The Stormfather

"Huh. Odd choice."

Mark looked towards the TV in the room. "Maj is... trying to fight them? Do we have any idea what he's doing?"

"I will remember him. As I will all of the others."

"Who?" Mark breathed, shocked. "Already?"

Just watch your back while you fight!

"You didn't... It wasn't a choice. Not like you think it was. They forced you to kill, to become some primal part of yourself. I know that more than anyone. He... I....Well, I tried to trick people, I tried to scam them, I even tried to exploit the innocence of a child. I'm not proud of it. But...Well, It wasn't really our fault. Sure, we could have done better. But when you go into those games, even if you make it out, you are never going to come out as the same person. We... We need to remember him, but the details we remember are for you to choose. You can remember killing him, as you should, but you can also remember what kind of man he was. What his principles were. His ideals." His spren, climbing up the wall, nodded encouragingly.

Maj gasps in shock as Berin suddenly attacks Casper. He raises his machete threateningly, but doesn't move to attack. "I bet my machete outmatches your kayak as a weapon, so you'd be careful starting fights around me, kid."

A large boulder comes sailing through the air to slam into one of the higher towers in the central keep of the city, spraying chips of stone and brick across the city. The tower creaks loudly, and begins to tumble over on one side. "They brought catapults! Quickly, fetch the Kerstiyani!" Someone up on the wall yells. A troupe of soldiers in heavy plate bearing large shields and shortswords (In reality doing a shield+longsword combo is very difficult) Rushing towards the gate.

"Yeah, that's what you all should do. Leave, and we can at least survive the next few hours."

Maj notices the other tributes in his solitude, calling over to them. "Stay away! I don't want to fight you."

Maj takes the fishing pole and removes the line and the hook, tying the line between two trees in the jungle. He takes another bit of line and ties it between two trees, low to the ground at ankle height. Might slow down a nightmaw if one does end up coming after. Might trip, I guess. He ties as many as the line he has will allow, grudgingly using all of it to form a sort of semi-circle of line tied between trees with the other side of the circle to the beach. They live in the forest, right?

Maj sighs, regarding the fishing equipment. Mark's words flared in his mind. Do what Arc did before me. Take anything you've got, and turn it into a way to fight. A trick. Bird chirped lightly on his shoulder. "Hush!" He silenced the Aviar, looking around in the forest. I'm not alone out here. I should have taken the kayak to get away from land when the Nightmaws come out.

Maj stays on the beach, machete out and trying to calm himself down. Thoughts... thoughts are bad. He glances around himself warily, pulling the fishing gear out of the backpack.

"Oh, right. thank you." Mark steps in, his spren trailing behind him, curiously approaching some chairs. My friend had an epic garden of these things. "You garden chairs?" What else would we garden, plants? We are plants. That would be weird.

"Just...Don't blame him for the past." Don't forget the past either! The voice of his spren sounded beside him and he spotted the telltale trail of vines on the wall of the house beside him.

"Sorry." Mark said. "I know that it's hard for you but... He's not a bad person. He just... Well, that job was one that we couldn't deny. It was our best shot to make it out of the dirt."

Mark sighed in relief. Then he lowered his voice to a whisper. "Adris is not handling having a second member of his crew sent to the games well. I'm worried that he... Might do something stupid."

As the cannon goes off, Maj sighs grimly. Already? This does not bode well for me. He continued walking around the beach, trying to spot another tribute.

Mark knocked on the door, impatient. "Is he still alive?" He asked, referring to Maj. He had coached him a bit before he had been sent into the games, but it had all been sudden. It was odd, being back with the tributes as well as his old gang, but he was fine with it. Adris stood far off in the background, angrily twirling a knife. "If I have to go through all the trouble again to get someone out, Mark, I swear to Ruin you owe me."