dust to dust [hg sim]
Dec 29, 2023 19:00:37 GMT -5
Post by parsnip on Dec 29, 2023 19:00:37 GMT -5
Dust Ball
The training arenas, dojos, and gyms of District Two were much the same nowadays, only a little smellier. The miasma that now passed over the area, sure, but mostly those folk that went there after a long day in the factories and sewage works. It would take a miracle for Dust to stop feeling fantastic about leaving the District, even if it was just for a mandated day.
-
He’d leapt from the train that dropped those from his District into the square of Three, and the short shuttle bus to the Science Fair. He went, paid all that money, for one reason only; he has a chance to test out the latest Hunger Games Simulator. What career would avoid that opportunity? The hall was large, welcoming, and altogether not what he’d expected from the Capitol. Their lessons to District Two always seemed harsh, Dust thought, but he welcomed the challenge nonetheless. Here, the challenge seems artificial and man made, rather than the gladiatorial ring he’d imagined. Still. He pressed on into the far corner where the simulators sat, waiting.
-
He was called in, beckoned by the glowing name ‘Dust Ball – District Two Male’ as though reaped from the bowl in the District Square. Nice touch, he thought, raising a smirk towards it. The booth was dark. There was nothing to see except a marker in the centre where he would be able to stand and activate the systems. He did so, and clearly his presence brought on a mustering of lights fluorescently blinding him before he had a chance to realise what was happening.
When his eyes had settled, and the purest of whites grew bored of straining his pupils, he could see a sprawling arena full of combat. Rather, it was. Surrounding him were the failed battles of many duos which stretched onward and onward. It was an endless chain of combatants, all now fallen on the field upon their weapons. Then, he saw his own opponent. He had a striking figure. His head was closely shaven, hair dark, eyes darker. Blood decorated his lip, likely from his nose. It was him, reflected.
Dust to Dust.
The two seemed to eye each other, beginning a circling motion. If it weren’t for the litter of defeated fighters. Still, it was the actual Dust that struck first. That’s when he realised two things. Not only had a sword materialised into his right palm, but more that he wasn’t just surrounded by random tributes. He was in fact every single tribute…
The sword was half his height, heavy, and something he was extremely accustomed to. Training for the Games as religiously as Dust meant that he was used to the incredible weight that the simulator had designed for him. He lifted it, holding it at a forty-five degree angle to his right, before bringing it to his eye line in a salute to himself, then back again. From this starting stance, he swung into the enemy’s own contact zone with a vicious set of slashes, relentless, and without mercy for himself.
FKlWGCm9m1sword
1022 -- Miss -- 0.0 damage
(Sword)
(Sword)
+ ~ +
