not actually be down here, screaming and dying without Albert there to stop it. But the comfort only lasts for a moment, then there's the announcement.

Congratulations! You've been chosen to hunt down and kill Marian Hawke for the benefit of fabulous prizes! But don't take too long! Once twenty-four hours are up, if you haven't achieved your goal, it's going to be you missing out on victory! Happy Hunger Games!

That explains the weapons strewn through the walls and on the floor. Explains why these tunnels had been designed in labyrinthine turns and curves. And he'd fallen for the trap. He has a sinking feeling that he may well die down here, considering his unwillingness to fight other innocents who have been pulled here. If they'd told him to kill Black Tom then maybe, or even Molotov for all she doesn't hold grudges, but someone he hasn't even met?

He takes a change of clothes which he puts on first (fresh underwear is a luxury he never knew to miss until it was unavailable), then a machete. He considers a spear but ultimately, in caves like this he guesses it will be close quarters and a spear will hinder more than help.

First thing's first, and it's not the mission to which he's been set. He has to find Sam, or other allies, and then they can find a way out.

III. - Initiate and Sam

It takes Albert a long time to collapse in an empty tunnel, out of breath and bleeding heavily from his side. He's leaving a blood trail, but that Hawke woman is wounded too even if it's far less serious. She'd take the time to bind herself off, or so he believes. Frankly, it's a wonder that Albert's not dead already but if he has to guess it's likely because of a combination of the cold, adrenaline, and sheer stubbornness. He can't die and let Jet find out about it as an impersonal portrait flashing across the sky.

But he's not certain he'll have much choice.

With a grit of teeth, Albert removes his scarf and ties it around his middle, staunching the remaining bleeding so that between the ripped edges of his parka and the scarf he won't be leaving a trail any longer. Then he forces himself to move. On your feet Heinrich, you have to get out, you have someone to get home to.

He stumbles blindly into another room, this one large and vaulting with shimmering colored ice crystals casting rainbow lights in glimmering waves. It seems so peaceful and out of place for an Arena that he's momentarily struck by it, panting softly as he holds himself up against the curve of the tunnel's mouth and oblivious to anyone else that may be in the room.

Exploring the Arena had proven to be a horrible mistake as soon as Ellis heard that guttural...familiar scream. "NICK?!" he yelled back, just to hear another scream in return. His mind went into overdrive, he knew leaving him alone would get him hurt! El was already impulsive to a fault, now he was unstoppable in his rush. His fear was further compounded when he thought he heard, "ROCHELLE?! COACH?!" Nick said they were the only ones there, that the others were still in New Orleans- how could this BE?! "I'M COMIN' HOLD ON!" This felt too familiar for the young man, the sounds of flesh being torn, bones being broken...he could almost hear the Tank's bellowing roar or the Witch's screech.

The sounds led him into a new cave entrance, giving El some sort of solace, "They're here, they're here." He was too caught up in his perceived threats to notice the gaping maw that welcomed him had closed. He insisted on calling out those three names, echoing for a response.

Open
She'd been surprised at how well she'd weathered the Games so far. While she'd been cold, she'd borne it better than some, being from the North, where some would say they have ice flowing in their veins. She'd wanted for hunger at the beginning, but since she'd taken up with Tom and Molotov she'd been well taken care of. She'd killed, and she tells herself that it was a matter of survival rather than for the sport of the Arena, as it still doesn't sit quite right with her as the latter, but it was far from clear cut.

None of that gets to her, though. Not in the way the cries of the birds circling overhead get to her. First it's Jon's voice, calling her name, and she gazes round desperately for him, in hope that she might be reunited with him and despair that he's been brought here to fight and kill and die too. Then there's Sansa, screaming the way she'd screamed the last time Arya had seen her, when she'd been stood up there with Joffrey and Cersei, while Joff called for her father's head. But it's the last of their cries that breaks her. Five, ten, then twenty jabber jays swirling above her, chanting "King in the North! All hail the King in the North!" in that same jeering tone as when Robb's mutilated body had been paraded before her.

She flees, not stopping until she's in the darkness of the caves. It's not until she's hunched over in a corner trying to block out the echoes of the cries in her her head that she realises she's crying - for the first time in as long as she can remember.

b - closed to Sam
She's finally got a sword. It's bigger and heavier than she'd like, not perfectly suited to water dancing, but still more slender and easier to wield than the swords common in Westeros, more suited to hacking than anything requiring precision and finesse. She makes her way through the caverns slowly but surely, using the shadows and the nooks and crannies to her advantage, waiting for her opponent to pass by so she can get the drop on him.

Edited 2015-02-25 00:22 (UTC)

He'd fallen for a pleading, tormented voice once and paid the price for it. This time, even if it wasn't just Koyomi asking to be saved but everyone he'd come to care for, Haruto was determined not to give into it. Even after the birds with Rinko's and Shunpei's voices gave way to those of his parents. It was horrible, but he was resolved to wait it out and show that it wasn't going to be enough to make him break like last time.

Only he started to realize, from his semi-comfortable camp close to the entrance of the caves, that the foot traffic there was much heavier than before. And the birds with voices were calling out with more than just ones that would get to him. There was something suspicious happening here. Something no doubt dangerous for all these people getting chased in and down into the dark. And so, motivated by equal parts curiosity and misguided heroism, he descended into the cave, too. And this is how he found himself with a nice new sword, a change of underwear, and a cheerful command to track down and kill Thor.

Thor, of all people.

On the whole, this was something that he really did not want to do. Mostly the killing part... but wasn't Thor also back from the dead and in some sort of fight-crazy state? But just wishing something like that wasn't going to get him anywhere. And, if he chose to look on the positive side as he crept through the dark caves, his rifle at the ready, at least no one else would have to face the guy. No one young, or inexperienced, or unsuited to fighting.

He's pretty keyed up, though. If something startles him, there is a very good chance that he's going to fire a shot at them first.

By and large, Jason considers himself pretty damn good at compartmentalization. It comes along with the notion (he'll hedge on the issue of belief, thank you very much) moksha, and definitely comes along with having lived and died and lived again (his own personal and highly undesirable samsara). So, when the birds start calling out to him using the voices of Roy, Koriand'r, Essence, and Ducra, he's annoyed more than disturbed. Or, more accurately, he's disturbed, but in a certain detached, compartmentalized way. He knows, generally, that Koriand'r isn't around, that Ducra is beyond dead, and that Essence and Roy (and Koriand'r, just for the sake of clarity) can defend themselves perfectly well, even if they somehow got dragged into an Arena.

Roy isn't as dumb as he looks, Essence has his same training, more or less, even without her abilities, Koriand'r is Koriand'r and never actually ceases to amaze him. They'd be fine. Fine.

Which is way easier to intellectualize than it is to like, actually force himself to believe.

It takes fifteen minutes (give or take) for the birds to get to him. He tries to catch one, but fails. Still, there's an absolutely overwhelming desire to rip every feather off its wings in impotent retaliation. Jason isn't a Buddhist, but there's something, he thinks, to at least one of those Four Noble Truths. The root of all suffering really is attachment. This is doubly true of other people's suffering.

The caves are probably foreboding for someone who didn't spend the best parts of their adolescence hanging around a dude who modeled himself after bats (not to mention the ninja cult). For Jason, they're mildly comforting. He can't really decide if that comfort intensifies or lessens based on the number of weapons he spots strewn periodically around.

"Hey— You Elsa?" He asks, not bothering to hide his impatience. It only takes death by suffocation once for him to know he isn't super keen on experiencing it again. It's sort of like death by smoke inhalation. Only different and equally fucked up. Ether way, he could not. He'd prefer to not.

At this rate, Dave should know better than to follow ominous birds and harrowing sounds. The fact that it could be a trick occurs to him somewhere in the back of his mind, but apprehension is outweighed by hefty amounts of experience with the Capitol. The screams he's hearing are from people who haven't even made it here, but it wouldn't be the first time they've pulled in a victim to dance around the ring for them.

Typically, Dave doesn't make it far into his quest for discovery before he's treading on ice and not rock and losing his footing. It's a tumble into the cave that leads him to Cornucopia 2 Electric Boogaloo, and it doesn't take a genius to figure out that he's fucked up here. He brushes himself off and makes for a sword, taking it in his hand as the exits are sealed off and cocking his head to the side when the announcements are made.

His first instinct is to get the fuck away from populated areas, so he delves into the cave quickly. Who the fuck is Rick, though? He's pretty sure Clint is an Avenger, but he's never met or heard of the other guy. He's in no particular rush to kill either of them, but as the hours crawl on he begins to grow more and more paranoid. Every footstep could be this Rick guy trying to take him out. Clint is a wildcard, he could be in it to win it too.

He doesn't blame either of the hypothetical enemies he's created, really. He's starting to want to get out of here himself. His heart is racing and his grip on his sword is tight, he's rounding corners carefully but his thoughts are so loud he can hardly hear anything but himself.

The Psiioniic has been dead. His face was blazed over the sky and the Initiate had turned from it, bitter. It had been just he and Sam, and his patience had gone well and dry for sitting still. He'd found branch and cracked it, spending what time follow with crafting himself as good a peg he could manage to settle on his stump leg. He'd get slivers and all manner of hoofbeastshit, but it would beat getting bored. He'd wrapped it tight around as secure as he could make it.

Then, with muttered apology to a Sam what was already out for the hunt, he started off. He'd abandoned his spear by the shore. Maybe he could still grab it. Come back with a whole ton of fish, and some for Clementine too. He'd not feel so damned useless. He watches the water close, this time certain he won't be fooled. He knows its not Da, just some beast. Why would it have been Da?

Perhaps the same reason this could be Gamzee. The wails sound out in terrible howls, be he knows them, he knows his own voice, he knows his goddamn descendant.

"GAMZEE! Gamzee..."

It's not just him... There's Terezi. Signless. Mituna... His Mituna

"NO!" He shouts. "No, no! STOP IT!" His screams are swallowed by the sky, but he knows Capitol is listening, he fucking knows they know what they're doing.

They win. He heads on deep into the caverns, half-knowing what's sure to happen, but no more able to stop than Sam and the Psiioniic had when they heard him. He's not even surprised when the Caves seal off. Not even when they ask him to cull, and a the sinking feeling grows within him. He can't cull. He can't cull, they made sure he can't cull. So he has to die. With a furious cry, he smashes a fist against the cave wall, then starts off for his doom.

He keeps his teeth bared and his claws spread. At the very least, he's gotta go down with fight in him. His friends wouldn't forgive him otherwise.

"COME OUT, JULIAN!" He snarls into the caves. His voice echos. This might be a long day.

Threaded | Flat

Zed | Open

Felicity | Open

Catch all for Albert's stuff

For Garrett

Arya - open & closed to Sam

Haruto Soma | Open

Jason Todd; for Elsa and open!

for Rick and eventually Clint

For Zombie-Rick and Julian!