05-26-2015, 05:07 PM
Tartaros trudged along the muddy shoreline, pieces of driftwood breaking under his tread. The shore still seemed to go onwards for some few miles, almost nothing but mud, sand and cliff faces... even stranger, after walking for what must have been several hours, there was still no sign of any other contestants... Perhaps this island was larger than the marine had considered...
The ride towards the island had been uneventful, Tartaros was simply called from his room in the barracks, still with no sign of any of his apparent allies and was guided towards a small pad, and after being affixed with some sort of collar to "limit his power", was simply given a bag, then was dumped by helicopter onto the island with a single phrase, "Find eachother, kill eachother."
After marching further along the muddy and sandy path for what seemed like hours, the Luna Wolf looked up at the sky, "Almost sundown... still haven't eaten...", the marine thought. He'd have to check his bag for food before hunting, perhaps this host was still more merciful than the Pit-Lord of Marnus II... and with that, the marine clumsily unhooked the bag from his belt, and opened it.
Such supplies seemed rather meager for an astartes, however Tartaros knew how to survive on less... Inside was around three days worth of MREs, clearly this "Karl" fellow intended for the contestants to hunt on their own... three modestly sized bottles of water, a map and compass... always useful tools, and finally... a sock. Seems the tournament staff have a sick sense of humor... "No matter, there are always... simpler weapons available to use." the marine thought to himself, eyeing a nearby plank of driftwood and placing it in his backpack.
After removing his helm and scarfing down one of his MREs, apparently some sort of minced meat with some unidentifiable quote-on-quote "potatoes", then gulping half of one of his three bottles of water, the marine set off inland, to the south, hoping to find his allies there... until he heard a voice that seemed to reverberate around the entire island... a loud, arrogant voice...
[b]"Wonderful.", the marine spoke to himself, "a distraction for the big lads.", after pulling out the map to determine the schools location, it seemed to be close the Tartaros' location, the northern shore... The marine picked up his pace, swiftly marching along the now shadowy-looking ground. "I must be out of this area by nightfall..."
The ride towards the island had been uneventful, Tartaros was simply called from his room in the barracks, still with no sign of any of his apparent allies and was guided towards a small pad, and after being affixed with some sort of collar to "limit his power", was simply given a bag, then was dumped by helicopter onto the island with a single phrase, "Find eachother, kill eachother."
After marching further along the muddy and sandy path for what seemed like hours, the Luna Wolf looked up at the sky, "Almost sundown... still haven't eaten...", the marine thought. He'd have to check his bag for food before hunting, perhaps this host was still more merciful than the Pit-Lord of Marnus II... and with that, the marine clumsily unhooked the bag from his belt, and opened it.
Such supplies seemed rather meager for an astartes, however Tartaros knew how to survive on less... Inside was around three days worth of MREs, clearly this "Karl" fellow intended for the contestants to hunt on their own... three modestly sized bottles of water, a map and compass... always useful tools, and finally... a sock. Seems the tournament staff have a sick sense of humor... "No matter, there are always... simpler weapons available to use." the marine thought to himself, eyeing a nearby plank of driftwood and placing it in his backpack.
After removing his helm and scarfing down one of his MREs, apparently some sort of minced meat with some unidentifiable quote-on-quote "potatoes", then gulping half of one of his three bottles of water, the marine set off inland, to the south, hoping to find his allies there... until he heard a voice that seemed to reverberate around the entire island... a loud, arrogant voice...
Quote:"How we all doing down there? You are all doing just wonderful, and while no one has yet to die, the bloodshed so far has been positively fabulous. In fact, people are so impressed that I'm going to reward you all by dropping a little package for whoever wants to live a little. The chopper will drop it off at 0600 hours near the school. Toodles.""[/b[
[b]"Wonderful.", the marine spoke to himself, "a distraction for the big lads.", after pulling out the map to determine the schools location, it seemed to be close the Tartaros' location, the northern shore... The marine picked up his pace, swiftly marching along the now shadowy-looking ground. "I must be out of this area by nightfall..."