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I attempted to make a game a while back called the Sands of Time, but I never finished it. I'm going to redo the concept this time with just 28 tributes, and basically, these games will involve time travel. It may be difficult to pull of but I can do it. What that time travel is and how it works, you will find out.
Tribute Template Name:
District: (Top three choices)
Appearance: (A Lunaii gallery will be posted. I would ask if you would post Lunaiis with your tributes, but if you cannot, describe them, and I will make several Lunaiis matching the description. You will choose the one you like best.)
Please, feel free to add more.
There is not necessarily a limit to how many tributes you can have, but I'm not going to take 28 of one person's tributes. I want to select the best tributes, so if, say the only good group of 28 tributes are from three people, those are the ones I will take. Also, I am a bit of a grammar Nazi, so please capitalize the words that need to be capitalized and use correct punctuation. I won't be very strict about it, but if I had to choose between two tributes, one with good grammar, and one with bad grammar, I think we both know who I would choose. I can tell if you really think about what you want your tributes to be or if you just half-ass it and write down, well...
name princess(no lastname
I will try to update every two days. If you do not post advice for your tribute, then you have a much larger chance of having them die. If you are busy and cannot post advice, let me know in the comments, chat, or my messaging board. Or massaging board. Either one.
Please, refrain from whining if your tribute died, because I truly did think this through. Also, if your tribute died early, that does not mean they were bad tributes. Many times I will kill a great tribute off early to form a plot. This is a game, but this is also a story. Do not complain that ________ lived longer than __________ and keep in mind that these are my games, not yours.
|District 1 Male||Bronze Lucarin||17||Spear||YourFavoriteSalmon|
|District 1 Female||Glow Décor||15||Spear||Nightlock Kryptonite|
|District 2 Male||Odin Amarth||18||Spear||Icanhasnofriends|
|District 2 Female||Angel Orthodox||18||Machete, Scythe||FairyYuki|
|District 3 Male||Nathaniel Chirp||18||Sword, Bow||Ccmoco5|
|District 3 Female||Aislyn Latona||17||Bow||*Kyoni~Kara*|
|District 4 Male||Fox Readen||14||Knife||Kaeghan-is-a-Tribute|
|District 4 Female||Fawn Readen||16||Axe||Kaeghan-is-a-Tribute|
|District 5 Male||Hiro Kahn||18||Knife||66mc|
|District 5 Female||Amelia Steeltoe||15||Sword, Axe||YourFavoriteSalmon|
|District 6 Male||Ziggs Marchant||17||Mace||TheDeadlyOne|
|District 6 Female||Juline Cenia||17||Sword, Scythe||Blissfully Mine|
|District 7 Male||Soul Silence||14||Scythe||PumPumPumpkin :3|
|District 7 Female||Cassandra Oracion||15||Trident, Axe||PumPumPumpkin :3|
|District 8 Male||Moro Katler||13||Knife||66mc|
|District 8 Female||Rebekah Ure||12||Blowgun||Blue-Ribbonz|
|District 9 Male||Konami Aretino||14||Trident||Tehblakdeath|
|District 9 Female||Scarlet Burn||15||Spear||Pippycat|
|District 10 Male||Buck Rockwell||16||Spear||YourFavoriteSalmon|
|District 10 Female||Saadia Gaena||12||Knife, Spear||Yoonie|
|District 11 Male||Lucas Mines||18||Sword, Mace||Blissfully Mine|
|District 11 Female||Bee Clio||14||Axe, Knife||Pippycat|
|District 12 Male||Jonty Chang||16||Sword||A Wikia Contributor|
|District 12 Female||Sofia Bulgar||16||Axe, Bow||Yoonie|
|District 13 Male||Electro Matrimine||17||Brass Knuckles||Toast With The Most|
|District 13 Female||Karla Flake||16||Knife||Nightlock Kryptonite|
|Capitol Male||Absol Solstice||15||Scythe||Nightlock Kryptonite|
|Capitol Female||Loreli Hayes||16||Bow, Knife||Blissfully Mine|
An alarm sounds, and I jolt out of bed. I'm already wearing the clothes I plan to wear at the reaping, and I've done just about everything but eat, which I'll get the chance to do on the train to the Capitol. I sprint out the door, not even bothering to wave good-bye to my parents, and sit in front of the stage at which the escort will show up in less than an hour. Though I'm pretty early, many showed before me. Including...
"Hey Bronze!" my girlfriend Trinity says, walking up to me in a shiny red dress. She jokingly grabbed my crotch, and kissed me on the cheek.
"You volunteering today?" she asks with that cute grin on her face.
"Well, I can say that in a couple of weeks, the two of of will be living together in a large mansion in Victor's Village, and it'll be just the two of-"
"Hi, sweetie!" I hear a sharp feminine voice call. My mother is standing behind me taking pictures of me with a huge grin on her face. She holds out a camera and begins to snap pictures, while my dad rests his arm of my shoulder.
"Make me proud, son." he says.
"Golly!" I shout at them. "I'm not a two-year-old!" I say, shaking my father's arm off my shoulder in the process.
"We love you honey!" my mother says, backing away and finding their place back in the adults' section. Finally, this year's new escort walks up to the stage, standing at, quite literally, eleven feet six inches, thanks to the Capitol's spinal surgery.
"Welcome," she says, whiffing a pink curl off of her face in the process, "to the Hourglass Games!"
The crowd cheers, and the escort thinks it because of her, so she takes a bow.
"In celebration of the Capitol's discovery of time travel two days ago, we've decided to hold an extra Games to celebrate this advance in technology!" A couple of claps emerged from the audience, but in reality, no one cared. It was all about the games. Just the way I like it.
"My name is Roberta Aracinni, and I will be District 1's new escort! Now, let's get started, shall we?"
Everyone in the audience watches in anticipation as she reaches down for the bowl. Naturally, she can't reach it, so she has to bend on her knees. You probably should've had an arm extension surgery, too. She takes out a slip of paper, stands back on her feet, and calls a name.
"For the ladies, we have Feira Di-"
"I VOLUNTEER!" at least twenty girls shout out in unison. It's gotten to be competitive to even get into the Games. Girls are dressing up in Capitol-like clothing just to be noticed by our escort. Several have bullhorns. Some did their hair in a fashion so it stands straight up. One died her skin a dark purple, and I don't think it's temporary. Roberta finally selects a plain-looking brunette girl, about 15 years old. Doesn't look too promising.
"What's your name, sweetheart?" Roberta asks the girl.
"Glow Décor," she says without even smiling. Somehow I recognize that name...
"And for the boys," she says. She doesn't even bother reaching down this time. She tells Glow to do it for her. "Darian Jo-"
Yet again the crowd erupted. I don't even know why they bother bringing a bowl to the reaping. Just about always, someone volunteers. I scream loudy and rip off the shirt I was wearing to reveal a Capitol-esque black vest.
"You! There! With the blond hair!" I'd go up, but that honestly describes everyone here in District 1.
"With the black vest!" I strut up to the stage and Glow hands me the mic.
"My name is Bronze Lucarin," I say with a smile, and a wink to Trinity, but all the girls around her, thinking it's them, swoon in delight.
"Well here are your two tributes! Glow Décor and Bronze Lucarin!" They scream, holler, hoot, and whistle, and Miss Too-Tall-Jones here leads us to say good-bye to our families.
As I do every morning, I take a spear in my hand and throw it so it spins around and lodges itself into the center of a target at the far end of the room. I take a second to look in the room around me. Almost no one showed up today. I guess they wanted to get some sleep in, but I honestly don't see the need to. We won't be going into the Games for a good four days. In the corner of the room is a ten year old girl whaling away at a dummy with an axe. I prepare another spear and hurl it at another target, and watch as it hits the bullseye yet again. A Peacekeeper comes in and tells the two of us to make our way to the reaping, which would occur in about five minutes. Sometimes, with the lenient attitude of the Peacekeepers in District 2, it's easy to forget that training tributes is technically illegal. The young girl looks at me admiringly, then bolts off to get to the square. As I walk, I see families with joyous looks on their faces as their children run off, and see that, at least the girls, have a chance of participating in the Hunger Games. But the males, well, that spot will go to me. And I have a plan. As we arrive, our escort, who's had a few too many, walks, or crawls, up to the stage.
"Welcome!" he says, holding onto the microphone, trying not to fall over.
"My name is Bernis Bane, and I will be..." he stopped in his tracks to stare at a small finch sitting on a branch.
"Ahem," the mayor signs Bernis to continue with the reaping. He puts his hand in the males' bowl, but the mayor grabs his wrist and puts it in the other.
"Oh yeah," he says and smiles. He throws his hand down and misses the bowl completely. On his second try, he takes out the slip and yells a name.
"I volunteer!" dozens of girls' voices yell out in unison. After looking around, the escort selects a girl with almost white hair.
"You're the girl from the porno!" he yells in delight. The girl walks up and smiles, winking at the girls' section, and takes the microphone away from Bernis.
"Angel Orthodox," she says, pulling her skirt up a little. Remember when it was shameful to sleep around? Bernis attempts to roll his tongue, but ends up coughing. After a while, he eventually grabs a slip from the males' bowl.
As natural, many voices ring out, wanting desperately to compete. Before he chooses anyone, I walk up to the stage.
"But I didn't call on-"
Before he can finish his sentence, I push a button on a small remote control in my pocket, and he is zapped. He barely notices, but still brings me up to the microphone, and I hear hundreds of complaining voices in the audience.
"Odin Amarth," I say with a moot expression on my face. A jealous boy in the crowd throws a can at me, but I catch it in one hand, and throw it right back.
"Well, bye!" Bernis says as he stumbles to the train. I looked at Angel, and I didn't see that look of seductiveness she showed at the reaping.
"So," I say to her.
"I'm not straight. Fuck off," she says. Well then. This train ride will be, well, less than pleasureable.
The first thing I wake up too is a loud knock on our fragile door, presumably from a Peacekeeper. The door swings out and nearly snaps off as a rather small Peacekeeper comes in and grabs me by my shoulder and carries me out of my bed. Just as usual. Just this year and next year, and then we're done. My grandmother follows me out, but falls behind. I see the still dark sky of District 3 and feel the cold breeze on my skin, as I forgot to put on a coat the previous night. Because my father and brother have previously had some tension between them and the Peacekeepers, they aren't exactly the nicest to out family. Dedrik, carrying Crist, jogs up and walks by the Peacekeeper and me. Liana stays behind to help our elderly grandmother. I watch as the moon shines on the ground. I really do hate District 3. Since it's so far out west, the reapings happen at about 4:30 in the morning due to time zones, and not to mention, that it's probably the worst place for a starving family to live. Though I do find some, it's pretty difficult to find wildlife, and even harder to find some that haven't swallowed toxic waste. Almost no one here is happy, and every time I take a breath, I smell the disgusting factories pumping out gas, reminding me of the day my mother and siblings...
"Welcome, District 3!" I hadn't realized we'd already walked to the reaping center.
"Though it isn't time to host our Games this year, we made an exception for this wonderful event. Capitol scientists have discovered how to open wormholes, calling for this wonderful event!"
Though they claim the Capitol discovered it, it's well-known knowledge in District 3 that a local scientist discovered how to use it, and the patent was was confiscated by the government. He had actually planned to use it to recover his dead daughter.
"My name is Monarellafotabianaleocintadeanaoliastanta Jones."
Holy shit. Just when I thought we had a normal escort.
"Now for the ladies," she says with an absent smile gleaming on her face. He puts her hand in the bowl and searches for a piece of paper to select, revealing the unlucky girl that would most likely face her death in the arena.
"Aislyn Latona!" she calls.
"What!" I call out in anger. That same Peacekeeper grabs me by my hair and leads me up to the stadium. Before we get there, the Peacekeeper falls over and spits blood from his mouth. Dedrik grabs the Peacekeeper and puts his hand around his neck.
"Let her go or he dies," he says with an emotion I've never seen in his eyes. Pure anger, ire, wrath, and rage shines in his eyes, and he watches as the crowd moved back in fear. Even the owl who constantly crows all day stays silent, and watches as Dedrik's face, red with anger, nearly caused him to kill a man.
"Dedrik, stop," I plead meakly. Silence prevails over the square for a while until a gunshot echoes through the town and Dedrik falls down on the ground, dead. That Peacekeeper grabs me and carries me up, but my eyes are attatched to the dead body of my brother. Now our family, which was twelve in number when I was born, has been diminished down to four, and soon I would be dead. I stare down at Dedrik and tears fall from my eyes. How I still have any left, I don't know. His happy face is now angry, and I watch my grandmother sob at the loss of yet another grandchild. I watch as the three of them stood there, helpless, weak, and small. I then realize I had to live through this. How else would I protect my family?
The escort backs away and grabs the arm of a boy in the front row and runs off to the train, and I have no choice but to follow. The Peacekeeper, yet again, still follows me, and watches as I run to the escort walking with the nearly petrified boy. I soon catch up, and I hear him speak softly to the escort.
"I was planning on volunteering for the Games, but after seeing that guy die, I just don't know," he says, looking up to the woman. She tried to act uninterested, but I could see a tear fall down her cheek. I saw her whisper, looking away from the people, seeking solitude.
"Fawn," I whisper into her ear. She wakes up with her hair straight and perfect as always. She's probably the only homeless person who can manage to wake up with half-decent hair. She takes a look at the cold, hard ground we slept on last night and pops her back before standing up.
"We need to head to the reaping," I tell her. Before she can object, I grab her and take her across the street over to the district square, and pull her over to the woman from the Capitol who would prick our fingers. Rumor has it that most other districts don't do it anymore. She squints as her finger's pricked, and I take mine without a sweat. Fawn and I split and I watch as she heads over to the girls' section. She smiles at me and I watch as she vanishes into the crowd of hundreds of girls. The escort stands in front of the microphone and speaks with that Capitol accent I've grown to hate.
"Welcome, District 4!" she says, with a voice squeakier than that of a mouse. She puffs up her orange hair and continues.
"As you all know, my name is Martha Zermeño, and I will be your escort for these Games as well."
As she says it, I don't notice a single muscle on her face move. She seems blank, empty, and emotionless.
"Now for the girls," she calls. She reaches her hand in the bowl and dozens of desperate girls shout at the top of their lungs, wanting nothing more than to compete in the Games. We have almost no chance of getting reaped because of those damn lunatics.
"You! There! In the rags and blond hair!" She pointed in the middle of the crowd, and the rest of the girls silence, but the girl chosen stands there silent. Is that Fawn?
"But I didn't volunteer," Fawn says meakly.
"Oh, sweetheart, you can't back out now, can you?" she says. A Peacekeeper shoves her up and she becomes the laughing stock of all District 4. She tells her name to the audience softly, and it's the only noise then in the entirety of District 4. Suddenly, the silence is broken.
"She was the homeless bitch starving on the side of the road! Looks like District 4 lost, folks!" a snooty girl shouts from the crowd. If I were younger, I'd get angry, but I've just gotten so used to it now. I look up on the stage, and Fawn looks at me with pleading eyes. Martha notices her looking at me.
"How about you come up, young man!" she calls, as she sees Fawn looking at me. My heart starts pounding. She can't do this, can she?
"I'm waiting," she says with that high-pitched voice. The crowd stares at me, and Fawn breaks down into tears. I make my way up and feel a thousand pairs of eyes staring at me. As I get to the stage, Martha smiles.
"So, are you her special one?" she asks.
"Fox Readen," I say into the microphone. Though her face had white powder all over it, you could see it turn red.
"So you're siblings, correct?" she asked. I nodded my head.
"Well then," she says. She walks off to the train and I catch my last glimpse of District 4.
I wake up in the arms of my mother. I look at her, knowing that if I fail, I'll never see District 5 again. I saw a small tear fall from her face, and she put on a fake smile. I think she knows that I'm volunteering today.
"Hi, sweetie! Want some pancakes?" she asked with that warm, gentle smile that I know I'll miss. I watch as my father, playing with yet another gadget he's created walks to the table with his thick black glasses and his hair that spreads out like a sunflower everytime I put my hand near it. He'd been working with batteries and energy sources since I was a young girl. He puts his hand on my shoulder, and I instantly get a shock from it. He doesn't even notice anymore.
"You worried about being reaped, Amelia?" he asks.
"No, dad," I say rolling my eyes. My mother walks up with pancakes and sets them down on the table. On the side she has chocolate chips to put on and currant-flavored syrup. She knows I'm going, and is preparing the meal just the way I like it. I feel a satly tear fall down my face and I look at my parents. They both give me a good look, and I wipe the tear away. I thought about Brock, slaughtered by that boy from 2 in the arena. I remember it so vividly. What if I died that way?
"Amelia?" my mother asks, breaking me out of my trance. I look at my meal, still warm, and drizzle the syrup on and put on the chocolate chips and savor every last bite of it. My brother may have passed, but there's nothing I can do about it. I'm not volunteering.
"Let's just go and get it done with," I say after finishing my pancakes. My mother puts her hand on my shoulder, but I lean over to her.
"I'm not volunteering," I say. She immediately perks up. She and my father walk my down the street to the reaping center and watch as hundreds of people cram into the sqaure. I'm just glad we live near it. I hate walking the streets of District 5. A man shows up on the stage. He looks rather normal. That is, if you excuse the fact that the only thing preventing him from being naked is the whipped cream smeared on his crotch. A woman swoons as he walks on, and he gives her a wink.
"Welcome, District 5, to the reapings of the Hourglass Games," he said, with a whorish tone that matched his so-called outfit.
"As you know, these Games are held specially this time of year because the Capitol recently discovered time travel," he said. Without out transition or any appeal from the crowd, he stuck his hand into the girls' bowl. He took out a piece of paper and called out a name.
"Amelia Steeltoe!" he called out. My heart started pounding. Sweat was forming on my forehead. My mother shrieked. Everyone stared at me. A girl behind me pushed me and I was telling my mind to go back but my body kept on going forward. I went to the stage. At that point, I wasn't sure what was going to be worse: participating in the Games or standing next to our escort. He struts over to the boys' bowl and yells out a name.
"Hiro Kahn!" he calls.
"Serves you right for leaving us!" shouts a woman in the front row, with a stench of alcohol so strong I can smell it from here. A young boy comes up to the stage with a sad look on his face.
"If you had stuck with us, you might've had a chance of placing higher than 28th!" a man shouts next to the woman, with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. Hiro squints his eyes and takes a deep breath and tries to keep his cool when the escort walked off to the train, saying nothing and showing the entirety of District 5 his bare ass. Oh boy. This is going to be a long ride.
I watched as I set a toy train on its tracks, which are quite common in District 6 to encourage children to take on that line of work. It went over a hill, under a tunnel, and while running on plain ground, it ran over a small bump and blew up, and its pieces flew everywhere. My small bomb, or as I like to call them, "hexplosives," had worked perfectly. Something about blowing something up satisfies me. Maybe I'm weird. Maybe others feel the same way, but don't show their inner, almost sadistic, selves.
"Honey! It's time for the reaping!" my mother calls with enthusiasm. She rushes downstairs in a long and flowing dress and sees that I've broken another train. She sighs, but grabs my arm quickly and heads out the door.
"We're late!" she says angrily, slamming the door open as we run to the center. After nearly being killed by trains more times than I'd like to admit, and being chased by a rabid hobo, we made our way to the reaping. We barely worm ourselves into the crowd as we watch a girl in a maid's outfit walk to the stage with a look of disgust on her face.
"And for the boys," our escort somehow calls out with those giant purple lips, "we have Ziggs Marchant!" The boy next to me shoves me out into the center aisle, and proceeds to give me the bird. I stand still and look at everyone, staring at me, with eyes that all stared into my soul. I then walk up, and my footsteps echo through the square. This shouldn't be happening. As I make my way up the stairs, the redhead introduces herself.
"Juline, you're not allowed to speak at the reaping," the escort whispers in her ear.
"As if I cared," Juline responded. The escort grabbed her collar, but Juline swiped her hand off. Juline kicked the escort's shin, and she doubled over. Juline was then able to grab the escort's collar and carry her towards the bus. Looks like we have some competition this year.
A loud buzzer wakes me up, and a slightly overweight woman stops by my cell.
"Reaping day, bitch," she says, slamming my cell door open. She reminded me, but I never forgot. I haven't slept in three days, and the woman leads me and some of the other prisoners out to the reaping. But I noticed that I was the only girl that was with the group. She knew I had to volunteer. All of us were led out of the jail in cuffs, and we watch our loony escort make her way to the stage. She was wearing her favorite outfit, which consisted of a pink and white top, and what she calls "aquarium pants" which are basically jeans covered by a large bag full of fish, clams, seahorses, crustaceans, seaweed, and water that went down to her ankles. Every time she moved, the bag would jiggle, and a clam or two would flip over. She has named every creature living in her pants. They call it fashion, I call it stupidity.
"Welcome to the thing! You know, the thing!" she calls. As usual, District 7 looks at her like she's from a different planet, which, for all we know, may not be far from the truth, with all the space travel and shit going on. She walks over to the girls' bowl, and I can swear I see a seahorse looking at me, pleading to get out of her pants.
"I volunteer!" I shout, quickly interrupting her, just to keep that poor girl from nearly having a heart attack.
"Yes, you with the blond hair," the escort says. I look around in confusion, and see a blond girl, standing at nearly six feet, and she makes her way to the stage.
"But I volunteered!" I yell. I push my way through the crowd, knowing that if I don't enter the Games, then I'll for sure die.
"Well, I'll choose-"
"Hold up!" the girl says. "I want to be in these Games!"
"Well I need to be in these Games!" I shout in her face.
"Girls! Girls, girls! Calm down! Let's let your mayor decide for us, shall we?" she asks. The whole crwd stares at the mayor, and he, knowing my situation, points at me. The other girl gives him the bird and walks off.
"I'll be back next year!" she yells.
Our escort jiggles her pants over to the boys' bowl and reaches in to call out a name.
"Soul Silence!" she calls. A boy, with a sadistic grin on his face, makes his way up to the stage, eyeing me as his first victim. He looked a bit younger than me, but I bet he'll make a couple kills in the arena.
All of the sudden, I see nothing. Then I see us arrive at the Capitol, and the aquarium pants pop at the seams, and then my vision floods back to me. The escort has both our hands in the air announcing us to the crowd, and I know of the horrible fate that awaits her pants. I sigh slowly and put my hand on my face as soon as the escort lets go.
I wake up and quickly run out the door and make my way to the reaping center. It's gotten to the point where I wake up at the exact time of the reaping each year because, let's be honest, lots of throat-squeezing happens, and it's on national television. I make my way into a spot where I can see, and all the girls back away in fear. I watch the escort make her way onto the stage. She has lots of gold rings around her neck, which she claims are derived from ancient culture from an island she called "Borneo," but all I see is an extra-long neck to squeeze. Even so, I don't think back in ancient times they'd color their nck rings rainbow. She walks by the mocrophone and holds it up to her mouth.
"Hello, District 8! Are you all enjoying this morning? I'm sure you are! Today, I'm here to reap a young man and woman so that they may participate in the Games! Aren't you excited?" I hoot and holler, but no one else says a word.
"Let's get going, shall we?" She reaches her hand into the girls' bowl and shakes her hand violently, nearly knocking the bowl off more than once.
"Rebekah Ure!" she yells. I walk up to the stage and grin widely. Though I never considered if I were in the Games, I guess it would be fun to squeeze a couple throats myself, and do it legally, and on national television. I guess it's better than I thought! I'm excited now! I glance over at the boys and they look terrified, and rightfully so. I'm going to win this.
"Moro Katler!" she calls. A boy walks up to the stage with each of his hairs parallel with dull grey eyes, and he looked up at our escort's Bornean neck rings, and at the blue one in particular that was a bit disaligned. He looked like he so badly wanted to fix it. Just judging by that, I can already tell he's an OCD freak. Maybe I'll put a grain of white rice in his brown rice. This should be fun.
"Now let's hear it for District 8!" she calls. No one responded. Of course.
The sun shines directly into my eyes as I open them and stand up. I feel good and refreshed, like I can do anything. I grab my spear and hold it in my hand, and I feel as if my mother's spirit is still lingering within this purple scarf. She will be with be if I am reaped today. I'll probably go into the Hunger Games, and I'm proud to go. I run over through bustling streets, narrow alleys, and winding roads, and eventually make my way to the reaping. I watch as our mayor stands on the stage with a headdress made of wheat. She looks down at me, as if she knew I had taken all of those tesserae. The crowd hasn't yet filled up yet, and only about fifty people are here. That's awfully strange, considering how the reaping starts in less than a minute. All of the sudden, I hear a loud bang. Gunshots. I would recognize them anywhere. People began filing in, and one woman walks in with her hand over her right thigh, and I see blood seeping between her fingers. I want to look away, but I can't. She lets out screams of agony, but no one helps her. A tall woman with blush and hair the color of that woman's blood walks up to the stage and smiles. District 9 rotates escorts, and this one, I remember to have a very thick Capitol accent.
"Welcome to the Hourglath Gameth!" she says. Yep. That's the one. Purposely lisping, wide vowel sounds, and what some call the "Valley Girl" accent, where she ends every sentence as if it were a question.
"Ath you know, we are hothting a special Games thith year, and I am proud to reprethent Dithtrict 9 ath an ethcort!" Last year's victor, sitting in a chair next to our victor, was only fourteen when he won, but I can tell he already has a lot of alcohol in his system.
"Cut the crap! Get to the reaping!" he shouts. The escort still smiles on, but I can tell she's angry. She reaches into the girls' bowl. I know the name she'll call out.
"Scarlet Burn!" she yells. I make my way up to the stage. Just in the front row, I see families I sold tesserae to, and they're already looking better, as they could spend their money on other necessities, not just food.
"Konami Aretino!" she calls. I honestly didn't even notice she moved. A boy walks up, and I remember his face. He was a huge fan of one of our previous victors who was of Japanese descent. Oh no. It's me, Lady Lisp-a-lot, a fifteen year-old drunk, and a weeaboo. Yay.
I open my eyes and see that it's still dark outside. My friend Noma is sitting up in his bed.
"Are you scared?" he asks me. His grey eyes shine in the moonlight, and his face is pale without a blemish on it. Such an innocent child. Of couse he'd be scared.
"I won't be reaped, Noma, and neither will you," I assure him. Both of us are twelve, and we rely on the orphanage for food, so we don't take tesserae. How could we be reaped with only one slip in each?
"What if we are?" he says. "To be honest, I'm not so scared of being killed, but if I were to kill someone..."
He looks out the window in a trance.
"I don't know how that would feel," I say to him. But I do. And it felt horrible. I can remember it vividly.
Dad has his gun out. He's calling me for dinner. I'm just sitting here in a cabinet, waiting for the right opportunity. It feels so wrong, but at the same time, it feels so right. I hold the knife in my right hand, feeling power surge through my veins.
"Saadia," he calls. "Time for dinner, sweetheart!"
I slowly push the cabinet door open. He jumps over here incredibly fast and as he's about to shoot, I jump out. He shoots and leaves a large hole in the cabinet. He aims again, but I jump forward before he can, and the knife is clutched in my hand. I raise it, and watch as his finger nearly pushes the trigger, but my knife hits him first...
"Saadia," Noma says. I gasp, and look at him.
"Want breakfast?" he says. I honestly don't feel like eating now, but I'll be polite.
"Sure," I repond, smiling, trying to put my father out of my mind. Mrs. May, the woman who runs the orphanage, sits down in a chair as we enter, and greets us with a half-hearted smile. Her eyes are red, and I think she may have been crying. Last year, she lost a boy from this orphanage. She didn't want to lose another. She stands up, and calls her husband in, holding two bowls of porridge on a tray. He comes to our table and hold the tray near us. The two of us each take a bowl and taste it. She had put extra honey in it, just the way we like it. So many times, I've seen people talk about people who run orphanages as abusers, hateful, and all-around bad people, but in this case, that can't be farther from the truth. These two are the sweetest people I've met, devoting their entire lives to the care of children. As we finish our porridge, they go to wake up the rest of the kids, and feed each one. After they finish, the Mays take us out of the house, and hug us each, as if it were the last time, which it could possibly be. The Mays have three horses, and they offered them to the older children, as, like I said, could be their last time riding them. We follow them on foot, and watch District 10's daily occurances are on display. Just like most days, two breeders sit outside, bickering over which has the better stock of cows. A young girl carrying a bucket of milk trips and spills it on a woman's lawn, who then proceeds to yell at her. A butcher yells at his employees in a rushed District 10 accent that I still haven't completely picked up. My mother was from District 7, so I wasn't born speaking that way.
Suddenly, I realize we're already at the reaping square of District 10, or the Dung District, as some affectionately call it. Our escort appears dressed in stereotypical District 10 clothing. Leather vest, cow-printed shirt, ten-gallon hat, and torn blue jeans. He swings a lasso in his hands and attempts to swing it around the microphone. He knocks it over, and we hear a loud screeching noise that I heard some people call "static" once. After he finishes his act, he doesn't even start out with the typical welcomes.
"My name is Marcus Haubertain," he says. "Now for the names." His hand stretches out into the girls' bowl and selects a name. He holds it close to his face, and shouts at the top of his lungs like an announcer at a wrestling match in the Capitol.
"Saadia Gaena!" The first thing I hear is Mrs. May shriek. A Peacekeeper holds her back, and I can hear her shouting.
"No! No! She's like a child to me! Please!" she yells. The Peacekeeper grabs Noma and holds a gun to his head.
"Scream again, and I'll kill him!" he shouts. Mrs. May wipes the tears away, and I watch as Noma looks at me. Both of us are in terrible predicaments. I want so badly to reach out and snatch Noma, but I know that it would cause all three of us to get shot.
"Go!" a Peacekeeper yells at me. I quickly rush up to the stage. The escort grabs a slip of paper and shouts out to the audience in that same voice.
"Buck Rockwell!" he calls. A pale boy whose hair has already started to grey a little walks up to the stage. I can see in his eyes that no one should mess with him. Inside of his eyes, shining in the sun, I see something insecure about him.
"Saadia Gaena and Buck Rockwell, everyone!" The only noise made that very minute in District 10 is the sound of cow manure plopping onto the ground. This is why District 10 never wins.
The first thing I wake up to is a scream.
"Calm down, Baylyn, sweetie," my mother said in the voice that could calm a murderer. But Baylyn was worse.
"But, but I'm going to die!" she said, screaming. I got up, put my clothes on, and walked out of my room, and saw her over my father's shoulders, grabbing the doorframe as if it was the only thing keeping her alive.
"Baylyn," I say with a tear falling down my face.
"Bee! Save me! He's trying to kill me! Like he did to Ben..."
I saw her face turn red, and she let out a shriek, and bit my father on the arm. She began flailing her legs around wildly, and my mother ran off in tears. My mother believes she has dissociative identity disorder. She can change from angry to calm to scared to silent at the blink of an eye. Certain things trigger it, and now she's angry. She only goes by certain names when she's in these states, and doesn't recognize "Baylyn" at all, except for her "host personality," if you will, when she's scared.
"Samantha," I say, trying to calm her down.
"What?!" she says angrily.
"You won't be reaped. I promise. Cross my heart."
She looks at me, and I go over to her, and my father watches over his shoulder. I give her a hug, and I can almost see her change in front of me.
"Cecelia?" I ask.
"Yeah, Bee?" she says. "Wait, why am I on dad's shoulder?"
"Come on, we need to go to-"
My father puts his finger over his mouth.
"Somewhere," I say. He puts her down, and she walks along side me.
"Where to?" she says.
"You'll see," I tell her. As we walk down the street, I watch a woman picking eggplants out of her garden. She waves at us, but after, she goes straight back into her house. Mrs. Tray, I think. Her kids are too old to be reaped now, so she watches from home. As we arrive to the reaping, Baylyn turns red. She's turned into Samantha now. She screams and tries to run, but dad picks her up, and mom sees. The woman at the reaping center pricks my finger and puts it down on the paper.
"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to put her down," she says, in an almost monotone voice.
"Ma'am, we're identical twins," I tell her. "We have the same DNA. Just take mine again."
"Do you really want her to give you a concussion?" I ask her. She pricks my finger again and identifies me again, this time as Baylyn.
"That's what I thought," I tell her.
As we arrive, I see our escort doing her impersonation of blackface on stage again. I hate the Capitol.
"Now for the reaping thing," he says. "Welcome, yada, yada, yada, now time to get the names."
He sticks his hand in the bowl and doesn't even try to add anticipation. Just puts his hand in and calls out a name.
"Baylyn Clio!" he yells. She goes silent. She looks around, and doesn't say a word. Everyone looks at her, because they haven't seen her in years.
"Come on up!" the escort says. Sorry, not escort, but racist fuck.
"Lucy," I whisper into her ear.
"Bee, I can't," she says into my ear with a voice softer than a mouse's.
She can't move. She's frozen in fear. And I don't want to lose my sister.
"I volunteer!" I shout to the entirety of District 11. I've just signed my death certificate.
"Well then! Looks like we have a volunteer! What's your name, bitch, I-I mean, kiddo?"
"Bee Clio," I say, my head spinning. I watch as the escort heads over to the other bowl and he shouts out a name.
"Baylyn Clio!" he calls. What? I look and watch a boy go up to the podium. Before he can, I hear someone.
"I volunteer!" a boy yells.
"Wow! Our escort yells. Two volunteers! What's your name?"
He comes up to the stage.
"Baylyn Clio," he says, smiling. What the fuck is happening?
"Alright! Your two tributes this year, Baylyn Clio, and Baylyn Clio!" The crows responds saying nothing, but I think I've lost my mind. Now that I think about it, was Baylyn actually reaped? Did I do this for nothing? Maybe I'm the crazy one, not Baylyn. And I'm going into the Hunger Games.
You're going to die. I hear in my head.
I think I am the crazy one.
My alarm clock buzzes and I hop out of bed. I look at my ratty room, small and dirty, but it's my ratty, small, and dirty room. I walk out and see the luxurious chandelier hanging on the ceiling, the gold plated stairs, and the plush velvet carpeting on the floor. I walk down the stairs plated in gold and and look at our marble floors so clean you could see your reflection in them. I look at the end of the room and see my parents working on their computers, my father creating some new social media site, and my mother contacting the Head Gamemaker over a deal on which Capitol citizens could watch the Games streamed live on their bPads. I can't tell you how rare it is for someone in District 12 to be supportive of the Games, but my parents are money hungry, and so much so, that they barely feed me. I walk by them, and notice my father is drinking a glass of wine.
"Not gonna wish me luck at the reaping?" I ask. My mother glances at me, but goes back to her computer.
"Well don't drink too much. Or else you might have another one," I say. Neither acknowledge me, but I don't care. I go out and smell burning coal outside of our neighbors' house, and watch as they desperately try to clean it up. Some rotten kid must've thrown it there. I head over to help, but they look at me in a condescending way, so I walk back slowly. I feel like I keep messing up. In what seems like an instant, I'm at the reaping center. The man there grabs my finger and pricks it. Many people in front of me hate it, but I've cut myself before. Blood doesn't bother me too much anymore. A woman appears on stage and introduces herself.
"My name is Francine Crouton," she says, "and I will be your escort this year."
Unlike the rest of the Capitol, she speaks in an almost monotone voice, and probably doesn't care about the Hunger Games.
"I love croutons!" a boy in the back row shouts.
"Yum," she replies. "Aren't you all excited? Now for the girls, we have Sofia Bulgar. I drew the names before the reaping started to prevent a waste of time."
All I can think about was Ivan at this point. He was a boy I liked before he, well, violated me. Would it be as bad as that? I just want someone to care about me. Someone to lean on.
I make my way up to the stage, and watch as the escort calls out a name, but a boy volunteers with long blond hair.
"Jonty Chang," he says into the microphone, imitating Ms. Crouton's voice. He laughs about it afterwards.
"What a weirdo," he whispers into my ear.
"Do you think this is funny?" I ask him.
"Uh, yeah," he responds. He walks back.
"Jonty Chang and Sofia Bulgar, everyone. We have to get to the train now."
I watch as District 12 fades from my view, and wonder if I'll make it back. I have to. But what for?
I slip on my knuckles once again and draw my fist back. I thrust it forward into a dummy, and watch it fly back.
"How many feet?" I ask the only other person here, a girl training with weights.
"Ninety-eight," she says. New record. After everyone died, it's really the only thing that comforts me. Though I'm fascinated by pain, I don't think I'll be able to force it upon someone else. That's what the dummies are for.
"Tidy up, time for the reaping," a woman shouts at the top of her lungs. Though she says to tidy up, naturally, I don't. I slip out without her noticing. I take an elevator down to the bottom floor of District 13, reserved for the reapings. I'm a bit late, but I don't care. Everyone's already showed up, and the escort is just now getting to the names. She reaches into the girls' bowl and shouts out a name.
"Tabby Eldane!" she calls.
"No! Tabby!" a girl calls. "You're my friend! I volunteer!" she yells.
The girl, apparently named Tabby, yells at the other girl.
"No Karla! You can't! I can do this!"
"But I'm going to save you!" Karla calls. The escort pushes Tabby off and takes Karla's hand.
"What's your name sweetie?" the escort asks with a huge grin on her face.
"Karla," she says timidly.
"Karla Flake," she responds.
"I saved you-"
"Now for the boys," the escort interrupts.
"I was talking!" Karla shouts. She begins to cry a bit. "Interrupting is mean!"
The escort turns red as a tomato, which is quite an accomplishment because before, she was green as a cucumber.
"Electro Martimine," she shouts to the crowd. Victors have told their stories of being called. They mentioned hands sweating, heart pounding, legs shaking, but I don't feel a thing. I've faced enough death for a long while. As I walk up there, Karla shies away from me, and the escort grabs my hand and rushes me and Karla to the elevator.
I stroke my white wisps of hair as I watch Luca, the man I slept with last night wake up in cuffs. For a while, he forgot he was here. I watched as he lay there, trying to scream for help, nearly naked, and with a gash in his side. Something about it was very... appealing.
I slipped on some clothing and casually walked out of the door, watching Luca struggle. How cute. Most of my victims live in a large apartment building, so I must admit, I've gotten a few close calls. The duct tape is necessary. I head to the elevator and go down from where he lives, the 69th floor, down to the lobby. Everyone's favorite number. And position.
The elevator shoots down and I enter the lobby and head out the door. The Capitol's airbus waits for me outside, and I hop on it just as it's engine starts back up, and watch as it soars through the streets and eventually lifts off. Every kid in the Capitol meets up here, and considering how huge the Capitol is, there's a big crowd. Some people in the Capitol argue that the Games should only be for the districts, but I disagree. The reason the Capitol began participating is to give the people someone to root for, and that's good enough for me. Also, if means two extra tributes get slaughtered, so I'm all for it. The bus begins to descend, and hundreds of people walk off and storm into the audience. The President sits down where a district's mayor normally would, and the Head Gamemaker sits beside him. The escort is wearing a suit made of some material that reflects light perfectly, making it appear to be a mirror.
"Welcome!" the escort calls to the audience, waving his hand back and forth. The crowd has a mixture of cheers and boos, as it always does.
"Recently, we've discovered that it is in fact possible to travel by opening wormholes," he says.
Everyone seems to be amazed by this, as if they've not heard that these Games will occur.
"To celebrate this great accomplishment, the Capitol has decided to host another special Hunger Games! Now before we get to the Games themselves, we have to see who's going to participate in them.
"Loreli Hayes!" The name echoes throughout the Capitol. A girl with pink hair walks up to the stage, looking like she might cry any second now. The escort smiles and pats her on the head and trots over to the other bowl.
"Leo Remus!" he yells. A boy walks up, but before he gets up, I raise my hand as high as I can and shout.
"I volunteer!" I yell.
"Well then, looks like we have a volunteer! What's your name, son?" he says.
"Absol Solstice," I say while running up to the stage. As I get a better look at him, he looks really attractive.
Oh wait, that's me.
"Loreli Hayes and Absol Solstice, everybody!" The crowd cheers a bit, and a couple people in the crowd cover their eyes as the sun reflects off of his suit and back into their eyes. We head to a limousine waiting for us, and I notice a miniature television it it like the have in airplanes. Now I can look at each and every tribute I have the chance to kill.
Glow Décor: District 1
As we cram ourselves into the elevator with almost fifteen people in it, I smile in delight as I see all of my potential victims waiting for me to thrust my spear into their chests. Just the thought of it makes me smile. The elevator dings, and we exit, and meet our trainer, who is rather tall, and shouts at us all as we enter the newly remade training center.
"Now," he shouts in a voice that was impossibly deep, probably due to Capitol surgery. Odin from 2 yawns, and the trainer gives him the evil eye.
"My name is Harlan, and I will be the Head Trainer for the Hourglass Games. Now I want you all to remember that we have a total of forty stations, and each is beneficial, even those that don't involve weapons or combat." He looks over at the Careers as he says those words. I have feeling that he doesn't want one of us to win.
He continues yakking on about how last year fifteen tributes died of starvation, and only the remaining twelve were actually killed by other competitors. Those were pretty boring. I look around to size up my competition. The Careers all look decently strong, and I've noticed lots of others that are eyeing us about becoming Careers. I can see at least five that want to get in with us, and I doubt any will be good enough. I look over at the two twelve year olds, both of which looks pretty weak. The girl from 8, Rebekah, I think, and Saadia from 10. The Careers, as usual look pretty strong, though District 4 looks awfully thin. I honestly can't wait until the Games. That being said, here we can view which tributes may be the toughest and eliminate the little competition we have.
"Ahem," the trainer says, focusing his eyes on me.
"I can tell you were listening young lady. Just to make sure you were, tell me my name." Like I give two shits. And no, I don't know his name.
"Scram," he says. The Careers head over to a mixed-weapons station, and we watch as a total of seven tributes follow us there, each acting as if they've gotten a spot on the team. Shit.
Fawn Readen: District 4
"Okay then, little shits, show me what you've got." Odin stands up strong, lifting his sleeve up a bit, showing his muscular tan arms, and winks at me a bit. Though I'm not really interested, I can feel myself blush.
The seven line up, and I see Nathaniel from 3, Hiro from 5, Juline from 6, Soul Silence from 7, Scarlet Burn from 9, Buck from 10, Lucas Mines from 11, and Jonty Chang from 12. All of them look decently strong, except maybe Hiro. Fox walks up to my side. He and I can read each other so well, we can tell which ones we think will do good. Angel leads them into the empty chamber in the mixed weapons station, and the eight stand around a life-size Cornucopia, and fifty feet are sprawled out from any side of it. Even though I don't pride myself on being a typical Career, I'm looking forward to training there. Twenty-eight plates pop up, and the trainer, in a small glass box above them, reminds them that they can only hurt the virtual people, not each other. Each of the seven has a glowing green belt, that as the trainer explained, should turn red once they would've died in the actual arena. The timer goes off, and every real and virtual person runs into the Cornucopia.
"All we need is some popcorn, and it would be just like the regular Games," Angel said, giggling a bit. Juline takes a sword and stabs the her virtual district partner in the chest, and we hear a loud cannon seconds later. Hiro runs in and takes a knife, but as he bends down to pick it up, the hologram of the District 10 female stabs him in the neck. His belt turns red, and he exits, narrowly avoiding Soul's scythe, as it plunges into the District 1 female's collarbone. He exits, and Bronze laughs histerically at him, and he exits, with a look of disappointment in his eyes. As I look back, I see Jonty and Lucas fighting alongside each other, and the District 13 male's hologram threw a virtual spear so hard it pierced both of their skulls. Their belts turned red in unison, and they left, looking back in jealousy at the five remaining competitors. Buck jumped over the axe of the District 4 female's hologram, or, should I say, my hologram. Scarlet nearly beheaded Juline as she swung a sword she saw laying on the floor around, and Juline didn't seem to happy about it. One of the figures swung at Scarlet, causing her belt to beep red, and she left solemnly. Finally, Soul was swung at with an axe, causing him to swear, and throw a scythe at Nathaniel, who caught it, and Odin tapped a button on the screen, and the holograms disappeared. Juline and Nathaniel stepped out, and Fox smiled. Buck looked at Odin and asked him to turn the simulation back on.
"Welcome to the Careers!" Glow said in glee, as she took Juline's hand and headed right back into the simulator.
The rest of us followed them in, and we knew we'd enjoy training this year.
Hiro Kahn: District 5
That was horrible. I just wanted to prove my family wrong by making my way into the Careers, but I couldn't even do that. My family had the spirits of Careers, but I just never went with it. I look around and see Saadia prancing across the Gauntlet, and Electro punching dummies so hard they went skyward. Rebekah was tearing a dummy to shreds with her bare hands, and I watched as Odin, Glow, and Bronze, sweating from playing around in the simulation, threw triplet spears that landed in the center of their targets. I might as well give up now. The competition is fierce this year, and I don't know how I'll survive for long. I guess I might as well try.
"Would you like to try some knife throwing?" a perky blond woman says, smiling with glee.
"Sure," I said meakly. I walked over to the board holding the knives and took one out and studied it. I brought it behind my head a bit, and then launched it off. It hits a bullseye, and the woman smiles and looks impressed. Jonty from 12 comes over, apparently impressed. I would be too, but it wasn't the target I was aiming for. But they don't need to know that.
Karla Flake: District 13
All of the tributes settle in for lunch, and I look around, hoping to find a friend. Many of them smile at me, but none come any closer. I miss Tabby so much, but I'm so happy that I saved her. A girl smiles at me and sits down across me. I smile and wave at her, and she gets comfortable in her seat.
"I'm Karla!" I tell her.
"Hi Karla, I'm Loreli," she says, smiling at me with beautiful silver eyes. I think she's from the Capitol. "Wanna be allies?" she asks.
"Yes!" I say. I walk a round to hug her, and her face turns a bit red.
"Thank you," I tell her. "I like your hair," I say.
"Thank you," she says, stroking her long, pink locks. "I like yours too," she says.
"You do?" I ask her. She's so nice to me. No one except Tabby has ever said that to me.
"What kind of food do you like here?" I ask her, staring at the plate that Lucas brings to his table. I can feel my mouth water.
"We eat this kind of stuff at home. I really like this." She holds out her dish, showing me what looked like some beef between two slices of bread.
"What's that?" I ask her.
"It's a hamburger," she says. "The beef is from District 10."
"We don't have those in Thirteen," I tell her. "Mind if we split it?" I ask her.
"No problem," she says, slicing it with a knife and putting one half onto my plate. I take my fork and put my fork onto the hamburger and plunge it in.
"You're supposed to eat it with your hands," she says. The two of us share a chuckle, and I take it into my mouth, and taste it. Not only is Loreli nice, but she has great taste.
Jonty Chang: District 12
"Good morning," our escort, Francine Crouton calls with a voice as flat as District 5. I jolt awake, and she's standing right above me with a tray in her hands. She has a hot bowl of broccoli soup with some, you guessed it, croutons, on the side. She sets it down of my lap.
"Does it make you sad that I'm eating your family?" I ask her, laughing. She tips over the bowl and spills soup all over my shirt.
"Whoops," she says, in her still monotone voice. It's hot as fuck. I can feel the heat surge into my skin, and I want to strangle her.
"Let me change," I say, flipping her off in the process.
After I change, I walk out to see Sofia having some of her own soup, and the old escort is just sitting around, barking at an imaginary fly.
"Well I'll be downstairs," I say awkwardly. None of them could care less about me. I take the elevator down, and we stop at the fifth floor, and the boy, Hiro, I think, gets on.
"I saw you throw that knife yesterday," I tell him.
"You did?" he says, scratching the back of his neck.
"Yeah. I want you as an ally," I tell him. He looks up at me, seemingly surprised.
"You do?" He seems pretty unsure of himself, but I saw him throw that knife. He has skill.
"Sure," I say.
"Alright," he replies. We ride the elevator down in silence. An awkward silence, might I add. Though he seems like a good ally, I'm not completely sure we'll do a lot of talking.
Loreli Hayes: Capitol
As I exit the elevator, I see Karla, and immediately run up to her, and see her destroying the plant identification tables. I feel like I'm really good at selecting allies.
"Hi Karla!" She looks up, her hands still dancing across the screen, not making a single mistake.
"Loreli!" she says. "Wanna join?"
"Come on." She pushes a button and the screen resets, and it shows some basic vein patterns, shapes, and colors, and explains which are poisonous, and which aren't. It also shows exceptions, various combinations, and different rules for when you're in different locations.
"Ready?" she says. I'm not, but I still respond, telling her I am.
She's sliding frames into various sections at lightning speed, and I'm doing about one every ten seconds. Occasionally, she'll push one of mine into a different category, and I'm still not as fast as her, though I think I may pick up the hang of it. We see our scores, and she obliterated me, but she still smiles.
"You did good!" she says, with that sweet smile on her face. Seeing it makes me feel calm, and makes me think of simpler times, when we could just smile like that.
"Thanks," I reply. "Wanna try again?" She sets up the machine, and we yet again return to sorting the plants.
Before the Games
If there are any other items you want to send your tribute, please let me know in the comments, and if I allow you to send it, I will give you a price and put it on this list.
Food & Beverages
Quart of Water (Good for two days): $40
Quart of Milk (Good for two days): $50
Gallon of Water (Good for eight days): $175
Gallon of Milk (Good for eight days): $215
Fruit (Apple, Orange, or Pear): $40
Three Fruits: $90
Four Celery Sticks: $45
Loaf of Bread: $35
Chicken Breasts: $75
Turkey Breasts: $60
Breakfast Burrito (Eggs, Potato, Bacon): $80
Pop Tarts: $55
Thanksgiving Feast (Whole Turkey, Stuffing with Gravy, Warm Mashed Potatoes, Cranberry Sauce, Corn on the Cob, Pumpkin Pie) (Can feed your tribute virtually the entire Games): $550
Quiver (With 12 arrows): $35
Combat Knife: $60
Eight Throwing Knives: $150
Ten Rocks: $30
Twelve Darts: $50
Small Vial of Poison (Three Uses): $75
Large Vial of Poison (Eight Uses): $175
Seven Shuriken: $90
Brass Knuckles: $120
First-Aid Kit: $155
Magical Pop Tart (Cures any injuries): $450
Sleeping Bag: $70
Full-Body Armor: $350
Fishing Pole: $60
Fish Bait: $30
Batteries (Work for five days): $25
Camouflage Paint: $70
Night Vision Goggles: $160
Starting Off: $500
Survive to Final 12: $75
Survive to Final 6: $150
Survive a Trial: $40
First to Enter a New Location: $60
Bronze Lucarin (1)
Amelia Steeltoe (5)
Buck Rockwell (10)
Glow Décor (1)
Karla Flake (13)
Absol Solstice (C)
Odin Amarth (2)
Angel Orthodox (2)
Nathaniel Chirp (3)
Aislyn Latona (3)
Fox Readen (4)
Fawn Readen (4)
Hiro Kahn (5)
Moro Katler (8)
Ziggs Marchant (6)
Juline Cenia (6)
Lucas Mines (11)
Loreli Hayes (C)
Soul Silence (7)
Cassandra Oracion (7)
Rebekah Ure (8)
Konami Aretino (9)
Scarlet Burn (9)
Bee Clio (11)
Saadia Gaena (10)
Sofia Bulgar (12)
Jonty Chang (12)
|Toast With The Most||
Electro Martimine (13)
|Placing||Tribute||District||Day Killed||Cause of Death||Killer|