#apogday3

Arena Day 3

Location in Arena:

back to the forest way up Northwest. ah. home sweet home.

Allies with You (if any):

no one, no one, no wuh-uh-uh-one

Weapons in possession:

spear, war hammer, nylon rope net

Packs/Items in possession:

pack B (minus one biscuit, mashed potatoes, and duck whistle), pack C (minus grenade and star apples) needle and thread, some golf balls, rope, lighter

Injuries (please note if treated or untreated):

bruise on left shoulder, healing bruise on chest, healing bruise on left arm, cut on left leg (disinfected), cut on right calf (disinfected and sewn shut)

Notes (i.e. plot advancements, general notes on what happened during the day, feelings on events):

Arena Day Three

Location: Between Holes 14 & 15

Allies: Nope.

Weapons: Shuriken (5), Dual Edged Sword, Deer Horn Knives (2), War Hammer

Items: Packs A & J (missing some food stuffs), Pack of Hand Warmers, Down Vest, Needle and Thread, Medical Tape

Injuries: Bruise along collarbone, cut on cheek (cleaned), cut on hand (cleaned+bandaged), stab wound on side (cleaned+stitched+bandaged), cuts on legs (cleaned)

Every step I take away from the grove of trees with the bloodied ground I feel a little lighter. Away from the little body who was so like Rory it was almost uncanny. Away from the captain america figurine and the broken trees and the confusing feelings of regret. I need to get away or I fear my sanity may not recover.

As I limp back to where I had stayed the night before, I use my spear as a clutch.  When I finally reach the same opening, I rest down and begin stitching up my cuts with the needle and thread.  I wince in pain, biting my lip as the sharp needle sewed the wound shut.  When I finish one after what seemed like an excruciating amount of time, I spray it with the disinfectant from my pack and do the process all over again on my other wound.

I woke up to a terrible reality. The beautiful serenity of the Arena yesterday was gone. It was replaced by a fucking tornado. 

The wind was blowing fast and swirling around me and my cart. Just over the top of the tree I could see the swirling column of wind bearing down near my camp. 

Shit. I was not fond of tornadoes. They kind of scare the shit out of me. But I wasn't going to let that show, especially with the whole country watching. 

With as much speed as I could muster I leap from my bed and hastily pack it away in my backpack again. It sticks out a bit, but it didn't matter too much, I just had to get away. 

I jumped in the front seat of the golf cart and tried to start the engine. It sputtered and died. No, not here! I turned the key again and tried to urge it to go. No luck. I hit my hands on the wheels. 

I looked back behind me and saw the tornado wreaking havoc north of me. Calm down, Clif. It's not here yet. I took a deep breath and tried the key again. I willed the engine to start. There was a large grinding sound, but it fell away to the sweet sound of a working engine. I let out a sigh and smiled a little. 

I woke up way closer to the water than I was last night. I was surprised the shitstorm of a hurricane didn't wake me up first. Then again, only Caradoc could rouse me out of my sleep. And he was dead. The winds were blowing the green to shreds and the rain was coming down hard. I was completed drenched in water. But I just lay flat on the soaked ground looking up at the thundering sky above.

I wake to loud crashing and winds chilling me.  I immediately sit up, spear in hand, ready for action when I feel the torrent winds thrashing against my little makeshift home.

Shit, I mutter under my breath as I quickly scavenge everything back, including the three pointy sticks that I've made.  In the rush of everything, I figure that my traps are useless now against tribute or prey so I start heading West when a large tree crashes down in my way.  I quickly survey my options and instead head down south, toward the bottom of lot 1 in hopes of avoiding the dumb robot that attacked me with golf balls.