Charles (Orc) Merriman (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
paidinbeer) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thearena2013-07-12 05:56 pm
paidinbeer) wrote in thearena2013-07-12 05:56 pm
Entry tags:
Canis latrans extermination
Who:| Orc, and Open to all
What:| Orc really...REALLY hates coyotes
Where:| Arena 2, near the mountains.
When:| Week 3
Warnings| Violence against violent animals and maybe violence against humans later. Also some descriptions of Howard and Orc being eaten back home
So far Orc's time in the arena had been uneventful. Sometimes he even wondered if he was the only one left. But then he'd catch sight of some tributes on the horizon and start towards them. Usually by the time he got there they'd be long gone though. He moved slow, lacking the energy or will to run.
His trip to the Cornucopia had earned him some prizes, most of which he kept bundled in the black chador he had found. This bundle of loot was kept hanging from the end of a hook sword he had in one hand, hanging over his shoulder.
In the other hand he sported a thick crowbar. He liked the weight of it in his thick stone fist.
A sound caught his attention and he froze. He's long lost track of where he was wandering to and had somehow found his way to the mountains. The sound was a low familiar growling and the thick wet sounds of beasts feeding on flesh.
His beady eyes narrowed and slowly trudged forward.
A pack of desperate coyotes were feasting on an Elk, the largest ones taking their fill while the weaker ones hung back.
Orc felt a churning in his gut as he took in the scene. A heat began to boil just beneath his craggy skin. Through the alcoholic haze that so many of his memories had been soaked or purged in he could never forget the sounds his body made as coyotes tore into his flesh and limbs. They ripped his skin and muscle away and were as shocked and horrified as he was when instead of blood, thick gravel flowed over the wounds.
They attacked, they ripped and tore and bit and clawed at him until they could no more and ran off like the cowards they were. Coyotes were smart creatures and knew when they were out matched.
And that was not the last time those crafty vicious devils had brought pain to people Orc knew. The last one burning so clearly in his brain was Howard. He had found a bone after hearing of Howard's Death. No body, no blood. The coyotes were too hungry for that. They left nothing of Howard behind. But he had found a bone and imagined it was Howard's. And he apologized to Howard and promised that he would pay them back. Howard would like that. Some revenge on the furry bullies who had eaten him alive. Ripped into him and swallowed the meat while he was still screaming.
Muscles flexed under the coating of rock and Orc trudged forward, dropping his back and bringing the coyotes attention upon him in a blink. They glared and growled and circled their kill, sizing him up and deciding if the meat behind them was worth fighting this...thing that they had never seen before.
He brought the crowbar up partway, and let out a challenging roar that echoed through the mountains before moving with a speed that nothing his size should be granted.
The sounds of screaming crying coyotes and Orc's rage filled the darkness of night, for however long it had left before day would rise and shed light on the gruesome scene unfolding.
What:| Orc really...REALLY hates coyotes
Where:| Arena 2, near the mountains.
When:| Week 3
Warnings| Violence against violent animals and maybe violence against humans later. Also some descriptions of Howard and Orc being eaten back home
So far Orc's time in the arena had been uneventful. Sometimes he even wondered if he was the only one left. But then he'd catch sight of some tributes on the horizon and start towards them. Usually by the time he got there they'd be long gone though. He moved slow, lacking the energy or will to run.
His trip to the Cornucopia had earned him some prizes, most of which he kept bundled in the black chador he had found. This bundle of loot was kept hanging from the end of a hook sword he had in one hand, hanging over his shoulder.
In the other hand he sported a thick crowbar. He liked the weight of it in his thick stone fist.
A sound caught his attention and he froze. He's long lost track of where he was wandering to and had somehow found his way to the mountains. The sound was a low familiar growling and the thick wet sounds of beasts feeding on flesh.
His beady eyes narrowed and slowly trudged forward.
A pack of desperate coyotes were feasting on an Elk, the largest ones taking their fill while the weaker ones hung back.
Orc felt a churning in his gut as he took in the scene. A heat began to boil just beneath his craggy skin. Through the alcoholic haze that so many of his memories had been soaked or purged in he could never forget the sounds his body made as coyotes tore into his flesh and limbs. They ripped his skin and muscle away and were as shocked and horrified as he was when instead of blood, thick gravel flowed over the wounds.
They attacked, they ripped and tore and bit and clawed at him until they could no more and ran off like the cowards they were. Coyotes were smart creatures and knew when they were out matched.
And that was not the last time those crafty vicious devils had brought pain to people Orc knew. The last one burning so clearly in his brain was Howard. He had found a bone after hearing of Howard's Death. No body, no blood. The coyotes were too hungry for that. They left nothing of Howard behind. But he had found a bone and imagined it was Howard's. And he apologized to Howard and promised that he would pay them back. Howard would like that. Some revenge on the furry bullies who had eaten him alive. Ripped into him and swallowed the meat while he was still screaming.
Muscles flexed under the coating of rock and Orc trudged forward, dropping his back and bringing the coyotes attention upon him in a blink. They glared and growled and circled their kill, sizing him up and deciding if the meat behind them was worth fighting this...thing that they had never seen before.
He brought the crowbar up partway, and let out a challenging roar that echoed through the mountains before moving with a speed that nothing his size should be granted.
The sounds of screaming crying coyotes and Orc's rage filled the darkness of night, for however long it had left before day would rise and shed light on the gruesome scene unfolding.
no subject
The smell of fresh blood dragged R closer, the zombie staggering until he was probably too close for safety's sake.
"All...yours?" He asked, his groan coming up practically from Orc's elbow. R sounded dimly hopeful, like he was hoping that was a "no". Did rock-men need to eat? He couldn't eat all that, right?
no subject
"Help yourself." He muttered sitting down very suddenly like a massive stone child. He was panting, trying to catch his breath. Despite his strength Orc was still out of shape under his stone skin. Months of surviving on mostly homemade alcohol had done a number on his body. And the massacre of the coyotes had drained him both physically and emotionally.
no subject
R guessed he couldn't judge.
With a relieved grunt, R fell on the closest coyote, his teeth ripping into still warm meat and muscle and Jesus, he hated it when he got fur and tendons stuck in his teeth. He ate noiselessly, trying to resist the urge to turn and ask if maybe Orc wanted some because that was the polite thing to do. Feed first. Manners after. It took him awhile to finish, R full but not full because this was the wrong kind of flesh. The hunger buzzed away like a grumble, R getting up off his hands and knees and self-consciously dusting sand and gore from his jeans.
"Thanks," R said, swaying there. There was still a lot of coyote left. Reaching down, he grabbed whatever he hadn't eaten and dragged it after him in the sand to Orc. "Hun...gry too?"
no subject
When R politely offered the bit of Coyote to him Orc felt it all give a lurch and he turned away to dry heave a few times only managing to yak up some bile and lemonade which had turned particularly sour in his guts. As he wiped the sick from his mouth and sat up once more he wondered if he'd ever get that taste out of his mouth.
"I'm not hungry." He grumbled trying to catch his breath, trying to stop the shaking. It wasn't the offer that had really put him here. That had just been the final straw. He had seen and eaten much worse in the FAYZ.
no subject
(He'd never seen a rock trying to puke before).
He wasn't sure what he expected to come out. Gravel, maybe. A slurry of mud and quartz. It actually looked almost human, not black and oozing like a zombie's vomit. Huh.
"You...okay?" R asked and then immediately regretted it. What kind of question was that? R tried to cover for his stupid question by sucking in a breath and starting over. "Why...huh-hunt then?"
Seemed like a lot of effort to mow through all these coyotes if he didn't plan to eat them. R didn't get Living logic sometimes. Or whatever Orc was. R thought he was Living, he just didn't hit all the usual ticky-boxes. R reached up and wiped some of the coyote's gore off his mouth as he glanced around at the massacre.
no subject
"That wasn't hunting. I just hate them." He tried to explain without going into details he wasn't comfortable with. Not even with a dead guy.
"I hate them." He said again to confirm the fact.
no subject
"Done...then?" R looked around at the blood and fur splattered all over the place, his eyes almost opaque from the constant sand blasting into them. "They're...all dead."
no subject
"I guess I'm done." He confirmed scooping up the crowbar and slowly trudging over to where he'd dropped his bundle of supplies.
"I wonder if there are any more." He really...REALLY hated coyotes.