1. This site uses cookies. By continuing to use this site, you are agreeing to our use of cookies. Learn More.
  2. A reminder: If you want to ask an RP thread creator if you can join their RP, do so in private - via conversation or profile messages - or via the thread's discussion thread, if one exists. Do NOT ask if you can join an RP on the RP thread itself! This leads to a lot of unnecessary OOC chatter and that's not what the RP boards are for.

    This is clearly stated in our RP forum rules. If you've not read them yet, do so BEFORE posting anything in the RP forums. They may be found here (for Pokémon Role Play) or here (for General Role Play). Remember that the Global Rules of Pokécharms also apply in addition to these rule sets.

The 58th Hunger Games

Discussion in 'General Role Play' started by Shiny Pyxis, Feb 12, 2012.

  1. Shiny Pyxis

    Shiny Pyxis 2016 Singles Football

    (OOC: This RP is now CLOSED. Thank you for showing interest, everyone!)

    “Check!” Cicero said gleefully as he placed a rook down on the board.

    Julius sighed. “Seriously, I know you can just end the game now with that brain of yours.”

    Cicero chuckled as he picked up another piece. “Why, and take away all the fun, Jules? We still have a few minutes or so before the first reaping airs.” The older man thought for a moment longer before smiling and setting the piece down. “Check, again.”

    “See, there is a reason why you are the Head Gamemaster and not me,” Julius said, “for you seem to enjoy squeezing as much as you can from each game before you plan to end it.” Moving his king, he added, “And you know exactly how to enjoy the game and when to end it before it gets too drawn out. Really.”

    “And that’s a checkmate,” said Cicero, planting his queen a few squares away from his rook. He leaned back in the couch and grinned victoriously, or rather, smugly. “Good game, kid; you’re getting a lot better.” Julius just rolled his eyes and pressed a button on the table, effectively clearing it of the chessboard and pieces and replaced it with a tray of cookies, cakes, and milk. Cicero picked up a large cookie and eyed it closely. “What,” he began with a mildly accusing tone, “no nuts again?”

    “You know I have allergies,” replied the other man, “and no, I do not plan on getting it fixed. As I have told you many times already.” He took of his glasses to clean some of the dust off, revealing his icy blue eyes for once. “Besides, I do not have much of a taste for almonds or pecans.”

    “Or even peanuts”

    “Especially not peanuts.”

    The two were an odd pair, Cicero and Julius. Julius was a sort of an oddball in the Capitol, refusing to get plastic surgery and other whatnots to alter his physical appearance. His hair was in its natural shade of yellow, though it had darkened considerably now that he was in his mid-twenties. He was unwilling to get even wear contacts, let alone use surgery to fix his somewhat poor eyesight, so he wore glasses. Standing at around six feet tall, he towered over the shorter Cicero by half a foot. He would’ve been quite popular with the girls for his looks if it wasn’t for the scar that ran along the side of his neck, his cold personality, and his outdated, no, “conservative” (as Cicero liked to put it) beliefs.

    Cicero, on the other hand, was the typical sort of person someone might find at the Capitol. He was outgoing and talkative, able to strike up a conversation with even the most aloof person out there. His unnaturally black hair, golden eyes, and soft, blameless, baby-like skin all spoke of Capitol culture. And though Julius was much taller than Cicero, the latter was twenty or so years older.

    The older man seemed to enjoy pulling that particular card on his young friend, for he said, “Well, you are the youngest Gamemaker in history yet, and you should have enough money at the end of, oh, a month to fix all that.” He proceeded to gesture around the room, though, and continued, “But only if you weren’t so worried about the state of your house.” When Julius chose to ignore him, he shrugged and said, “Perhaps in a few years you’ll replace good old me, huh?”

    Julius rolled his eyes, but didn’t have time to shoot back a retort. The trumpets began to blare outside, and, after a quick glance at each other, the two men hurriedly scrambled for the remote and tray and dashed into the media room.

    Cicero clicked a button on the device and watched the TV screen blink into life, watching the anxious faces of all the kids, young and old, in the square of District One. “Just wait until they see what we have in store for them this year,” he said with a satisfied smile.

    “Yes,” Julius said absentmindedly, his attention focused on a particular boy in the sixteen-year-old section. “It will give them quite a shock if I do say so myself. I am still not sure if everyone in the Capitol will enjoy it, though.” He glanced at the clock, and said, “My brother should be arriving at District Two about now.”

    “Oh right, old Mitch is an escort again this year, huh?” Cicero said as the camera zoomed onto the face of the mayor. “I hope he doesn’t get a load of troublemakers like he did last year. Goodness me, that boy had such a chance at winning had he not fell into that-”

    “Quiet, they are starting, Cicero.”

    “My apologies, Jules.”


    Bam, bam, bam!

    “Alright, I’m up, Mister Peacekeeper! I’m just combing my hair, okay?” Deneb called to her locked door.

    “Hurry up then, the reaping begins in an hour, brat,” the man outside her door yelled back. Deneb heard the distinct thudding of boots against pavement, and guessed that he was marching away to go disturb some other family and tell them to go to the square for the reaping.

    The girl sighed and straightened out her hot pink skirt, which nicely complimented her pastel-colored blouse. If there was still an hour, then she would take as much time as she could before the reaping began, then. Deneb strode over to a mirror and parted her bangs, holding them up with a pair of white clips in the shape of wings. She tied up her brown hair into twin pigtails and decorated them with some pink ribbons; she looked like she could’ve been nine now. Satisfied, the girl put on her dainty white shoes and was about to leave the house when she felt some sort of a presence behind her.

    Deneb whirled around, but she only faced her empty room and a few dust bunnies. For a second, she held her pose, before finally relaxing her shoulders and smiling a bit. “I know you’re there, Al. Come on out.”

    Of course, nothing stirred in that empty house except for a few dust particles, but the girl was absolutely sure Al had somehow managed to sneak back in to either pick up something he forgot or perhaps just to spook out his little sister. Whatever.

    Deneb decided to just ignore the nagging feeling of someone watching her alone and ran out of the house. She found the square with no problem and, after giving her parents a quick hug, joined the other kids in the section labeled for twelve year olds. Less than a minute later, the clock struck, and the mayor of her district rose up from his seat to begin the reaping ceremony. He read about the long, boring history of Panem, and before he even finished uttering the last word of his speech, the escort stood up.

    He was a rather attractive young man, and he definitely had that Capitol look about him. His hair was bleached a startling white color, and his pale, almost silvery eyes gave him the impression of a man wiser than others his age. And he definitely couldn’t be more than thirty years old.

    “Ladies first, as always!” he said with a somewhat amused smile, waving his arms around energetically. Deneb had a vague feeling that all escorts said that, or some sort of variation of the sort, but quickly brushed it away when the man (she remembered that his name was Mitchell Powell from the previous years he’d been her district’s escort) plunged his hand into the reaping bowl and drew out a name. He didn’t even have time to read out the name, though, when Deneb found herself pushing her way through the crowd to get to the front.

    “Alice Mi-”

    “I volunteer!” Deneb yelled, bursting out from the front of the crowd and ascending the stairs to the stage. Several people looked at her incredulously, but most just nodded absentmindedly like this sort of thing was normal in her district. Which, quite obviously, it was for District Two.

    The escort himself didn’t seem to notice much, for he just looked at her with a rather bored expression on his face and asked, “Name, dear?”

    “Deneb Cygni,” she replied confidently, and the girl was aware that there was a sudden shift in the audience and on stage when her last name began to sink into their minds. She could tell that they were trying to fish for some distant memory, or perhaps not-so-distant but just half forgotten. Deneb looked towards the audience to try to find her brother, but amidst the crowd, he was easily lost and therefore invisible.

    Mr. Mitchell looked like he was about to say something, but decided against it. He turned back around and, with that same smile plastered on his face from the beginning, drew a name from the boy’s reaping bowl. The same scene played out, only this time a boy from the fifteen year old section pounced forward and volunteered to be the tribute. He introduced himself as Sirius Hunter.

    Without too much fanfare, the two tributes shook hands and were directed into the Justice Building to say good-bye to their loved ones. Deneb was taken into a room adjacent to the one they dropped Sirius off in, and soon found herself facing her sobbing parents and friends who wondered why she, at only twelve years of age and almost no training like most of the older kids had, had bothered to volunteer herself to be a tribute. She vaguely wondered why her brother hadn’t come to visit her, but brushed it away that he was too mad at her or something to come and give her a nice farewell.

    The hour ended, and she was pushed onto the train with her fellow tribute and mentors to be essentially shipped off to the Capitol.
  2. (OoC: WHY SO LONG D: Anyway, enjoy it.)

    Lyla stepped out of her tiny house and into the crisp, biting pre-dawn air. She looked around quickly, making sure she wasn’t being watched, and hurried off into the woods lining her street. With light feet, she wove in-between trees and shrubs, not making the slightest noise.

    District Eleven was a quiet place at this time; on any normal day, Peacekeepers would already be making their rounds, making sure all the residents of the huge, sprawling districts were sill in bed. Lyla grimaced, remembering the circumstances for the lack of Peacekeepers and kept walking.

    Lyla continued on the trail she was on, before taking a detour into the dense shrubs; afraid someone would notice her well-worn path, she always took the extra precaution.

    In a few short moments, Lyla came upon a small grove, sporting a small clear spring, and a plethora of berry bushes ringing it. Lyla stepped up to the small spring, looking at her reflection in the reflective surface. Two eyes peered back at her, both different colors; her right eye was light green, and her left blue. Her foster mother called them heterochromatic. Lyla also took in the deranged state of her dark black hair; sticking out every which way, she didn’t have enough time to brush her wild mane before leaving.

    Lyla stood from the slightly disturbed water and turned to the berry bushes and set to work picking the bright red raspberries growing there. She deftly plucked the berries from their little perches, depositing them in her deep pockets. For a few moments, she worked feverishly, gathering many berries, before a rustle from nearby caught her attention.

    “Hey, kid, what’re you doin’ out ‘ere? Ain’t you s’posed to be in bed?” Lyla froze, her hand half way back to the bush to grab a particularly plump berry. She slowly turned, frightened out of her wits. Standing before here was a peacekeeper in full uniform, glaring at her from under his helmet.

    Despite the situation, Lyla couldn’t help but suppress a giggle. The Peacekeeper was young, younger than any she’d seen before. He had to have just turned nineteen, because he’d otherwise be a likely contender for the Games. His uniform looked a few sizes too big, and his helmet almost covered his beady eyes. He held a nightstick in one hand, raised like he was gonna hit Lyla with it.

    “Well?” He spat. “Why aren’t’cha in bed?” The young Peacekeeper waved his nightstick threateningly. His voice cracked on the last word, and Lyla utterly lost it. She burst out laughing, a loud, cackling laugh that filled the grove like a bird’s song.

    “What, did you borrow your daddy’s Peacekeeper clothes, today, buddy?” Lyla stammered in her low, husky voice. She laughed again, doubling over in hilarity. She suddenly felt something hard slam into her head, causing her to fall face-first into the dirt. Lyla cried out, grabbing the back of her head, where a large goose egg had sprung up.

    “That’ll teach ya to make fun of a Peacekeeper, ya dumb slug!” The boy yelled, anger apparent in his beady eyes. He raised his nightstick again, maybe to bash Lyla’s head in, but he underestimated the weight of his nightstick and the speed of his arm raising it; he fell over backwards, giving Lyla just enough time to jump up and dash into the trees.

    Lyla ran with all her speed, not caring how much noise she was making as she tore through branches and shrubs. She could already hear the pounding of the boy’s oversized boots behind her, roaring obscenities at her. Lyla risked a look back to judge his distance from her, and she promptly tripped over a tree root.

    With a grunt, Lyla fell to the round again, squashing all the berries in her pockets; she could already tell her khaki pants were now dark red. Not caring, she pushed herself up and was off running again, the street within sight. She burst out of the woods and turned sharply, her boots pounding on the hard packed dirt.

    With her house in sight, Lyla poured on the speed, hoping to get home before the Peacekeeper boy came out of the woods and saw her enter. She reached her front stoop and wrenched the door open, falling inside and letting the door slam closed on her.

    Lyla didn’t care if she woke anyone up; she just wanted to nap and forget that fiasco.


    “Lyla. Lyla, wake up.”

    The sweet, musical voice woke Lyla from her slumber on the couch; she was curled into a ball, her long sleeved sweater keeping her nice and warm. She opened her odd eyes and was suddenly staring into the bright, round blue eyes of a girl two years younger than her.

    “Lyla, why are you on the couch? Did you come out here last night?” The little girl inquired. She was looking at Lyla inquisitively, her head of light blonde hair cocked to the side. Lyla sat up and rubbed her eyes.

    “Yeah, Luna. I got a little hot in my room, and came out here to sleep.” She smiled, rubbing the little girl on the head. Lyla leaned back against the couch, then suddenly gave a small yip of pain. She quickly covered her mouth; making sure no one had noticed. She touched the back of her head and felt something sticky; of course it was blood. That damn pompous Peacekeeper boy.

    A clatter from the kitchen drew Lyla back to reality. Her foster father uttered a few swear words, picking up the heavy pot from atop his foot. Lyla grinned at his clumsiness; it was a good thing he worked in shipping rather than actual harvesting and growing.

    Lyla looked off into the corner, seeing Luna brush the hair on the doll Lyla had gotten her for her birthday a few years prior. She treated that doll like a child; if she were reaped, it would be her token.

    A wall suddenly hit Lyla square in the chest. God, Luna being reaped. The possibility was almost too much to bear for Lyla. Sweet, innocent Luna wouldn’t last a second in the arena; she probably would be first dead- okay no don’t think about that, Lyla thought. Only happy thoughts.

    Lyla thought of how the odds were entirely in Luna’s favor; she was only twelve, and her name had only been entered once. And out of thousand of girls in the entire huge District Eleven, Luna’s chances of being reaped were practically inexistent.

    That was the only thing Lyla took solace in. Even then, in the event that Luna was ever reaped, Lyla would most definitely volunteer, even if she was signing up for her death. Luna’s life was more precious than her own.

    Still, ever since Luna’s twelfth birthday last May, Lyla had been haunted every night by visions of Luna getting her skull smashed in, getting bitten by snakes, freezing to death in a frozen wasteland. Lyla couldn’t wait until Luna was eighteen; then the visions would stop. Lyla’d be lucky if she made it through today’s reaping ceremony.

    But does luck really matter?


    “Lyla! Are you almost ready? The ceremony starts in ten minutes; we’re going to be late!” Lyla’s foster mother shouted through the house. The family was dressed in their best; Mother in a pretty green frock, Father in nice slacks and a nice shirt, and Luna in puffy pink and white dress.

    And Lyla still wasn’t dressed.

    “I’m almost done!” Lyla replied. “Just go without me, I’ll catch up!” She poked her head out of the small bathroom and shooed her family off; if she was to be late, then so be it. Better her late than the whole family. Better her shot than Luna. Oh God, Luna-

    No time for worries, Lyla thought. She brushed her hair and washed her face as nicely as she could, and dashed to her room for her reaping outfit. She threw open her closet and rifled through her clothes- mainly work clothes- until she found her fanciest dress.

    It was a dark purple sleeveless dress, that fit her body nicely and fell down to her shins. The ends were tattered and jagged, but it was the best she had, Lyla quickly slipped the dress on over her head and jumped into her boots, not bothering to lace them up.

    Lyla made a beeline for the door, but stopped, forgetting the one thing she cherished most, other than Luna. She grabbed a pair of old, leather aviator goggles from her nightstand, thrusting them over her head. Clipping her hair as she went, Lyla burst out the door and down the dusty street.

    Judging from the position of the sun in the sky, it was about half past one by the time Lyla was halfway to the town square; the reading of the Treaty of Treason was probably still going on. They heard it every single year, so what was the need to repeat it? The Capitol obviously just wanted to torture them.

    Lyla stepped onto the cobbled road that led into the main town, where goods were sold. The place was eerily deserted; usually, any shopkeepers would be peddling goods to other shopkeepers, since everyone else was either working or sick. Lyla passed the tiny odds-and-ends store that she got Luna’s doll from.

    Oh God, Luna must be having a heart attack, Lyla thought. Without her there, she’d be having the scare of her life. Lyla picked up her pace-

    “Ay! You ag’in? First yer not in bed, then yer not at the reaping. Yer in trouble now!” Oh God that voice.

    Lyla turned her attention to the rooftop just above her. The same Peacekeeper kid she’d met in the grove was standing there. Only this time, he had a gun.

    “I-I’m sorry,” Lyla said softly, not wanting to get shot if she ran. “I was running late for the reaping.”

    “What? Speak up, slug!” The boy yelled.

    Unintentionally, Lyla’s voice rose too high. “I WAS RUNNING LATE FOR THE REAPING!” Oh shit she’s done it now.

    The boy glared down at her. “I don’t like yer tone, missy. Yer comin’ with me!” He jumped off the building and leveled his gun at her. Lyla’s odd eyes widened, and suddenly started staring intently at something behind the boy.

    “What? What’re ya lookin’ at?” Lyla’s eyes slowly widened in fear, and the boy finally ahd to turn; Lyla took this as her chance to run the hell away.

    “’EY! Get back here, missy!” Lyla heard the boy roar. Glass windows shattered around her as she ran, knowing that the boy was shooting at her. Out of the corner of her eye, Lyla spied a narrow alley and made a beeline for it, but suddenly tripped.

    Lyla’s chin met the ground, but there was not time for her to waste on damage assessment. She jumped up and bolted into the alley, diving behind a few rotting cardboard boxes. The Peacekeeper boy turned down the alley, completely overlooking her in the boxes.

    Lyla, making sure he was really gone, got up and dashed out the alley and the rest of the way down the street to the square where the Reaping was always held.

    She also noticed she lost her left boot, but she didn’t really care.

    Lyla took a few turns down side alleys to make it to the back of the group of 14 year olds. The group was expansive; a lot of people were born the same year as her. She ducked under the rope keeping the teen in, and suddenly noticed the many whispers going through the crowd. A girl was reaped.

    Lyla froze. The masses were usually quiet when someone was reaped… Unless it was a twelve-year-old.

    Fear gripped Lyla’s insides as her world swayed a little. She stumbled left a little, bumping into a girl she knew- Alyssa? Alexa? She couldn’t recall. The girl held her steady as she whispered words of comfort to Lyla. By then, other kids had taken notice and were whispering up through the crowd, whispers turning into shouts.

    Lyla snapped from her daze as the crowd began to move, part, and a small girl in a pink, puffy dress began stumbling through-

    Lyla wrenched herself from the slightly familiar girl and latched on to Luna, telling her not to cry, that it was all going to be alright, that-

    “Lyla,” Luna said, her voice low. Lyla looked up; she’d never heard Luna’s voice like that. “Lyla, I haven’t been reaped. Is that what you thought?” Luna shook her head at Lyla’s lack of answer.

    “I wasn’t the one reaped. You were.”


    The next several minutes were a blur for Lyla. Being shoved through the crowd, ascending to the podium, letting all of Panem see the wild-haired girl missing a boot. The male tribute was called next; Lyla hardly noticed as a dark skinned boy ascended and stood next to her, one she didn’t know.

    Before she knew it, Lyla was being ushered into the Hall of Justice, for an hour to let friends and family say goodbye. She sat on the plush, velvet couch, messing with a stray string on her dress.

    Luna and their parents came in. Her mother threw herself onto Lyla, sobbing uncontrollably. Her father sat next to her, ever the stoic, and Luna sat at Lyla’s feet, clutching her doll tightly. They just sat a few minutes, the only sound being Lyla’s mother crying.

    “Alright, Madeleine, that’s enough,” Her father soothed, gathering his wife into his strong arms and holding her tight. “Lyla, I want you to be as careful as [possible,” Her father said, knowing his words were in vain; Lyla would probably die in the first ten minutes. It’s not that he didn’t have faith in his daughter; he just knew the games.

    “I’ll try, Daddy,” Lyla said, her voice hoarse. “But please, keep Luna safe. Even if I die, do everything you can to keep her safe.” Lyla stroked Luna’s hair absently. Luna suddenly stood, looking Lyla in the eyes.

    “You don’t have to worry about me anymore,” She blurted, much to, well, everyone’s surprise. “I can take care of myself, I’m not a baby anymore! You’re the one who needs help.” Her face was stony and determined.

    “You can’t be antisocial anymore,” She said; Lyla was surprised she even knew the word. “Make friends with tributes, even if you may have to kill them, and make friends with Panem. If you do that, you’re golden!”

    “L-Luna, I…” Lyla started, at an utter loss for words. “I’ll do it,” she promised, taking her little foster sister’s hands. “I swear.”

    Luna smiled. “Good.” A Peacekeeper poked her head in the room, announcing that it was time for her parents to leave. The family exchanged goodbyes, and Lyla watched her family go. She saw Luna in a new way; not the young, innocent she knew for several years, but a strong, confident girl that can take care of herself.

    Lyla dressed the Peacekeeper. “Do I have any more visitors?” The Peacekeeper shook her head no. “Good. I’m not gonna take anymore, anyway.” The woman nodded and opened the door to let Lyla go to the train.

    Lyla Marriott had turned over a new leaf. “Capitol, here I come.”
  3. Tailon

    Tailon Gryffindork

    Cedric sat on his bed staring at the small television across from his bed. No sound from it reached his ears, however. All he heard was music blaring from a large pair of headphones set over his ears. It was the day of the reaping and the beginning of the 58th Hunger Games, but as with most things Cedric couldn’t bring himself to care.

    Which was not to say he was unprepared. When he first came to understand the nature of the Games, Cedric had come to the conclusion that, despite the Capitol’s constant spouting of their little motto, no one had any odds in their favor, and began training himself. After all, it was foolish to be unprepared, no matter how small the odds. This year, his name was in the ball three times, once for each year since he had turned twelve, and the odds would only turn further against him with time.

    Deciding to spend some small time out of doors before the forced festivities and other nonsense began. Some quick preparations later, Cedric had stepped out into the streets of District Three, music still blocking out the world around him. He saw a Peacekeeper shout something, but he wasn’t the apparent target, as the man ran past him down the road. District Three was one of the wealthier Districts, as the producers of technology and electronics for the Capitol, so Cedric had grown up in relative comfort, though as the Capitol was so keen on reminding them, nowhere near the standards of the Capitol. Cedric sneered at the Peacekeeper as he passed, though he would not notice. The Peacekeepers only ever noticed overt things, most of them where too stupid to notice, and the ones that were smart enough to notice where also smart enough to know how to keep the people in check without the scare factor.

    Cedric always thought it fairly pathetic how much the Capitol was obsessed with keeping things in line, it felt almost as if they were compensating for how pathetic they actually were in their position. The ultimate example, of course, was the Hunger Games. The Games were as sadistic and disgusting as the Capitol’s shows of force got, and no one had any choice but to participate, and even pretend to be happy, except, of course, for the people in the Capitol. To them, it was all just entertainment.

    Tiring of his little walk, Cedric turned immediately around, returning immediately down the short path he had come, and plopped himself down on the porch of his house, and simply watching the road ahead.
    After an hour or so of waiting, Cedric’s parents stepped through the front door, ready for the reaping. They had long since stopped trying to convince their son to dress in the expected attire for the reaping, and they simply shared a small hug before they began walking toward the town square. Each of them knew this was just another chance for Cedric to be taken away. Arriving at the square, Cedric split off from his parents and shuffled toward the mass of other fifteen year olds waiting for their fate. Cedric finally pulled off his headphones as the Capitol escort was calling out the female tribute’s name. A mousy looking girl stepped up to the stage, putting on a brave face as the escort turned to the ball with the male names and reached inside, pulling a name from it.

    “Cedric Grauman,” the man called, without fanfare.

    It would be impossible to say there wasn’t some shock when Cedric heard his own name, despite his preparations. Stifling some shaking in his hands, Cedric slowly walked toward the stage. No one volunteered; this wasn’t District Two, or Four, where the madmen consider the Games some high honor. Cedric had no choice.
    Within a few minutes, the tributes where in separate rooms, saying their goodbyes. Cedric’s parents came, but no one else. Cedric had never been one to make friends. An hour later, Cedric was being ushered onto a train along with the previous victors that would serve as his mentors. The only thing besides the clothes on his back he was allowed to keep was his set of headphones, which he had long since chosen as his token. As he sat on the bed in his designated room, all he could do was stare at the wall and block out the world with them.
  4. “Again, Ethan.”

    Ethan nodded mutely to his trainer, Lucas. He was a tall man built like a brick wall and bald with a goatee. His trainer was a Peacekeeper his parents had hired. They wanted Ethan to be ready for when he finally entered The Hunger Games. The reaping was tomorrow which meant a full day of practice and training. District 5 normally did not have career kids to be in The Game, but Ethan’s parents loved The Game so much that when they had Ethan, they poured all of their resources into making him ready.

    “Are you ready?”

    Ethan rolled his shoulders and settled into a ready boxing stance, arms raised in front of him and relaxed. His steel eyes watched Lucas as they began to circle each other. Without warning the two engaged one another in hand to hand combat. Lucas and Ethan struck, dodged, countered, and grappled with each other. Lucas roared as he wrapped his arms around Ethan and squeezed. Ethan hunched and slipped out of the grab before dive tackling into Lucas and sent the two of them to the floor. Ethan spread his leg for leverage to keep Lucas against the ground as he raised his fist.

    “Enough…” Lucas coughed before smiling, “Good job, Ethan. Now get off me.”

    Ethan nodded and shifted so he was sitting next to Lucas. His trainer sat up and rubbed his sore neck and arms. Ethan tilted his head to the side and quickly signed, ‘You hurt?’ Lucas waved away the gesture, “No. I’m alright. You have learned well. If you happen to be reaped tomorrow I think you will do your family proud.” Ethan shrugged and looked around the room. It’s not that his family really cared about his well being; just that he was ready for The Game and would win. Which he would, he was sure of it, ‘Advice?’

    “Just keep your head about you when you are in there. Use what you know and you’ll do fine. And find water.”

    ‘Thank you.’ Ethan got to his feet with Lucas and the two made their way out of the training room. Lucas left Ethan to walk back to his house alone. District 5 wasn’t the wealthiest District in the world, but it also wasn’t the poorest. There wasn’t any problem with starvation as long as you watched yourself. It was a roughly middle class district. There were some rich families, like the McKnight family, but even they didn’t compare to the poorest of the Capitol or the early districts. Ethan’s father worked for the Genetic Engineering plan in the district. His mother was a nurse in the hospital.

    Ethan walked down the road to his family’s house quietly. Some people stared at him, which he didn’t return. He just kept his eyes on the road as he walked. Ethan didn’t have many friends or know anyone in the district. That wasn’t important to The Game. Survival, fighting, tactics were important and so that’s what Ethan knew. If it wasn’t for Lucas he would barely have any kind of social interaction. Ethan climbed the steps of his family’s two story house. It was comfortable if not extravagant. His family was out, probably at work like always. Not that they really cared, Ethan was left to fend for himself on food usually. He grabbed a bite to eat and climbed up to his room before going to bed for the day. The reaping was tomorrow, and he needed his rest just in case.


    Ethan woke up bright and early for the reaping. He looked around, hoping that maybe his parents would go with him down to the ceremony. But he shouldn’t have kept his hopes up. They would be there though, or at least watching from their work if they were too busy. Still, it would have been nice. Ethan shrugged, got dressed, and walked his way down to the reaping ceremony. There wasn’t much fanfare or celebration. Everyone just gathered in a group to listen for which kids would be sent in to their deaths. Ethan sat with the kids and looked around for his parents while the Capitol escort began her speech about the reaping and what an honor it was. It bored Ethan. Just call the names and get it over with.

    He spared a glance at who the mentors for district 5 were this year. A girl with short cropped red hair stood proudly next to the capitol escort. He couldn’t remember her name, which was a bad sign. He was shown videos from previous Hunger Games so he could learn styles and methods of survival. He must have skipped her year. Hopefully she knew what she was doing. The escort moved onto getting the tributes. First were the women, as usual. The escort reached into the ball and quickly pulled out a card and read the name aloud. Ethan didn’t hear the name, it wasn’t important. If he started learning people’s names he would start to care, and if he got into the game he would have to kill the children he was put against. The girl walked up and took her place by the Escort.

    Now it as time for the men. Ethan sighed and waited patiently. His parents had tried everything to get him into the games as soon as he was able. But even with his name in there multiple times, he had no luck. The chances of him getting in this year were probably –

    “Ethan McKnight.”

    Silence. No cries for joy from his parents, no excitement, nothing. People just watched Ethan as he quietly ascended the stairs to take his place next to the female tribute. It was his time to go in the game. It was his time to show all everyone what he had learned over the years. The escort asked for a round of applause before Ethan and the girl were ushered into separate rooms to get a few minutes with family and friends. Ethan sat and waited, but no one came to wish him good luck. A soft knock on the door made Ethan get up quickly to answer it. Who would be coming to see him? Maybe his parents did decide to come after all. He opened it and was met with a tall Peacekeeper holding a box.

    “Here. Apparently a gift for you.” The Peacekeeper said in a matter of fact tone before handing the box over and shutting the door in Ethan’s face. Ethan opened lifted the lid of the box and looked at his gift. It was a small, black cross with silver trim. Underneath the cross sat a folded slip of paper. Ethan put the necklace on and opened the paper. There was only one word on the page, ‘Win.’

    That was all that mattered to his parents. Winning. Ethan sighed and tossed the box in the corner and waited out the rest of the time required before he could board the train. Still no visitors came. The Peacekeepers eventually came and ushered Ethan onto the train that would take him and the other tributes to the Capitol. Ethan boarded the train and began to walk around the train, hoping to maybe catch some information about his opponents.
  5. "Jameson!" his mother shouted to him from the house. "Could you go find your brothers? It's about time to eat."

    "Sure mom no problem." Jameson said standing up and brushing the coal dust from his blue jeans and red shirt before bending down to pick up his black hoodie shaking it out and putting it on. Jameson looked around and headed off towards the Hob, the local black market, where his brothers usualy spent quite a bit of time. As he was walking he saw a squad of Peacekeepers heading towards a man who must have said something to tick them off because they were hauling him away he was an old man and extremely thin.

    "You've insulted the Capitol for the last time old man!" a Peacekeeper shouted and started tieing the old man to the whipping post in the town square. Jameson looked away as fast as he could and ran towards the Hob. He wanted to help but he didnt know how he could help the old man without getting himself killed. He settled down more once he reached the Hob and saw his brothers talking to a merchant.

    "David, Antony, come on its almost time to eat." Jameson said walking up to the two boys. They beamed up at him and hopped off the counter saying good-bye to their merchant friend.

    "So what'd you guys do today?" Jameson asked.

    "We managed to help Ol' Danny with his stand for a while." David responded.

    "Yeah we sold a few things that he had been tryin to sell for a while." Antony added with excitement.

    "Good job boys I'm proud of you two." Jameson said smiling to them while leading them away from the whipping post so that they didnt see the old man getting whipped. Jameson would do danything for these boys and his mother. Funny most people saw twins as bad luck but Jameson saw them as the best things ever his mom and dad were so much happier when they were born despite the hardships brought on by two more mouths to feed. Things were a bit better now that Jameson was working in the mines. They arrived at their house just as their mother poked her head out the door and called for them, they all went in and sat down for dinner. Jameson smiled at everyone till he realized what day it was.

    "Tomorrow is the Reaping isn't it?" he asked knowing the answer.

    "Yes it is, you got to get enough sleep Jameson, big day for you tomorrow." his mother said starting to cry. He knew why she was crying, tomorrow his name would be in the Reaping ball four times. Luckily David and Antony were only nine and couldnt be entered for the Reaping.

    "Mom please don't cry, even if I do get Reaped tomorrow I promise I'll do my best to come back to you all." Jameson said with a determined tone in his voice he had never heard before. This caused his father to look up for a moment.

    "I'm so proud of you Jameson I hope you know that, you're only fifteen and you're helping in the money and doing your best for your family's sake. Right now you're more of a man than I ever was or will be." his dad said before getting up from the table suddenly. Jameson was shocked, his father had'nt ever said something like that to him.


    The next morning everyone was up and ready by the time we were supposed to be at the Reaping. Jameson kept his usual clothes on and joined the group of fifteen year old boys to listen to the ceremony speach given by the mayor. Jameson kept getting this strange feeling every time he mentioned the Tributes. he listened to the end while thinking of his father's words to him the night before. He snapped back when the Escort stepped up to the mic She was an odd little woman with pale skin and blonde hair.

    "Let's start with the ladies shall we?" she said in an annoyingly high voice putting her hand into the girls reaping ball and pulling out the name of someone Jameson did'nt know.
    "Now for our gentlemen." Jameson leaned forward a bit listening for anyones name anyone at all.
    "Jameson Strongarm, our male tribute for District twelve it Jameson Strongarm! she said. Jameson couldnt move, his heart seemed to stop, everything around him seemed to cease existing, he couldnt hear anything other than his mothers wailing sobs of despair. His body started moving on his own hardly noticing the encouraging words his few friends told him as he walked trance-like towards the stage, towards the Justice Building and into the room to await friends and family. His mother burst through the door wailing uncontrolably holding Jameson tight against her, his father joined in and Antony and David stood off to the side. It wasn't until his mother started wiping his face that he realized he had been crying.

    "Jameson I'm so sorry this had to be you If I could change it I would." his mother said sobbing. Jameson knelt down and opened his arms up to his twin brothers and they ran into his arms hugging him and crying into him.

    "Guys," he said his voice shaky. "I need you to be strong no matter what happens to me in that arena, Be strong little warriors like we play as outside. Can you do that for me?" The boys stayed silent and stepped back as Jameson stood up and looked at his dad, they stared at eachother for a moment before embracing and stepping back his father rested his hands on his shoulders before turning Jameson's head so he could see the scar that ran along the right side of his face.
    "I still blame myself for this scar you know, I looked away for one second and your on the ground bleeding with a huge gouge in your face and a piece of bloody metal next to you." his father said before chuckling. "Still got that metal around your neck?" he said, part of a joke they kept between them.

    "It's right here dad." Jameson said smiling and pulling out the necklace he wore that had the piece of metal on it as a charm, the metal was still stained with his blood giving it a gem-like appearance.

    "Do you still plan to keep your promise Jameson?" his father said looking him in the eye a hint of saddness in his voice.

    "Yes I do I'm going to do everything I can and more to make sure I come back to you all, to come back to District twelve."

    The Peacekeepers came in just then and told them all it was time to go. he gave them all one final hug good bye and as they all left little Antony turned around as he was walking out the door and said.

    "Big brother I promise to be just like you some day, I'm proud to be your little brother." With that Jameson watched his little brother turn around and walk away with a sad smile on his face not knowing when or if he would ever see any of his family again.
  6. Shiny Pyxis

    Shiny Pyxis 2016 Singles Football

    (OOC: Sorry for the delay! BeginwiththeEnd has been kicked out, and I'm OMG SO EXCITED FOR THE MOVIE TO COME OUT ALREADY. *ahem* On to the next part!)

    Deneb found herself in some sort of a despicable costume that consisted of blunt blades as a sort of skirt, sleeves, headdress, and whatnot as she crammed herself into an elevator with the other tributes. She had somehow ended up standing next to the girl tribute from District Eleven; though most people in her district would’ve been averse to even being touched by the “lesser districts”, Deneb felt a sort of attraction for this girl. Except it wasn’t friendship she wanted, or kinship she sensed, but she wasn’t quite sure what it was she yearned for from the other tribute.

    She didn’t have much time to ponder all this, though, for the elevator door opened a lot sooner than she had expected. Deneb waited for Sirius to step out first before following after him, giving a small nod and a smile to the girl she had stood next to. Feeling some sort of an obligation to at least acknowledge the other tributes in the elevator, she turned around. As she lifted her arm up to wave, though, a particular tall, brown-haired figure caught her attention, and she froze in shock.

    The doors began closing on her. Frantic, Deneb rushed forward and cried out, “Brother!” before the doors slammed shut, and the gentle whirring sound told her that the belt was bringing the elevator up to the next floor. The girl stood there, hand stretched out, blinking a little, feeling as if she had just been left behind from some dark secret.

    Ignoring everyone who was staring at her, Deneb spun around and strode off towards her room.


    After dinner, Deneb and the rest of her gang sat on the couch, waiting for the reruns of the reaping to air. Though she wasn’t exactly looking forward to this, she wanted to size up her competition and see what the tributes from District One were like; apparently, it was customary for her to team up with them in the beginning of the Games. The thought made her grimace, though.

    After a few minutes of waiting, they saw an image of a large, crowded square, and Deneb guessed that the rerun was finally showing. The camera flitted from person to person until the actual reaping began. A name drawn, a girl rose, another picked, and a boy volunteered. Deneb was already half asleep by the time they were finished with District One, and had to be nudged by Mitch so she wouldn’t miss her own reaping.

    She was surprised at how neat she looked, which contrasted greatly with the wild look in her eyes. A commentator noted how it was nice twist that the younger sibling of last year’s tribute had volunteered this year, and the girl vaguely wondered if she remembered seeing the face of someone who looked like Sirius in last year’s Games.

    The show kept going, not stopping to let her wonder about things like that. A boy some years older than her was reaped from Three. Cedric, or something. A pair of buff fishers from Four ascended the stage. So on and so forth.

    When they showed the male tribute from Five, Deneb felt a slight shiver run down her back as she saw the person’s face. “Al, when did you become a part of another district?” She whispered to herself. Everyone gave her a curious glance, and Sirius looked like he was about to say something to her, but a slight shake of the head from Mitch silenced the teen.

    By the time they got to District Eleven, Deneb’s eyelids were drooping again. However, before she could fall asleep, she saw the girl she had stood next to on the elevator appear, and she felt that same, yearning feeling from earlier in her stomach. The feeling passed quickly, though, as they showed the face of the guy tribute before moving on to the last District, ending with some dude named Jameson before cutting to the stupid chariot ride. Then the screen blinked out.

    That was it, huh? Twenty-four tributes, including herself, to be brought into the arena like fancy little pigs to be slaughtered. Her mentors and Mitch were chatting animatedly with ach other, and even Sirius seemed to be rather comfortable talking about all the tributes and whatnot. “Um, I’ll be going to bed now,” Deneb said quietly before jumping off the couch and walking back to her room. She vaguely heard someone commenting how she was perhaps too young to be able to handle the stress of the games before she gently closed the door.

    Twenty-four tributes to be brought into the arena, and only one to survive the Games. And though she was from District Two, Deneb knew she lacked the training and will others from her district had, and probably still have, to be able to participate in the game. The girl flopped onto her bed, still feeling a little uneasy, and eventually fell into a restless sleep.
  7. Stupid Ceremonies.

    Ethan sighed as the elevator doors encased the other tributes and him in its steel cage. He was dressed in some kind of ridiculous suit. He was covered from neck to feet in metal plates and looked more like a robot than a man. In the center of his chest sat a glowing circle with a five in the middle for his district. The circle hummed with energy and power and the glow spread through the various tubing and pipes throughout the suit. It hurt Ethan’s eyes to look at and the elevator lighting wasn’t helping any. His heightened senses were screaming in pain at him and giving him a massive headache. The lighting was poor, the smell was terrible, and the noises around him made him claustrophobic. His female counterpart was in front of him, blatantly ignoring him. She was a year or so younger than Ethan and much smaller than him with long blonde hair. Still, she held herself proudly and decided that Ethan wasn’t worth her time. Not that he cared; he would have to kill her eventually.

    Next to Ethan stood a kid with large headphones over his ears. He seemed oblivious to the world around him and lost in his music. Ethan couldn’t believe it. That was dangerous and would get him killed in the games. Easy prey. Ethan sat as the elevator road skyward and ran over what he was seeing from the other tributes. What weaknesses he could gleam, strengths, and developed basic strategies against them. Of course it all didn’t matter until he actually saw the arena they would be dumped into. Still, it was a good mental exercise and –


    Ethan’s silver eyes snapped open as he looked for the source of the voice. He caught her just as the doors of the elevator shut her out. She was a small girl with pigtails and she looked franticly at Ethan. Who was she? Ethan didn’t have any siblings that he knew of. That was the whole reason his parents made him what he was. Why would this girl think he was her brother? The whole incident was so confounding and perplexing that Ethan was still thinking about it as the elevator reached his floor. Ethan and his counterpart stepped off onto their floor and quietly went to their own rooms. Ethan sat on his bed mulling the whole incident over.

    Who was that girl?


    Dinner was quiet. The red head, who now Ethan knew her name as Samantha, tried to get the two tributes to communicate, but it was impossible. The other girl, Alex, didn’t understand sign language and Ethan couldn’t talk. So he just listened while Alex and Samantha talked strategies and ideas for sponsors. It was all nonsense to Ethan. Just get him into the games already. After dinner the tributes from five and their mentor went into the living room to size up the competition. Finally, something Ethan could use in the Arena. Information on his opponents.

    The reruns took forever to start with customary talking and speeches about why the games existed and the like. District One finally snapped onto the screen and it’s large crowd of people waited in anticipation for the reaping. A girl was called and she rose quietly to take her spot on the chopping block. Before the name of the boy could be called, one volunteered. And that was the end of District One. Ethan took note of how old they were, how muscular, anything he could gleam from the brief view of them.

    District Two was immensely interesting. Ethan leaned forward as he watched the same girl that called his name leap forward to volunteer. She was so small and young. It was odd that she would WANT to be a part of this blood bath. But whatever floated her boat. The boy tribute went much the same as an older boy volunteered to take his place.

    District Three was less interesting. A boy, Cedric according to the announcer, was reaped along with a girl. District Four showed a burly pair of fishers for their tributes.

    Ethan mildly watched his and Alex’s reaping. They both seemed composed and ready, like they expected to be reaped and show what they were made of. They both stood quietly as the crowd watched them. The whole proceeding was very quiet.

    The other Districs flipped by quickly after that. Girl reaped, then Guy. Over and over again. Some were frantic and crying; other’s were composed and resigned to their fate. Ethan didn’t care; he was looking for something he could use in the games.

    District Eleven reaped a girl of similar age to District Two. She stepped forward with a shocked expression on her face. The boy tribute was reaped quickly. District Twelve showed a guy named Jameson being reaped before the ridiculous chariot rides. Ethan didn’t care to look at them; he thought the whole ceremony was absolutely asinine.

    Twenty four people would go into this arena and fight it out to the death. Everyone in the room started talking. Terrance, the spokesperson for five, talked with Sam and Alex about sponsors and what they thought of the tributes and strategies. They all pretended Ethan didn’t exist. They couldn’t talk to him, so he was a lost cause to them. Ethan sat up and excused himself quietly from the conversation and went to sit out on the balcony of his room. He couldn’t jump over the edge; there were barriers to prevent that.

    Tomorrow was the training. Then after those few days the interview. Ethan sighed and wished for things to hurry up so he could get to what he did best. Survive.
  8. Sem

    Sem The Last of the Snowmen
    Former Administrator

    Velvet walked through the hall of the training center with the twenty-three other tributes. She, as well as her fellow District 1 tribute, Luster, were completely aglow in a skin-tight suits of thousands of reflective plates, which caused them both to shine like the precious stones that their district was known for working with.

    The Opening Ceremony had been a marvelous success for them, and Velvet couldn't help the smile on her face. The Capitol loved them, and she had no doubt that the people back home were very proud. She felt that they had even managed to do better than last year's duo, which was partly thanks to their stylist, who had been the stylist of District 1 tributes for years now, and his never-ending quest to outdo himself each and every year.

    The District 1 duo wasn't going to leave for their rooms just yet. It was necessary for them to start making connections as soon as possible, which is what their mentors had advised. Velvet looked for Deneb, who she had made sure to memorize the name of as soon as she heard it, along with Sirius, the other District 2 tribute and the tributes from District 4.

    It seemed that Deneb had left, which was bizarre. Didn't she want to start making connections as well? Oh well, it couldn't be helped. Velvet and Luster chatted for a few minutes with Sirius and the District 4 tributes, repeating the same cycle that had been repeated for decades. The alliance of "the Careers".

    Unlike tributes from the less fortunate districts, Velvet was excited to represent District 1 this year. She had fought for it ever since she turned twelve, volunteering again and again, but she wasn't the only one. So many others from her district wanted the fame, the glory, of coming back home with the title of Victor. Each year was a battle of people volunteering, trying to be chosen.

    This year, however, her name had actually been chosen. Oh, sure, others tried to volunteer in her place, but there was no way they could take it from her now. This year, her sixteenth year of life and the year of the 58th Hunger Games, was hers. She had trained for this her whole life.
  9. It had been Jiri's last year of eligibility for the Hunger Games. All he had needed was for the name of the boy from District 7 to be anyone other than himself and he'd have been fine. A life of working in the lumber yards wouldn't be difficult, he'd been doing that for a few years already. Work started early in District 7, and it continued until you either died from old age, sickness, an accident, or you were one of the unlucky ones to go to the Games.

    Jiri had made it six years without being called, his twelfth birthday had been one of great anxiety for his family, particularly his sister, Sosanna, who was only five at the time. That was an unhappy thought, she'd be twelve next year, old enough for the Reaping; and chances were Jiri would be dead before he'd ever get to help her through her worst years. Sometimes he wished they'd been born as identical twins, at least that way he'd be able to volunteer for her if she'd ever be called for the Reaping. As it was, even if he survived the Games, he'd be too old to do anything for her. She would be on her own if she was called to be Tribute.

    "Focus on yourself, you dolt," he mouthed to himself, looking out the window of his room. Tomorrow was the first day of training, and after a few days of that, the interview. He knew the importance of making a good impression on the people of the Capitol in these first few days, he'd actually managed to do alright during the ridiculous chariot ride. His stylist had done something clever with lumber and tools, Jiri had thought it looked like an abomination, apparently outright foolishness was a style in the Capitol; why else would people walk the streets dressed the way they did here?

    His one saving grace through all of this was Rachel, his mentor, who he had been friends with since he could remember. The red-haired woman was fiery and exciting, though her eyes held a certain sadness that not many people picked up on. She'd won the games years before, back when Jiri was only four, at the time she had been seventeen. Jiri knew that whatever happened, she would never let him down. She'd do whatever it took to get him sponsors and keep him alive, she had promised him as much on the train ride to the Capitol.

    Other than Rachel, he felt disconnected from everyone. The other tribute from District 7 was a bitter girl by the name of Gianna. Her bitterness wasn't what made her difficult to get along with, in fact Jiri understood why she was angry, she'd lost her younger sister to the Games only two years prior. Jiri had tried to put himself in her position, but it was too painful to think about losing his own sister.

    That aside, however, what made her difficult to get along with was the gnawing knowledge that only one of them would leave the arena alive. They could hardly look each other in the eyes, let alone hold a conversation. Jiri's hand clasped his token, a wooden rose, carved by his mother for Sosanna, his sister. Sosanna had given it to him when they were saying goodbye, she made him promise to wear it at all times.

    "Can I really do this?" He asked himself, standing up and walking out to the balcony. The fresh air he hoped would clear his head, it only made it a bit easier to sift through all his thoughts. "Kill or be killed. In order to see my family again, I have to steal children from theirs?" He looked down at his token, "Sosanna, would you think me a monster when I came home? Would you be afraid of your brother, the killer? Forgive me, little sister," he turned again, deciding it was time that he sleep, he'd need all the training he could get tomorrow, "I'll do whatever it takes to come home."
  10. Tailon

    Tailon Gryffindork

    Cedric huffed as he entered the elevator. Luckily for him, his stylist was more conservative than some of the others, and he had gotten away with a dark suit that had a pair of glowing blue tube structures built from fiber optics encased in plastic sticking out behind his shoulders. They were surprisingly flexible, but he had still managed to hit nearly everyone he met in the shoulder or head with them which had quickly begun to annoy him. Along with these, his headphones had been given the same black and blue look, though his stylist assured him it was removable so as not to be noticeable in the arena.

    The girl from his District, he still couldn't recall her name, had kept herself separated from him, not that he could blame her. She seemed nervous about absolutely everything. The girl was doomed.

    Cedric frowned at the sound of a shout, and saw the girl from District Two calling to someone in the elevator before the doors shut, then moments later opened again to let him out onto the floor where he and his counterpart would be staying.

    Once dinner was over, Cedric and his assigned group sat around a television to watch the reapings. Cedric ignored the opening, but snapped to attention as soon as the actual reapings began.

    A pair of Careers with ridiculous names were called from District One, as per usual.

    Next came the Careers from Two, but instead of the usual pair of massive late teenagers, the girl was barely even of age to volunteer. Examining more closely, he noted it was the girl that had called into the elevator earlier.

    His own reaping followed, then a pair of large fisherman Careers from Four. Five brought the silent boy in the elevator, then a pair of nondescript tributes from Six, and another quiet looking boy in Seven before Cedric finally lost interest.

    Twenty Four children sent to die, the odds had turned against them.
  11. "I can't Believe they made us wear those ridiculous coal miner outfits." The girl Tribute from twelve said to Jameson, the two had started talking on the train and had built a sort of friendship.

    "Excelent work you two." Said the voice of their mentor Haymitch. Haymitch had won the games eight years prior by exploiting the force field around the arena.

    "Only doing what you asked Haymitch." Jameson said with a chuckle and before he knew it he was in the elevator heading up to the top floor. There were others in the elevator with him but he paid little attention to them, only thinking either of his brothers or every once in a while of that quiet boy from district five, the one holding himself like hes better than the rest of them who weren't careers. Its almost pity worthy but Jameson brushes it off and decides to just feel sorry for the boy rather than hate him, after all he knows nothing of his home life in five. When the elevator doors opened their escort and Haymitch were both waiting, wanting to go over the competition and go over training strategies most likely. They ate and then went on to the living room to watch the Reapings aired on television. Jameson watched and gritted his teeth as each of the careers volountered, legitimately volountered to be slaughtered. It disqusts Jameson and he looked away and out the window by the time they were showing district three.

    "Jameson you really should be watching this, size up the competiton." Haymitch said taking a tenitive sip of white liquor. This made Jameson chuckle thinking of Haymitch's exact words during his interview.

    "Why I'll just have to out smart them anyway." Jameson said through a laugh causing the room to fill with laughter then they saw twelve, they watched as each of them were reaped before Jameson got up and left uttering something about feeling tired. Once in his room Jameson moved to the wide window seat and sat down looking out the window thinking about home when the faint click of a door knob turning made him snap up from looking outside to see the female tribute walk into the room.

    "Hey Jameson, you okay?" she asked politely.

    "Yeah, I'm fine thanks for asking though I really do appreciate it Silenia." Jameson replied as she joined him on the window seat.

    "I just saw the look in your eyes and assumed you had something on your mind."

    "Yeah just thinking about Antony and David. Also of home in general. Don't you have any family back home?" JAmeson asked realizing he knew nothing about Silenia other than her name.

    "Just my parents but other than that its just me, only child." she said nervously.

    "Be thankful," Jameson said. "If anyone, I hope you win. But I'm not going to go easy on you if we have to fight. I have a promise to keep."

    "I wouldn't have it any other way. Oh, I think I better head to bed its getting late. Good night Jameson." Silenia said as she walked out of the room.

    "Good night." Jameson said before she shut the door. He looked around for a while before deciding to go to bed himself and so he changed into a pair of shorts and an under shirt and crawled into bed smiling as the cool metal of his necklace rested on his skin. As he layed there he remembered Antony's words to him as he walked away.

    "I promise Antony, David, I will do my best to come back to you as soon as I can." He said aloud before sleep over came him and dreams of killings and blood filled his every sense.
  12. “This is ridiculous. Inane. Humiliating.” Lyla uttered a string of words, increasing in length and eloquence with each one that described her current situation; dressed like a sunflower, the bright yellow petals fanning around her face elaborately.

    She looked utterly contemptible.

    She squeezed into the tiny, crowded elevator that piloted the tributes to their various floors. Lyla ended up standing next to the district 2 female tribute, who she remembered was wearing this gaudy metal outfit- and indeed she was. What was her name? Daphne? Denia?

    Lyla looked at the girl, and noticed she was staring at her with some sort of look on her face- doubt? Whatever it was, it made Lyla uncomfortable, and she just looked away, blushing until the girl got out. She zoned out (missing the girl’s strange outburst) and only resuming her plight called reality when the elevator brought her to her floor.


    Seated at the dinner table with her terrible sunflower outfit removed and wearing a comfortable purple sweater and pants, Lyla surveyed the bountiful harvest before her. Different types of meats that she’d never seen before littered the table, along with many fruits and vegetables she could identify, and a few she could not. She sampled several odd looking dishes; finding most to be palatable, even scrumptious.

    She hadn’t even noticed as she ravenously devoured the food, definitely not used to the lavish food. “What’s this meat?” Lyla asked their escort, a wiry lady with frizzy purple hair named Genna. “Beef,” She said. “You’ve never heard of beef?” Her wide orange eyes (contacts) looked incredulous.

    “We don’t get much meat in eleven, other than what birds we can catch. Isn’t that right, uh…” Shit. Lyla looked over to her tribute partner, realizing just then that she had absolutely no idea what his name was.
    “Derick,” he said quietly. He just gave Lyla a small look, a familiar look- where had she seen that look before?- and returned to his food.
    “Right,” Lyla said, her appetite suddenly disappearing. She then recognized the look as one of longing. Hell, was Derick in love with her? She’s watched countless games involving star crossed lovers from opposing or same districts, and it never worked out good for them.
    She’d be damned if two lovers actually got out of the arena together!

    Either way, Lyla’d have none of it. She’d just pretend to be blissfully unaware until he makes a move, then shut him down. It’ll clear her conscience up and make him easier fodder for the Careers. Two birds, one stone, just like her slingshot.

    After dinner, the two tributes, stylists, mentor and escort gather in the TV room, where a rerun of the reapings are being played. Lyla and Derick’s mentor, an aging woman named Aline, coached them on different tactics to overcome different tributes.

    District One resulted the usual hassle over volunteering; nothing of note on the tributes other than sheer size. Aline said that they’d neeed to be either outsmarted or waited out to be killed off. Not really much you can do about Careers.

    District Two had the same volunteering hassle, except the crown went quiet when the girl- Deneb, that was her name- said her name. Deneb Cygni. Odd name, but a lot of names were odd.

    District Three hailed a quiet guy named Cedric, who seemed kind of oblivious due to the headphones in his ears. Lyla found that interesting. The girl wasn’t much to look at.

    District Four had some burly fishermen. All Aline said about that was to stay away from water when they’re around. She said nothing more, getting a far off look in her eye. This scared Lyla, so she just focused on the next district.

    District Five had always kind of scared her due to the genetics shit, but the male tribute was kind of… Off putting to her. He didn’t talk at all- mute?- and looked kind of over confident, like this was all lower than him. Lyla instantly labeled him as ‘Smug Asshole.’

    Lyla kind of zoned out for a while, until the reapings reached eleven. She sat up, waiting to see what she looked like on international televi- Oh.

    Oh god.

    It was even worse than she remembered.

    Her dark hair was even wilder than she was told; sticking up all over the place and blowing in the slight breeze, making her look like a girl who’d grown up alone in the wilderness. She looked utterly idiotic with only one boot, and her odd eyes were wild and confused and her dress stained and ripped.

    Moaning, Lyla ran from the room on account of the horrid impression she’s giving the Capitol; weak, confused girl who can’t control herself or her emotions.

    Halfway to her room, she stopped. Maybe that’s what she wanted. Lyla Marriott may be new and improved, but that didn’t mean she was above trickery and lies. She could keep this charade up a bit longer, if it meant tricking her competition into thinking she was easy.

    Lyla retired to bed, her plans forming in her head quickly and methodically. She drifted off, thinking about what to do with the careers, when she finally put a shred of recognition to the look on Derick’s face at dinner.

    That look of longing had been on Deneb’s face in the elevator. More romance. But maybe this could be used as an advantage.

    (OoC: Sorry I called your character a smug asshole, Rey. Seemed to work, so don't hate me :X)
  13. Shiny Pyxis

    Shiny Pyxis 2016 Singles Football

    “Interesting group, eh?” Cicero said to himself as he put on his robe. Julius was already in the Trainer Center with all the other Gamemakers, but Cicero was taking his time getting ready for the day. Seriously, how people managed to get up at seven in the morning always amazed him.

    He reflected back on his first impression of each tribute. District One’s girl, Velvet, was dazzling in appearance, almost as if she had come out of the Capitol herself. The boy was also rather charming, and together they would be a formidable duo based on potential sponsorship alone. District Two, on the other hand, turned out to be rather unexpected; a younger sibling of last year’s tribute volunteered, and it appeared that she had close to no training. The boy, though, seemed confident and well-toned for the Games, and probably had more of a chance of winning than the girl. The two from District Three weren’t didn’t look like, but the boy had an intelligent if oblivious air about him.

    Four had a pair of strong-looking kids, and the girl, tanned as she was, looked very sexy in both her reaping and chariot outfit. Five had this one older boy who looked like he might’ve been genetically altered just for the games; Cicero noted to himself to make rules against such a thing for future games. Six, like three, wasn’t very interesting, and the Gamemaker guessed that they would probably die within the first twenty minutes of the game. Seven, though a poorer district, had this attractive young man; he seemed like the strict and quiet type, and Cicero knew that several of the younger ladies would be betting on him to win, if only for his looks. Eight, Nine, and Ten were so plain, Cicero put them in the “forgettable” category with Three and Six.

    Then there were the two poorest districts in Panem: Eleven and Twelve, the two on the very outskirts of the nation. Eleven’s girl, Lyla, was rather adorable, though spindly and lacked any real muscles. However, she had a lot of spunk for showing up to the reaping several minutes late, but spunk alone couldn’t make anyone win the game. The boy was, very simply, normal looking. Twelve had a pair of kids who looked like they hadn’t had a good meal since they were born, and Cicero knew that it would be almost impossible for their mentor to convince people to buy them even a piece of bread.

    Sponsors, sponsors... they were almost everything in this game, outside of the actual fighting itself.

    “Oh, you are finally here, Cicero.” The man looked up, and saw Julius leaning against the doorway, looking rather annoyed at him.

    “Yeah, had a hard time waking up,” he replied with a laugh. He looked around the room once and clapped his hands gleefully. “Well then, folks, let’s get this party started. Happy Hunger Games, team!” The group cheered, lifting their glasses into the air as if this was a holiday gathering. Cicero glanced at his pad, where he had a list of the tributes’s faces and names, with space next to their faces for him to write notes. “And may the odds be ever in your favor,” he muttered with a smile.


    Deneb groggily dragged herself into the dining room where a wide array of food was set before her, steaming hot, as if it was just waiting for her to eat it all. The room was empty save for herself and a silent young man, who watched her curiously as he stood next to the buffet. “We can just like, take stuff, right?” she asked, to which he nodded.

    The girl grabbed a plate and began piling it sky high with eggs, toast, sausages, anything she could get her hands on. Being from District Two, she never went hungry like those from those more pitiful, poorer districts, though even the Capitol had more to offer her stomach than whatever she had back home. As she ate, Deneb noticed Sirius sneak into the room and waved at him. He didn’t look back at her, though, and she thought that perhaps he hadn’t seen her. However, when he set his breakfast down a few feet away from her, she finally asked, “What’s wrong?”

    “What’s wrong?” he said, and she realized it was the first time they had exchanged words with each other. His voice wasn’t very deep, nor was it loud, but it had a sort of authoritative ring when he spoke. “I’ll tell you what’s wrong. We’re in the Games now, girl, and one of us has to make it out alive. And because we didn’t get a winner last year, that means all the more for us to get one this year.” He took a small, dyed egg at this point and ate it, allowing Deneb to digest the words as he chewed. “If you’re not going to treat this seriously, and if you’re not going to become allies with One and Four, that means you’re more of a hindrance to me. So don’t talk to me like we’re friends!” His voice slowly rose as he spoke until he nearly yelled the last sentence at her, and Deneb finally understood why he was so frustrated. Whereas Sirius had probably expected an older girl who would see this event more as a time to bring her District glory, honor, and perhaps a good amount of provisions to last a year or so, in the end, he had been stuck with her instead: a weak, immature, and, worst of all, innocent girl.

    “I... I see,” she stammered out. “I didn’t think that- I mean, I’m sorry!” Unable to take all the accusations Sirius threw at her and implied with his words, Deneb quickly ran to her room with silent tears streaming down her face. She could’ve sworn she heard him say, “Useless,” but she was too busy sobbing into her pillow. She was still hiccupping when somebody knocked on her door and told her that they needed to make it down to training now.


    Deneb had to force herself to pay attention to the head trainer as he talked about the various training stations available, and how though everyone would want to know how to fight, many would still die of dehydration, starvation, exposure, and the like. It was all too similar to what Brutus and Lyme, her instructors, had already told her and Sirius. Really, she was starting to feel less and less qualified for being the girl tribute from Two in the games, especially when she looked at the tributes from One and Four. Compared to her, they were much more prepared for any of the dangers the Gamemakers could throw at them.

    Sirius’ words from earlier kept ringing in her ears: “Because we didn’t get a winner last year, that means all the more for us to get one this year.” She felt like there was a hidden message he wanted to tell her under his angry outburst, but she couldn’t figure out what. Still, Deneb was still too scared of him to try talking to him again, so instead she did what Lyme had suggested before she left: form an alliance with districts One and Four.

    The girl walked as calmly as she could to the girl from District One- Velvet, she remembered- and gave a small smile. “Um, hello,” she half-said, half-whispered. For some reason, she was frightened of District One, and found her eyes flitting away to look at something, no, someone else: the girl from Eleven. She felt herself blushing, though, and quickly looked back at Velvet. “Can I train with you for a bit? It might be um, kind of fun, I guess?” Oh gosh, what was she saying? Feeling extremely embarrassed at this point, Deneb dashed off, forcing herself to hold back from crying again. She was aware of Sirius glaring at her, and tried to distract herself by grabbing a short, sword-like weapon and asked a trainer if she could spar with him.

    As she deftly dodged, parried, and swiped at the man with her dagger, she kept on wondering why she had even bothered to volunteer in the first place. Then she managed to disarm him and bring the point of her weapon to his chin, and the memories of playing with “defective” weapons her parents and brother brought home sprang into her mind. No, she might not have had formal training like Sirius and perhaps Velvet and Luster had, but she’d had plenty of time sparring with her brother to know how to handle a blade well. Though she might still be questioning her motives for joining the Games, she couldn’t help but smile when she realized she wasn’t as completely useless as she had originally thought she was.
  14. Ethan snapped awake before the sun was even cresting over the horizon line. No one was awake yet that he could hear, not even the servants. His room was a simple design. The bed dominated the left side of the room with an oak nightstand just next to the head of the bed. The right wall was a screen which projected whatever the person staying in the room could want. Ethan had it turned off; the noises bothered his sensitive hearing and kept him up all night with a migraine. And he needed his rest. Not that it really mattered; he had a migraine anyways from the poor lighting of his room. Ethan shifted to the edge of his bed and pressed his hands against his eyes to block out the light. Sometimes his enhancements were more of a hindrance than a benefit. His sight and hearing provided him with an almost constant headache or worse and his body generally thrummed with pain. Doctors called it Fibromyalgia brought on by the enhancements. Ethan sighed and stretched out the stiffness he was feeling before tackling his morning exercises. Whatever it was, it couldn’t slow him down. He had to win.

    After his exercises came food. He walked out into the dining room and found to his surprise entire trays of food in front of him. Ethan eyed the food suspiciously before looking around for a kitchen, which of course there wasn’t any. He had never had food prepared for him; he usually made some for himself when he came back from his training. “Part of the training” his parents called it. Still, he was hungry, so Ethan sat down and began to tackle the food in front of him. A servant watched him quietly and took his plates when Ethan was finished. Ethan felt bad for the boy and felt some sort of connection with him. Both had had their voices stolen from them by the capitol. Ethan smiled at him in a friendly manner and signed his thanks before returning to his food.

    It was a good hour before Samantha and Alex decided to join him. They both had taken showers and were laughing amongst each other. They both jumped in surprise when they saw Ethan already awake but immediately dismissed him and went to eating at the dinner table. Their escort walked merrily into the room a short while later. He was a tall, dark skinned man with ridiculous dreadlocks that ended in an array of colors. His name was Apollo and he was almost always cheery. Apollo smiled as he walked, “Good morning everyone! How did you sleep, Ethan?”

    Before Ethan could reply, Alex scoffed with a mouthful of eggs, “Don’t bother, Apollo. He can’t answer you. Honestly I don’t see how he’s going to get any sponsors if he can’t even make people like him or at least talk.” Apollo rolled his eyes at Alex and his hand flashed to Ethan, ‘Annoying little brat isn’t she?’ Ethan smiled at Apollo, who winked before joining the table. Breakfast went by quietly. Alex and Samantha had become best friends. Apollo tried to drag Ethan somehow into the conversation but the other two would have none of it. And Ethan didn’t really want to be involved. Samantha had already decided who she would support once The Game started. He wasn’t getting any support if she could help her new best friend get out alive.

    Ethan finished his food and rose from the table, ‘Thank you, Apollo.’

    “Anytime, darling. I’ll get you when we are going to head to training.”

    As he was leaving he could hear Samantha, “I hope he isn’t as useless as his vocal cords.”

    “What does it matter? Easy kill.” Alex spoke that time.

    Apollo sighed, “Perhaps you should learn a bit more about him before you judge his abilities. Wait to see how he does at training.”

    Ethan closed the door and sat on the edge of his bed processing what he had just found out. Alex was young and arrogant. She would get the sponsors if Samantha could help it but unless Alex knew what she was doing it would be useless. Ethan sifted through the data from what he had seen at the reaping up until now. Alex had held herself confidently and didn’t seem nervous or on edge about everything going on around her. Maybe she was trained? No. District 5 didn’t have Careers. Still, she had a weakness right now. And that could be exploited. Ethan started to go over what he could gleam about the others but his mind ended up drifting to that small girl who had mistaken him for her brother. He couldn’t get her out of his mind for some reason. Just who was she? Ethan was determined to figure that out by the time he was summoned for training.


    Ethan barely listened to the trainer. He was busy examining the different stations before him for training. He knew enough about weapons and fighting. It was probably a good idea to brush up on the other sides of the game. Once they were released, Ethan marched straight over to the traps and basic survival station. His trainer droned on about how to build fires and traps and hunt game. Ethan listened and his hands quickly copied down what the trainer was showing him. He wasn’t the best with traps; the rope didn’t quite like to do what he told it. Everything else came fairly smoothly and his brain stored away the information for later use. Ethan’s eyes scanned the tributes to find the person he was looking for.

    She was talking to the District One girl. What was her name? Velvet. A Career by the looks of her. The small girl from District Two, Deneb, was talking with her. She looked really nervous and small in comparison to the other tribute. It was surprising. Why would the Gamemakers let such young children into the games? Was it for sport? What sport was there in hunting small children? Ethan tried to hear what they were saying but he could only make out their voices, not the actual words. The conversation was cut short as Deneb suddenly darted away, getting a rather mean glare from the boy from her district, Sirius. Ethan tried to rationalize the look. Careers generally worked together and were trained from day one to be in the games, much like Ethan. Could it be because she was so small? She would be a hindrance and a weak link to be dealt with in order for this other boy to win.

    More importantly, why did Ethan suddenly care?

    He didn’t know this girl and was going to end up killing her in the end. Why did that thought leave a bad taste in his mouth? He didn’t really take pleasure in the idea of it. It was the game; it was what had to be done to win. But why such small children? Ethan watched Deneb as she moved into the sparring ring with her trainer and fought. She knew how to handle her weapon well. She didn’t have the movements and rhythm of someone who has been professionally trained, but she had definitely used that kind of weapon before. Ethan finished the trap he was working on and walked over to the sparring ring as Deneb suddenly disarmed her trainer with a flourish and held the point to his neck. Why was he doing this? He was going to have to kill her later. Or was he? Maybe one of the others would finish her off before hand. Either way, a little advice wasn't going to get him killed later on.

    Ethan grabbed a short sword from the weapons rack and slowly approached Deneb, keeping the weapon low and in a non threatening stance. He pointed to her dagger and tried to mimic one of her attacks. He stopped mid swing and slapped his leg, shaking his head before repositioning it to the correct stance. He did the same for other parts of his stance and strike, trying to point out things that Deneb could do better. He tilted his head to the side and raised his eyebrow in a questioning manner. The trainer looked at him confused and picked himself off the ground.

    Hopefully she would get the advice he was trying to give to her.
  15. Jameson awoke to the light sound of bare feet hitting the floor. He sat up and looked around the small room. there was a giggle and Jameson breathed a sigh of relief.

    "You really shouldn't sneak up on people Silenia." He said with a chuckle.

    "Could you really hear me that easily?" Silenia replied stepping around the corner and smiling.

    "Your small and quiet but when I'm on edge, not quiet enough."

    "That's so not cool." She said with a slight and playful huff. "Well anyway, Haymitch wants us for breakfast so get dressed and lets go."

    "Okay give me a sec." Jameson said but Silenia was gone already. After he was dressed Jameson went to the dinning room and saw the piles of food that were on the table, he quickly passed his team and started loading a plate, then went back and sat down with everyone and chuckled when they looked at him like he was nuts.

    "Hey we start training today right? Gotta keep my strength up." Jameson said getting a chuckle from Haymitch who seemed to already have a bottle out.

    "That you do and besides you're a growing young man." Haymitch said

    "Speaking of training," Silenia said interupting their banter. "is there a game plan?"

    "Try not to show off your skills, if you have any." Haymitch replied.

    "And you were afraid of him." Jameson said to Silenia and got the group laughing again.

    "You guys better eat then get ready for training." Haymitch said simply.


    Once in the training Jameson listened to the head instructor tell everyone that their greatest threat wasn't eachother or anything the Gamemakers could throw at us, but dehydration and starvation. Once they had finished Jameson went off to the archery station and started learning to shoot a bow. He picked up the basics and after shooting for a while he decided to move on when one of the career tributes bumped into him knocking him down and started laughing at him.

    "What an easy target." one said and kept laughing.
    Jameson got to his feet and walked directly towards the sword handeling station. Silenia was there and knew that he could use a sword well. She looked at him and shook her head but he ignored her and picked up a medium length sword and swung it a few times getting a feel for it. Jameson flashed back to when he would play with his friends and they would have sword fights with sticks and even long pieces of wood. When he walked up to the dummy the instructor was telling him something but he didn't hear any of it he just started moving he lunged and stabbed hacking away at the dummy, after a few strokes the dummy was nothing but a torso and the instructor was going to have him spar with him. The instructor would pause here and there giving him pointers now and then on how to make his movements more precise and deadly. By the time Jameson was done and was practicing he saw the career that knocked him over staring but trying to avoid it. He also noticed the mute boy from five, Ethan was his name, trying to help another tribute.
    I wonder what Haymitch would say if he saw me just a bit ago.

    "Haymitch is going to throtle you when he finds out." Silenia said from behind him.

    "Yeah, but I needed to show that I'm not going down without a fight, and that career needed something to hush him up a bit." Jameaon said before moving to the snare and traps sataion to continue training. He wasn't going to be pushed around especialy if he planned to come back to his brothers. Antony, and David. Jameson wondered if thier opinions of him would change if they watched him killing people, killing someone from their own district. They may very well think of him as a monster. He hoped they wouldn', and that they would know that he was trying to get home to them.
  16. Tailon

    Tailon Gryffindork

    Cedric woke quite early in the morning, before anyone else on his floor, at least. He sat up, taking off his headphones to reveal the sound coming from the projector he had left on all night.

    Cedric sat and watched the hologram for what seemed like an age and a half before the odd young mentor named Beetee came to call him for breakfast. Cedric showered and dressed quickly, ate the food provided for them, and just as quickly left the suite, taking the elevator down to training.


    While the head trainer attempted to explain the room, the sound blocked by Cedric's headphones, Cedric examined the room on his own, and made for the knives as soon as the trainer's lips stopped moving. Taking one in each hand, he approached a dummy, examined it momentarily, then slashed three times in quick succession, leaving massive gashes across its chest, lower torso, and throat.

    Seeming satisfied, he put the knives back and moved to a survival station, lowering his headphones as the young woman behind the table began explaining how to tie a strong knot from both rope and vine.
  17. The night had passed far too quickly for Jiri's liking, he had been more exhausted than he had initially thought; not even the anxiety of starting training could've kept sleep from him. As such, he was a little bit confused when his friend and mentor came and knocked on the door.

    "Hey, Jiri! You need to get up and get some breakfast in you, training is going to start up pretty soon."

    He still wasn't used to waking up at such a seemingly late hour and not needing to head immediately to the mill. Though, if he could have made a choice, he'd have been back home working the mills alone instead of in the Capitol, just days away from fighting for his life against other children.

    Rachel coached him on a few things while he ate a hearty breakfast, she didn't have anything pressing to tell him aside from making sure to focus on survival tactics and skills and not just weapon training; and most importantly, not to show the judges his real ability until it was time to get graded in a few days. Jiri nodded groggily and stretched as he filed into the elevator with Gianna, who had eaten breakfast in her room.

    The ride down was awkward, him not knowing what to say to make Gianna open up to him a little, and her not even casting a glance in his direction. He understood that they were not friends, and were, for all intents and purposes, at odds with one another even now. Back home in District 7, they hadn't been friends, but maybe they could have been. The games stole that potential from them. The games stole twenty-three futures from innocent children, and for what? Entertainment for the Capitol and a reminder that the Districts were nothing to the government of Panem.

    Jiri was so preoccupied with his thoughts that he had been moving autonomously, and he had completely missed what the trainer said, but he could guess based on what Rachel had told him up on the District 7 floor of the building. Fighting was all well and good, but natural causes were just as big a threat as any of the other competitors.

    Jiri spent most of his time learning traps for catching game and camouflage, along with some plant identification and how to build a fire. He was surprisingly good at camouflage and plant identification, but he was glad he took the time to learn some snares and how to build a fire out of whatever may be available and burnable.

    The careers already walked around the room like they owned the place, he noticed as he decided to get in some practice with a bow, something he had never even seen before in person, and was understandably terrible with. After a few shots, he actually hit the target, but he knew that long range fighting wasn't going to be possible for him unless he could get his hands on some hand axes, which he and his friends used to throw at makeshift targets as a sort of game.

    The boy was good with an axe, since he'd used one every day for years, but glancing over at the weapon rack, he realized that there would be battleaxes and other actual weapons, not the tools he was used to using. He made a mental note to be sure to practice with any and all axes within the next few days, but opted to spend the rest of his time today with hand to hand sparring with one of the trainers.

    On his way over to the mat, he noticed one of the boys, who he believed to be from District 5, helping a girl through some steps of sword play. The boy raised an eyebrow at this, partially because it appeared the boy was mute, and partially because his air had been one of superiority, but here he was helping a girl, his enemy, have a fighting chance.

    If only everyone could behave so well, instead of treating everyone like a nuisance to be dealt with. Jiri rolled his eyes at his own naivety, as if the Capitol would let such a thing happen. He cracked his fingers as he began learning basic steps from the hand-to-hand trainer.
  18. Sem

    Sem The Last of the Snowmen
    Former Administrator

    Velvet stretched a smile across her face as she entered the training area. Finally. Here she would be able to scope out the competition and already start planning what she would do in the field.

    The group of tributes was first given a short explanation of the training area as well as some advice to visit all of the stations. She already knew this, however. Velvet and Luster had quite a few mentors there for support. Glory, one such instructor, told Velvet and Luster to focus on survival skills on the coming days. Today they should focus on displaying their skill in an effort to intimidate the rest of the tributes, who were already wary of the careers.

    Velvet and Luster went straight there as soon as the instructor finished speaking. “Ladies first,” her fellow District 1 tribute said. With a smile Velvet walked over to one of the weapon racks and brushed her fingers along the hilts and handles of many different weapons before settling on a spear, gripping it firmly in her grasp as she lifted it out of the rack.

    “Um, hello,” said a quiet voice suddenly.

    Velvet looked and saw the District 2 tribute, Deneb. Ah, here she was, the one Velvet had meant to talk to yesterday. The District 1 tribute smiled, pushing a strand of lavender-tinged white hair out of her face. She was going to introduce herself but Deneb spoke again before she could.

    “Can I train with you for a bit? It might be um, kind of fun, I guess?”

    Kind of fun, I guess? Velvet quickly glanced over Deneb and wondered how much there was to the girl. She was young for a tribute from District 2, and she had volunteered as well. She couldn’t have been that well trained then. Was she trained at all?

    Deneb suddenly ran off.

    Velvet raised a brow and cast a backwards glance at Luster, who merely shrugged in response. Velvet looked then and saw the girl beginning to spar with a trainer. The District 1 tributes expected a miserable performance from Deneb, but she surprised them both with her skill with a blade, especially in her ability to disarm the trainer. It was as if she were a different person now.

    Still, Velvet furrowed her brow. Deneb had skill but she seemed off. Velvet made a note to tell Glory later that she would like to watch footage of last year’s game.

    Deciding to continue on with her “training”, Velvet walked to a group of battle dummies, spear in hand. She closed her eyes and exhaled slowly, focusing for a brief moment before springing into action. She sprinted forward and slammed the blunt end of her spear into the ground, flipping herself over it to the nearest dummy, whom she kicked in the head, bringing it down with her body weight. She stood, now in the midst of the dummies, and twirled the spear, tearing out the throat of one dummy and impaling another through the chest. Physical blows were about as common as hits from the spear, as she used the weapon deftly in combination with her skill and body weight to fling herself around in an acrobatic fashion. She kneed a dummy in the gut as she swung the spear and slashed the face of another dummy that was farther away. The spear gave Velvet an incredible reach. By the time her “dance” was complete there was one dummy left. Velvet gripped the spear and threw it, nailing the dummy perfectly through the chest.

    With another slow exhale she relaxed her pose and put a hand to her hip, smiling at her own demonstration. She reclaimed her spear and spent the rest of that day sparring and noting to herself what she would want more practice in. There was a boy from 5 who was somehow good with a sword. 5 was in charge over the power resources for Panem. Electrical, solar, nuclear. Nothing that explained his skill or how he could have received training. He was exceptionally well built as well. Five wasn’t exactly a poor district, but his partner wasn’t nearly as strong as he was, even subtracting the fact that she was female. It was sketchy.

    Velvet told herself to receive more training against a sword before the game started. If she ever came up against him, she would have the advantage with her spear, but one could never be too careful. Deneb was apparently not bad with a sword either. And alliances were always only temporary.
  19. (OoC: Apologies for holding up the roleplay. maybe we can get things rolling now.)

    Lyla hadn’t slept well that night, stressing over how she’d use Deneb’s romance and her shy girl ploy to her advantage. Maybe the audience would eat up the shy girl and the district two girls in love? It was certainly plausible, if no one was afraid of a little homosexuality.

    The next morning, Lyla shared an awkward breakfast with Derick and their mentor, and then headed down in the elevator to the training room. She had no idea what to expect; would she be asked what she could do, and be forced to work upon those skills? Or would she have to learn things she’d never done?

    These thoughts vanished as she and Derick entered the training room. It seemed they were the last to arrive. And the head instructor briefed them on some rules- no killing, no maiming, etc. - before releasing them to do as they wished.

    Lyla looked around first, trying to decide what to do. There was a large array of stations around the room, ranging from archery and hand-to-hand combat to camouflage and survival skills. She canned the stations with tributes at them; she saw the girl from One with a spear in her hand, the boy from Seven messing with some axes, and the boy from Three cutting across a dummy’s body. The competition would be very, very tough.

    Her eyes wandered to the camouflage station, where a tribute from a district she couldn’t remember- Four? Eight? - was painting on the table. She wandered over, and asked the instructor what to do.

    The instructor, a tall, wiry woman with black hair smiled and handed her a brush. She told her to look at the array of patterns on the walls that were found in nature, and try to copy them. Lyla nodded and went to look at the patterns. An odd curvy pattern stood out to her, and she grabbed a small jar of black paint, dipping her brush into it. She began to paint.

    Painting was one of the things Lyla enjoyed most. Whenever she could, she’d make her own paint with rock dust, fruit juice, and water. They were rather cruddy excuses for paints, but they worked well enough. Lyla’s wall at home had been covered in little paintings she’d made and more from Luna when she got bored.

    Before she knew it, Lyla had simulated the pattern almost exactly, and felt the usual excitement she did whenever she painted something good. She continued the pattern, making it curvier and bigger. Eventually having to stand on her tiptoes when it got too tall.

    And that’s when she felt eyes on her. Lyla turned her head ever so slightly to the side, noticing a small throng of other tributes watching her, pointing and whispering. They were probably singling her out as a weak little girl who would break within the first ten minutes. Lyla ground her teeth, having half a mind to do something to show them she wasn’t weak.

    Lyla turned her head, and noticed a rack of bladed weapons. On the rack was a long shiny steel machete, almost twice the length of her arm and wicked sharp. Smirking, Lyla put the paintbrush and paint down and sauntered over to the rack of weapons. She had placed her hand upon the leather grip of the blade’s handle when she remembered she was supposed to be acting weak.

    Sighing with regret at this realization, she also realized she could not just walk away from the weapons with so many people watching her. So she lifted the machete off the rack; it was of manageable weight, but she could hold it easily. She just pretended she couldn’t support its weight, and let the tip fall to the ground with a slight clatter. Lyla heard a few snickers behind her, but she tried to ignore them.

    Lowering her head in defeat, Lyla started to trudge over to a different station- one that didn’t require either her being good at something and having to make an embarrassment of herself, or just making a plain embarrassment of herself.

    As she walked over to the survival skills station, Lyla noticed movement out of the corner of her eye, at the little area where tributes could practice knife and swordplay. She turned her head to watch the little scuffle, and noticed Deneb in the little circle, dodging and parrying the trainer, soon disarming him, with the knife under his throat.

    Lyla blinked and looked away, hastening to the survival station. So Deneb could fight, Lyla thought. Of course she would be able to, being from Two, regardless of age. As Lyla went about tying a rather difficult knot, she wondered at how she could possible make Deneb her ally.
  20. Shiny Pyxis

    Shiny Pyxis 2016 Singles Football

    (OOC: I swear more than half of this post is useless crap. After this one, we're zooming through the rest of the training and then going on to interviews, I promise <<)

    Julius took studious notes as the tributes trained for the upcoming Games. He tried to keep his notes as unbiased as possible, and made sure to pay attention to all twenty-four tributes at least once, but he found himself unable to keep his eyes from flitting back to the kids from Two. Truthfully, he wanted the district his brother was chaperoning to win, and noted that both could fight decently: the boy excelled in both hand-to-hand combat and wrestling, having pinned his trainer to the ground within seconds in both stations, and the girl, though small and young, showed enough experience to know how to handle a short sword, no, dagger acting as a sword, well enough to unarm her own trainer.

    Julius forced his eyes to look away from them and caught sight of the girl from One, older than both of the tributes from Two, nimbly attacking the dummies around her with a spear, and the boy besides her waiting with an aura of confidence for his partner to finish showing off. Not too far off, he saw the girl from Eleven attempt to pick up a machete, only for it to clang loudly as it hit the ground. The male tribute from Seven was struggling with a bow before he just gave up and went on to the hand-to-hand combat station. When he went to look at the boy from Three, the kid had just left what looked to be a war scene between some dummies, all with knife marks on them, and was currently in the knot tying station. Even the male tribute from Twelve, the poorest in the district, surprised him by showing proficiency with a sword.

    “Julius!” The young Game Maker turned around and saw another man swaying behind him, looking rather drunk with the glass of champaigne in his hand. “Come join us, there’s more than plenty for er’body.”

    Julius, however, shook his head. “Not hungry, I might eat later,” he said. Motioning towards the training tributes below them, he continued, “You should be watching, Anthony.”

    “Already have been,” Anthony replied with a booming laugh and a dismissive wave of his hand. Pointing at a tribute, he said, “See that one, from Five? Thought he was dumb, but he’s now teaching that girl there a few pointers on using a blade. Getting the feeling that he’s had training before, or something. Very uncommon for a District Five tribute, especially when you consider his much less adept female counterpart.”

    Julius looked at his colleague with a raised eyebrow and asked, “You wrote this all down?”

    Anthony simply laughed again before taking another sip of his alcohol. “Of course not,” he said, “I remember everything that happens here. I’ve done this since I first got this job, what, seven years ago?” Somebody called his name, and Anthony quickly grabbed Julius’ hand and shook it vigorously. “It was a pleasure talking to you, but it seems that I’m needed now!” And with that, the man left.

    Julius sighed and looked back at the training area, spying the District Two girl talking to the boy from Five before she headed off towards the weapon stand again. The young Game Maker began taking notes again, and inwardly thought how the girl was strange for volunteering at such a young age.


    Deneb watched the older boy curiously, thinking how it was strange for him to refuse speaking to her. “Alright, thanks for the tip,” she said with a smile as her trainer got back up. “I’ll keep that in mind next time.” She walked past the two older guys, remembering how Al, back at home, rarely spoke unless he had good reason to.

    Putting her knife away, Deneb caught sight of a few other weapons that looked vaguely familiar to her. Knives of all shapes and sizes, spears like the one she had spied Velvet using earlier, an array of maces and clubs, and even a few slingshots, just to name a few. She decided to pick up a bow and some arrows to practice her aim, and thought back to when Al had let her use a gun in one of their own, private “training sessions” a couple of years back.

    As she made her way to the shooting range, she noticed how the floor was littered with arrows, and guessed that someone had been there before her. They didn’t seem to have great aim, for only a single arrow was in the dummy. However, she couldn’t guess who it could’ve been, and just shrugged it off.

    Lifting the bow and an arrow up to eye level, Deneb aimed at a dummy, released the arrow, and managed to bury the arrow into the stomach. Not terrific, but after a few more tries, she managed to get hit the dummy’s head, neck, and chest, and some others on the dummy’s shoulder and legs. She did a quick count, and found that five of the arrows had completely missed the dummy. Well, it was better than nothing, though the girl noted to get her hands on melee weapons as quickly as she could in the arena.

    When she walked back to the rack to put the weapon up, Deneb suddenly heard a voice boom out that it was time for lunch. Gosh, she had been so busy practicing, she hadn’t even realized she was hungry until then! Completely forgetting about their encounter that morning, the girl looked around for Sirius and, finding him getting up from a mat, approached him.

    “Can I sit with you?” she asked shyly. When he hesitated, she continued, “I don’t really want to sit by myself, and I’ll feel better with someone from home.”

    There was a long pause before he muttered, “Why not?” as if to himself. Speaking up, he continued, “I’ve already invited Luster and Velvet to sit with me, and it wouldn’t hurt to get the two from Four as well. We might be sitting at a full table.”

    “That’s fine,” Deneb said, relieved. As she went to get a plate, she realized that Sirius loked a little pissed, and she couldn’t help but ask, “Did something happen during training?”

    “It’s not important,” he muttered angrily, but she could see him eyeing the boy from Twelve with disgust. She shared his sentiments, never having been able to pity those from poorer districts. Okay, the girl fro Eleven was the only exception, and thinking about her only made Deneb feel nervous for some reason. She was about to call across the room to the older girl and ask if she would like to join them, but Deneb knew that Sirius and the others would never approve.

    Giving a small shrug, she said, “Alright then. Let’s get some food, then.”
  21. After moving around with Silenia to a camouflage station and working there for some time, Jameson decided he should scope out the room. He watched as many of the career tributes showed off their talents and skills, absorbing everything he could to try and gain the upper hand in any way he could.

    "You really shouldn't stare Jameson." Silenia said looking up from the perfect flower she had painted.

    "I'm not staring I'm checking out the competition." Jameson replied looking down and the attempt at a flower that came out looking more like a blue and yellow blob than a flower. "Shouldnt you focus on any sort of weapons handeling you can?"

    "I'm going to be doing that tomorrow. Today is all about survival for me. Well, aside from a brief period of time at the swords station where you blew your cover sky high." Silenia said begining to glare at Jameson. He could see she was going into a tirade when the loud voice boomed through the training center telling them all it was time for lunch and distracting Silenia enough for him to slip away.

    Once Jameson was in line for food he checked over his shoulder and saw the boy who knocked him over talking with the girl from his district and wondered if she was giving him hell or if she was trying to be kind to him. He guessed it was the latter. The boy looked up and their eyes met biefly before both quickly turned their heads away. Jameson noted the angered look in the boy's eyes and realized he had probably made an enemy on the first day of training.
  22. (Sorry for late posts. I’ve been moving into my new apartment and so stuff has been hectic. Here we go!)

    Ethan returned the smile and nodded as he watched the girl walk away. The smile felt awkward on his face, he didn’t really smile all that often. The trainer watched him curiously, maybe expecting Ethan to line up for training. Ethan just nodded back to the trainer and went to place the weapon carefully back on the rack. Another thing he learned, treat your equipment with respect. Your gear and your mind was your life. They will save you out there. Keep them cared for and keep them sharp.

    “Look at you. Pretending you know what you are doing.” Alex sneered as she trotted over from the station that taught which plants were edible or not. Ethan tried to ignore her, walk past her to the station she had just come from, but she wasn’t having any of it. She planted herself in his way and smiled crookedly.

    “You know Samantha isn’t going to help you in there right? You don’t stand a chance. Neither does your little friend you were helping.”

    That was it. Ethan was done with this hiding crap. Yes you were supposed to save the best for the private training, but Ethan wanted to shut her up. He walked over to the combat station and picked up his sword and faced down the trainer. The trainer opened his mouth to give some lecture. Ethan struck fast and put the trainer on the defensive. The trainer was good, really good, and could hold Ethan off until Ethan lashed out with his foot and tripped him. Ethan pinned him with his knee and then backed away before glaring at Alex with his steel colored eyes. She was pale. Ethan took a step towards her just as the call for lunch came over the training room. Ethan dropped the sword at her feet and stalked past her to the lunch room.

    Alex avoided him in the food line like he was a mass murderer. Which was good, it would keep her mouth shut. Ethan nodded to the lady as she gave him his food. He couldn’t help but notice a few people giving him glances. He was sure people saw that show earlier. He didn’t mind. He had plenty of other skills to show off. Another thing he couldn’t help but notice. There was nowhere to sit. Ethan shrugged to himself and walked over to an empty table. He sat down and quickly began to devour his meal, his eyes scanning the crowd as he mentally reviewed what he knew about each tribute.

Share This Page