Day One: Morning

[Tobias]

Garlic was practically giggling to himself. He hefted his potato launcher and admired its bulky exterior.

?You, my friend, are a riot. He's going to be smelling spuds for the rest of the competition.? His grin blanched slightly, though, and he felt a twinge in his stomach. ?I should have killed him.? You might have died, he reminded himself. ?But then I would have died a good death...? he sighed, ?no what the hell have I been saying. There is no such thing as a good death. Death means you screwed up.? The goblin hugged the gun to his shoulder and squeezed the trigger. A fruit splattered into mush.

?Well, hell. Thats not how its goes. You were supposed to fall down buddie.? And here he was talking to his gun and deceased fruit. Oh he was really a crowd pleaser, running away and chatting up wild food. He ruminated on the fact while he flicked a rock to sever the stem of one of the juicy fellows. A few rocks later he had a armful of mango and a jaunty tune slipping out of his lips. A tune that slowly trailed off. He smelt something... something faint. His nostrils twitched while his mind tried to place it. Ozone, but not quite. There was something sweet entwined with it. Briefly he considered hulking up. His beastly transformation had smell far beyond his normal range, but this was trivial next to life and death matters, so he let it be. The trees were thinning the more he walked, he could almost make out a great big hill in the distance. And the ozone was getting stronger. With a grunt of frustration he stuffed his food into the duffel bag and brought his gun to bear. Oh what a sight the tiny fellow must have been, lumpy pack and gun almost as long as he was tall. Not to mention he was soaking wet from the rain. If he was lucky they'd laugh, it would give him the second he needed to pull the trigger.