kodachi | WAR GAMES

WAR GAMES

10...

9...

This year, you will be participating in teams. Your teams, as sponsored, are as follows:

Aeva and Ystelle; Ashleigh and Larsen; Aubrey and Kieran; ~~Brigitte and Ellias~~; Cabel and Joss; Cyrel and Hollingworth; D'Ivann and Helene; Drael and Kristopher; Griffith and ~~Xian~~; Fila and Lisette; ~~Indra and Zacharius~~; ~~Ivy and Reece~~; Kol and Laurence; Leonel and Solus; Lucinde and Visvaldis; Malis and Vox; Oberin and Odette; Shryke and Siegfried; Talbot and Thane.

Should both members of a team survive, you will both be permitted to leave the arena alive. May the odds be ever in your favour...

2...

1...

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[It's a small clearing, but still enough space for him to get the measure of this new sword; larger than what he would usually choose, but still comfortably within the range of blades with which he might called him practiced. Too cumbersome to be wielded with one hand, except when borne by erratic momentum, but easily handled with two. It's been well crafted, keenly honed and finely balanced. It'll be a pleasure to work with this, and he already has a perfect bloody christening prepared.

They have taken his particular sight from him, these gamemakers. He can not track, can not feel as others feel, and the disappointment of that might have had him distracted still had they not seen fit to gift him this horned spitfire as his teammate. The little man had attacked him first! Armed only with spirit and rage, and what use were those against him? Even with bare fists Thane had soon brought the man low before him, and might very well have killed him right there were it not indeed for those horns. Black as pitch and cool as bone to the touch, and if pried just so, as if to separate them by force from the skull... how the goat had bleated then! Sounds that clawed from the back of the throat, the sort that Thane thinks will draw frenzied spittle to this little man's lips if he goes at it with a blade and removes them good and proper and completely. He'd resolved then to do just that, and searched for weaponry ever since.

The goat had proven selfishly uncooperative toward the task, but that's been fun too. It's taken only the occasional blow to keep him sufficiently staggered, reeling and glassy-eyed - Thane fears not resistance but an attempt at escape. He's never been one for the chase so much as the result.

But finally they've succeeded, the one and singular success they will share as a team. Along with the sword, buried deep in the rotten hollow of an unpleasantly decaying tree trunk, Thane has uncovered some sort of ration packs, and a pouch containing a fine knuckleduster. The pouch he ties at his belt, both ration sets crammed tightly within. The brass knuckles adorn his right hand, a few practice swings gladly revealing that they won't impede his swordsmanship. It's time enough now, and he lifts his chin, grin vicious and bright as he opens his mouth to speak.

And then stops, a flicker of confusion crossing his features. ... There, yes. He did hear something. Thane hefts the blade across one shoulder and strides the negligible distance between himself and his ill-fated pet, catching hold a firm handful of fine dark hair and yanking the man's head to match the curious tilt of his own. He's grinning again, eyes shining, his voice a low enthused whisper.]

Do you hear that? I'm starting to think these gamemakers favour me, goat. Listen, it's getting closer. What do you think it will be? Get lower; [He commands it, drawing them down to a half-crouch with another sharp yank of that hair.] Let's see. If you'd been a good little boy daddy would have let you help kill it. But you weren't good, were you?

[With no more warning he slams his teammate down into the earth in one smooth hard motion, jamming his heel to the back of the other man's neck.]

Daddy doesn't like sharing anyway. Now shush, quiet now, little goatling...

[Thane watches the woodland and waits, bright-eyed and brilliant with anticipation.]

[For most of the day, he's settled into a puffing, mile-eating gait, the weight of Ivy on his back doing little to impede him after he grew used to it. She's a bright girl, clearly very scared, but he's done his best to be cheerful with her and gave her the task of reporting anything interesting she could see out in the woods. She'd done admirably—she'd pointed out a stash of weaponry tied high up the trunk of a tree.

Several minutes and an outpouring of sweat later, Reece had found himself rewarded with a length of chain and a small, peculiar hand saw. Its edge was sharp enough, though, and he decided with a shrug that it was better than nothing. The chain, he slung around his shoulders and then invited Ivy to mount up once more. Now, he'd said, they were looking for a clearing of some sort, a space where he'd be able to fight well when it came down to it.

He isn't the sort to worry about whether or not he's going to survive this; the next fight might be his last, but he'll put just as much effort into it as always. He thinks he sees light shining through the trees, and he isn't disappointed when he gets close enough to see the clearing. He slows to a jog and eventually halts just within the break of trees, crouching down and speaking brightly.]

Hop down, miss Ivy. This looks like a good spot.

[It's very very almost become pleasant. Not really, not truly, not with what's expected of them, but Reece is so friendly and the woodlands are quite beautiful and nothing terrible has happened. Ivy settles to the ground on dainty feet, smiles brightly at her saviour (how he'd laughed when she called him that!), and almost skips the few short steps that take her through the trees and to the edge of that open space.

What she sees then is a long-haired man, crouched and meeting her gaze, a sword at his shoulder and no, no, he isn't like Reece at all, there's nothing kind behind that smile. Ivy stumbles back with a startled cry, and that's before she even notices the other one, the figure on the ground. Is he dead...?!]

Reece! [She calls back with urgency, her voice making it perfectly clear that they have suddenly found themselves in a terrible amount of danger.]

[The little one wails and Thane steps forward to follow her words with his own, trusting his rebellious goat to remain still and obedient for at least the time being. Here's something new for him to play with, and what a terrible host he'd be if he didn't welcome them to his very own piece of arena dirt.]

Reece! [Thane swings the sword down from his shoulder - the girl shrieks in alarm though it doesn't go anywhere near her, jumpy little get - and plants it lightly in the ground between them, gripping the hilt with both hands and leaning forward to greet her with another smile. How tragic; it doesn't seem to calm her at all. Thane continues calling, his voice rough and brimming with excitement.] Hurry on out here, this is a good spot! Miss Ivy agrees!

[An explosion of curses flies from Reece's lips as he flips the chain over his shoulders to hold in front of him. It's not the weapon he wants—oh, not at all—but he's not about to abandon Ivy to this bloodthirsty-looking man.

He bolts across the clearing, stopping wide enough of the man keep from being skewered but near enough that he can defend Ivy quickly and snaps, chain taut between his hands.] Look, leave us alone. We don't want any trouble with you.

Leave you alone? [Thane keeps one hand to the hilt of his sword, and gestures the other in a wide half-circle around the clearing.] Now that wouldn't be gracious, would it? An audience expects bloodshed, Reece. But don't worry yourself - I don't think you'll be any trouble at all.

[That's enough foreplay. A slight grunt as he pulls his sword back from the dirt and then Thane stands tall and battle-poised, a grin on his lips as he nods toward the chain in Reece's hands.] What a pretty little necklace. Do you think it'll suit her?

You leave her be! [Reece roars, and instinct that demands he makes the first move overrides his concern at his lack of appropriate weapon. He doesn't expect to have very much time to talk—he isn't sure he expects to have much time at all, based on this man's form—but he rattles off quick instructions to Ivy as he attempts to tangle Thane's sword in his chain.] Ivy, get out of here! Take the saw and go!

[But she can't, she can't possibly leave him, he's the only thing about this she can bear! He's been so kind! Reece can't die, he just can't!

Ivy stays rooted in place, terrified and gripping the handsaw against her chest as though that gesture can protect her and Reece both. She doesn't mean to wail his name but the sound just bursts from her. How could she have been so foolish as to stop feeling fear?]

Ohhh no! No you don't, girl! [The chain strikes his blade, jarring and wrapping, and Thane immediately strikes downward in a gesture meant to unbalance Reece along with it. If his playmate wants to do this fist-to-fist then that's quite fine with him.]

Shut up! [Reece snarls even as he's pitching forward, off-balanced and shocked to find he has no means to slow his fall. He manages to direct his shoulder to strike the dirt first, and kicks out sharply in the direction where Thane is—the chain is biting into his knuckles and he has no idea what that massive sword is doing, but he isn't letting this white-haired freak claim an easy kill.]

[The kick doesn't strike him but it does set him stumbling. His sword is too tangled to pull back easily, especially with the stubborn grip this Reece is maintaining on his end of the chain, and the scream of metal across metal angers him a great deal more than anything else. He hasn't cut anything yet. They're going to ruin his brilliant prize before he's even cut anything.

Thane finds his footing and returns a savage kick of his own toward Reece's torso, only one hand on his sword hilt now. The other is raised and ready, metal knuckles gleaming bright in the sun. He can bloody Reece in other ways, yes.]

[The kick prompts a sharp 'oof' from Reece, but when he glances upward and sees only one hand on the sword's hilt, he instantly forgets to consider the pain. He remembers his flexibility, born of many years training with a staff-like weapon, and twists in a vicious arc, meant to yank the sword from Thane's wrist or at least cause him a great deal of pain if he keeps hold of it. He's still at a disadvantage—he hasn't had a chance to get to his feet again, and if the sword and chain are stay twisted up in his grip, he has no way to defend himself either.

It's not fear, but anticipation that makes him quiver.]

[It jerks his wrist sharply, that twisting motion, and Thane makes a furious sound and relinquishes his grip both at once. Now he's angry though, with attention quite firmly locked on this sole target. The girl, the goat, they're forgotten now.

Thane descends in a swift rush, past his entangled blade to grab a handful of chain and twist it tighter, to force it even sharper into Reece's flesh. Then he swings for Reece's jaw, a brutal blow that will strike all the harder for that metal across his fingers.]

[He can't recall ever aching so much as he does now. It's fixed in his skull, he decides, and he has to fight to keep his lip from curling furious disgust. The man overpowered him with precious little effort, and then proceeded to rub his face in his weakness. Oh, if only he knew...

He's listened for some time now, and it sounds as though he's been forgotten. As a test, he shuffles slightly, not opening his eyes or raising his voice, but if the time is ripe, he has someone to rendezvous with. His so-called teammate will face him—and how—but on his terms, not Thane's.]

[Ivy knows she must be careful, can not to draw attention, and she tries to stay to the edge of their clearing as she moves. But there's no time, Reece needs help right now, and when she sees the other stranger stir it seems a sudden last desperate hope might be presenting itself.

She kneels at his side, touches his face... he's so bruised, so beaten, and she doesn't even pay attention to his horns, incredible though the sight is, because she's too choked on fear for Reece and fear for this man and fear of what's to come.]

Are you okay? Please, can you help him, please, he needs you!

[Gentle fingers prompt him to open his eyes, and he sees a terrified, pathetic-looking girl with a weapon clutched in her delicate hands. She's... what, she's looking for him to help? He sits up in quiet alarm, taking quick stock of the situation. Some fool tussling with Thane on the ground, silver and metal clutched between them.

He hardly cares. They're preoccupied and he's got a plan.]

Give me that, and I'll help.

[He speaks in a whisper, and reaches for the saw before he finishes. The second he has a fixed grip on the item, he clasps a hand about the girl's mouth and slices a great length in her throat, just at the jugular vein. He holds her until he no longer feels panicked breath against his palm, and then drops her body, letting it bleed out to the earth. Let Thane read what message he likes: Talbot is leaving.

He moves cautiously until the sounds of the fight fade away, and then he darts through the wood in a rapid zig-zag pattern. He focuses on the moment, and the need to find a small, dark, quiet place, rather than the thought of how long it's been since he's been reduced to this. He finds what seems to be an abandoned badger's den, and shoulders his way in as far as he can go. He'll wait for the cover of night. Then he'll play.]

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WAR GAMES

ENCOUNTER: TEAM SEVEN & TEAM SEVENTEEN

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