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Hello! Most of you already know that I am back on the wiki from my hiatus, but I haven't done any new games. Well, after completing two games, I tried to make a third and a fourth, but I got so overwhelmed, that I cancelled them both. The 101st Games never even started, but I had gotten about a quarter way through the 100th games. I WILL NOT finish writing them, but I did post a complete death list of the 98 tributes, so you can head over and see how your tribute did (there were numerous winners).
All that said, I am hosting my 5th (3 1/2?) Games, and I WILL WRITE THESE. I promise, :3
This is NOT a quell. There are 2 tributes, 1 male and 1 female, from Districts 1-12. A normal Hunger Games.
Here are some rules you MUST follow. Thanks for being awesome!
1. You may submit up to 2 tributes! That's the limit!
2. Try to make the name sound nice, alright? No Zapp Zigzag or Candy Funfun or Gigi Fifi.
3. DO NOT use names you have given to others, PLEASE MAKE UP A NEW TRIBUTE for these games!
4. There will be NO stylists, escorts or mentors.
6. Do not get upset at me for delays in updates. I am 19, I do have a job, college and a boyfriend that all need attendance, so I may not get to update everyday, or even every couple of days.
7. Try not to get upset at me for tribute deaths. They happen.
8. Reservations last 3 days. If you do not submit within 3 days, I will open the spots up again.
9. Try to be nice to me, and everyone else. I will not accept rudeness in the comment section.
10. Feel free to correct any mistakes I made. Just do it kindly!
11. Have fun!
12. For tribute submissions, please fill out the following forms: (Limit 2 submissions)
Weapon of choice:
Appearance (Iclude Height: WRITE OUT THE DESCRIPTION, DO NOT MAKE A LUNAII):
^READ THE RULES^
ALSO, A FAIR WARNING TO EVERYBODY. THIS STORY WILL CONTAIN SOME MATURE LANGUAGE, SO IF ANYONE HAS A PROBLEM WITH THAT, PLEASE LET ME KNOW SO I CAN TRY TO TONE IT DOWN. THANKS!
ALSO, THE GAMES WILL BE WRITTEN IN ALTERNATING FIRST PERSON POV'S. THIS MEANS NOT EVERYONE WILL GET A FIRST PERSON POV, OR EVEN SPEAK, BECUASE THEY COULD DIE FIRST. HAPPY HUNGER GAMES!
I WILL BE WRITING THE REAPINGS AND THE GAMES. NOTHING ELSE.
This is the arena for the 105th Hunger Games. I will briefly explain it.
UNDERWATER FACTORY: All the tributes will start the games in a factory entirely submerged underwater. Of the seven areas of the arena, this section is the largest. The tributes will start in the center of the factory, with the Cornucopia being a large, square room made entirely of gold-plated metal. Inside this room are advanced survival materials, such as the better weapons and packs containing better equipment. Outside of the room, there are scattered packs containing less valuable supplies, as well as less threatening weapons. There are six tribute plates on each side of the Cornucopia. Scattered elsewhere in the arena are various rooms, placed on six seperate levels. The rooms contain supplies, and are valuable for hiding and camouflage. The only sources of food and water in this section are packs lucky enough to container either nurishmenth, liquids, or both. This section will contain monster-esque mutts. There are six tubes on the bottom level (the tributes start on the top level), three on each side, and they each lead to a different square shaped biome on top of the water.
DESERT AREA: The northwest tube leads to the desert biome. This biome, clearly, is sand dunes, cacti and no source of shade or protection as far as the eye can see. In the center of the desert, there is an oasis containing advanced supplies, as well as a source of fresh water and food. This arena offers little to no cover for camouflage, and only the most confident tributes should dare to venture here.
MOUNTAINOUS: The westernmost tube leads the the mountainous biome. This biome is filled with large mountains, smaller hills, dense pine forests, and valleys/gorges. This biome can be cold, but over all, is temperate. This biome is full of areas for camouflage and hiding, and is abundant with supplies, as well as sources of fresh water and food. However, the terrain here can be difficult to traverse, and this biome is full of vicious bear and wolf mutts.
SWEET MEADOWS: The southwestern tube leads to the sweet meadows biome. This biome is comprised of rolling fields of tall, emerald grasses, mixed with a savannah-like southern portion. There are few trees scattered about, and a few pools of fresh water. This biome offers little other than camouflage. There are some supplies, and sources of food or fresh water- however, they are few and far between. There are no mutts.
SPARSE FOREST: The northeastern tube leads to the sparse forest biome. This biome is a sparser forest than the one in the mountainous biome. It is a source of camouflage, supplies, food and fresh water. It has three or four fresh streams and waterfalls that flow freely in the biome. There are lynx-like mutts, as well as classical jabberjays. This biome is one of the easier ones to survive in.
DEEP JUNGLE: The easternmost tube leads to the deep jungle biome. This biome reminiscent of the Amazon Rainforest. The trees in this biome tower far up into the azure skies, and there are long, large rivers flowing through the biome. This biome is the most abundant with opportunites for camouflage, supplies, as well as fresh food and water. However, this biome is the most dangerous of the seven sections to survive in. It is extremely hard to traverse, and is extremely easy to get lost in- and when you're lost, you may never be able to make it out. The longer you are lost, the less likely your chances of survival are. This biome is filled with dangerous, mostly poisonous mutts.
FROZEN TUNDRA: The southeastern tube leads to the frozen tundra biome. This biome is relatively useless in terms of anything needed for survival- except for one thing that makes it alluring. There are special rules for this biome. This is a normal games in which one tribute will be crowned the victor- unless a special circumstance. Any tribute able to reach the furthest edge of this biome- braving the constant blizzard, lack of any useful supplies, and ravenous polarbear mutts- and reach a special golden platform will automatically be crowned a victor and removed from the games, even if there are still tributes left. This does not stop the games however, as the others left will still have to fight. There is no limit to how many tributes may reach this spot and win, thus meaning this games can have anywhere from 1-24 victors. However, the tributes must judge wether or not they are hardy enough to brave the trek.
NOTE: In a special circumstance where all 24 tributes attempt to reach this spot without killing eachother, and 23 of the 24 die along the journey, the last one alive will be crowned the victor wether they make it to the platform or not.
Hope you guys like it! <3 -HM
SPONSOR QUESTION: WHOEVER GIVES MY FAVORITE ANSWER WILL WIN THE RIGHT TO SEND THEIR TRIBUTE ONE ITEM, AND I WILL CHOOSE WETHER THAT ITEM IS ACCEPTABLE FOR SENDING THE TRIBUTE.
Question: Come up with an awesome name for an alien planet, and also name 6 continents on the planet.
Please, answer this question in response to my comment in the comment section. Thanks! <3 -HM
|District 1 (Luxury) Male:||Mason Ekon, 13||Blow Gun/Sword||Junior ii|
|District 1 (Luxury) Female:||Luna Thydell, 16||Trident/Throwing Knives||EHKnight|
District 2 (Masonry) Male:
|Sherwood Allen, 18||Sword/Spear||Beetee19|
|District 2 (Masonry) Female:||Shermaine Wilson, 17||Double Swords||Annamisasa|
|District 3 (Technology) Male:||Astre Celestius, 12||Traps/Slingshot||TeenageDream19|
|District 3 (Technology) Female:||Dagmar Cither, 13||Blowgun||Beautiful Mistake|
|District 4 (Fishing) Male:||Arios Titano, 17||Spear/Sword||Hybrid Shadow|
|District 4 (Fishing) Female:||Imogen Night, 14||Dagger/Sword||District1 Obsessed|
District 5 (Power) Male:
|Basilisk Crown, 18||Chains/Throwing Knives||Hybrid Shadow|
|District 5 (Power) Female:||Alice Scythe, 18||Chain/Knives||EHKnight|
|District 6 (Transportation) Male:||Twine Shadows, 15||Sword, Knife, Throwing Knives||AxedFox|
|District 6 (Transportation) Female:||Danika Ophiuchi, 13||Bow/Camouflage||Junior ii|
|District 7 (Lumber) Male:||Axel Willow, 18||Axes||Mistymolla|
|District 7 (Lumber) Female:||Grania Palmeira, 16||Bow/Knives||ViniciusDeAssis1999|
|District 8 (Textiles) Male:||Aric Coburn, 16||Traps/Knife||ThenaAirice|
|District 8 (Textiles) Female:||Lavender Tweed, 13||Bow and Arrows||Mistymolla|
|District 9 (Grain) Male:||Ezekiel Halvaret, 16||Knife/Dagger||Friend IRL|
|District 9 (Grain) Female:||Jasmine Firethorn, 13||Knife/Scythe||Beetee19|
|District 10 (Livestock) Male:||Zalcharius Richardson, 17||Whip/Spear||District1 Obsessed|
|District 10 (Livestock) Female:||Alexandra "Alex" Stevens, 14||Bow/Knives||Annamisasa|
|District 11 (Agriculture) Male:||Wolf Fang, 15||Kunai/Shuriken||Hybrid Shadow|
|District 11 (Agriculture) Female:||Fate Ren, 18||Sickle/Slingshot||St.Berrys4ever|
|District 12 (Coal/Mining) Male:||Teak Shivers, 17||Sabre, Swords||AxedFox|
|District 12 (Coal/Mining) Female:||Lily Dawn, 15||Knife/Slingshot||AxedFox|
DISTRICT 1- LUNA THYDELL, 16:
"Well, well," the District 1 Escort, a tall and gangly woman with pearlescent skin and wavy, scorching red hair screeches out, "give a huge round of applause for our female tribute for this year, Luna Thydell!" The escort sways her hips like a soft tide as she motions towards me, proudly displaying my grinning visage.
I stand cockily on the elevated platform, a smirk plastered on my face as my murky, seaweed colored eyes peer down at the angry scowls of all the girls who so desperately want to be in my place. One girl, an average-height girl with creme skin and coarse, midnight dreadlocks huffs in annoyance as she tries stalking off out of the reaping venue, only to be roughly shoved by the Peacekeepers back into her original spot. The look of despair on her face only grows as she realized she's being forced into basking in her own failure at volunteering, and she begrudgingly crosses her arms and never dares to look into her superiors face. Oh well, maybe next year after I get back with the Victor's Crown, she'll get her chance to be a bitch in the arena.
Wow. Normally. . . normally I'm not this much of a sarcastic and confident cunt, but the thrill running through my pulsating veins is almost too much for me to bear without acting out in some way or another. Now, I need to be clear. My excitement is not due to the fact that I am now going to "bring pride to your family and your District," or "win and make mommy and daddy finally proud of you," as my parents so callously put it. No. It's the thrill of finally being away from them- away from the kind of childhood I was exposed to under their care. I wasn't in any way nearly as bad off as some other kids, but in my head, I remember back to certain moments of my little self growing up surrounded by them- and, well, I definitely didn't have the best upbringing someone could have.
It was all just the pressure. The pressure they piled on me to train day and night, the pressure of their expectance of me to one day be a brute and slaughter everyone in my path in a Hunger Games. Something they, in fact, neither had the opportunity to do- but, for the information I've pieced together, always wanted to. The pressure, well, it was overwhelming. My days were filled with solidarity in a training center, hacking away at dummies, as were the majority of my nights. Age 10 to now, everyday, all week was rise at 4 AM, train from 5 AM to 1 AM, then sleep for a measly three hours. No time for interaction, no time to receive any love from the two people who were supposed to love me unconditionally. But no. It was never like that, and it never will be unless I win a games.
My musings are so rudely interrupted as my ears tune into the sounds of a brawl down below the stage area.
"FUCK, THAT LITTLE SHIT BROKE MY FUCKING NOSE," a muscular, obviously threatening male in the 18 year old section bellows out as a small child nonchalantly wipes his targets blood on the side of his un-tucked dress shirt.
While the older male dizzily staggers out of the area, supported by what look like two of his friends, the young kid eagerly makes his way upon the platform.
Our Escort giggles giddily as she practically skips over to the boy, leaning down slightly to press the microphone into is smirking lips. "My, my," she breathlessly purses out, "it looks like we have a feisty little volunteer for the males this year! Now, my precious little dear, tell us your name and age."
Said "precious little dear" scowls in response, "Mason Ekon, age 13, and the winner of this years games! No doubt about it!" He grins cockily, but before the Escort can drag the microphone to once again undoubtedly screech into it, he reaches his small hand out to grab it, "and for the record, I'm not precious, I'm a warrior! I'm fearless!"
The jovial look on our Escort's makeup caked face only grows as lighthearted whimpers pour out of her reptilian lips. "Oh, my, whatever you say dear," she sings out as the scowl returns to Mason's eyes. "Now, now, you two, Mason and Luna, shake hands as a commemoration of this lovely moment!"
I brush some of my lose, spiky, azure hair out of my eyes as I shoot out my hand to meet his. The palms of our hands map out each-others as somewhere in the background, our Escort spouts something along the lines of, "Now, HAPPY HUNGER GAMES!"
Yea, yea, whatever. I'm not worried about myself, and I was always sure of my status as a kid with a sad childhood, but as I look at Mason, I can't help but worry about the kid, him being so young and all. Thoughts fester in the back of my troubled existence as I wonder. . . what kind of life did this kid have if he volunteers to die so young?
Training Score/Odds of Winning
|District:||Name:||Training Score:||Odds of Winning:|
|District 1 (Luxury) Male:||Mason Ekon, 13||
|District 1 (Luxury) Female:||Luna Thydell, 16||10||2-1|
District 2 (Masonry) Male:
|Sherwood Allen, 18||11||2-1|
|District 2 (Masonry) Female:||Shermaine Wilson, 17||12||2-1|
|District 3 (Technology) Male:||Astre Celestius, 12||3||NONE|
|District 3 (Technology) Female:||Dagmar Cither, 13||4||30-1|
|District 4 (Fishing) Male:||Arios Titano, 17||10||3-1|
|District 4 (Fishing) Female:||Imogen Night, 14||10||3-1|
District 5 (Power) Male:
|Basilisk Crown, 18||7||NONE|
|District 5 (Power) Female:||Alice Scythe, 18||7||NONE|
|District 6 (Transportation) Male:||Twine Shadows, 15||6||22-1|
|District 6 (Transportation) Female:||Danika Ophiuchi, 13||4||NONE|
|District 7 (Lumber) Male:||Axel Willow, 18||7||16-1|
|District 7 (Lumber) Female:||Grania Palmeira, 16||5||27-1|
|District 8 (Textiles) Male:||Aric Coburn, 16||6||22-1|
|District 8 (Textiles) Female:||Lavender Tweed, 13||3||NONE|
|District 9 (Grain) Male:||Ezekiel Halvaret, 16||6||23-1|
|District 9 (Grain) Female:||Jasmine Firethorn, 13||6||21-1|
|District 10 (Livestock) Male:||Zalcharius Richardson, 17||8||8-1|
|District 10 (Livestock) Female:||Alexandra "Alex" Stevens, 14||4||28-1|
|District 11 (Agriculture) Male:||Wolf Fang, 15||6||NONE|
|District 11 (Agriculture) Female:||Fate Ren, 18||9||4-1|
|District 12 (Coal/Mining) Male:||Teak Shivers, 17||7||NONE|
|District 12 (Coal/Mining) Female:||Lily Dawn, 15||5||NONE|
|24th||Lavender Tweed, 13||District 8||Zalcharius Richardson||Beaten To Death||33 Seconds||
Day 1, 12:00:33 PM
|23rd||Danika Ophiuchi, 13||District 6||Imogen Night||Bled To Death Due To Multiple Stab Wounds||2 Minutes, 5 Seconds||Day 1, 12:02:05 PM|
|22nd||Wolf Fang, 15||District 11||Dagmar Cither||Head Slammed Into Wall||4 Minutes, 18 Seconds||Day 1, 12:04:18 PM|
|21st||Teak Shivers, 17||District 12||Shermaine Wilson||Sword Lodged In Back||17 Minutes, 29 Seconds||Day 1, 12:17:29 PM|
|20th||Astre Celestius, 12||District 3||Mason Ekon||Dagger Slashed Across Chest||20 Minutes, 45 Seconds||Day 1, 12:20:45 PM|
|19th||Alice Scythe, 18||District 5||Alex Stevens||Head Slammed Into Cactus Spine||7 hours, 44 minutes, 3 seconds||Day 1, 7:44:03 PM|
|18th||Basilisk Crown, 18||District 5||Lily Dawn||Rock Through Eyesocket||1 day, 2 hours, 31 minutes, 55 seconds||Day 2, 2:31:55 PM|
|17th||Lily Dawn, 15||District 12||Basilisk Crown/Sea-Mutt||
Various Injures/Eaten by Sea-Mutt
|1 day, 2 hours, 33 minutes, 13 seconds||Day 2, 2:33:13 PM|
Day 1: (You Little Slut- Imogen Night)
Fate Ren, D11, 18-
I stumble slightly as the pedestal quickly clicks into position, the cool metal rim locking us inside the arena 23 of us are doomed to perish in. As I regain my posture, I take the chance to slowly raise my head and gaze upon this years arena. It's. . . well, it actually doesn't look like anything special. I glance around and take in my surroundings- bleak, brown, metallic walls as far as the eye can see. A few darker patches scattered along the walls far off in the distance, which I can only assume to be hallways or passages of some sort. I also notice something peculiar; I see only 5 other tributes nervously fidgeting on the pedestals beside mine.
My neck quickly snaps up to a small box on the ceiling as I hear a shrill voice emanate from within it.
"Weeeeeellllll, hello my beautiful tributes for this years fabulous games," the voice shrieks out," I, as you should already now, am President Nguyen. Now, now, I bet all your underage minds are just swimming with questions, am I right?"
In my mind, I agree, but I'd never admit it out-loud. Although, I suppose my mindset isn't shared with some of the other tributes, as I distantly hear a, "No, you shriveled up cunt." I snicker and cross my dark arms over my chest as I cock my hip to the right to support them. I huff in annoyance, and shout, "Can you please get on with it?"
I can hear the seething hate in her voice as she continues. "Well, Aric, I'll disregard the cunt comment for now, deary, but don't think it won't have consequences." She clears her throat slightly, the breathes back into the microphone. "Anyways, I'm going to explain this arena to you little dicks."
"So, I'm assuming you are all wondering why you can only see five other tributes around you. Well, it's not that much of a surprise, this isn't a quarter quell. There are 6 pedestals on each side of the Cornucopia, or, I hope you've figured out by now, that large, golden room shimmering in front of your scared, wet little eyes."
I glance to my right as I see the District 1 girl, Luna, grumble angrily and flip off the speaker. I giggle and return my attention towards the voice.
"Now, I need to explain this arena or else you little shits probably wont find out. So, this area you tributes are now located in is a sector in this arena called the 'Underwater Factory'. It, as I can only hope you are smart enough to realize, is a, well, underwater factory. You all are located on the bottom-most floor of this six-floor sector. On the top floor there are six tube, three on each side, that lead to six different sectors located on the surface. I'll let you figure out what they are when you get to them."
Expecting for her long-winded and annoying explanation to be over, I bend my knees in preparation to dash towards the Cornucopia. But my ears catch the last few of her words, and my jaw goes slightly slack.
".... one of the sectors, a frozen wasteland, holds a special prize. Whoever manages to brave the harsh storms and make their way to the very end, and drag their frozen corpses up onto the platform, will automatically become a victor. Now. . . GONG!"
I'm so dumbfounded by her explanation, that as soon as I raise my head to jump off the platform, I see all 5 of the tributes in my section close in upon the weapons.
Imogen Night, D4, 14-
I watch idly from inside the Cornucopia's walls as the boy from 10 dashes the brains out of the 8 girls skull with his fists. He whips his arms backwards, and the bloody brain chunks fly haphazardly off, sticking sickly on various surfaces. I smirk as he grabs her blue pack and darts off towards an exit. I could kill him, but he looks like he'd be a threat, and I can't pass up that challenge for later on in the games.
I'm struck out of my musings as I hear a shrill "fuck" and the tumbling of crates in the background. I whip my body around to see the small, blue haired girl from 6 strewn confusedly about a pile of bags, her limbs tangled under some crates. As she sees my brandish my dagger, she lets out another strangled yell.
I advance upon her quivering form and descend, knees first, onto her chest. I lean down slightly, airily giggling, and whisper into her ear, "too bad girly, your time in this arena is up."
She screams as loudly as her small lungs enable her to, and I stumbled backwards, dropping my dagger and raising my hands to cover my aching ears. "You little slut," I scream out, "if you weren't dead before, you're really dead now." I bend down and wrap my slender fingers around the cool metal of the dagger handle. Just as I reach her, she manages to break and arm free, grab a pack, and slam it into my face.
My free hand grasps my broken nose, trying desperatley to quell the thick, goopey blood from spilling out of my nostrils as I furiously run towards her. I reach her just as she breaks free from the crates and tries to make a break for her. Kneeing her back, I hear the crunch of her jawbone as it smashes into the rigid metal flooring. I snicker and slam my dagger into her spine, wanting to make her death as painful as possible.
I stagger up and wander back into the Cornucopia, only once glancing back to see her strangled hair soaking in the pool of blood seeping out from her various injuries.
Ezekiel Halvaret, D9, 16-
Slinging my bag safely down to my side, I slink into the shadows of a corridor as my eyes whisk across the scenes of the horrific bloodbath. I see the pretty, long-brown haired girl from 3, surprisingly, repeatedly bash the head of the 11 male into the edged wall of the Cornucopia. His split head slowly sags apart, and I almost gag as I see the girl push his body to the side, a determined expression planted on her face. She scans the area about her, and satisfied she isn't in any danger, she returns her attention to her spoils
She leans down carefully and grabs the pack she killed to boy for, and the one she had already obtained. She throws the packs over he shoulders as she can run easily with them not at her sides. Then. . . then I see she's heading straight for me.
I gasp in fright and try to skid backwards, forgetting my pack in the process. "Shit," I whisper as I scrambled back forwards to wrap my hand around the rough fabric of the pack handle.
"Shit is right," I hear a girls voice whisper out, and I feel her boot come crashing down onto my hand, crushing the fragile bones in the process. I slowly glance upwards to see the amused facade of Dagmar, I think her name is. I whimper slightly and I can feel a warm puddle spread around my crotch region.
"Wow," she blurts out, laughs bellowing from inside her small form, "I came over here to ask your dumbass for an alliance. But," she knees my side with her free boot, "I see your urinary tract had other thoughts."
My face reddens and I let some insults sputter out of my embarrassed mouth.
"So," she spits out, "what'll it be? I can slit your pretty little throat, or we can team up and have a better chance of survival in here." I grumble slightly, and taking that as me acquiescing, she removes her boot from my throbbing hand, and tugs me to stand beside her. "Dagmar," she says as she extends her short arms to me.
"Ezekiel," I whisper out, still unsure about my safety. About. . well, everything.
Shermaine Wilson, D2, 17-
"So," I shriek out, whipping around to face my Career mates as I hear the thud of the 12 boy's body slam into the ground, my sword protruding from an open in wound in his back, "four deaths in the bloodbath, and only two of them were done by Career's? I'm disappointed."
Sherwood, my district partner, crosses his arms, huffs annoyedly, and looks up towards the roof of the Cornucopia. "Well," he bellows out, "at least that's four down. It's not like we didn't kill anyone. And at least we didn't lose any of us. That would have been a real blow to our confidence, now wouldn't it?"
My eyes narrow, and I position my hands to rest on my sides as I grumble. As much as I hate to agree with him, he does have a point. "Well, I guess-"
"Hey, Shermaine, shut up for a second," Arios, the silver-haired boy from District 4 giddily says, glee filling his large, downcast eyes. I give him a death-glare, mentally noting that he wont last long in these games.
"I just heard a noise from behind the crates over there." And surely enough, after the words cease flowing from his thin lips, a muffled squeal blares out from behind one of the ribbed, black plastic crates. We all spin our heads around just in time to see the small, black haired boy with the strange clover green eyes from 3 run quickly out from behind one of the crates.
His small form doesn't make it very far until Mason from 1 tackles him, sending them both skidding across the slick floor. After witnessing their short struggle, I see a splash of blood spurt out from the boys chest, splattering both Mason and the surrounding area.
"So," Imogen laughs, dried blood now caked across her pristine, pale face, "I guess that's five down in the bloodbath, three by us. Not so bad."
I grimace at the disgustingly bent nose, and once again grumble angrily under my breath. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. I suppose we really didn't do that badly."
Jasmine Firethorn, D9, 13-
My boots quickly scrape across the slimy metal bars of the stairs as I try desperately to outrun the girl behing me. Without stopping my legs, I crane my neck backwards to asess, my, uh. . . situation. I don't know what the girls name is, but I'm pretty sure she's from District 5. Her long, pin-straight blond hair whips to and fro behind her, and her steely eyes show no compassion or empathy. Feeling my heart's pace pump even faster than it was, I whisk my head back forwards, trying futilely to urge my legs to race faster.
The loud sounds of our feet slamming against the flimsy metal staircase reverberate in the corridor. As soon as my feet land on the top floor, I jet off, setting my sights for the first tube that enters my field of vision. Not even bothering to read the sign explaining the biome, I round the corner at full speed, not daring to stop until bright sunlight floods my vision.
I bend over, my hands shakily resting against my aching kneecaps. I struggle to catch my breath, my vision flickering as the hot sun blares down on me, refuting my efforts of cooling down. I glance behing me, not seeing any sign of the girl who chased me.
Regaining my posture, I look around me. I'm situated on a long cement walkway, resting just above the surface of an azure sea. My knees scrape against the concrete as a bend slightly over the edge of a walkway, trying to see what lies in the deep blue deaths. As soon as my eyes peer of the side, a large creature, something so gruesome and terrifying I can only assume it's a mutt of some sort, bursts forth from under the cover of the rippling waves. It's clover green eyes almost look at me with sorrow, and its black, leathery skin shimmers as the suns rays beam against its water slicked skin.
A silent scream ruptures from my chest as I flip backwards, hopelessly kicked at it's jaws. The metal tip of my boots pierces one of it's vibrant eyes, and it lets out a deafening roar. Sinking back into the dark waters, I can see the blood pouring out of it's mangled eye socket.
Heaving to catch my breath once again, I struggled to remove my sweat soaked jacket, which is currently trapping all the heat in my body. Not daring to again peer over the edge into the water, in instead opt to strain my eyes to see far off into the distance. Distantly, I can see two long, cement walkways heading off into the distance. That means I'm on one of the outer walkways.
After a half an hour straggling under the blaring sun, I finally reach the area where the concrete begins to merge with the mossy biome floor. Looking upwards, I see tall trees extending upwards into the heavens. Tightly curled ferns are nestled at the bases of the trees, and various bushes and other flora are dotted here and there among the foliage.
A decrepit wooden sign hangs loosely from a wooden pole. I can barely make out the words "Sparse Forest" scrawled on the wood with old white pain.
My serene silence shatters as a cannon blares in the background. Huh. I. . . I think that's 6 dead? Well, I have no time to feel bad for the deceased. They're dead and gone, not fighting for survival. I give one last glance backwards to the walkway descending under the water before carefully making my way into the stand of trees.
Hopefully, I can survive this.
Alex Stevens, D10, 14-
My weak body collapses in the silky sand, and my fingers trail down my bloodied and bruised legs, feeling we patches of my. . . and someone elses blood soaking through my cargo pants. I slide my fingers delicately around the knife embedded in the side of my thigh, slowly tugging it out as it makes a sickening squelching sound. As the tip of the blade exits my wound, a spurt of blood flows from the deep gash.
Using my enemies blade, I carefully slice the bottom of my cargo pants off, hastily tying the strip of fabric around my wound in an attempt to stop the current of blood seeping out of my leg.
In the process, I don't notice the cool air of nighttime creeping in on me. I forgot that I learned that in training- deserts are excruciatingly hot during the daytime, and unbearably freezing at nighttime. I sigh sadly, hoping that I can just make it through to dawn without dying of hypothermia.
Suddenly, the music signaling the anthem blares out of nowhere. Turning my attention skyward, I see the blue images of the deceased flicker calmly over the starless dusk sky.
The naive face of the picture-perfect girl from District 8 passes on the sky without my notice- I mean, I didn't really know her. Danika's sweet face invades my vision as her picture galavants onto the space in the sky.
The images of the District 11, 12 then 3 boys pass out of my sight. Then the unsmiling face of the District 5 girl shows in the sky, then soon after, the anthem music ceases, and the bright light of the image display slowly filters off.
Still sagged in the position I crumpled in, I slowly creak my neck sideways to look at the blank stare of Alice, the side of her head impaled on the thick, deadly spines of a towering cactus. I was just wandering around the top floor of the factory, minding my own business, when this crazy bitch jumped out from nowhere.
I hauled ass as she uncliped her dagger from her wasteband, screams bellowing from her chest. She was telling me that she already let someone else escape, and she sure as hell wasn't going to let someone else get away.
Well, she chased me for a good while until we had reached this desert section of the arena. Sadly for me, my legs couldn't carry me very quickly in the thick sands of this sector, and in no time, she launched her knife into the side of my thigh. Collapsing on the ground, she had her arms wrapped tightly around my neck, quickly trying to crush my windpipe. I had managed to kick her off of me, and gain the upper-hand in our struggle.
We had been wrestling for at least 10 minutes until we had edged close enough to one of the many cacti dotting this area that I was able to slam her head against the spines. Eventually her cannon rang, and, well. . here we are.
Looking over once more to her body still limply sticking to the cacti, the grained sand below her now tinted and ruby red, I curl up, my blanket that I snagged from the Cornucopia tightly wrapped around me, enveloping me like a cocoon. As my mind falters on the brink of sleep, I hear the quiet hum of the hovercraft lifting her body into the nether.
But I don't really care. I'm just focused on making it through this. And I know I can. I just know it. . .
DAY 1 TRIBUTE STATISTICS:
The Career Pack consisting of Mason(1), Luna(1), Sherwood(2), Shermaine(2), Arios(4) and Imogen(4) are located on the bottom floor of the underwater facility. They are doing extremely well on supplies, and morale is high. Imogen, however, has a broken nose and will need medicine.
The alliance of Dagmar(3) and Ezekiel(9) are doing well on supplies. Dagmar obtained two bags which contained a dagger, two full bottles of water, two bread loaves, some dried fruit, a box of matches and a length of rope. Ezekiel's pack contained a machete, two rations of dried meat and some burn cream. They are doing well, except Ezekiel's hand is broken. Hey will need medicine.
Basilisk(5) was not seen during the bloodbath, but escaped with a pack containing a dagger, a can of soup and flint & steel. He is uninjured. He is currently on the 3rd floor.
Twine(6) has allied with Axel(7) and Grania(7). They escaped the bloodbath with only one pack, which contained two swords, three packs of dried berries, one canteen of water, and some bite medication. Axel suffered a sprained wrist, and Grania has a small slash on her chest. They are heading towards the Sparse Forest sector.
Aric(8) and Fate(11) are allied. They obtained two packs from the bloodbath. They contained a slingshot and rocks(10), some wire, five loaves of bread, one full water canteen and a sleeping bag. Neither are injured. They are in the Mountainous sector.
Jasmine(9) is currently in the Sparse Forest sector. She obtained one pack during the bloodbath. It contained a small knife, a spear, some dried meat and an empty water canteen.
Zalcharius(10) is currently in the Deep Jungle sector. He obtained two packs from the bloodbath. They contained a spear, four rations of dried meat, two full water canteens, some matches and some iodine. His fists are swollen and bruised due to beating Lavender(8) to death.
Alex(10) is currently in the Desert sector. She is severely injured after her fight with Alice(5). She will need medicine). She obtained one pack from the bloodbath, and stole the pack from the girl she killed. She has in her possesion a sleeping bag, a dagger, a bow and 20 arrows, two full water canteens, one loaf of bread and one ration of dried fruit.
Lily(12) is currently in the Sweet Meadows sector. She suffered a broken arm in the bloodbath due to being slammed into the ground. She has only a sword, one empty water canteen and one ration of dried meat with her.
Lily Dawn, D12, 15-
A sharp twinge of pain ripples through my decimated arm, and the pain jolts my eyes open. I stretch my uninjured arm over my head, yawning deeply. I take a deep inhalation of air, savoring the almost sweet air the seems to float freely within this biome. Unfurling my makeshift blanket, woven out of long stalks of grass that grow abundantly here, I slowly raise my body. My bones creak at the sudden feeling of movement, tiredly shifting out of their resting positions. My light brown hair, tousled and matted from my restless sleep, billows gently as the winds begin to pick up. Using my working arm, I grab a hair-tie (which, luckily, are provided to all tributes with long hair) and drag my thin hair, tying it messily into two topside buns.
Plopping once again into the puffy meadow grasses I made my nest in, I drag my pack over to rest in between my stick-like legs. Rummaging around inside the pack, my hands wrap around the still cool canteen of water. Before I settled for the night, I had managed to find a winding stream, filled to the brim with glassy, glacier cold water. I had also managed to find a small bushel of berries of an unknown kind, which I carefully nestled into a small russet-colored sack.
Tossing one of the sweet berries into my hollowed mouth, I turn my glance skywards. The sun blares down on me, beaming against my already sweat-soaked, tan skin. The sweat trickles down my forehead, follows the crease of my nose, before it drips quietly into the foliage below. Hmm. I had though I had awoke earlier than I did, but based on the amount of sweat -and the embarrassing lack of physical exertion I've put out so far today- I judge it to be already past midday. Which means I may be at a disadvantage, as who knows what important messages or blaring cannons I may have missed so far today.
As I finish off the last of my ruby-red berries, I carelessly toss the sack into the bigger backpack. I unscrew the canteen of water, and bring the icy edge to my dry, cracked lips. I let the brisk liquid splash and slosh around inside my mouth before I swallow it in dangerously large gulps. As soon as I've had my share, I, as I did with the berry sack, toss the canteen, half empty by this point, I nonchalantly sling the bottle into my large pack.
I lean backwards, angrily gripping and unearthing grass stalks from the stand behind me. I stick my tongue out in though, my eyes focusing on my project below me. My slim fingers quickly weave strands of the weed together, and as soon as I am satisfied, I plop my creation onto my head. I look up, barely able to see the cusp of my creating. The woven hat resting atop my cranium filters cold air around my head, and shades my vision. Happily realizing my creation is successful at cooling down my swelteringly hot skin, I grunt to sit up.
I tug my pack up with my good arm, and I begin to trot away from my hideout, my gruff pack hanging stagnantly over my aching shoulders. I plan to leave this biome and head back across the endless cement tube structure. Just as I am about to exit the grove I was nestled in, I soft beeping sound catches my attention.
Looking backwards, the silver shine of a container nearly blinds me, the rays of the sun glinting off the outside of my gift. My lips painfully split into a smile, and I kneel gracefully downwards to grasp the cylinder. It pops open with a small jet of air. Before I even reach inside, I can see the edge of what is placed inside the pod. I see a sack, likely containing ten or so small, rock balls and a small slingshot.
My grin widens even further, and as I skip out of my hiding area, I can't contain a gleeful whimper that rips from my smiling lips.
Basilisk Crown, D5, 18-
Huffing slightly as I trudge up the rickety stairs, my eye catches on the glint of a slightly open doorway. Reaching the top of the steps, I round the edge and up my pace to a jog, reaching the ajar portal in just a few seconds. My hands planted against the thick, flat, cool metal of the door, I crane my neck to look at the sign above the edge of the exit.
"This way to Sweet Meadows," the plaque reads, written in neat, swooping blanched letters. Before pushing the door the rest of the way open, I let my hands wander across it's surface. The perfectly brushed aluminum covering feels slick under my wandering hands. The rounded bolts circling the edge give a refreshing change of presence to the rather bland and utilitarian look of the hatch.
Though I'm obviously not thrilled to be stuck in this hellhole of an existence, and certainly this particular circumstance, I still try to take time to admire the beauty of the world around me. How the baby-blue paint whisked around the doorway, dogged and ragged and crumbling at the edges, still manages to plant and curl it's way around the frame of the door delicately. How the gaudily yellow, luminescent lights encased in prison bars flicker gently, casting wondrous, dancing shadows throughout the bleak hallway. And surprisingly, how the staunch, silvery cover of the door permeates the otherwise matte colored setting of the factory walls.
Normally I'm not this. . . well, this calm. I tend to be rather emotionless, maybe even a tad cruel, as prescribed by the opinions of others. I don't really care about others, and I generally tend to desire to be by myself. However, being in my position has oddly enough calmed me. I desire so much just to sit here and stare at the beauty surrounding me like a wide, starry-eyed child. All the shadowy, dark cruelness in my mind begins to fade like a receding smog.
I'm not completely out of the woods, though, as I can still feel the misery and darkness rumble around in my aura like a thunderstorm. But some tidbit of light seems to be beginning to glow somewhere deep within me, illuminating the clouded atmosphere in my mind.
Sighing, my crimson eyes flicker and begin to well with tears. My knees shake and my stomach churns, and I suddenly feel weight piling on me. Collapsing onto my legs, the pack hanging from my shoulder thuds harshly on the rusted metal floor, the sound reverberating down the length of the corridor. Like a young child who has just dropped a treat in the sullied earth below, I cannot contain the liquid that begins to cascade down my cheeks.
I heave and sob, my spiked hair shaking with my convulsing body. As the sounds filling the hallway begin to lessen, my eyes begin to once again become dry and barren. I rest my pulsating, hurting head in my warm hands, deeply breathing in an attempt to calm myself. After 18 years of being trapped in the brash and hard exterior I've exposed to those around me, the gravity of the challenges facing me hit me all at once.
That little, barely alive light that was burning in my mind begins to flare, and the flames roar with enhanced power. Somewhere deep in the crevices of my broken psyche, the dim light that had been flickering finally managed to click together.
I rise up, dusting off my knees and shrugging my pack back to rest on my shoulder. With renewed energy, a clear mind and an idea of what is needed of me to win these, I bravely push open the door leading out onto the cement pylon. The door bursts forward and hits the cement wall outside with a loud "clank".
And before me, slightly guarded by the dimming sun reflecting over the water's surface stands a girl. A turban encasing the majority of her head, but loose wisps of her hair flutter in the calm breeze. Her lips form into a smirk, and as she raises her head, her eyes seem to break through the shadowy wall covering her face. They glow brightly, and with a hint of determination glinting deep within them, she begins to take a few steps forward.
As I shuffle backwards, the throwing knives strapped to my thigh emit a loud, jangling noise. The girl's attention quickly changes from her newest kill to the weapons wrapped around my leg. If I hadn't have heard the knives, my terrified mind would have been to preoccupied to even remember I had means to defend myself. Grasping for my safe haven, the girl backs away silently, an air of disbelief clouding around her. Her pack thuds to the ground, and along with the dagger she's already brandishing, she hastily pulls out a small brown rucksack.
Shoving the blade into a free belt-loop, she whips out a small slingshot, just managing to aim and launch one at my face at the same time I let fly one of my many throwing knives. Like slow-motion, the knife and the rock ball launch through the air in direct course of each other. The tip of the blade slices the soft rock ball as elegantly as a professional cook would slice a pig.
The two halves of the ball tumble and skid on either side of my body, leaving little dust trails to filter up into the air in their wake. My knife slams against the ground in front of the girl, sticking limply in a concrete groove. The girl looks down with wonder, noting the knife just centimeters away from the tip of her left boot.
Licking her kexy lips, moistening them with her spittle, the girl begins to dash towards me with an electric energy of determination. She runs in an arc, coming around to flank my left side. As she runs, she, with obvious expertise, launches rocks mid-stride.
As I try tumbling and ducking to avoid the incoming assault, I also begin to throw my weapons at her. My eyes closed, I can hear a muffled scream as one of my blades connects with it's target. My eyes rip open, and I see her bent over, about 20 feet to my south. Sweat drips from her forehead as she briskly bends over and yanks the knife out of her calf. She drops the blade, and it rattles against the hard ground, spraying a fine mist of dust on the surrounding area. Her turban know unfurled and askew on her head, the girl glares up at me, anger in her eyes.
Before I can even react, she seems to appear in front of me as quickly as a flash of lightning. I feel her dagger, now out of her belt, plunge into my gut. The pain rips through me like a tsunami, and I look down at my open wound. I tumble backwards, thumping against the ground in disbelief. My hands fumble on my stomach, blood flowing out like a free river. Painfully and slowly rising back up, I keep my left hand over my stomach, a portion of my intestines peeking out through the gaps in my fingers.
The ruby red blood stains my fingers and rubs off onto the metal of one of my daggers as I feebly and desperately slash at her body. She evades most of my attacks, fluttering around me almost elegantly. I feel her squeal again, the blade held in my hand making a nick on her face.
Droplets of her shiny blood splatter once again on the dull ground, and she wipes the thin cut on her face. Before she can recollect herself, I dash forwards as quickly as my ailing body will allow me too. My large knee connects with her lower torso, and the girl flies backwards as if she were hit by a Capitol high-speed train. Launching backwards through the air, the girl lands directly on her face, and she skids backwards a few feet.
Glancing down, I can see the pearlescent blood trail leading towards her face. I don't hear a cannon blare, but she's obviously either unconscious or seriously injured. Her body is pulled up into a fetal position, and her wiry hair, sullied by blood, falls limping over her arms, which cover her face.
Nervously edging my way closer to her, I can see bits of skin and bone littered among the large amount of blood (which is quickly, and oddly enough prettily, darkening in the sun). Kneeling down next to her, I nudge her head roughly. I grab a fistful of her greasy brown hair, and snapping my wrist back, I get a view of her destroyed face.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I barely contain what little is in my stomach. What was a pretty face. . well, may not even be classified as a face anymore. The skin the was stretched over the muscle and bone in her face is almost entirely gone. It looks almost as if someone literally cut off her face. The now gelatinous blood from the gruesome wound plops thickly onto the ground beneath her. I note that one of her eyes is sunken back into her skull, and covered by her eye lid, now looks like an empty socket. Part of her jawbone, tinted crimson with her blood, sticks sickly out of the bottom of her jaw, clearly broken and tilted.
Just as I remove my knife to to finish her off, I'm startled as her eyes break open and she lets out a thrill screech. Pivoting forward, she pilots her body to slam directly into mine. Though we are both grievously injured, I still manage to, after a brief struggle, gain the upper hand in the battle.
As I edge her closer to the edge of the concrete pylon, I see tears welling up in her good eye. I can sense the despair and fear wrought throughout her body. With a twinge of sympathy, I take my foot, and uttering a goodbye, I kick her square in the chest.
Arms flailing and an angry scream echoing even further than I could have imagined one could in a not-so-enclosed space, she tumbles backwards over the edge of the walkway. From the crystalline waters below, I can see a dark form jetting upwards.
But. . . but just as the creature makes contact with my defeated enemy, my vision is overwhelmed with a steely black ball of rock. . .
Lily Dawn, D5, 15-
I've seen this creature below me before. I've seen it in nightmares, and I've seen it in a gruesome reality. And just as my time on this shitty Earth comes to a close. . . just as the beast snaps it's jaws around my torso, I skillfully let a rock from my slingshot escape it's prison, allowing it to launch towards the boy.
As the beast drags me down into the murky depths of demise, I just manage to witness the rock slice directly through the boy's left eyes. Looking up from underwater, I can see his silky blood permeate the surface of the water and begin the mix with the liquid it's falling into.
And just as my vision gets blurry and I begin to fade from consciousness, I manage to hear a cannon ring through the arena- the sound barely registering in my eardrums. Though I know my time is near. . . I can't help a grin from plastering my face for the last time.