arma virumque cano [ flo mot eri vs sloths

Filler because tired, and note that the sloths are slow and can only attack once per two turns.

Sloth attack.

[Quickly drops on Florence]
[dice=200+7000]
[7038 -- Two Broken Ribs -- 7.5 damage]


[Speedy claws Florence]
[dice=200+2000]
[2173 -- Shallow Cut on Right Hip -- 3.5 damage]


[Dash drops on Erik]
[dice=200+7000]
[7125 -- Bruised Right Hand -- 2.0 damage]


[Swiftly claws Erik]
[dice=200+2000]
[2043 -- Shallow Cut on Left Bicep -- 3.5 damage]


[Lightning drops on Motel]
[dice=200+7000]
[7025 -- Bruised Left Knee -- 2.5 damage]


[Racer claws Motel]
[dice=200+2000]
[2046 -- Shallow Cut on Stomach -- 4.0 damage]

A lot of them was an understatement. In any sort of situation, one sloth would probably be enough to take down three tributes. They were giant, bigger than anything Florence had been able to see in her lifetime. The near impenetrable armor was also a massive downside, making it so hard to even hit them. Six sloths was a death sentence waiting to happen and she didn't understand why. What had she done that she deserved such cruel punishment like this? It was one thing killing another tribute, that was for sure, but that was all apart of the games anyways. If anything the sloths brought forth a minor sense of camaraderie between herself and her fellow tributes. But in the end - what did it matter? She was now simply a series of numbers made for better.

"Florence Hartmyre. District six. Training score, two. Kill count, one." A series of numbers. Waist measurements, wing span, bust size. All her life she had been but simply a series of numbers and the games proved to be no different, it was the easiest way to get information out as fast as possible. Especially when fighting killer sloths. "What about you?" She hardly stopped to turn at the boy, her eyes always watching the sloths before her. Turning away meant certain death, she knew that much. Look away from the enemy, you're screwed. But who really was the enemy here? Would she not eventually have to kill the two boys beside her in order to live? Of course. But the sloths seemed to be a more pressing matter.

†

Florence attacks Armor Sloth #1 with Guisarme [Glaive]
[dice=200+13000]
[Deep Gash on Right Calf -- 8.0 damage]

The girl and Erik seemed to be an awful lot. Exchanging names, training scores- as if those really mattered. What was Motel's? He couldn't really remember. The whole week of training was just a haze for him, especially the last night in the training center with the hooch. That was just a black screen from around six o'clock til morning.

As Florence (yeah that was her name, Motel had never heard of that as a name before... then again he never met someone else named Motel before either) and Erik told each other their names and slashed at the furry children, the boy slipped between them for a moment whirling his head around to face Flo and cheerily ringing off his name. "Motel!" no district, no training score, no age, nothing. The boy just smiled at the girl, slashing at their attacks with his eyes still trained on Flor


[Attacks Sloth #1]
[dice=200+1000]
[Deep Gash on Forehead -- 9.0 damage]


Haha take that fur ball.

With three more jabs the first sloth hobbles to the ground - that was it, it took that much to take one down, all of that for nothing. There was a reason the gamemakers had sent six of these ferocious creatures after the three tributes. It wasn't so that they were doomed in any way shape or form, no that would be far too simple, and not nearly entertaining enough. Florence had never seen these tributes before, paid them no attention whatsoever - and yet they stood beside her. That made no sense.

They had been forced together to fight. The sloths were merely a way to bring them together and force them to fight and they were losing badly. Florence sustained quite a few battle wounds, and Erik was no different - his partner was even worse than him steadily looking as though they were about to faint. All of this was a game; perhaps, the sloths would stop attacking her if she -

†

Florence attacks Motel Hunt with Guisarme [Glaive]
[dice=200+13000]
[ Deep Gash on Chest -- 9.5 damage]

OOC: I don't know why I'm doing this ladadeedadee

Florence let herself attack the boy in front of her whom she had no idea the name, nor district of. This was all a game after all, and Florence had no chance of killing the sloths, no chance of surviving any longer in this arena if she didn't play the games that were needed to be played. That sat fine with her. Surrounded by the incredibly large tree, feeling overwhelmingly shadowed by the overhanging branches, and listening to the dull screams of the dying boy who was now only an extension of her weapon - this was what the Games were all about, weren't they? She attempted to listen for any sort of sign. A sweet loving touch from her deceased mother, a howling scream of discontent from any of her siblings, a sultry whisper from her beloved deceased. But there was nothing.

This was what it was like to be all alone. No voices whispering endlessly in her head, no sort of standard to live up to at all. Being sporadic and spontaneous, living so closely to the edge of her weapon. Living dangerously and playing alongside the Gamemakers and what they want done. It was all so new, and refreshing. Long gone was the girl who spent nights furiously stitching dresses in her church workroom, that girl was dead to the world. Once dressing the dead, now creating them. Florence allowed her glaive to collect as much blood from the boy as possible before pulling it out of the wound - later would come her new ritual, but the time for that would have to wait. Life used to be so simple, but now it was the simple things that kept the lowly District Six girl going. With no needle and thread to keep her busy, there were only so many thing she could do. Though her nimble fingers longed endlessly for the comfort of sewing, she had been so limited in her bloodbath items.

Limited seemed to only describe her experience. First off she was a limited score, not once had the sponsorship box dropped on her, useless and no one wanted to support a girl who scored a two. Good as dead with a score like that. Limited items in the bloodbath, she was sure people were much more well off than her with their bounty but there was nothing she could do but claim things off dead bodies. Then she lost her allies, Jaime and Xan. Where they were now was all but a mystery, but according to the sky they were still roaming and she remained ever hopeful that one day they would return together and be able to rekindle whatever alliance they had. Though she was entirely doubtful, people were falling like flies and she was helping that cause. Should they ever show up near her again, there was no guarantee she wouldn't attack, it would be nice to fill out the orchid on her wrist after all. There was so much limitation to what she could do, and could be but she wouldn't let it stop her.

Erik lashed out in that instance, narrowly missing her chest and scratching her forearm. No, boy. She let out a sigh of disapproval, understanding the pain that he might be feeling but that was no reason to take it out on her. This was a game, Erik. A game. Unfortunately he didn't get it quite yet. One day maybe, he would understand how to play, and what it took to play, but for now he was a boy who'd tripped over a set of roots and could do nothing about it.

Florence wandered over to the now dead boy, after hearing the roaring boom of the cannon, it was time to claim what she needed. Emptying the sack all over the ground, scrounging for just about anything that could be useful. Water jug, check. Long bladed weapon, she took from his clenched hand, one never knew when they would need another weapon. She tossed the head towards Erik, not needing anything to do with that. Bandanna, no. Flint, yes. Flashlight, no. After clearing the majority of the items, she found it. Lying beneath the small remainder of the bandage that the boy had, a needle! All that she had wanted for the past few days had been found in the pack, a needle and thread. There was so much that could be done with one of these. After pressing the tip of the needle to her fingertip enough to gently pierce the skin, she knew it was sharp enough to do work.

Elated, she let lose a scream. This was it! A needle! She could fashion herself into a real frankenmonster, a dress stitched perfectly together out of human skin, something no one had ever done before. She would become a leader in couture. All because of this one needle. The world would see her as the thin, in, girl that she had always known herself to be. If this is what killing brought, then she would kill time and time again until she was nothing but beautiful. She would be beautiful, carve herself angel wings and fly up to heaven in a dress made out of perfection.

"So long Erik Strauss." She grinned in the boys direction. "Good luck with the whole broken foot thing." Giggling she turned away, poised to leave and fix herself up. "I warned you I would bury you."

†

OOC: Florence uses first aid. Florence takes the scimitar, water jug, 5ft of bandage, 2 uses of needle and thread and trident also from Motel. Florence collects her medkit from the RE. Florence flees the fight.