His uneasy heart refused to be ignored as it pounded heavy under his ribcage. Every beat felt like it was pulsing through his entire body. He stood still as a statue at the edge of the clearing, scarce foliage and trees separating him from the others. His eyes, green like the forest smoked over in a fog, dart to the other players he could see. Sizing them up and letting each evaluation sink in. The female to his right was crouched, a wild look on her face. She held a broad wooden shield tight with both hands, her knuckles white from the pressure. A smart choice he supposed, to bring something of that sort. Eyes flit to the player on his left. A tall, muscular boy of Swedish origin. His skin pale, his hair light to match his eyes. He glowers at Jacob, drags his thumb slow across the base of his neck and bares his teeth like an animal. He’d brought what appears to be a heavy metal chain-link shirt. The glinting silver covered his shoulders, torso and hangs down past his hips. Jacob chews a bit on the edge of his mouth, fighting back an anxious sigh. How’s that non-lethal? He wonders. Jacob exhales slow and returns his gaze to the mountain of supplies that laid in a mess at the center of the field, ears pricked in hopes to might hear the sound of the release horn before the others. Nimble fingers wander over to his left pocket, fingertips tapping over the item he’d chosen. An extra large crochet needle. Perhaps an unusual choice for a man. Jacob swats a few stray hairs away from his eyes, no time right now to adjust the knot the rest of his hair was twisted into. Suddenly, the horn sounds. So loud that it drowns out the thumping in his chest, and he darts forward into the tall grass. He grabs fistfuls of the stringy plant as he goes, stuffing them into his pockets. He reaches the pile as the blond boy does. Their eyes meet and hold as they both blindly grab a random suitcase. The blond boy turns to run from the stack as Jacob backpedals, not wanting to take his eyes away. An arrow shoots over the pile seemingly from nowhere and flies with speed through the atmosphere, it buries itself right through the calf of the blond boy. He bellows and goes down hard into the grass. Jacob’s eyes wide with panic as he reaches the edge of the forest safely. He ducks down low at the base of a tree and pops his suitcase open with a forced sigh. Within, he finds various salves and tinctures.. All unlabelled but one, marked Silly. He cocks his head and pulls out a burlap satchel fit to carry these things. He tucks his crochet needle into the bag with the handfuls of grass. He stares for a moment at the multiple different jars and tins. Some of these must be good for something, his brain suggests.