@kermes Added! Can you please update your entry form, and fill out the optional RPer fields if possible?
@@@
| @@@ |
 @ @ |
Quests & Challenges
Quests, Challenges, and Festival games.
TOPIC | [RoR] The Plague Hunger Games
@kermes Added! Can you please update your entry form, and fill out the optional RPer fields if possible?
Tippens - District 9 - Light/Plague - Spiral
With the pink ball of rage hot on his heels, Tippens knew he had to act fast. Thankfully his lithe body was made for quick turns and twisty maneuvers, and somehow he managed to put a decent bit of distance between he and Oracle. But the little dragon was remarkably persistent; it would have been impressive if his life were not on the line. So when the briar patch came into view, Tippens knew that he only had one choice.
He crashed into the thorny, stinging plants at breakneck speed, dipping his head to protect his eyes as he did so. Once inside, though, he opened them, nocturnal vision coming in handy as he snaked his way through the tangle of plants. Tippens tried as hard as he could to ignore the thorns as they caught themselves up under his scales, sticking and scratching and by god did they itch!
At last he caught a glimpse of moonlight peeking through the tangle and with one final push, the spiral freed himself, flopping onto the blessedly cool grass and took a few moments to pick the thorns off before he lay unmoving, simply trying to catch his breath and come to terms with what exactly just happened. He licked at his scales, tried to ignore the stinging pain in his right eye, which had swollen shut, likely due to the thorns. Or perhaps some sort of reaction? Once he'd rested a bit, he'd have to try and forage for some herbs to soothe the itching.
One pale eye stared warily ahead; he was still paranoid that that little pink menace would come crashing out of the thicket at any moment to finish what he'd started. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glint of...something. A suspiciously cheerful looking package. Scowling to himself, Tippens prodded it cautiously, half expecting it to explode in his face or something of the like. When it didn't, he felt a flutter of hope. Had he really received something from a sponsor? Curious, especially since he couldn't really recall having done something to warrant a sponsor.
Still, the spiral eagerly ripped away the paper, a jumble of wires and scraps of metal tumbling into his claws. And then the note. That blasted note. Was someone making a mockery of him? Was this some kind of joke?
Tippens giggled softly to himself, claws shaking as he clutched the junk tight to his chest. Why was he laughing?
The giggles grew louder, stronger, until he was howling with laughter, tears streaming from his good eye and leaking from his injured one. It didn't take long for the laughter to change yet again, however, changing to loud sobs. From somewhere in his muddled mind, Tippens knew the sounds were coming from his own mouth, but he couldn't stop himself. Instead he curled back up on the grass, sniffling and hiccuping as he sorted through his "gift" as if to make sense of the rubbish.
Is Tippens Going Mad? Find out More at Eleven
With the pink ball of rage hot on his heels, Tippens knew he had to act fast. Thankfully his lithe body was made for quick turns and twisty maneuvers, and somehow he managed to put a decent bit of distance between he and Oracle. But the little dragon was remarkably persistent; it would have been impressive if his life were not on the line. So when the briar patch came into view, Tippens knew that he only had one choice.
He crashed into the thorny, stinging plants at breakneck speed, dipping his head to protect his eyes as he did so. Once inside, though, he opened them, nocturnal vision coming in handy as he snaked his way through the tangle of plants. Tippens tried as hard as he could to ignore the thorns as they caught themselves up under his scales, sticking and scratching and by god did they itch!
At last he caught a glimpse of moonlight peeking through the tangle and with one final push, the spiral freed himself, flopping onto the blessedly cool grass and took a few moments to pick the thorns off before he lay unmoving, simply trying to catch his breath and come to terms with what exactly just happened. He licked at his scales, tried to ignore the stinging pain in his right eye, which had swollen shut, likely due to the thorns. Or perhaps some sort of reaction? Once he'd rested a bit, he'd have to try and forage for some herbs to soothe the itching.
One pale eye stared warily ahead; he was still paranoid that that little pink menace would come crashing out of the thicket at any moment to finish what he'd started. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glint of...something. A suspiciously cheerful looking package. Scowling to himself, Tippens prodded it cautiously, half expecting it to explode in his face or something of the like. When it didn't, he felt a flutter of hope. Had he really received something from a sponsor? Curious, especially since he couldn't really recall having done something to warrant a sponsor.
Still, the spiral eagerly ripped away the paper, a jumble of wires and scraps of metal tumbling into his claws. And then the note. That blasted note. Was someone making a mockery of him? Was this some kind of joke?
Tippens giggled softly to himself, claws shaking as he clutched the junk tight to his chest. Why was he laughing?
The giggles grew louder, stronger, until he was howling with laughter, tears streaming from his good eye and leaking from his injured one. It didn't take long for the laughter to change yet again, however, changing to loud sobs. From somewhere in his muddled mind, Tippens knew the sounds were coming from his own mouth, but he couldn't stop himself. Instead he curled back up on the grass, sniffling and hiccuping as he sorted through his "gift" as if to make sense of the rubbish.
Is Tippens Going Mad? Find out More at Eleven
Tippens - District 9 - Light/Plague - Spiral
With the pink ball of rage hot on his heels, Tippens knew he had to act fast. Thankfully his lithe body was made for quick turns and twisty maneuvers, and somehow he managed to put a decent bit of distance between he and Oracle. But the little dragon was remarkably persistent; it would have been impressive if his life were not on the line. So when the briar patch came into view, Tippens knew that he only had one choice.
He crashed into the thorny, stinging plants at breakneck speed, dipping his head to protect his eyes as he did so. Once inside, though, he opened them, nocturnal vision coming in handy as he snaked his way through the tangle of plants. Tippens tried as hard as he could to ignore the thorns as they caught themselves up under his scales, sticking and scratching and by god did they itch!
At last he caught a glimpse of moonlight peeking through the tangle and with one final push, the spiral freed himself, flopping onto the blessedly cool grass and took a few moments to pick the thorns off before he lay unmoving, simply trying to catch his breath and come to terms with what exactly just happened. He licked at his scales, tried to ignore the stinging pain in his right eye, which had swollen shut, likely due to the thorns. Or perhaps some sort of reaction? Once he'd rested a bit, he'd have to try and forage for some herbs to soothe the itching.
One pale eye stared warily ahead; he was still paranoid that that little pink menace would come crashing out of the thicket at any moment to finish what he'd started. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glint of...something. A suspiciously cheerful looking package. Scowling to himself, Tippens prodded it cautiously, half expecting it to explode in his face or something of the like. When it didn't, he felt a flutter of hope. Had he really received something from a sponsor? Curious, especially since he couldn't really recall having done something to warrant a sponsor.
Still, the spiral eagerly ripped away the paper, a jumble of wires and scraps of metal tumbling into his claws. And then the note. That blasted note. Was someone making a mockery of him? Was this some kind of joke?
Tippens giggled softly to himself, claws shaking as he clutched the junk tight to his chest. Why was he laughing?
The giggles grew louder, stronger, until he was howling with laughter, tears streaming from his good eye and leaking from his injured one. It didn't take long for the laughter to change yet again, however, changing to loud sobs. From somewhere in his muddled mind, Tippens knew the sounds were coming from his own mouth, but he couldn't stop himself. Instead he curled back up on the grass, sniffling and hiccuping as he sorted through his "gift" as if to make sense of the rubbish.
Is Tippens Going Mad? Find out More at Eleven
With the pink ball of rage hot on his heels, Tippens knew he had to act fast. Thankfully his lithe body was made for quick turns and twisty maneuvers, and somehow he managed to put a decent bit of distance between he and Oracle. But the little dragon was remarkably persistent; it would have been impressive if his life were not on the line. So when the briar patch came into view, Tippens knew that he only had one choice.
He crashed into the thorny, stinging plants at breakneck speed, dipping his head to protect his eyes as he did so. Once inside, though, he opened them, nocturnal vision coming in handy as he snaked his way through the tangle of plants. Tippens tried as hard as he could to ignore the thorns as they caught themselves up under his scales, sticking and scratching and by god did they itch!
At last he caught a glimpse of moonlight peeking through the tangle and with one final push, the spiral freed himself, flopping onto the blessedly cool grass and took a few moments to pick the thorns off before he lay unmoving, simply trying to catch his breath and come to terms with what exactly just happened. He licked at his scales, tried to ignore the stinging pain in his right eye, which had swollen shut, likely due to the thorns. Or perhaps some sort of reaction? Once he'd rested a bit, he'd have to try and forage for some herbs to soothe the itching.
One pale eye stared warily ahead; he was still paranoid that that little pink menace would come crashing out of the thicket at any moment to finish what he'd started. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glint of...something. A suspiciously cheerful looking package. Scowling to himself, Tippens prodded it cautiously, half expecting it to explode in his face or something of the like. When it didn't, he felt a flutter of hope. Had he really received something from a sponsor? Curious, especially since he couldn't really recall having done something to warrant a sponsor.
Still, the spiral eagerly ripped away the paper, a jumble of wires and scraps of metal tumbling into his claws. And then the note. That blasted note. Was someone making a mockery of him? Was this some kind of joke?
Tippens giggled softly to himself, claws shaking as he clutched the junk tight to his chest. Why was he laughing?
The giggles grew louder, stronger, until he was howling with laughter, tears streaming from his good eye and leaking from his injured one. It didn't take long for the laughter to change yet again, however, changing to loud sobs. From somewhere in his muddled mind, Tippens knew the sounds were coming from his own mouth, but he couldn't stop himself. Instead he curled back up on the grass, sniffling and hiccuping as he sorted through his "gift" as if to make sense of the rubbish.
Is Tippens Going Mad? Find out More at Eleven
| A |
FAQs Buying Maroon Tert G1s Tarot Shop Wishlist Clan Lore | AAAAAAAAAAA |
|
Abia | District 8 | Plague | Mirror
First, it was the bloodbath. Abia was running, fleeing from the Cornucopia. Renthys's words repeated in her mind as she went, "Remember, going to the middle immediately is what gets majority of tributes killed. Don't even try for it. Run and find water."
Now, with Renthys watching from somewhere in the Capitol, Abia was alone. Focusing on the instructions from her friend, she begins to look for a clean source of water. It was hard to find one in the Scarred Wastelands, but she had no choice.
Unsuccessful, Abia spends the first night failing to sleep under a torrent of anxiety. Every little noise or movement was another tribute. She had to be on guard, she can't let her clan down.
Grumpy and still thirsty, Abia attempts to find another tribute. She needed blood, more blood spilled on her hands. Abia wasn't going to be one of the casualties who went down without even a small bit of fight.
The second night is cold, colder even for a native Plagueling. Freezing, Abia attempts sleep for a moment before she's startled by a multi-eyed wildclaw, Wendigo. Somehow, the two end up cuddling together for warmth through the night.
By the morning, Wendigo is gone, off to live another day. Paranoid and suffering from minute dehydration, Abia uses her instincts to camouflage herself in a Wasteland bush. The smallest of noises have her on edge, convincing herself that it was a rabbit.
Again, the night bears nothing but restless sleep for Abia. With nothing really in favor, she has to sleep with one eye of four open, watching for any potential enemy.
Finally, her searches bear fruit as Abia finds a river. Rehydrating herself and spending the day lounging alongside it, she can almost feel Renthys smiling and cheering her on from wherever he was.
"Abia stays awake all night, listening to the sound of the river. Perhaps she should get more sleep, but she's overcome with the beauty of the moonlight on the water, and the realization that not many such nights might remain to her."
The night is warm, pleasant. Accustomed to poor sleeping habits in the dome already, Abia lets herself get distracted by the moonlight dancing on the water. There had always been something peaceful about the moon, and it filled her with peace as she pondered on the days ahead.
This could be one of the last nights Abia would have to witness these small pieces of nature. It could mark the rough beginning of rightful recognition finally falling upon her clan and herself. Maybe, the night was just part of some horrible nightmare that she would wake up from soon. Only time could tell.
As she contemplated on potential choices, the mirror couldn't help but thinking about the other tributes. Were any of them as aware of this as she was? Were they all truly confident they would win and didn't even think about it?
Reminiscing to the second night, she wonders whether she was lucky or not that her encounter with Wendigo didn't end in death. The wildclaw has come to amass two kills compared to her lousy zero. It wasn't for her lack of trying, many of the dragons seemed to be around the same level as she was in hiding among the Wasteland.
With each thought, Abia always ended up back to the moonlight. Just how many more moments like this did she have ahead of her?
First, it was the bloodbath. Abia was running, fleeing from the Cornucopia. Renthys's words repeated in her mind as she went, "Remember, going to the middle immediately is what gets majority of tributes killed. Don't even try for it. Run and find water."
Now, with Renthys watching from somewhere in the Capitol, Abia was alone. Focusing on the instructions from her friend, she begins to look for a clean source of water. It was hard to find one in the Scarred Wastelands, but she had no choice.
Unsuccessful, Abia spends the first night failing to sleep under a torrent of anxiety. Every little noise or movement was another tribute. She had to be on guard, she can't let her clan down.
Grumpy and still thirsty, Abia attempts to find another tribute. She needed blood, more blood spilled on her hands. Abia wasn't going to be one of the casualties who went down without even a small bit of fight.
The second night is cold, colder even for a native Plagueling. Freezing, Abia attempts sleep for a moment before she's startled by a multi-eyed wildclaw, Wendigo. Somehow, the two end up cuddling together for warmth through the night.
By the morning, Wendigo is gone, off to live another day. Paranoid and suffering from minute dehydration, Abia uses her instincts to camouflage herself in a Wasteland bush. The smallest of noises have her on edge, convincing herself that it was a rabbit.
Again, the night bears nothing but restless sleep for Abia. With nothing really in favor, she has to sleep with one eye of four open, watching for any potential enemy.
Finally, her searches bear fruit as Abia finds a river. Rehydrating herself and spending the day lounging alongside it, she can almost feel Renthys smiling and cheering her on from wherever he was.
"Abia stays awake all night, listening to the sound of the river. Perhaps she should get more sleep, but she's overcome with the beauty of the moonlight on the water, and the realization that not many such nights might remain to her."
The night is warm, pleasant. Accustomed to poor sleeping habits in the dome already, Abia lets herself get distracted by the moonlight dancing on the water. There had always been something peaceful about the moon, and it filled her with peace as she pondered on the days ahead.
This could be one of the last nights Abia would have to witness these small pieces of nature. It could mark the rough beginning of rightful recognition finally falling upon her clan and herself. Maybe, the night was just part of some horrible nightmare that she would wake up from soon. Only time could tell.
As she contemplated on potential choices, the mirror couldn't help but thinking about the other tributes. Were any of them as aware of this as she was? Were they all truly confident they would win and didn't even think about it?
Reminiscing to the second night, she wonders whether she was lucky or not that her encounter with Wendigo didn't end in death. The wildclaw has come to amass two kills compared to her lousy zero. It wasn't for her lack of trying, many of the dragons seemed to be around the same level as she was in hiding among the Wasteland.
With each thought, Abia always ended up back to the moonlight. Just how many more moments like this did she have ahead of her?
Abia | District 8 | Plague | Mirror
First, it was the bloodbath. Abia was running, fleeing from the Cornucopia. Renthys's words repeated in her mind as she went, "Remember, going to the middle immediately is what gets majority of tributes killed. Don't even try for it. Run and find water."
Now, with Renthys watching from somewhere in the Capitol, Abia was alone. Focusing on the instructions from her friend, she begins to look for a clean source of water. It was hard to find one in the Scarred Wastelands, but she had no choice.
Unsuccessful, Abia spends the first night failing to sleep under a torrent of anxiety. Every little noise or movement was another tribute. She had to be on guard, she can't let her clan down.
Grumpy and still thirsty, Abia attempts to find another tribute. She needed blood, more blood spilled on her hands. Abia wasn't going to be one of the casualties who went down without even a small bit of fight.
The second night is cold, colder even for a native Plagueling. Freezing, Abia attempts sleep for a moment before she's startled by a multi-eyed wildclaw, Wendigo. Somehow, the two end up cuddling together for warmth through the night.
By the morning, Wendigo is gone, off to live another day. Paranoid and suffering from minute dehydration, Abia uses her instincts to camouflage herself in a Wasteland bush. The smallest of noises have her on edge, convincing herself that it was a rabbit.
Again, the night bears nothing but restless sleep for Abia. With nothing really in favor, she has to sleep with one eye of four open, watching for any potential enemy.
Finally, her searches bear fruit as Abia finds a river. Rehydrating herself and spending the day lounging alongside it, she can almost feel Renthys smiling and cheering her on from wherever he was.
"Abia stays awake all night, listening to the sound of the river. Perhaps she should get more sleep, but she's overcome with the beauty of the moonlight on the water, and the realization that not many such nights might remain to her."
The night is warm, pleasant. Accustomed to poor sleeping habits in the dome already, Abia lets herself get distracted by the moonlight dancing on the water. There had always been something peaceful about the moon, and it filled her with peace as she pondered on the days ahead.
This could be one of the last nights Abia would have to witness these small pieces of nature. It could mark the rough beginning of rightful recognition finally falling upon her clan and herself. Maybe, the night was just part of some horrible nightmare that she would wake up from soon. Only time could tell.
As she contemplated on potential choices, the mirror couldn't help but thinking about the other tributes. Were any of them as aware of this as she was? Were they all truly confident they would win and didn't even think about it?
Reminiscing to the second night, she wonders whether she was lucky or not that her encounter with Wendigo didn't end in death. The wildclaw has come to amass two kills compared to her lousy zero. It wasn't for her lack of trying, many of the dragons seemed to be around the same level as she was in hiding among the Wasteland.
With each thought, Abia always ended up back to the moonlight. Just how many more moments like this did she have ahead of her?
First, it was the bloodbath. Abia was running, fleeing from the Cornucopia. Renthys's words repeated in her mind as she went, "Remember, going to the middle immediately is what gets majority of tributes killed. Don't even try for it. Run and find water."
Now, with Renthys watching from somewhere in the Capitol, Abia was alone. Focusing on the instructions from her friend, she begins to look for a clean source of water. It was hard to find one in the Scarred Wastelands, but she had no choice.
Unsuccessful, Abia spends the first night failing to sleep under a torrent of anxiety. Every little noise or movement was another tribute. She had to be on guard, she can't let her clan down.
Grumpy and still thirsty, Abia attempts to find another tribute. She needed blood, more blood spilled on her hands. Abia wasn't going to be one of the casualties who went down without even a small bit of fight.
The second night is cold, colder even for a native Plagueling. Freezing, Abia attempts sleep for a moment before she's startled by a multi-eyed wildclaw, Wendigo. Somehow, the two end up cuddling together for warmth through the night.
By the morning, Wendigo is gone, off to live another day. Paranoid and suffering from minute dehydration, Abia uses her instincts to camouflage herself in a Wasteland bush. The smallest of noises have her on edge, convincing herself that it was a rabbit.
Again, the night bears nothing but restless sleep for Abia. With nothing really in favor, she has to sleep with one eye of four open, watching for any potential enemy.
Finally, her searches bear fruit as Abia finds a river. Rehydrating herself and spending the day lounging alongside it, she can almost feel Renthys smiling and cheering her on from wherever he was.
"Abia stays awake all night, listening to the sound of the river. Perhaps she should get more sleep, but she's overcome with the beauty of the moonlight on the water, and the realization that not many such nights might remain to her."
The night is warm, pleasant. Accustomed to poor sleeping habits in the dome already, Abia lets herself get distracted by the moonlight dancing on the water. There had always been something peaceful about the moon, and it filled her with peace as she pondered on the days ahead.
This could be one of the last nights Abia would have to witness these small pieces of nature. It could mark the rough beginning of rightful recognition finally falling upon her clan and herself. Maybe, the night was just part of some horrible nightmare that she would wake up from soon. Only time could tell.
As she contemplated on potential choices, the mirror couldn't help but thinking about the other tributes. Were any of them as aware of this as she was? Were they all truly confident they would win and didn't even think about it?
Reminiscing to the second night, she wonders whether she was lucky or not that her encounter with Wendigo didn't end in death. The wildclaw has come to amass two kills compared to her lousy zero. It wasn't for her lack of trying, many of the dragons seemed to be around the same level as she was in hiding among the Wasteland.
With each thought, Abia always ended up back to the moonlight. Just how many more moments like this did she have ahead of her?
Kurin you're not allowed to die from poison dammit. You're a plague dragon dammit XD
Kurin you're not allowed to die from poison dammit. You're a plague dragon dammit XD
You can never have enough apparel. I will not stop until my hoard is dripping with it.
Round 1:
@Avrap @vanillaicecream1 @Farwalker @myriadofstars @TheClockworkHowl @altdd1112 @Zeir @sockmonkeygerald @slothfulMutt @KairinRose @Hinnomu @Lyasa @Apprendere @BoulderEnder @Alurayune @Evbay @CinamonPizza @HellsByte @ShrimpChronos @dadminkestler @Dakkokki @Peyp @rhapsodicDream @kermes
Huh, shortest simulator results I've ever seen. Not a lot of flavor text for this one, RPers feel free to fill in the blanks!
AYA discovers a cave.
After scouting out her supplies, KAIROS gets help from WENDIGO, ORACLE, and ABIA to raid PEACH's camp while she's out hunting.
Feeling ill, MORPHINEA constructs a shack to rest in.
BURY, MELA, and TIPPENS hunt for other tributes.
Wanting a long-distance weapon with greater accuracy, KURIN constructs a slingshot.
@Avrap @vanillaicecream1 @Farwalker @myriadofstars @TheClockworkHowl @altdd1112 @Zeir @sockmonkeygerald @slothfulMutt @KairinRose @Hinnomu @Lyasa @Apprendere @BoulderEnder @Alurayune @Evbay @CinamonPizza @HellsByte @ShrimpChronos @dadminkestler @Dakkokki @Peyp @rhapsodicDream @kermes
Huh, shortest simulator results I've ever seen. Not a lot of flavor text for this one, RPers feel free to fill in the blanks!
Simulator Results: Day 5
AYA discovers a cave.
After scouting out her supplies, KAIROS gets help from WENDIGO, ORACLE, and ABIA to raid PEACH's camp while she's out hunting.
Feeling ill, MORPHINEA constructs a shack to rest in.
BURY, MELA, and TIPPENS hunt for other tributes.
Wanting a long-distance weapon with greater accuracy, KURIN constructs a slingshot.
At the end of Day 5, 0 Tributes have fallen and 11 survive.
Well done Tributes!
Well done Tributes!
Round 1:
@Avrap @vanillaicecream1 @Farwalker @myriadofstars @TheClockworkHowl @altdd1112 @Zeir @sockmonkeygerald @slothfulMutt @KairinRose @Hinnomu @Lyasa @Apprendere @BoulderEnder @Alurayune @Evbay @CinamonPizza @HellsByte @ShrimpChronos @dadminkestler @Dakkokki @Peyp @rhapsodicDream @kermes
Huh, shortest simulator results I've ever seen. Not a lot of flavor text for this one, RPers feel free to fill in the blanks!
AYA discovers a cave.
After scouting out her supplies, KAIROS gets help from WENDIGO, ORACLE, and ABIA to raid PEACH's camp while she's out hunting.
Feeling ill, MORPHINEA constructs a shack to rest in.
BURY, MELA, and TIPPENS hunt for other tributes.
Wanting a long-distance weapon with greater accuracy, KURIN constructs a slingshot.
@Avrap @vanillaicecream1 @Farwalker @myriadofstars @TheClockworkHowl @altdd1112 @Zeir @sockmonkeygerald @slothfulMutt @KairinRose @Hinnomu @Lyasa @Apprendere @BoulderEnder @Alurayune @Evbay @CinamonPizza @HellsByte @ShrimpChronos @dadminkestler @Dakkokki @Peyp @rhapsodicDream @kermes
Huh, shortest simulator results I've ever seen. Not a lot of flavor text for this one, RPers feel free to fill in the blanks!
Simulator Results: Day 5
AYA discovers a cave.
After scouting out her supplies, KAIROS gets help from WENDIGO, ORACLE, and ABIA to raid PEACH's camp while she's out hunting.
Feeling ill, MORPHINEA constructs a shack to rest in.
BURY, MELA, and TIPPENS hunt for other tributes.
Wanting a long-distance weapon with greater accuracy, KURIN constructs a slingshot.
At the end of Day 5, 0 Tributes have fallen and 11 survive.
Well done Tributes!
Well done Tributes!
|
@@@
| @@@ |
@ @ |
Tippens - District 9 - Light/Plague - Spiral
Tippens hadn't even realized he'd passed out until the light hit the inside of his eyelids. His entire body ached and the sensitive skin beneath his scales stung and itched. With a groan, he hauled himself to his feet and took his time stretching out his muscles. No cannon blasts had been heard, which was an unpleasant notion. There were still eleven tributes left; the competition remained.
Once his muscles weren't quite so tense, Tippens packed up the mess of junk he'd been sent and tucked it away under his wing next to the spider's fang. His little pouch of poison had long since been lost, but the wires might come in useful if he needed to lay a trap or something. Until then, however, he needed to find something to take care of this blasted itching. Tippens set off into the blighted wasteland and scrounged for a while until he found what he was looking for.
"Lots of people think not much grows here, but they're wrong. The Scarred Wasteland is teeming with life if you know where to look, and plants are no exception." Cobriana curled in the air alongside Tippens, pointing out the various growing things pushing their way up from the ground below. "There are plants that help and others that hinder, and you need to learn which is which."
Tippens plucked a few leaves from the aloe plant, careful to avoid its thorny edges, and crushed them in his claws, spreading the resulting sticky slime over his entire body and rubbing a bit under his eye for good measure. The swelling had went down but the soothing aloe would hopefully prevent it from flaring up again. Once he was sufficiently coated, the spiral continued on.
After the previous few days' events, he realized he hadn't eaten or drank anything in a while. He slurped up whatever liquid was left from the aloe plant and resumed his prowl. Insects were aplenty to be certain, but the number of tributes was dwindling. And even if he did emerge victorious, Tippens didn't exactly want to face his clan without having taken at least one life. And if he did die, he didn't want it to be cowering away.
Streaking off into the distance, the spiral hummed a uncannily cheery tune to himself.
Well, he didn't go crazy. At least, not yet
Tippens hadn't even realized he'd passed out until the light hit the inside of his eyelids. His entire body ached and the sensitive skin beneath his scales stung and itched. With a groan, he hauled himself to his feet and took his time stretching out his muscles. No cannon blasts had been heard, which was an unpleasant notion. There were still eleven tributes left; the competition remained.
Once his muscles weren't quite so tense, Tippens packed up the mess of junk he'd been sent and tucked it away under his wing next to the spider's fang. His little pouch of poison had long since been lost, but the wires might come in useful if he needed to lay a trap or something. Until then, however, he needed to find something to take care of this blasted itching. Tippens set off into the blighted wasteland and scrounged for a while until he found what he was looking for.
"Lots of people think not much grows here, but they're wrong. The Scarred Wasteland is teeming with life if you know where to look, and plants are no exception." Cobriana curled in the air alongside Tippens, pointing out the various growing things pushing their way up from the ground below. "There are plants that help and others that hinder, and you need to learn which is which."
Tippens plucked a few leaves from the aloe plant, careful to avoid its thorny edges, and crushed them in his claws, spreading the resulting sticky slime over his entire body and rubbing a bit under his eye for good measure. The swelling had went down but the soothing aloe would hopefully prevent it from flaring up again. Once he was sufficiently coated, the spiral continued on.
After the previous few days' events, he realized he hadn't eaten or drank anything in a while. He slurped up whatever liquid was left from the aloe plant and resumed his prowl. Insects were aplenty to be certain, but the number of tributes was dwindling. And even if he did emerge victorious, Tippens didn't exactly want to face his clan without having taken at least one life. And if he did die, he didn't want it to be cowering away.
Streaking off into the distance, the spiral hummed a uncannily cheery tune to himself.
Well, he didn't go crazy. At least, not yet
Tippens - District 9 - Light/Plague - Spiral
Tippens hadn't even realized he'd passed out until the light hit the inside of his eyelids. His entire body ached and the sensitive skin beneath his scales stung and itched. With a groan, he hauled himself to his feet and took his time stretching out his muscles. No cannon blasts had been heard, which was an unpleasant notion. There were still eleven tributes left; the competition remained.
Once his muscles weren't quite so tense, Tippens packed up the mess of junk he'd been sent and tucked it away under his wing next to the spider's fang. His little pouch of poison had long since been lost, but the wires might come in useful if he needed to lay a trap or something. Until then, however, he needed to find something to take care of this blasted itching. Tippens set off into the blighted wasteland and scrounged for a while until he found what he was looking for.
"Lots of people think not much grows here, but they're wrong. The Scarred Wasteland is teeming with life if you know where to look, and plants are no exception." Cobriana curled in the air alongside Tippens, pointing out the various growing things pushing their way up from the ground below. "There are plants that help and others that hinder, and you need to learn which is which."
Tippens plucked a few leaves from the aloe plant, careful to avoid its thorny edges, and crushed them in his claws, spreading the resulting sticky slime over his entire body and rubbing a bit under his eye for good measure. The swelling had went down but the soothing aloe would hopefully prevent it from flaring up again. Once he was sufficiently coated, the spiral continued on.
After the previous few days' events, he realized he hadn't eaten or drank anything in a while. He slurped up whatever liquid was left from the aloe plant and resumed his prowl. Insects were aplenty to be certain, but the number of tributes was dwindling. And even if he did emerge victorious, Tippens didn't exactly want to face his clan without having taken at least one life. And if he did die, he didn't want it to be cowering away.
Streaking off into the distance, the spiral hummed a uncannily cheery tune to himself.
Well, he didn't go crazy. At least, not yet
Tippens hadn't even realized he'd passed out until the light hit the inside of his eyelids. His entire body ached and the sensitive skin beneath his scales stung and itched. With a groan, he hauled himself to his feet and took his time stretching out his muscles. No cannon blasts had been heard, which was an unpleasant notion. There were still eleven tributes left; the competition remained.
Once his muscles weren't quite so tense, Tippens packed up the mess of junk he'd been sent and tucked it away under his wing next to the spider's fang. His little pouch of poison had long since been lost, but the wires might come in useful if he needed to lay a trap or something. Until then, however, he needed to find something to take care of this blasted itching. Tippens set off into the blighted wasteland and scrounged for a while until he found what he was looking for.
"Lots of people think not much grows here, but they're wrong. The Scarred Wasteland is teeming with life if you know where to look, and plants are no exception." Cobriana curled in the air alongside Tippens, pointing out the various growing things pushing their way up from the ground below. "There are plants that help and others that hinder, and you need to learn which is which."
Tippens plucked a few leaves from the aloe plant, careful to avoid its thorny edges, and crushed them in his claws, spreading the resulting sticky slime over his entire body and rubbing a bit under his eye for good measure. The swelling had went down but the soothing aloe would hopefully prevent it from flaring up again. Once he was sufficiently coated, the spiral continued on.
After the previous few days' events, he realized he hadn't eaten or drank anything in a while. He slurped up whatever liquid was left from the aloe plant and resumed his prowl. Insects were aplenty to be certain, but the number of tributes was dwindling. And even if he did emerge victorious, Tippens didn't exactly want to face his clan without having taken at least one life. And if he did die, he didn't want it to be cowering away.
Streaking off into the distance, the spiral hummed a uncannily cheery tune to himself.
Well, he didn't go crazy. At least, not yet
|
| A |
FAQs Buying Maroon Tert G1s Tarot Shop Wishlist Clan Lore | AAAAAAAAAAA |
|
