The Gamemakers (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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thearena2013-03-16 04:55 pm
gamemakers) wrote in thearena2013-03-16 04:55 pm
Entry tags:
- ! arena 06,
- cassandra marko,
- clint barton,
- harley quinn,
- matthew "punchy" o'connor,
- sigma klim,
- wesker,
- wyatt earp,
- ✘ adel-makim-zalur,
- ✘ alpha,
- ✘ anna morasca,
- ✘ asha greyjoy,
- ✘ atticus bell,
- ✘ barbara gordon,
- ✘ blaine anderson,
- ✘ bruce wayne,
- ✘ chris redfield,
- ✘ daniel jackson,
- ✘ diana prince,
- ✘ donatello,
- ✘ dr. grey,
- ✘ dr. holiday,
- ✘ draco malfoy,
- ✘ eliot spencer,
- ✘ enjolras,
- ✘ eponine thenardier,
- ✘ gabriel,
- ✘ gaius,
- ✘ gavroche,
- ✘ howard bassem,
- ✘ ian chesterton,
- ✘ javert,
- ✘ jim kirk,
- ✘ john watson,
- ✘ karis needleteeth,
- ✘ katurian katurian,
- ✘ lady,
- ✘ little rock,
- ✘ maximus,
- ✘ morrigan,
- ✘ neffa a reyeth,
- ✘ pruna,
- ✘ r,
- ✘ rictor,
- ✘ shatterstar,
- ✘ sherlock holmes (bbc),
- ✘ sokka,
- ✘ some ovmennet,
- ✘ tohru adachi,
- ✘ topher brink
Arena 06 - Happy
The last few hours before the Arena have a strangely stifled quality, as if half the people they interact with are trying very hard not to laugh. Maybe it's the costumes, the fancy gowns and velvet tunics, the short capes. Or maybe it's their destination.
The round courtyard to which the tubes bring them could not be more different from the last arena. Though outside the circle of pedestals, disrepair and neglect has taken over the roads and buildings, the garden inside the circle could not be more perfectly sculpted. Every hedge is a smooth, rounded shape. Flowers bloom brightly in concentric circles of insane color. The Cornucopia sits gleaming and golden, and just in front of its mouth, a bronze statue of a man and a mouse stands amid the heap of supplies.
Aside from it, there is a hush. No flies in the flowers, no wind in the trees. It is a cool day, with the comfortable chill of early spring and noon's short shadows.
Outside the circle, behind the tributes on the northern side, a castle looms. Through its wide gate, devastation everywhere, but it, itself, is shining clean, glowing pink and blue. Opaque windows look down from the heights of it, as uncaring as every hidden camera the veterans know is there.
Music starts as the countdown nears the bottom, a whimsical, dramatic tune.
And with the final note, the gong rang out, and a firework shot into the sky from the castle's peak, bright enough to burst redly across the sky above them all. Let the Games begin.
((OOC NOTES: IF YOUR CHARACTER HAS POWERS THE CAPITOL HAS NERFED, make sure you are on this list.
And everyone really should review the arena post. Because there's a little more to play with than you might think.
And please remember to add your character's tag to each post they're in.))
The round courtyard to which the tubes bring them could not be more different from the last arena. Though outside the circle of pedestals, disrepair and neglect has taken over the roads and buildings, the garden inside the circle could not be more perfectly sculpted. Every hedge is a smooth, rounded shape. Flowers bloom brightly in concentric circles of insane color. The Cornucopia sits gleaming and golden, and just in front of its mouth, a bronze statue of a man and a mouse stands amid the heap of supplies.
20, shouts the voice from the sky.
Aside from it, there is a hush. No flies in the flowers, no wind in the trees. It is a cool day, with the comfortable chill of early spring and noon's short shadows.
19 - 18 - 17
Outside the circle, behind the tributes on the northern side, a castle looms. Through its wide gate, devastation everywhere, but it, itself, is shining clean, glowing pink and blue. Opaque windows look down from the heights of it, as uncaring as every hidden camera the veterans know is there.
12 - 11
Music starts as the countdown nears the bottom, a whimsical, dramatic tune.
3
2
1
2
1
And with the final note, the gong rang out, and a firework shot into the sky from the castle's peak, bright enough to burst redly across the sky above them all. Let the Games begin.
((OOC NOTES: IF YOUR CHARACTER HAS POWERS THE CAPITOL HAS NERFED, make sure you are on this list.
And everyone really should review the arena post. Because there's a little more to play with than you might think.
And please remember to add your character's tag to each post they're in.))
no subject
He backed up to get the space to make one more run at it, and froze, staring at the human who'd managed to sneak up on him.
no subject
--oh.
The sound that Neffa made was trying to be a cry of fear and disbelief, but lacked the intended volume, as breath simply was not coming anymore. He flattened himself against the wall, taking in the-- the thing, outlandish in its strangely-cut doublet and cape, his thoughts inquiring in a shriek why the gods had saved him from the Cornucopia for this.
He had no weapon-- no! He had a cape full of cans. It took all the courage in him to step away from the wall and brandish it, ready to take a swing. "Stay back," he said hoarsely. (Did it understand human speech?) "Please--" (Was he asking the creature, or the gods?)
no subject
"Look," he said, trying to modulate his voice, and holding up his other two hands, and even his forefeet, one at a time. "I'm unarmed. I'm just trying to get away from the Cornucopia."
no subject
It was difficult to decide what to look at - Neffa couldn't follow that many gazes at once, and when the second pair of hands began to move he lurched back against the wall, setting the cans to rattling against each other. This wasn't-- they'd told him there would be monsters in the Arena, creations of the Capitol, but then why did it speak? (And unarmed, was that supposed to be some kind of joke, was something with enough limbs to hold you down, strangle you, and beat you senseless at the same time really allowed to qualify itself as unarmed?)
"Let me pass," he said, and he tried his damnedest to make it sound like a threat and not a plea and did not succeed. "Let me out of here unharmed or-- or I swear--"
Like hell was he turning his back on it long enough to run, whatever it claimed its intentions to be.
So maybe it won't be quite a scuffle. Seriously, guys?
"Look, I think we are both just going in the same direction... If you keep making this much noise, someone is going to hear you and come after us!"
SORRY come on, Neffa, summon a little bloodlust will you
He swallowed hard, forced his thoughts by effort of will to move in a straight line. He hadn't been attacked yet. His legs still weren't going to be supporting him in a sprint, but it appeared that he was not dead. That maybe he... wasn't even bargaining for his life here.
He lowered his voice from a shout to a more normal, albeit hoarse, volume. "You're not-- you're not one of the-- you're not from here?" he managed, rather lamely. This was a crossroads. If it belonged to the Capitol, he would take a swing and run. If it wasn't, he would... just run. Probably.
XD It's not just Neffa.
Not unless he was forced to.
no subject
But both, he realized, were their own kind of dangerous. Because they were watching, weren't they? The Capitol. They'd driven that well into him in his brief time there - that it was their eyes that would be saving his life, should he pull himself together enough to do something they deemed worthy of sponsorship. He wasn't selling a life worth saving to the beast here. He was selling it to the invisible eyes around them, and they wanted blood.
Oh, gods, he really, really didn't want to sell them blood.
"...Look," he said, and dropped his voice - watching he knew they could do, but he was less sure about listening (and the tremble in his voice was, he was sure, easy enough for an audience to imagine). "It hardly looks good for either of us, to cower here together and part ways as friends, does it? I'll leave you in peace, I swear I will, but-- but help me impress them first."
A few quick blows, just enough blood to show up bright and exciting on their devices - that was fair, right? He watched Some's reaction carefully, wishing he were better at reading the many-eyed face.
no subject
His was not a tactical mind, and he knew the watchers had noticed that by now.
"... I do not want them thinking I am willing to take life, now that I have slipped once," he hissed, through only the upper of his two mouths. "And I have more blood to spare than you." Which was certainly true; if he stood on his hind feet, he'd be nearly twice as tall as any human.
waaaah sorry for slow!!
He made the very conscious decision not to ask what it meant by slipped. This opportunity was a gift, and it was a foolish salesman who refused a gift. Someone was on his side, clearly.
Suddenly, his demeanor changed. He took a step forward, pointed and aggressive, gave the bag an experimental swing. "We've had a disagreement," he growled, and hoped again that they couldn't hear him. "Menace me. I'll strike a blow and run." He feinted forward, but didn't connect-- "Feel free," he added, "to pretend it hurts more than it does."
No worries.
"Head or foreleg!" he hissed, the idea sudden. They'd be the only believable blunt injuries that would keep a hunter from chasing down prey. And even if he didn't want them to think he was willing to hunt, it would help. He lunged forward then, to all appearances grabbing for the young man.
ok to end it around here, or is there something else you'd like to have done? :D
He trusted the beast to keep to its part of the bargain - he did not look back at it until he was out of the shadows, though he managed to mutter a breathless, "I will repay you for this," as he tore past it and away.
It appeared that he was still alive. How many miracles was he getting today?