thearena | (no subject)

Who| Anyone who replied here

What| A spread of supplies, ripe for the taking.

Where| Fantasyland

When| Mid-morning

Warnings/Notes| The winning rolls are under the cut

In the remains of a little pavilion, with broken teacups scattered around the remains of a fence at the edge, a tea party is set up.

At one end of the table sits a white placemat with a white satin bag, neatly tied up with pretty white ribbons. And the other end is the same display, in black. Along each side there are 5 a piece, one for each district, in their colors.

The table is also covered with teapots, contained for tea and sugar... however all of them have covers. Covers that are moving, being pushed up from within by a tiny creature with bright eyes and sharp teeth. As soon as the first tribute touches one of the bags the pots burst open and dozens of small, mice muttation pour out, with mouths full of sharp teeth and paws with razor sharp claws on them.

Anyone who makes it away with one of the pretty satin bags will find it contains a large thermostat of tea, 4 petit fours, a small locket containing a small amount of shimmer medicine-about enough for one wound, and a sturdy hat pin, with a very sharp point at one end. Although both the tea and cakes are very sugary, they are also very filling-they will last a few days if rationed well.

The Winners:

Shatterstar
Punchy
Daniel
Eliot
Pruna
Topher
Beck
Sandy
Asha
Kurt
Glinda
Giaus

Unfortunately Rictor and Morrigan will not be making it out of this little tea party..

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Let's cap up some mousies," Punchy says. Clearly, this will be the tagline for the greatest movie ever.

He turns around, tosses his bag up a tree so the drawstring catches it, and starts to pelt back towards the feast. He actually has no idea how he's going to take on a bunch of mice - somehow, superhero training never really covered that - so he holds back just a little to see what Gaius does.

Gaius wasn't quite dumb enough to try and take on a horde of angry mutant mice all at once, so what he did was to approach to the edges of the mice's active range and begin crushing them as quickly and efficiently as possible underfoot while keeping an eye out for any rodents coming for him personally.

His knife was his backup; their bodies were light and numerous enough that trying to stab every one of them was going to be impossible. Fortunately there were only a dozen of them, and not hundreds.

Punchy is, actually, wondering why Gaius doesn't try to stab them all individually. Punchy's not the sharpest tack in the shed.

He grabs a mouse and throws it at another mouse, yelling "Fastball Special!" as he does,

"Fastball what now?" Not that it was a particularly serious question; at least Punchy wasn't yelling about how he'd cleave the enemy in twain with his trusted weapon, Shadowdarkness.

"Say, Ace, aren't you going to get your hands bitten to ribbons if you go at it like that?"

"Fastball Special," Punchy repeats, sidestepping a particularly large mouse - seriously, do they put steroids in the grain around here? - and leaping up onto the table. He balances on it for about half a second before it tips over entirely, sending a bunch more of the mice scattering.

"I usually wear gloves!" he yells at Gaius. Clearly that explains everything.

"Of course. Why didn't I think of that?" Gaius took a quick leap backward away from several of the scattered mice, using the knife to fend off one of the creatures that managed to skitter up onto his shoulder.

There was a sickening crunch as he stomped on another one. "You know, rat-catching's not really my thing. I hope to never do it again."

Mousies what cats like to hunt, mousies what cats like to eat, bite they tiny heads off, nibble on theys tiny feets.

A few mice are already racing off the body of a dead Tribute. The other Tributes seem to have scattered. Punchy grabs the body and slings it over his shoulder.

"Might need to haul out, we're punched clock five minutes out of carpool."

He sounds heartbroken.

Gaius put a hand on the shoulder that wasn't covered with dead body. "Can't save them all, Ace." Of course, if they'd had a cleric around, or even if they hadn't all been tossed in here by a bunch of addled nobles, no one would have had to die.

"You want to find a place to bury 'im, right?"

Maybe not. But he should be able to save someone.

As they walk away from the killing site, Punchy shakes his head. "Nah, they take 'em...I don't know, in some kinda baller-ass spaceship. Figure it's better he gets cleaned up than someone finding his body and getting freaked out, right? We don't got shovels or shizz."

He smiles slightly, weakly. The shoulder on his hand is appreciated. "You know any prayers?"