dominic1994

Hi all, I want to let you know that at the moment I am basically an inactive player. I'm unexpectedly very busy at the moment to the point where I haven't even got time to read through the posts let alone respond and do RP and stuff. This isn't going to change any time soon so you can consider me to be not playing. I've just seen that I've picked up a vote so if you want to lynch me please go ahead. Dom (Again sorry for double posting) (And yes it should be in blue - that's my phone again!!!)

Yeah, as I signed up for the new long-game I was thinking how people will take more notice of me now. I think this type of quick-game gives players a bit more freedom actually (Well I think so anyway), despite everyone being able to kill you, as there is no need to form teams and try to understand peoples motives. If I found someone suspicious I just killed them. Job done . The long game is a bigger challenge that I'm looking forward to. I will admit that whoever did kill you Meta made it far easier for me. Thank you whoever did that!!! I was confident in my plan though if that hadn't happened. You asked me to kill 'Alvron' to prove my trustworthiness. I then suggested to my other PM to take out Alvron, which he did. I was then going to use the item from my kill that night along with the body armour I had from my first few actions after the Cornucopia to have leverage over you. That was the plan and it did work well except someone had already killed you to really help me out.

I'll be Dom, a 60-year old retired Hazekiller who moved to Tyrian Falls to find a bit of peace after long years of fighting. After serving as a captain of Hazekiller squads in the employment of many noble lords Dom is finding it difficult to simply let others take control of the security of the village. With the Koloss fast approaching Dom has given up on finding peace and has decided to stand with the people of Tyrian Falls. This may well be his final stand but he is determined not to give up without fight.

I will definitely be signing up. I'll get back with a name and job when I get a bit of time. I've been waiting to have a go at a long game. Really looking forward to it.

I'm going to finish the RP. No real reason to but it'll bother me if I don't -------------------------------------------------- Dom was alive. He was alive, he'd won. He'd actually won. He couldn't believe it, it was staggering. Dom just stood there, stunned, only vaguely aware of what was happening around him. Someone was speaking to him. Dom shook himself out of his stupor and, as he began to reply, the memories hit him. He remembered the beginning of the Games, standing at the Cornucopia. He'd convinced himself he hadn't gone for it but that wasn't the truth. His memories were clear now, memories of sprinting toward, rather than away from, the slaughter. Fighting through the chaos, picking up that knife and only then running for safety. He remembered the first night. Standing silent in the near total darkness, waiting for the Tribute to move past him. Then the knife flashing in the moonlight. He remembered pulling the body armour of the Tribute's corpse. He hadn't even questioned where the armour had come from, his mind had just blanked it out. He remembered the night when the screams of dying Tributes had woken him. He'd come to his senses surrounded by bodies but now he saw what had happened before that. His arms wrapped around someone's neck. The voice had never been there. Never been real. It was just an excuse; a way for Dom to avoid responsibly for his actions. Even at the very beginning, when Dom had volunteered for the Games the voice had been his excuse. His mind had been unable to accept that what Dom wanted, deep down, was to be a part of the violence and the terror of the Hunger Games. The memories and that realisation crushed Dom. It broke him and he collapsed to his knees. People were talking to him but he paid no attention to them, blocked them out. He didn't know whether he could survive this; this new battle that he now had to fight. The battle with himself; for the things that he had done. A thought came to him then and, inexplicably he smiled. His actions might have broken him, he might never get over what he had done in the Arena but he was alive. Alive. He still couldn't believe that he was alive. And in the end that was really all that mattered.

Yeah, I plan to. They look like good fun.

Wool!!! Didn't expect that from my first game. It was good fun. Many apologies to anyone I brutally murdered!!!

Things had changed during the night. Dom still couldn't believe what he'd done. The girl had just been sat there and ... and Dom had taken the rock... and she hadn't noticed him and... Dom took a deep breath, trying to relax himself. He'd had no real choice. This was the Hunger Games. This was what happened in the Arena. That didn't really comfort him though, he'd still had to swing that rock. What really sickened him though was that the voice hadn't spoken to him at all. It hadn't urged him to kill, hadn't taken control of him. He'd couldn't use the voice as an excuse. No voice had made him swing that rock. What really worried Dom though was a thought, a feeling really, that kept appearing in his head. A feeling that this wasn't the first time he had killed. Dom didn't believe it but he couldn't force it away. It stayed there, nagging at him. Getting very difficult to ignore.

Dom was still alive. The voice in his head had stopped. The situation was looking much better... relatively anyway. The last few hours had been, compared to the first few days, uneventful. Dom had found a place that was reasonably secure and had decided to wait it out for a while. Two more tributes had died which meant that this whole awful nightmare was coming to a close. Most of all Dom was pleased that the voice had stopped and it seemed to have stopped for good. He didn't know why; it had stopped several hours ago, about the time that the last tribute had died and Dom had started to feel more confident in his survival. Dom was in control of his own actions. It felt wonderful not to have that constant whispering in the back of his mind; urging him, forcing him to do what it wanted to do. The voice had been the strongest when Dom had been most afraid. That was when he had been at his weakest and it was that weakness that had allowed the voice to take control. Dom had thought long on it and decided that as he was not quite as afraid as before the voice no longer had control. Dom was certain this was the reason. Another thought had occurred to him; Dom had dismissed it, but it still lingered. Perhaps the 'voice' was the excuse Dom's mind had created to avoid responsibility for the violence he had committed. Dom shook his head. It was a ludicrous thought and he didn't know where it had come from. He hadn't killed anyone. He had spent the last few days running, terrified, avoiding the other Tributes completely. There were those missing parts of his memory though. Those black spots where he didn't quite know what he'd been doing. No, it couldn't be that. Dom shook his head again. Definitely couldn't be that.

Dom tripped and once again fell to his knees. He rested for a few minutes then, taking a deep breath, forced himself to get up. He had to keep moving, keep living. The fighting has been close during the night. The first screams had jerked him out of his fitful sleep and were soon joined by growls and howls as the monstrous muttations had joined in the slaughter. Dom had wanted no part of that but the voice in his head had disagreed and had forced him towards the violence. Fearing for his life Dom had fought against the voice but had not been strong enough. By the time Dom had regained control of himself the screaming had stopped; as had the horrible sounds of those creatures. The bodies of the four Tributes had yet to be collected; they were that recently killed. Four more dead. That meant that the majority of Tributes had been killed and only a handful were left. And Dom was one of them. He didn't know how. He didn't care. He would carry on the same way he had; it did seem to be working after all. He now thought that maybe he could survive. His death had been a near certainty at one point but that seemed to be changing. A noise behind. A low growl. Dom didn't even look; he just ran, sprinting away from the bodies of four more needlessly slaughtered Tributes. He ran to survive; that was all that mattered. It seemed like he had been running almost constantly these last few days.

There was blood on his hands. There was blood on his shirt, on his face. It was from that wolf-cow-monstrosity that had attacked him. Dom had killed it. He couldn't quite remember how. He was struggling to remember much at all. The night had been a blur, Dom couldn't focus on any of it. It was morning now and somehow Dom was still alive. More Tributes had died overnight and now over half had already been killed. Dom felt the tiniest glimmer of hope. Maybe. Just maybe he could survive. He didn't know why, or how, he was still breathing but he would do his best to keep it that way. He was still terrified but no longer thought of giving up. He had come too far for that. Maybe. Just maybe, there was hope. It was quiet. The trees, the air were both still. It had been a while since Dom has seen any other Tributes. He would try to leave them alone and let them kill each other. Those monsters were still out there but for now it was quiet. It was quiet inside Dom's head as well. The voice hadn't gone away, he knew, it was just silent, sleeping perhaps. Dom was beginning to fear the voice as much as the other dangers of the Arena. He had given into it during the night and his fear was that he would have give in to it again. He would fight but he didn't think he was strong enough. The voice terrified him, for Dom could not remember what had happened when it had taken control. He didn't know what he had done. Dom was tired. His body and his mind. He needed to stop, at least for a short while. He found a secluded spot; where several trees had grown close to each other and sat down. He tried to get some sleep but he couldn't. He jumped at every noise, every movement of the trees. He was tired and hungry and cold but he couldn't sleep. Fear kept him awake and wouldn't let him rest. Fear, and the fact that there was blood on his hands.

Dom ran. He didn't know how long he had been running, he just moved. He sprinted through the trees, his whole body screamed in pain, his lungs burned. He jumped over a fallen tree but landed awkwardly, stumbled and hit the ground hard. Dom lay still. He'd jarred his shoulder and pain blossomed throughout his arm. He tried to move, to sit up but his body wouldn't let him. He was exhausted. A cannon fired. Dom flinched at the sound. The Games had barely started but so many cannon shots had already echoed throughout the arena. Dom was still alive though. Somehow. He barely remembered the madness that had started it all. From the very beginning Dom had ran. That was all he had done. Just ran. He had seen what had happened at the Cornucopia though glimpsed it as he ran. He had seen the chaos, the bloodshed, the violence that had swept over the Cornucopia. Something moved in the trees. Dom jerked around. There was something out there, just out of sight, but watching him. Dom froze, straining to see, to hear. He had seen one of these creatures before.... he thought. His memory was growing patchy. There were black spots where Dom couldn't remember what had happened. It was the tiredness, that was what was causing it. He was so tired. He needed to stop, to sleep, but he had to keep running. Had to stay alive. That was all that mattered. Another sound. Closer this time. Dom turned slightly and there it was Everything about it was wrong. It was unnatural, it.... it growled. Fear overcame Dom and he ran, forcing himself to his feet and plunging once again into the trees. The creature followed, crashing through the trees. Adrenaline kept Dom moving but it wasn't enough. He was tired, he couldn't go any further. The voice in his head suddenly screamed. It had been quiet since the beginning but now it roared. Dom's body finally gave up and he fell to his knees. The monstrosity was close. He could feel it behind him. The voice screamed again and Dom let go. For the first time he gave up fighting and let the voice in. He gave up control, gave it to the voice. And it accepted gleefully.

I will be going after the mutts I think. For this first cycle at least. I think its worth everyone doing it just so people aren't killed randomly. If there's going to be chaos and bloodshed I think its better if it comes from the other tributes rather than the mutts.

Dom was afraid. The voice in his head was not. It was deafening now. It screamed at him, urged him forward, dared him to go for it. Go for the Cornucopia. That was all he could focus on, the screaming, and the Cornucopia. He could see the weapons, the medical kit. Whoever claimed them would have a massive advantage. They were the difference between winning and dying, Still the voice urged him on. Dom actually started forward. He'd let the voice come forward, take more control in recent days and felt much better for it. It had been that voice that had got him through the interviews and the training. Dom hadn't really been a part of them. He'd been there of course but something else had moved him; something else had spoken for him. Something else. Someone else. Yes, those items would save his life. He moved forward again... and froze. He was looking at the others now. The other Tributes. They were spread out around the Cornucopia but Dom could still see the murder, the fury in their eyes. The items may save his life but the others would rip him apart long before he reached them. Dom felt another wave of fear wash over him and he knew he could not go further forward. He would find another way to survive. The voice still screamed at him but Dom knew he could fight it, knew he could, with effort, push the voice away and turn those screams into whimpers. Dom was still afraid, only just keeping the terror from overwhelming him. His life was, more than likely going to end soon but he was going to do his best to stay alive. And he would do it his own way. He wasn't going to be let that voice control his actions. He knew he could fight it, even if he couldn't fight the other Tributes in the arena. No, the items in the Cornucopia would only get him killed quicker. He wasn't about to throw away his life for a few knives.

The last few days had been the longest of his life yet Dom couldn't actually remember anything that he had done. He had moved in a daze, pushed and dragged and ordered around. From his home he had been put onto a train. That journey had seemed to be endless. Dom hadn't eaten, or slept, he'd barely been aware or where he was, what he was doing. He was here now. Wherever here was. It was the end of the road Dom knew. He didn't know whether he'd even make it into that arena. He felt like just giving up, perhaps he already had. The terror and the bloodshed, the chaos, Dom had seen it before but that had been others, people he didn't know. And while he had always recoiled at the horror of it, he was one of the lucky ones. He had never been chosen. Yet here he was, waiting for the end. Dom knew, deep inside him, that his end was near but he couldn't face it. He couldn't really be here. No, he couldn't be here... The voice in his head was still there, had been throughout he journey, ever since he'd volunteered. It was louder now and getting louder with every hour. It urged him to listen. It was telling him to stand up, to fight. To embrace; to savour the bloodshed, the violence, his own death. The voice was calm. It was confident. It was getting louder and Dom could no longer block it out. More and more his thoughts turned to letting the voice in, letting it take control. Maybe he should start to listen.