Arena
You take his canteen and shove the dynamite in your pack. You inspect the armor briefly and are prepared to walk away when you spy the gauntlets on his hand. They would certainly prohibit you from effectively firing your weapons, but you figure they may come in handy later on when you no longer have bullets to fire. You wrestle the gauntlets free of his hands and shove them into your pack with the rest of your equipment.
"160 contestants remain," the automated voice from above chimes in with another update of the competition. Three days in. Forty dead. You've done well so far, but as the numbers drop, the competition stiffens. Most of those who are left deserve to remain, you realize. If you last to 100, you will be part of the better half of the competition.
You slip the pack onto your shoulders again and walk away, ignoring the itching pain in your shoulder as the wound continues to heal and the salve fights off what you hope will be the last of the infection.
You find yourself wondering about the old man, Wan, who you have allied yourself with. You wonder if he still lives. You haven't seen him fight, but the evidence of the dead man back at the fire tells you that he has some ability at least.
You walk through the wood following the path of tire marks that are over a day old. It is a two wheeled vehicle, you note. Your aching feet reiterate your longing for such a vehicle.
Alas, you find nothing. As you walk, however, you do notice a tree that seems somehow out of place. It is taller than the rest and has very few branches. It's almost like a pole save for the few branches some twelve feet above. While this entire arena is manufactured, this tree seems doubly so.
You stare up its length wondering briefly about it...
"160 contestants remain," the automated voice from above chimes in with another update of the competition. Three days in. Forty dead. You've done well so far, but as the numbers drop, the competition stiffens. Most of those who are left deserve to remain, you realize. If you last to 100, you will be part of the better half of the competition.
You slip the pack onto your shoulders again and walk away, ignoring the itching pain in your shoulder as the wound continues to heal and the salve fights off what you hope will be the last of the infection.
You find yourself wondering about the old man, Wan, who you have allied yourself with. You wonder if he still lives. You haven't seen him fight, but the evidence of the dead man back at the fire tells you that he has some ability at least.
You walk through the wood following the path of tire marks that are over a day old. It is a two wheeled vehicle, you note. Your aching feet reiterate your longing for such a vehicle.
Alas, you find nothing. As you walk, however, you do notice a tree that seems somehow out of place. It is taller than the rest and has very few branches. It's almost like a pole save for the few branches some twelve feet above. While this entire arena is manufactured, this tree seems doubly so.
You stare up its length wondering briefly about it...