Not With a Whimper, but With a Bang [FO vs. Bros]

Eastern Orange
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"I'm Scandinavian, God dammit. We love to be naked!"

Not With a Whimper, but With a Bang [FO vs. Bros] Oct 15, 2011 18:35:08 GMT -5

Quote

Post by Eastern Orange on Oct 15, 2011 18:35:08 GMT -5

I have absolutely no idea where I am going. I have no objective, no strategy. I basically just picked a direction and went with it. The landscape is nothing but snow, ice and more snow, so it’s not like there is a right and wrong way to go. When it comes down to it, you are still going to be cold and hungry. I’m ahead of my alliance, I haven’t looked back to see if they were okay, or even if they were still following me, but I had Mr. Swipey out and ready, in case of an attack.

My heart is thumping in anticipation, and I am yearning for someone to jump out of the bushes and try to fight me. I’ve wanted more action since running from the bloodbath, but I have yet to find it. The night had been uneventful, and I woke to find that we had not been ambushed in the night, much to my disappointment. Eventually, my allaince and I leave the jungle, making our way to what looks like a mountain in the distance. We figured that maybe we’d find shelter there. As we grew closer, we realized that it was waterfall. However, we heard no rushing water, and our hopes for water were dashed. The rushing water was encased in deadly looking ice, way beyond our reach.

I sigh in frustration, and turn toward the girls behind me. “Why don’ we camp here fer awhile.” I say sadly, petting the cold blade of Mr. Swipey as if to comfort him that there is no blood to shed.

Last Edit: Oct 15, 2011 20:32:31 GMT -5 by Eastern Orange

Stare
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and i will hold you tight / like the moon in the arms of the sky

Not With a Whimper, but With a Bang [FO vs. Bros] Oct 15, 2011 18:36:33 GMT -5

Quote

Post by Stare on Oct 15, 2011 18:36:33 GMT -5

Made by the wonderful and amazing Shrimp<3

Nine faces appeared in the sky last night.

Shouldn’t I feel something? Isn’t that what happens to people with hearts? I want to feel. I want to feel pain and sorrow and guilt, or something other than this nothing that consumes me, blooming in my chest and spreading outward until it has cocooned me in numbness. Before I entered the Arena, I promised myself I wouldn't become a monster. Does not crying make me a monster? I should have seen more than just faces when I looked up- I should have seen children who mattered and that should have made me feel something. But all I saw when I looked up were people that didn’t even exist to me until a few days ago- people that don’t matter and never did even though I know they should, and that I should care. After all, the world will never again see them laughing and crying and moving and basically just living the lives they had just been given.

After the faces disappeared and the world fell into inky darkness, sleep did not come easily. I tossed and turned on the frozen ground for what felt like hours until I finally felt the sensation of half-sleep fall over me (I never imagined that I would ever sleep deeply in the horrifying place, so the idea of any rest at all was a miracle). My dreams were once again filled with darkness, commands, strings, and sobs that are all too familiar. It ended with a single drop of sunset falling through the darkness and splashing on the nonexistent floor, streaming light and color all over my dark prison.

I woke up just at sunrise, and we began moving immediately. The forest is huge- larger, even, than the ones back at home. It’s all one big icy wonderland, where every tree looks like the next and I feel like we’re moving in circles even when I know that we aren’t. It wouldn’t really matter, I guess, if we were walking in circles, but we need wood. And so we walk, moving through a world of brilliant white and silver as the sun begins to climb up into the sky.

The walk is long, and it gives me a lot of time to think. I want to do something, or to say something, but I don't think any words would be big enough to fill the silence that hangs in the ice cold air. My fingers went numb long ago, as did my ears- every wind whips right through my tribute uniform, slowly freezing me. Winter has never been my favorite season- though I love the enchanting first snowfall and the nights of hot chocolate and laughter, the Keepers would always make us stay past sunset chopping down trees, until our limbs were stiff and our joints sore from swinging again and again. And the snow always drains color out of the world, making District Seven look dull and empty.

Finally, we stumble into a clearing. Not far from this area, there is the largest icicle I have ever seen- it takes me a moment to realize that it is a waterfall that has been frozen. The morning light gleams off of the semi-clear surface, and I squint at it in awe. I must give the Gamemakers credit- for heartless people who have never even bothered to try and connect with nature, they sure can create beautiful things.

We've been walking a long time, and my body aches from my wounds. I reach back to feel through my hair almost automatically, feeling the bump and not drawing my hand away when the sting spreads outward on my scalp. The headache has eased somewhat since yesterday, but still throbs dully, and pieces of my memory still remain blank- small details, like the names of tributes, and the dress I wore to the interviews. I can still remember my family, my home, my friends, and, oddly enough, my escort. I suppose she also played a larger role in my life, even though I've only known her a few days. What is she thinking now, as she watches me on the television screens all around? What are the Capitolites thinking? That I'm boring, most likely. That I'll soon fall, and then the real action will come.

And the thing is, I don't really care anymore.

At the word camp, I silently nod, unable to match his enthusiasm, and slowly move forward.

[/size][/blockquote][/justify]

Last Edit: Oct 15, 2011 22:53:44 GMT -5 by Stare

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Not With a Whimper, but With a Bang [FO vs. Bros] Oct 15, 2011 20:07:40 GMT -5

Quote

Post by Deleted on Oct 15, 2011 20:07:40 GMT -5

{*| I'll stop the whole world |*}

[/color]

You were my conscience
So solid, now you're like water
And we started drowning
Not like we'd sink any farther[/size][/font]

I’ve never seen a waterfall before. At least, I think that’s what this is, this massive, cascading, oversized icicle that hovers over the much smaller forms of my brothers and myself. It’s odd, feeling small for once (I’m so used to people seeing me as so much bigger than I really am, six feet and six inches of height can be more of a curse than a blessing when people stereotype you as larger than life), but feeling anything other than the freezing cold and the distant guilt from my blowup at Aesop yesterday is more than a welcome change. He wondered off for a while after we made camp, but he never said anything about where he’d gone or what he’d done, not that I actually expected him to talk to me. Still, the issue begs for resolution, and the heavy quiet sitting between the four of us as we trek onward doesn’t help – I’ve never liked silence. It always feels suffocating – so I grit my teeth at the fact that I’m going to have to own up to something even though apologies have never been my forte, jogging a few steps to the front of the pack and wrapping a hand over an emaciated, bony shoulder. “Hey, Aesop. Um… I just… I wanted to apologize for what I said yesterday. I was a royal douche and I don’t really expect you to forgive me or anything, but you guys are kind of the only friends I’ve got and I don’t want to screw that up. So I’m sorry. But yeah, if you guys are getting tired, maybe we should ma-“

“Why don’ we camp here fer awhile.”

The voice floats out from between the trees ahead, and I put a hand in the air, signaling for everyone to stop, pointing towards where the sound came out the forest. A few more seconds of rustling reveals that my hunch was right: there are tributes not too far away, and we’re on a direct collision course with them. The Gamemakers will want a show, two alliances so close together will have to fight or else incur the Capitol’s wrath, and as much as I’ve had my fill of blood I really don’t want to be around when that waterfall breaks open and drowns everything in a two-mile radius because the Gamemakers are pissed. Everyone else is thinking the same thing, I can see it in the way that the look back and forth between the trees and the direction we came. There’s going to be bloodshed in the very near future, and we can only hope that not too much of it is ours.

I’ll admit that ever since my abysmal training score went up on the screen, I’ve felt kind of useless. Like I need to prove that I belong in this alliance as much as the others do. So maybe it’s that iniquity that makes me rush forward first, yanking the dagger from my belt and crashing into the other alliance’s camp. Or maybe I’m just stupid. “Afternoon, folks. Enjoying the weather?”

A quick glance around reveals what we’re dealing with. The guy from eight that lost fingers in the Bloodbath. The fragile-looking girl from Four that took Aesop’s knife to her stomach before scooping up a weapon and running like hell. And last, and probably most stomach-churning, Alexander’s district partner, the one that barely got out of the massacre alive. I remember her from training. Pretty, nice enough… we even made small-talk over lunch one day. But out of the three she’s by far the most wounded, and out here it’s survival of the fittest. If we’re going to get a kill in today, it’s most likely going to be her, whether I personally like it or not. That’s just how the Games work. But despite my resignation to this fact, I can’t help but grimace as my blade slices through the air. “Sorry, Dysis. Nothing personal.”

[[attacks Dysis, knife]]
[dice=200+2000]
[[shallow cut on right thigh, 3.5]]

But I let my heart go
It's somewhere down at the bottom
But I'll get a new one
And come back for the hope that you've stolen[rand=598884443053975730843009962700315744048969354482825876288115978]

Last Edit: Oct 15, 2011 20:36:43 GMT -5 by Deleted

gxk
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When in doubt flail it out

Not With a Whimper, but With a Bang [FO vs. Bros] Oct 15, 2011 21:17:24 GMT -5

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Post by gxk on Oct 15, 2011 21:17:24 GMT -5

~NAIDA GARDEZ~

The wounds to her fragile body felt better today, they still stung, but the pain was much less. What Raiden had taught her and what she learned in the Training Center had come in handy. After all, she wasn't dead yet. Nine faces had appeared in the sky, nine lives that were ended in bloody massacre. A violent shiver wracked her form. Warmth. Naida was desperate for it. The frozen area was ravaging what little heat her body produced, the clothes she wore didn't protect against that. She would be dead without them though. The Gamemakers made sure they had just enough protection not to die of hypothermia. There would be no fun in that, no fun for their precious Game. The Game that stole from the people she loved and her sanity. It wasn't fair. Never fair.

She'd followed Berkley and Dysis without much to say. Every time she opened her mouth only half of what she said made any sense anyway. The morning brought little warmth, but still they set off in search of anything to help them survive, namely water. A large rock rose from the snowy landscape, as she got closer the rock turned into a waterfall, that waterfall turned into a frozen waterfall. No luck for water there. Trying to break the ice was too much of a risk. Getting wet in this arena was a death sentence. Naida knew of sailors from her home who died from falling in the ocean in the summer, falling in this frigid water would doom any tribute. The water would suck the life and strength from them until they were no more, and then it would claim their life as it's own. This water was not kind like the ocean from home, it was cruel, it wanted to kill. Well you can't have us...

When Berkley suggested rest Naida couldn't help but be relieved. Her body was exhausted and running on empty. The plants she'd managed to eat yesterday weren't at all filling. Plopping into the snow she was overcome with a childish urge. Leaning all the way back she began making a snow angel, giggles began to fill the air. "Look Raiden! Look how pretty it is." The little sanity she had left told her Raiden was dead, had been dead for nine years, the rest of her refused to believe it. Her brother was right next to her. Green-blue eyes shining, that warm smile still on his face. Her brother who she loved so much was here enjoying the snow with her. "Go get Rav and Ilayda, they love the snow too." Raviv and Ily would never come here, if Naida were in her right mind she wouldn't want them anywhere near here. But her mind was playing tricks, and this wasn't an arena, this was a winter wonderland.

That's when she heard something approaching their sad little group. Her illusion was shattered, and her blood ran cold. Other tributes weren't her beloved siblings, they would try to kill her, or her companions. Who it was only made her panic worse. It was the boys who had slaughtered so many at the bloodbath. The boys she thought of as pigs from the way they looked at the girls in the Training Center. Of all the other tributes, it had to be them. That was her luck, her cursed luck was turning on her again. The first one to approach was so nonchalant about approaching them, for a moment she hoped maybe there would be no bloodshed. That was until he attacked Dysis with a knife, and everything shattered.

"You disgusting heaps of meat, how can you do this!? You're monsters, you probably don't even bleed!" The shriek could probably be heard from some distance, her lungs were quite powerful after all. Never in her life had Naida been filled with such hatred for another living thing, human or not. These boys didn't care about life, all they wanted was death, and when there was no one left to kill, they'd slaughter each other. "You're the worst kind of people... You don't care, you kill like it's a Game, like it's fun. You're not even human any more. No better than the mutts.... This time her voice was a crazed whisper, the calm before the storm. Dysis was replaced by the image of her brother, her attacker replaced with her brother's killer. Raiden was being hit with the blade that took his life. It was happening again, and she would be damned if she didn't do anything to stop it. "You can't have him! He's my brother, I love him!"

[attacks Denver; sword]
[dice=200+1000]
Stabbed in Back -- 9.0

[/center][rand=227125131292268637152008751872927246438752161338935773275482933968]

Last Edit: Oct 16, 2011 7:13:57 GMT -5 by gxk

gm bourgeois decadence [aya]
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"GUNNERRRRR~"

Not With a Whimper, but With a Bang [FO vs. Bros] Oct 15, 2011 21:52:09 GMT -5

Quote

Post by gm bourgeois decadence [aya] on Oct 15, 2011 21:52:09 GMT -5

I went out into the night
I went out to pick a fight with anyone
Light a candle for the kids
Jesus Christ, don't keep it hid!

Alexander Hood —

Alexander saw the same nine faces in the sky that night that had stared up at her from where they lay, scattered around the cornucopia. Those same faces — most of them — were projected into the black abyss above because Alexander and her new brothers had seen them before their owners were motionless in the snow. Before they were mutilated beyond recognition, some of them. She and her brothers had been the cause of the massacre, but it didn't particularly bother the District Seven. Someone had to be. It wouldn't be the Hunger Games without.

They'd started their considerable hike from the start of the Games as soon as they possibly could, wanting to beat the cold that would doubtlessly fall during the nighttime. Alas, the arena's frigidity was an unbeatable, inescapable one. The arena's cold was a numbing one, and Alexander, who was keeping her promise to remain free of the burden of guilt, was as removed from feeling on the inside as out. Her stiff limbs swung metronomically with all the grace of clubs attached to her body as she plodded along several steps behind the others. She didn't bother to focus her vision — it was too much work to try to make sense of the shapes in the snow since they'd cleared out of the jungle — and instead just followed the tall silhouettes in front of her.

It was for that reason that Alexander was aware of the other tributes before the behemoth frozen waterfall that lunged over the cliff at them, icicle fangs bared like a wolf leaping up for the kill. It was probably beautiful, but the District Seven was only concerned with getting her fingers to unfurl and re-clasp on the hilt of her falchion and therefore did not notice the scenery. As it turned out, returning to that exhilarating place she'd entered the arena in — fierce combat — was far more important to the District Seven than enjoying the astonishing, impossible landscapes painstakingly fabricated by the Gamemakers for equal parts torture and aesthetics. Could such a plainly artificial construct really match the beauty of rosettes of blood that turned the snow beneath their feet from blank canvas into and inimitable masterwork?

[hit by icicles; displayed damage x2 done to Alexander]
[dice=15]

The feral creature did not seem to like being anything short of revered, and tried to rain its fury in the form of icicles — here, less like fangs and more like knives — on Alexander. Perhaps it wasn't an attack of the waterfall itself, but the Gamemakers' first attempt on the life of the tribute who had beat their system, the tribute who did not belong in her slot. Regardless, of the fifteen needles of ice that showered down from above her head, only one made its mark, scraping the sliver of skin that had become exposed between her glove and her jacket. Numb as she was, the District Seven barely felt it; she didn't even take a moment to examine the tiny nick before returning to the battle-to-be at hand, smirking at her good fortune. True, one of these approaching days there would be something to end Alexander Hood's life, but if this was all the Gamemakers had in store for her, her death was a long time coming.

As their faces had — quite obviously — not appeared in the anthem the previous night, Alexander hadn't the slightest idea who two of the tributes in front of them. The third, however, and most injured (despite the fact that none of the three looked to be in top shape) was the female tribute from District Seven. The official one. Dysis Admea, the slight, pale little thing that, unsurprisingly, Alexander could not recall having ever seen before back in the lumber district. Under normal circumstances, putting this tribute out of her misery would not have bothered her, but with a twinge of disgust, the pair of tributes from District One came to mind. He slew her without a second thought then died mere moments later. Though she doubted that the same fate would befall her, Alexander wasn't certain if she really wanted to be that same kind of monster. So when her tallest brother jabbed his knife at her, rather than at the others, she hung back for just a moment. After all, being Mike Smith was worth than being the regular sort of dead in her book.

[rand=00930918683297932124049551459029317508170460117980836157510709017515]

Last Edit: Oct 16, 2011 8:28:57 GMT -5 by gm bourgeois decadence [aya]

{characters}

certified kindergartener
stranded in "beach" "city"
leader of the crystal gems

garnet beauford d8 [earthling] Administrator 9,452 POSTS Pronouns: She/Her last seen Apr 18, 2024 8:31:45 GMT -5 cameron stood in line for an hour for a stupid ride for me <3 best <3	Not With a Whimper, but With a Bang [FO vs. Bros] Oct 16, 2011 0:48:19 GMT -5 Quote Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by garnet beauford d8 [earthling] on Oct 16, 2011 0:48:19 GMT -5 [/size][rand=39862305484712124083230803254991771194070344790816319252739800140262]
	Last Edit: Oct 16, 2011 0:56:44 GMT -5 by garnet beauford d8 [earthling] credit gamemaker 💀 hades lochlan credit ✨ - chars -

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BOOM SH△KALAKA

Not With a Whimper, but With a Bang [FO vs. Bros] Oct 16, 2011 1:33:18 GMT -5

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Post by L△LIA on Oct 16, 2011 1:33:18 GMT -5

I can't post I have to sleep so I can wake up for work in the morninggg. Hopefully I can fill this in tomorrow night, but I'm moving Monday morning so the next few days are gonna be cray cray for me. D:

Gonna write about Bro cuddling and maybe more accidental feeling up of Alexanderawr ~~BAD AESOP NUUUU WUT ABOUT THE AZN BABIEZ D:<~~. OHAY SPEAKING OF AZN BABIEZ, AESOP'S IN A REALLY GOOD MOOD THIS MORNING I THINK, WONDERRRR WHYYYY. Aesop licks the frozen waterfall and his tongue gets stuck so we're gonna talk about how funny it feels now that most of his taste buds have been ripped off and BAM. WELCOME TO FIGHT CLUB. FIRST RULE OF FIGHT CLUB ~~DON'T TALK ABOUT FIGHT CLUB~~ KILL ALL THE THINGS. ~~But wait Aesop doesn't want to kill things oh nuuuuu not the tears of angst again nuuuuuu. SUNDRA. MAKE IT STOP.~~ Also, withdrawal symptoms should be coming back now.

[Attacks Dysis, knife]

[dice=200+2000]

[Shallow Cut on Left Shoulder — 3.5 damage]

[rand=062698197246802371619463305773546416453659691845811996520672964162]

Last Edit: Oct 16, 2011 1:42:01 GMT -5 by L△LIA

( C H A R A C T E R S )

Eastern Orange
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"I'm Scandinavian, God dammit. We love to be naked!"

Not With a Whimper, but With a Bang [FO vs. Bros] Oct 16, 2011 8:30:42 GMT -5

Quote

Post by Eastern Orange on Oct 16, 2011 8:30:42 GMT -5

The attacks came suddenly, without warning. One minute I was depressed with the lack of action, and he next we were surrounded. I readied Mr. Swipey but they didn’t come for me, attack after attack landed on Dysis. Fury bubbles in my chest, and disgust curls my lip. They were picking on Dysis because she was the weakest! What kind of people would do that?! How can they get the thrill of the fight if they don’t attack the strongest? “Oi!” I yelled. “Leave ‘er alone!” I snarl. Nadia retaliates swiftly, shoving her sword against that district 11 boy’s back. I give a whoop of laughter, forget my anger, and embrace the battle. I raise Mr. Swipey above my head, and take a swing at the district 11 boy, the one who attacked Dysis first.

[Attacks Denver - Mr Swipey (Hatchet)]
[dice=200+11000]
Shallow Cut on Left Hip -- 3.5 damage

I growl in frustration, Mr. Swipey misses his head - what was aiming for - and glances relatively harmless off his hip. I dance back, readying to swing again.

[rand=127410455547232638926491498670657346727096942777045169669693963317]

Last Edit: Oct 16, 2011 8:33:07 GMT -5 by Eastern Orange

Stare
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and i will hold you tight / like the moon in the arms of the sky

Not With a Whimper, but With a Bang [FO vs. Bros] Oct 16, 2011 10:29:47 GMT -5

Quote

Post by Stare on Oct 16, 2011 10:29:47 GMT -5

Made by the wonderful and amazing Shrimp<3

One whisper of a soft breeze.

That's all it takes, and then they are there, surrounding us. I remember some of them from the Bloodbath, and the memories quickly transform normally handsome faces into monsters before my very eyes. The weight of their crimes has not quite dragged them to the ground yet, though I have no doubt that they soon will fall and every single ounce of guilt that rests inside of them will come pouring out of them in tears and whispers of all the things that could have been done right. This Game is the worst kind, as innocence is impossible in the Arena unless one wants to stay alive. I have no doubt that every single one of them will soon realize that, and I can only hope that the realization will destroy them as much as it has destroyed me.

I am not surprised when all of their attacks are directed at me- though people would like to say differently, the weak do not survive long in Panem. For a moment, I am too weak to even reply- there is only one that speaks, and his voice seems cruel whether he is trying or not. I cringe at him for a moment, because he knows my name which must mean he stole it, just like they stole it. My turquoise eyes widen, then fill with tears. "Nothing personal. I'm sure that girl back at home would be very proud of you right now, Denver." That is the last sane thing that leaves my lips before they are all attacking me, leaving shallow cuts all over. The sudden pain and exhaustion is overwhelming, and I know that I'm not going to make it. I glance at my allies with a small smile on my face, knowing that they will run after I have fallen and that is all I ask of them.

"You aren't sorry, are you?" I whisper when there is a short break in the attacks. "You hate me. You hate me, and what did I ever do to you? I'm an innocent little girl and you hate me and it's not fair and stop- stop- STOP!" The final word is a screech as I launch myself forward at Denver, tears spilling down pale cheeks.

[Attacks Denever, knife]
[dice=200+2000]

[/size][/blockquote][/justify][rand=5360450944037521242578722689969356608306218787845326996270123614]

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Not With a Whimper, but With a Bang [FO vs. Bros] Oct 16, 2011 12:40:23 GMT -5

Quote

Post by Deleted on Oct 16, 2011 12:40:23 GMT -5

{*| I saw God cry in the reflection of my enemies |*}

[/color]

How cruel is the golden rule
When the lives we lived are only golden plated
I knew that the lights of the city
Were too heavy for me[/size][/font]

For a moment, I’m not sure what hurts more, the District Four’s acidic words or the sword that finds its way into my back a second later. And then the pain hits, and I’m immediately certain that the sword hurts more, cold metal sinking through my coat and into flesh effortlessly until I actually feel the blade catch on my ribcage before it’s yanked free, sending far more blood spattering over the snow than our measly hits on Dysis have managed to draw. I don’t even feel the second hit swipe across my leg, drawing another spray of crimson essence. For a moment, I can’t move, I can’t think, I don’t even manage the pained scream that’s clawing its way up my throat but instead trade it in for a ragged cough that sends blossoms of red blooming over my lips. The panic starts then. What damage has she done? Did she puncture a lung? Am I going to bleed out from the inside and drown in my own blood? What a horrible way to die. I immediately feel remorse for doing this to that guy from Twelve – I guess coming out of the Bloodbath unscathed takes away your humanity, your sympathy, your ability to understand the pain of others – and suddenly I regret every last person that was injured at my hands. If only I’d known it would hurt this badly, it would be this scary, that the frantic whisper of I don’t want to die, please please no I don’t want to die would flood my consciousness until everything else faded into the background.

“I'm sure that girl back at home would be very proud of you right now, Denver."

Everything except for that. When my vision comes back into focus, Dysis is glaring at me with more hatred than her small body seems capable of holding (maybe she can’t hold it and that’s why she’s throwing it all at me), spitting out poison just like her District Four friend before she completely loses it, screeching like a banshee about how we all hate her. I should have known it would end up like this. Girls fight with words, I’ve seen it enough living in the community home. Girls fight with their words and guys fight with their bodies. It’s just one of those primordial things that humans are programmed to act upon. And girls stay bitter. Two guys fight and then they help each other up and laugh it off. Two girls fight and they’re enemies for life. All of these things I know about people are just augmented and more dangerously intensified in the arena. I could fight the boy from Eight easily, knowing that really he doesn’t have anything against me as a person and vice versa, but knowing what a monster these girls judge me to be without knowing me or my motivations or the fabric of who I am in the slightest sets off something that makes me draw myself up to my full impressive height even though it sends agony shooting across the wound on my back, bringing my own blade up to catch Dysis’ on its descent, locking our arms into place and glaring back at her with just as much ferocity as she gave me.

“You know, for such a supposedly sweet little girl you sure like to shoot your mouth off about a bunch of shit you know absolutely nothing about,” I hiss, face knitting its way into a scowl. “All any of us want to do is get home, Dysis. I want to go home because I have people that need me. Does Trogon think I’m some kind of monster right now? Probably. I kind of think I’m a monster myself. But if I can make it out of here then none of that will matter, and right now you’re in my way of doing that. I’ll say it again: It’s. Nothing. Personal. So get the hell off your high horse, shut up, and fight.”

With a labored exhalation (dear sweet Ripred it hurts so much make it stop I feel like my back is splitting wide open) I shove her arm aside and bring my blade down again, now more than ever praying to every force in the universe for this hellish, dangerous game to stop as soon as possible.

I’ll lose myself completely if it doesn't.

[[attacks Dysis, knife]]
[dice=200+2000]
[[miss, 0.0]]

Tongues on the sockets of electric dreams
Where the sewage youth drown the spark of my teens
I knew that the lights of the city
Were too heavy for me[rand=149334097513929834688110277056730493372865021239530579994898289]

Last Edit: Oct 16, 2011 12:49:05 GMT -5 by Deleted

gxk
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When in doubt flail it out

Not With a Whimper, but With a Bang [FO vs. Bros] Oct 16, 2011 14:41:54 GMT -5

Quote

Post by gxk on Oct 16, 2011 14:41:54 GMT -5

~NAIDA GARDEZ~

Her sword connected with all the force she could muster, burying itself into the boy's back. Naida's eyes grew wide with horror at the amount of blood that came pouring out when she freed her blade. He did bleed, and that meant he was still human, no matter how disgusting he and the others may be. Glancing frantically around Naida watched as all the boys targeted Dysis trying to finish what they started. It was happening again, the illusions taking over. Raiden was the one still being attacked, begging her to help him. How Raiden, tell me what to do! Dysis and Raiden they were both dying right before her eyes. Panic raged through her like a wild fire.

When the boy she'd stabbed started to shoot off his mouth again the blind rage came back. The monsters couldn't have Dysis or Raiden, or Berkley. She wouldn't alllow it. His words only made her more sure about what she'd said. Not a word he spoke came anywhere close to justifying what he and his alliance were doing. Well if they want play, then she would play. "I hope you're not implying I don't know what I'm talking about. Three people I loved died in the Games. Three people I will never get back. And you talk like you're the only one who knows what it's like to suffer."

Naida raised her sword again, blood dripped off it as if it were weeping. Her own blood was boiling, these terrible creatures were trying to steal from her. She would kill them, it was time they knew what they were doing to other children. It was time they felt lost and alone. It was time they felt the sheer terror of death creeping up behind them. They acted like they had no choice but to lose all humanity. That wasn't true, it was a huge lie to make their sorry asses feel better. Raiden, the most beautiful person she ever knew, he killed in his Games but never ever lost his humanity. He cried for everyone he killed, he begged forgiveness from everyone he killed. His will to stay true to himself and his beliefs beat out the need to destroy. These boys were not strong enough to achieve such a feat. They were weak. Those who act most violently are the weakest of all. For a moments her eyes settled on Dysis's District Partner. There was hope for him, he was different than the others...

"Your cheap words don't fix anything. They don't justify the brutality you all kill with. You've taken it to a whole new level. It's sickening." Her grip tightened on her sword, maybe this time she could finish him off. The little girl from four was not afraid of a single one of them. They had nothing but weapons, they were nothing but weapons. The blood that came from them had no compassion for the blood they took from others. "I pity your weakness. You've dug your own graves.... I'm sorry I have to do this, but you wouldn't understand anyway. Regret is a human emotion."

[attacks Denver; sword]
[dice=200+1000]
Severed Left Hand at Wrist -- 9.0 damage

[/center][rand=1227360172197222705771189043298364709558966802433110404748586006463]

Last Edit: Oct 16, 2011 14:46:24 GMT -5 by gxk

gm bourgeois decadence [aya]
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Not With a Whimper, but With a Bang [FO vs. Bros] Oct 16, 2011 15:37:42 GMT -5

Quote

Post by gm bourgeois decadence [aya] on Oct 16, 2011 15:37:42 GMT -5

Kumbaya, my Lord, kumbaya;
Kumbaya, the Lord, kumbaya;
Kumbaya, my Lord, kumbaya,
O Lord, kumbaya.

Alexander Hood —

She said nothing as Denver and the three they were fighting shouted at each other. Really, what did that accomplish? Nobody would suddenly stop and say "Okay, if it's nothing personal, you can go ahead and kill me. I won't hate you." It was just stupid! Alexander couldn't think of any reason why she would care if the person she was killing hated her or no. Surely the girl whose leg she'd severed didn't like the District Seven — though perhaps, in her dying moments, she'd hated Aesop even more, who'd picked up the amputated limb and beat her with it. But Alexander didn't care. She wasn't out to win any popularity contests here; hell, she wasn't even out to win the Games (she couldn't.) So the mindless, teary babble the flew forth from the mouths of her tallest brother and their targets did nothing to move Alexander as it was likely supposed to. It bored her. The vapid little chat that permeated the frozen air didn't seem to do much besides distract everyone, which was not exactly ideal where fights to the death were concerned.

Denver suddenly became an example of this, his hand lopped off by the girl that wasn't from Alexander's district — what was she, Four maybe? She felt a little bit bad that the first thought she had was wondering if Denver had learned his lesson about talking too much, especially since there were other things going on. One less voice in the din would bring the peace of battle back to her, although the other three would doubtlessly continue making their noise of outrage. Who were they to pretend that they were above the bestial combat? Didn't they know what they'd been signed up for? Kill or be killed was practically the name of the game — far more fitting than hunger, though just then her stomach gave the mighty battle cry that her voice would not for disinterest in talking. This wasn't a camping trip. This wasn't the place to hold hands and sing Kumbaya.

This was the the place to hold swords and let their blades do the singing.

[attacks Dysis; sword]
[dice=200+1000]
[Deep Gash on Left Bicep — 8.0 damage]

[rand=179521381156519068506563392002136201933270553126936888297868426889]

Last Edit: Oct 16, 2011 15:38:20 GMT -5 by gm bourgeois decadence [aya]

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Not With a Whimper, but With a Bang [FO vs. Bros] Oct 16, 2011 16:53:10 GMT -5

Quote

Post by garnet beauford d8 [earthling] on Oct 16, 2011 16:53:10 GMT -5

[/i]. At the last possible moment before he rammed the spear into the girl, Mace closed his eyes. Never a butcher, but possibly a coward. It didn't matter. He didn't need to see to guide the weapon that felt so familiar. It had already found its mark, and Mace did not linger. He tore the pointed razor free, saw the streak of crimson as he opened his eyes, and hoped that he had given her a quicker passing. He would carry this blade with him, too, now that he could trust it - now that it had known another tribute's life and death.[/ul]

ooc: Mace has lost his lantern and pliers.[/size][rand=7499318371992558347764535108581235473256302066159680098006501794]

Last Edit: Oct 20, 2011 1:13:43 GMT -5 by garnet beauford d8 [earthling]

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Not With a Whimper, but With a Bang [FO vs. Bros] Oct 16, 2011 22:21:05 GMT -5

Quote

Post by L△LIA on Oct 16, 2011 22:21:05 GMT -5

[Aesop attacks Naida with a Switchblade]

[dice=200+2000]

[Shallow Cut on Right Bicep — 3.5 damage]

Idk why really. He says: NO NO NO LALIA WHY ARE YOU MAKING ME DO THIS I DON'T WANT TO ATTACK NAIDA DDDDD: BUT OMFR DENVER GOT HIS HAND SEVERED ~~YAYYYYYY MORE SEVERED THINGS <3~~ NUUUUUUUU MORE SEVERD THINGS </3. I think he prolly slipped and fell into her ~~with his knife~~ while trying to run away like a pansy and angsting over staying human and all his SUNDROP THOUGHTS OMFR. BUT NAIDA, GURLLLLL, WHATCHU DOIN' CUTTIN' OFF THE HAND OF AESOP'S BROTHA?!

[rand=56881099634748417350546976874985149981890242970157046839590968543]

Last Edit: Oct 16, 2011 22:32:03 GMT -5 by L△LIA

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Not With a Whimper, but With a Bang [FO vs. Bros] Oct 17, 2011 21:28:54 GMT -5

Quote

Post by Stare on Oct 17, 2011 21:28:54 GMT -5

Made by the wonderful and amazing Shrimp<3

Tripping out,
Spinning around,
I'm underground, I fell down.
Yeah I feel down.

Few in Panem were awake when it happened. Only a select few knew it was happening, and even fewer knew what it would become. The world knew a miracle when it saw one, though. The green leaves shivered excitedly as the wind whispered through them, singing a soft lullaby that would be the first sound she ever heard. The long grasses of the forest bowed down in anticipation as they would when expecting a queen. The night sky was slowly fading, stars disappearing from the sea of black that was slowly being stained pink. The few clouds that floated over a canopy of branches were outlined in bright yellow. Somewhere in the deserted streets of the district, a wind chime jingled softly.

And then a wail pierced the air. High pitched and loud, waking a few who were nearby. A baby's first cry is one of confusion and fear, for the world around is so new and so wide and the baby is so small. And, at that exact instant, the sun rose up above the horizon, bathing the world in it's fresh light after a whole night of sleeping. The world of green drank in the fresh nourishment following so many hours of chill and darkness, bathing itself in the golden illumination and allowing itself to finally breath. It greeted the baby girl with warmth and compassion the same way it greeted the world.

And I swear, a drop of sunrise fell into her that day.

I was the first to hold her besides the healer- poor Ellen fainted dead away right after Dysis was born. My little baby was fast asleep by then, her pudgy face totally relaxed. She was wrapped in a sunflower yellow blanket that was almost as soft as her tiny hand, which I held onto with pride shining in my eyes. I couldn't really comprehend that the physical form of innocence that was resting peacefully in my arms was my daughter. The healer only let me hold her for a few minutes, but those were the best of my life. The world was holding its breath for my little girl- the silence felt so light and peaceful and everything was just so right at that moment.

When she was two years old, I had to yell at her for the first time. Ellen had always done it before, but she was away and Dysis had thrown her lunch onto the floor. I began to scold her, and her little lip began to tremble, tears began to pool in her eyes... and I realized that I just couldn't do it. My heart broke then and there, and I gathered her into my arms, rocking her back and forth and telling her that it was okay, I would clean it up for her and it would all be fine. I knew I was being a horrible father, but she was my little girl and I just couldn't be mad at her no matter how hard I tried.

I took her to school on the first day, and she clung to my leg and refused to let go, sobbing and shaking her head no. I leaned down by her and hugged her, and then gently pushed her toward her new teacher... only to have her scramble away and hide behind me, crying even louder. And so I held her hand and walked her into the classroom myself, wiping her eyes off just before we entered and sitting her down in one of the tiny chairs. After a few minutes, she was distracted and I could leave- I was only a few steps down the hallway before I realized that I was crying just as hard as Dysis had been.

I'm freaking out,
So where am I now?
Upside down,
And I can't stop it now.
Can't stop me now.

And I'll never forget the day when she was nine years old, and she ran into the house screaming and cradling a horribly bent arm. It was already swollen and twisted so very wrong that it scared me half to death- I shouted for her mother and we ran to the healer. He named prices and I didn't care- I just wanted my little girl to not hurt anymore. I just wanted her tears to stop. She was in a cast for what seemed like forever, and she wasn't the same after it was taken off. She was scared and quiet and shy and not Dysis anymore. I couldn't fix it though, and that made me feel so powerless and helpless- a watched my daughter drift through life with a heavy heart and many sleepless nights.

My baby girl was eleven years old when she changed back. I don't know how it happened, but suddenly there was a bounce in her step and light in her eyes and she was smiling and laughing and playing again. I could have flown to the moon and back the day I realized it- the happiness was overwhelming, and it took all of my willpower not to cry tears of joy.

She was a tom boy- faster and better than any boy her age. A father's pride glowed inside of me whenever she brought home a small medal and told me it was because she had won a race. We'd go out for ice cream afterward, whether we could afford it or not, and she would laugh and I would grin and everything would be okay.

She was thirteen years old when the old woman told me I would be losing her in the near future. I had taken pity on her- a homeless woman who made money by telling people their futures. I gave her a few coins and she told me the most horrifying thing I could have heard, sliding a strange tiger's eye bracelet toward me and telling me I would need it. I stared at the bracelet for a long time before finally turning away and running, back into the house. She was at her desk doing her homework, but she looked up when I entered, asking what was in my hand. I replied that it was a secret, and quickly went to our room and hid it in the back of my drawer.

She was fifteen when the Capitol stole her away from me. My little girl, with her beautiful eyes and mud stained face and love of falling. They had no right to take her away- I spent that night crying into my pillow, my heart shattered beyond repair because I would never see her again. I didn't even hope- I knew that what the old woman said was true. I watched as she barely made it out of the Bloodbath, allying with strangers that she shouldn't have trusted. The next day, I watched their fight.

I, I'll get by. I, I'll survive.
When the world's crashing down,
When I fall and hit the ground,
I will turn myself around (don't you try to stop me),
I, and I won't cry.

And I saw my baby girl fall for the last time.

<><><><><><><><><><><><>

Words.

There are words. Words he shouts at me, words that burn unspoken in his eyes, and words that he hides from himself. The words slowly guide me toward understanding, and then sorrow, for words of hurt and words of anger and words of fear have been etched into his heart, such a delicate thing that he holds in a cradle of ice and stone that I am far too tired to break. His words should hurt me but they don't- I am aware that he is accusing me of being arrogant, which is untrue, but I am far too lost to really care. And besides, he is hurt, and who am I to injure him further?

It doesn't even matter if he hates me. I don't really care anymore... he can go ahead and burn me to a crisp with his hate. We all think that spilling our hate out in the form of burning words is the answer, but in the end we are left only with an emptiness that is quickly filled with guilt. So let him be angry with me. He'll only be left lost and confused after I've fallen and he has to find someone else to blame his actions on.

The final two strikes are painful, and they stain the blanket of white beneath me red. The final shot doesn’t come from Denver- it comes from an unfamiliar face. But he’s still one of the monsters, which means he hates me. He strikes downward, stabbing my foot- there is red hot pain that brings tears to my eyes. For the last second I spend standing, I wonder why he would strike so low. After all, if he hit my heart, it would be over so much quicker, and my heart is already broken, so it's not like I would feel much. But instead, he aimed downward, and so the end will come slowly and painfully for me.

I fall with grace, as I always do. I do not simply crumble, as so many before me have done. Instead, my feet remain rooted to the ground as I tilt backward, my back arching elegantly. I twist at the last second so that I land on my side, hitting the ice cold ground hard. The snow around me is no longer white, and smells horribly metallic. I feel sick to my stomach as I stare up at them, turquoise wise in a way only those who are living in their last few moments can truly understand.

I find myself,
In Wonderland.
Got back on
My feet again.

I look into the unfamiliar face of the one who struck last, and give him a very small smile. "...you either need to fix your aim or your heart." I gesture to my foot. "Because I think we both know that yours was the final blow I can take."

I tilt my head ever so slightly, gazing at Denver in uncertainty. I should hate him. I do hate him. I hate him for striking first- I hate him for pointless arguments. I hate him for acting like he has an excuse to hurt me like this. My eyes are suddenly filled with turquoise fire, and I shake my head ever so slightly. "Hey Denver? Nothing personal, but I really hope you don't win."

I turn to look at my district partner, smiling again. If he goes home, my parents will hate him. My friends will despise him. So either way, he loses. "I wish you the best of luck, Alan." Something about that seems wrong, and I reach up to grip the back of my head and feel the wound that will never heal.

"I'm... I'm pretty sure that there's another one of you..." And then I see him. I see him attack Naida. And my heart, which is already pumping at high speed in an attempt to fix what it never will, skips a beat. "Stop it!" I screech, my eyes wild. "Don't you dare hurt her! Get away from her! Stop it, stop it, stop it!" Tears pour down pink cheeks as I attempt to lash out at him, missing by at least a mile. I turn around on the ground, tangled blond locks momentarily blocking my vision. "What are you two doing? Run!" I attempt to scream the word again, buy my voice feels as if it has been pulled right out of my throat, and I am left gasping and whispering nonsense in the red snow. This is it.

Is this real?
Is it pretend?
I'll take a stand
Until the end.

It's over.

No. Not yet. Not until you decide it's over.

The end is coming, whether I want it to or not.

Yes... but you decide whether you go quietly, or go fighting.

Is there a difference?

Definitely. The first way is forgettable. The second way...

Unforgettable. I know. So what am I supposed to do?

Do what you do best.

Which is...?

Fall, Dysis. Fall. One last time.

My eyes blink open and closed lazily. I'm so tired... but no, I have to end this my own way. I can't be forgotten. I have to let my parents and my friends see... see that I'm still me, even though I lost myself for a while. My fingers dig into the ground. I cough, then frown in concentration, and pull myself forward. My eyes wander toward the waterfall. Impossible. But I guess that's what makes it amazing.

It's one pull at a time. Every tug is blinding, but I keep on moving forward because that's what I do and that's what I've always done. The ground gets steeper and the work gets rougher- everything hurts and I'm crying but this isn't over, not until I decide it is. I let out a yelp of pain as my hand slips, making snow pour down onto my face. Every muscle in my body shakes with exhaustion, and I'm only halfway up. My foot screams. But I have to get up there- I have to reach the top. It's my final goal and I will achieve it no matter how much pain I'm in.

By the time my hand grips level ground, my chest is tight and my fingers are numb. I finally lay, belly down, on the ground that leads toward the waterfall. I don't have much time left... should it be now?

...No. Not yet.

Using all the strength I have left, I shakily rise up onto my hands and knees, gasping for air that now refuses to enter my lungs. The wind whispers as it grazes past me, urging me on as it sings the an oddly familiar lullaby. One movement at a time. One horrible, agonizing movement at a time. Force a hand forward, drag a knee along. Whisper silent words of encouragement to myself.

I, I'll get by. I, I'll survive.
When the world's crashing down,
When I fall and hit the ground,
I will turn myself around (don't you try to stop me),
I, and I won't cry.

My papa always told me that willpower is an incredible thing. It makes men move mountains and cut down trees and build tall buildings. He said that mankind has always been very stubborn- once we decide to do something, there is no stopping us. That's why he never banned me from falling. His reasoning was that if I really wanted to do it, there was no way he could ever stop me. And if he couldn't stop me... well, then a slowing heart and fading vision can't, either.

I collapse just at the edge of the icy drop- my eyes wander downward. I've fallen from higher, but this fall still sparks excitement inside of me. The thrill of a fall is the same, whether it is from ten feet or ten million. So many minds must be wondering what I'm doing, or more importantly, why? "I've always been a thrill seeker," I say softly. "You can't possibly expect me to go quietly, now can you?" My arms shake as I shove myself upward, onto my knees. I try to straighten one leg, but it instantly collapses. And so I try again, frowning in concentration, with tears of agony pouring down my face. And then, my other leg... I tilt dangerously in my standing position- even the slight winter breeze makes me sway. A deep breath. A secret smile.

And I leap.

<><><><><><><><><><><><>

I am seven years old.

Blisters burn on my hands as the rope bites into them, but I don't care. I swing back and forth, my laughter echoing through the abandoned part of the district. The sun's final rays stain the sky bright red, and give one last bit of warmth before allowing night time's chill to grasp the land. Tall grasses are perfectly still, and I feel myself rise up, up, up, until I can see far down the hill and toward the town, where people are finishing their errands before rushing home for dinner. My heart flutters as I drop back down, faster and faster and faster. Childish joy fills me with golden light, and life just seems to pour out of me. Some believe that joy is lost as time goes on- that when reality comes, it pushes out the place where that golden sunshine is. I, however, dare to disagree. And because of this, I will remain forever young.

<><><><><><><><><><><><>

I am eight years old.

I clutch the rope tightly, staring down at the long fall below of me. My legs are shaking with fear, but another part of me is urging me forward. I take a step, hesitate, and then step back again, gazing at the dying sun. It winks a final goodbye before finally sinking below the horizon, and I gaze down again. It's now or never... if I don't leap now, I'll spend the rest of my life wondering what would have happened if I did. But what if I get hurt? What if the rope breaks? I bite my bottom lip tightly. Now is not the time for regrets. And, filling my lungs with more air than one would think they could hold, I step off the safety of my branch. That is the first time I ever feel love, and it will not be my last.

<><><><><><><><><><><><>

I am fourteen years old.

I've never been this high up in a tree before, but I am no longer afraid of heights. The ground is scattered with the brightly colored leaves of autumn, and I take one last glance at the beautiful sunset. Two tiny orange suns are reflected in turquoise eyes, and I feel myself completely relax. I back up a few steps, closer to the trunk of the tree, and then run forward and leap, spreading my arms out like wings and diving toward the ground with only the rope grasped tightly in one hand keeping me from a horrible end.

<><><><><><><><><><><><>

I am fifteen years old.

I have lived through 5623 sunsets, with the one I saw yesterday being my very last. I only have a few moments left, but really, that's all I need. Just a few brief moments of joy. Of smiles and laughter and sunshine and memories and childhood. They say that when you're dying, you see your life flash before your eyes. Well, I feel my life, instead. I feel the warmth of a fire in the middle of a winter night. I feel the entertainment of playing hide and seek with childhood friends. I feel the security of my father's hug. I feel the hope in my childhood dreams. I feel my mothers love being selflessly poured into me. I feel the laughter of secret jokes at the lunch table. I feel the thrill of falling. I feel the gentleness of my mother's hand as she feels my fevered forehead.

And I feel the strings vanish.

I, I'll get by. I, I'll survive.
When the world's crashing down,
When I fall and hit the ground,
I will turn myself around (don't you try to stop me),
I...

There's no feeling quite like falling. We, as citizens of Panem, do not know freedom. We, as humans, do not know the sensation of flight. Yet, when I fall, I feel both these things as the wind lifts my lightly colored hair up, out of my face. I spread my ~~wings~~ arms the feel the air resistance. Has the Arena ever heard laughter? Has it ever known a child's joy? Has it ever felt a father's sheltering love, or a mother's gentle compassion? Has it ever felt a friend's fierce companionship, or a child's unaltered hope? Has it ever seen a tribute use her very last breath... to laugh?

I never feel myself hit the ground.

<><><><><><><><><><><><>

I am a fairy princess when I enter the world of green grass and towering trees. The air smells heavily of life with is so odd because here, there is none. The world is forever locked in nighttime, with brilliant stars shining closer than they ever did back on Earth. The castle itself is made out of trees, lifted high off the ground. There are flowers woven into my blond locks, and a golden light shines through my eyes. I run the starlit path up to the castle, calling out in a voice that is there but isn't. A vine lowers down, and I grab it without hesitation, swirling around in my beautiful white gown as I rise high above the ground. My tiger's eye bracelet remains glimmering on my wrist as I rise up to the castle door. I needn't knock- it is already wide open, and shimmering hands without bodies pull me inside. The walls show beautiful scenes- a child laughing for the first time, roses blooming in the early morning sun, a girl running underneath a midnight sky. I am ushered toward an area of the wall that looks like the most beautiful sunset I have ever seen- the sky is died brilliant shades of violet and scarlet. I stare in awe as the name 'Dysis' appears in glowing letters above the scene.

Is it time, Dysis? They whisper, and I smile.

The wind tugs at golden strands and turquoise eyes simply glow as I take my first step, my bare foot stepping off the marble floor and into this unknown world. It meets warm, dewy grass, and then hard, rough tree bark, and then the worn covers of a bed. My face relaxes, because this is me. At last, I have found it. Something kind of like home, only warmer, and more custom. I nod, very slowly, and give a small laugh.

Yes. Yes, it is time.

And I won't cry.