Welcome to another Games. I want to take a small break from my other Games, as I'm still thinking on what to do next. I know, I'm a procrastinator, but oh well. Let's try this again, shall we?
- Tributes with names that have references to rebellion (Rebel, Rogue, etc.) in general will be ignored. I've always felt as if the Capitol never approved of people naming their children after the concept of revolution.
- Districts 0, 13, and 14 will be included.
- Only three tributes per user for now, although this number could rise at any given moment.
- You are only permitted one tribute from a Career district. I could disregard this rule if they are siblings or something else, but they will have to be either well-written or interesting enough for me to reconsider.
- Spamming is prohibited, as it's annoying and clogs up the recent activity. Spam and your tribute will die.
- Reservations only last two days. I might reconsider for others, but I highly doubt this.
- Unrealistic or overpowered tributes will be dismissed.
- I tend to prefer tributes with Latin names, as Panem is loosely based on Rome. May this be a hint.
- Overly mental tributes will be dismissed. Honestly, they're cool and all, but some are a bit unrealistic.
- Typically, I would prefer you to not advise your tributes, as I typically feel as if some of the plans thought of are somewhat unrealistic and you wouldn't have all the time in the world to carry about your strategies in a single day. I will, however, alert you all when it is appropriate to advise your tributes, although this doesn't mind I'll follow it completely.
- Keep in mind, however, that I disapprove of counters. I find them rather unrealistic and aggravating for other users, including myself sometimes.
- Gory elements and some foul language will be included. Sexual references are only hinted, but never stated out of the blue.
- Failure to follow any of the rules will threaten to place your tribute on my early death list.
This is the basic guideline you can use when submitting a tribute. I can disregard usage of a varying template, as long as it has the necessary components. Anything in bold is required, while everything else is optional.
Strengths: (Maximum of four)
Weaknesses: (Minimum of two)
|0||Female||Alodia Byzantium||Sixteen||Knife & Throwing Knives||Prezziesnow9704:)!|
|1||Male||Ajax "Hercules" Emerson||Seventeen||Sword & Spear||WiressFan21|
|1||Female||Bronwyn McAllister||Eighteen||Axe & Throwing Axes||TheDeadlyOne|
|2||Male||Octavian Ivory||Seventeen||Sword & Knife||The-Shy-0ne|
|2||Female||Satart "Tart" Miles||Fifteen||Mace, Knife, & Rope||Blissfully Mine|
|3||Male||Mercury Aurum||Fifteen||Sword & Traps||Tehblakdeath|
|3||Female||Lyra Pluto||Fifteen||Bow & Arrow & Throwing Knives||WiressFan21|
|4||Male||Kodai Hitogoroshi||Fourteen||Dagger, Teeth, & Poison||Mistfire333|
|4||Female||Rosabella Leto||Fifteen||Mace & Throwing Knives||WiressFan21|
|5||Female||Athena Jardine||Sixteen||Throwing Knives & Snares||Lollypopbabe|
|6||Female||Violet Clareson||Sixteen||Bow & Arrow||EverAfterHighFreak|
|8||Male||Banette Tsukomogami||Fifteen||Traps, Needles, & Knife||Mistfire333|
|9||Male||Vitus Sende||Sixteen||Sickle & Knife||TheDeadlyOne|
|9||Female||Selena Quails||Thirteen||Axe, Throwing Axes, & Sword||Blissfully Mine|
|10||Male||Ezrael Donn||Seventeen||Scythe & Sickle||Annamisasa|
|10||Female||Winnow Galloway||Fifteen||Dagger & Spear||The-Shy-0ne|
|11||Male||Chris Brownning||Sixteen||Blowgun & Spear||Blue-Ribbonz|
|12||Male||Ash Bryre||Fourteen||Blowgun & Rocks||EverAfterHighFreak|
|12||Female||Venus Hawkwood||Seventeen||Bow & Arrow||Lollypopbabe|
|13||Female||Shyvana Feuer||Eighteen||Axe||PumPumPumpkin :3|
|14||Male||Vladimir Taltos||Sixteen||Rapier, Dagger, & Throwing Knives||Vlad Taltos|
|14||Female||Areceli Chasity||Thirteen||Kukuri & Knife||Royaldoggie|
The twists will be announced as the Games progress.
The Head Gamemaker strolled unworried, despite his upcoming location. President Nightshade typically did not appreciate waiting or anticipated, and had his own temper to boast, but Cornelius was not perturbed. After following his rule for a meager period of two decades, he had learned Aloysius was a weak ruler whose lusts and greed spoke louder than his words. It was easy; manipulating him into his personal marionette was child's play. Few people were aware that Cornelius was the true mastermind pulling the strings here, and out of the small dearth, he was one of them. Naturally, it didn't take long for his wife Adora to realize her husband's plot; she is an intelligent, deceptive woman who was worthy of capturing his heart after all.
He smiled as he nodded towards an elderly couple; a fake grin, vacant of any malice or abhorrence. He had perfected this look in a matter of weeks during his time at Academy, which helped charmed his way through the hearts of the citizens. It was also because of his apparent good-will he had ended up with his current position, along with being the president's most trusted adviser. He's always found the effective power of a simple gesture to be profound. It only took him four things to achieve his success; personality, wealth, intelligence. And an ambition.
His thoughts shifted to rebellion and his face contorted with rage and grief, intimidating a young lady with vibrant cerulean locks. He ceased movement, quickly crafted a delightful apology to the dame, and continued to saunter afterwards. He sighed, in spite of knowing it wasn't his fault for reacting in such a vulgar manner. Yes, it was never his fault. It was always the rebels. His palms clenched into fists, but he swiftly calmed himself. Was it not for his parents' deaths by the motives of the revolutionists, it is quite plausible he wouldn't have become the powerful man he is now.
But that did not douse his detestation, but instead further ignited his determination. He looked forward to a civilization ruled by his iron fist; a world where no one will be capable to meddle with his individual idiosyncratic enterprises.
Finally, he had reached his destination at last. The president's mansion was a massive estate that could likely house an entire city population by itself, was it not for the selfish and self-absorbed ego of President Nightshade. Cornelius frowned. While that trait of his may not contrast with him, that does not mean he and him are of the same standards however. Aloysius has incessantly been known for his foolish behavior, which has disgusted Cornelius since the two had first met during Academy. Why, was it not for the gospel truth that he was the son of the late President Augustus Nightshade, who Cornelius and his progenitors have respected since the genesis of his reign, he would've been more than willing to dispatch him of his presidency. Then again, that would've made things more difficult, wouldn't it?
He didn't notice the servant until she cried his name for what was apparently the fifth time. "Mr. Blackthorn?"
Cornelius snapped himself awake of his daze. He smiled lightly, "Ah, hello Sofia. Sorry to have kept you waiting, but I do believe I have a meeting with President Nightshade."
Sofia flushed scarlet, before containing herself as she spoke, "No, no! There is no need to apologize, sir. President Nightshade will be most pleased to see you have arrived. Please, step this way."
She guided him through the complex labyrinth that was the headquarters of the boss of the whole country. Inside, the mansion was bigger than he expected, which surprised him considering he's been here multiple times now. "Has there been any recent expansions to manor, Sofia?"
She nodded, "Yes. President Nightshade is always asking for extensions for the manor house, you see. He claims it's for the sake of "expanding his workspace."" She rolled her eyes, causing Cornelius to smile a bit. Even his own attendants were aware of his own idiocy.
As he expected by his foreman's own distinct tastes, the common scene of Christian fountains and other religious artifacts was a repetitive one. Despite religion being outlawed long ago, due to the Capitol forcing the districts to only have a faith for the Capitol and the destruction of churches, chapels, abbeys, cathedrals, basilicas, synagogues, temples and mosques alike in order to make room for land and production, Nightshade decided to waste countless bills of dollars in order to aid in the creation of his own collection. He's of the Christian faith, or so he believes. It's doubtful he knows a single phrase of the bible, and likely he only bought such useless things for show. That is the type of man Nightshade is, after all.
After a duration of seemingly hours had passed, Sofia had come to an abrupt stop. They have reached Nightshade's office.
The doors opened, allowing for visitors to enter the access, which is exactly what Cornelius did. President Nightshade sat in his chair lazily and disinterested, but briskly regained his composure. He straightened his tie, as he steamed towards his Head Gamemaker. Cornelius arched a brow.
Nightshade tapped his foot impatiently as he crossed his arms. "I've been waiting, Mr. Blackthorn. You are aware of this, correct?"
Cornelius shrugged, "Quite aware of it, sir. In fact, I was counting on it. Wouldn't you say suspense only adds to the excitement of slowly knowing the truth?"
He scowled, muttering, "I wouldn't say so. I want to get this done as soon as possible, Mr. Blackthorn. My studies require much more greater attention than the Hunger Games."
Cornelius struggled not to strike the president, in spite of his infuriating claims. The Hunger Games were the reason for the Capitol's success, while the districts quivered in fear. It brought us riches and entertainment, as well teaching the traitorous people a lesson as to why rebellion is not respected. And yet, here is Aloysius Nightshade, the esteemed son of Augustus and leader of a nation. But in spite of this, he struggles to realize the importance of leadership and the purpose of the Games. Such a pitiful fool.
He put himself into equilibrium once again, as he spoke with clarity and a sharpness to his tone, "Of course they are. But planning the Hunger Games are, if not of equal importance, still significant nonetheless."
Nightshade nodded, satisfied. "Very well. There is some truth in your words. But how shall we begin?"
But all Cornelius did was smile. "To be perfectly honest sir, I only came to deliver a hint."
Nightshade's eyes widened, before narrowing accusingly. "A hint?"
Cornelius smirked. A flare in his amber eyes appeared, before cooling away like melted rime. "Yes. Do keep in mind the desires of fire and the hatred of ice, sir. Only then, will you discover the answer to the Arena. And with that said, I bid you a farewell."
And with that, he left, leaving President Nightshade confused and in anticipation of what Cornelius Blackthorn had in store.
Alodia awoke from her slumber, rubbing her eyes in a meager attempt to repulse her daze. She yawned lightly, before sluggishly getting her off the only mattress in her and her mother's shack. As her feet touched the solid cold flooring, she shivered, but shrugged it off. Surviving in the extreme subzero temperatures of District 0 had made Alodia become used to the bitterness of frost and snow. She turned to face the mirror. As she had expected, her locks stood up unkempt and unruly, and people would typically rudely point this flaw out to her.
She sighed, taking a wooden brush with horse hair bristles that lay on her stand. She began to neaten the untamed hairs, combing with a meticulous poise she had assimilated by herself due to the theft and larceny she was forced to perpetrate everyday in order to support her and her mother. She grimaced, but quickly pushed the negative thoughts out of her mind, knowing dwelling on such unfavorable things will only lead to more sadness. And Alodia had enough dolor to endure. With a final stroke, she let the hairbrush slip through her dark brown tresses, when her mother knocked on the door.
Surprised, the brush slid from her fingers, and clattered on the planking. Alodia chided herself for her carelessness as she waltzed towards the doorway. With a slight movement, she unsecured it, revealing the aging figure of Mira. Her mother smiled, although it seemed distant, as she placed her hand so it gently touched her daughter's cheek. Alodia looked very much like a reminisce of Mira. Her mother probably would've looked even more so like her, was it not for the torture she had to bear. To aid in the pay for food and other necessities, she did away with her chastity, and became a prostitute as an result.
Her once hazel hair was now streaked with shades of gray and silver. Her eyes looked tired, as if she was constantly weary. And her hands; once a upon time they were capable of creating fascinating arts. But since her husband abandoned them, they were scarred, forcing her to wear gloves in order to conceal the markings she would have to tolerate for eternity. And those weren't the only marks. Her body was abundant of them. Alodia stared at the ground, but a fierce flare was embraced within her.
And it was further ignited when Mira spoke. "Alodia, come. We will be having chicken for breakfast . . ." She needn't need to finish. Alodia knew exactly how she was able to manage such an expensive feast. Poultry, or any meat in general, was generally scare in the outlying districts and in order to receive such luxuries one would have to either risk illegally hunting in the forest, commit thievery, or somehow convince the rich and the noble to administer the delicacies. And in Mira's case, she had done so through erotic pleasures.
Alodia clenched her fists, but all she did was nod. Getting angry at her mother out of all people wouldn't amend anything, as unfortunate as it is. She lamented softly - soft enough so Mira could not distinguish or hope to understand - as she shoved past her mother and out of her small room. Mira let her shoulders droop as she shook her head apologetically. She knew well enough that Alodia did not approve of her nightly flings, in spite of knowing it was for them. She bit her lip as she unhurriedly followed her daughter.
The two ate silently outside, while the background follow a similar taciturn nature. Absolutely few people reacted exuberant or cordial to the perils of the wintery environs; especially today, as the current date signified something of an annual prominence. The Hunger Games. The reaping's were to begin soon, but little to none were cheerful about this event. The people of District 0 were not like the tyrannical and absurd Capitol or the injudicious and imprudent people of the Career districts. No, for they were a shy race that feared the Hunger Games. They didn't view them with the orbs of a blind tyrant or of an impolitic jester; all they saw in the Games was the complexion of death and loss.
Alodia picked lazily at her meal thinking of such thoughts when her mother informed her it was time to go. The reaping's were to begin soon.
Sebastian scrupulously clothed himself. After grooming his flaxen hair, he had carefully put on a tux in preparation of the upcoming reaping's. The suit was fading; once being a hardy black, but now a revolting gray. He sighed, but accepted the gospel truth that nothing could be done about it. He didn't necessarily care anyway, considering the sole basis of him even owning the attire is for the purpose of looking acceptable during the reaping's. His parents always warned him that in the event he was reaped, it would be imperative for him to be dressed amiably, as the Capitol disdains those who are either dirty or in horrid garments.
The Capitol. Suddenly, the taste in his mouth turns bitter as petulant thoughts become apparent within him. He never could grasp an understanding of the Capitol, much less their motives. In his opinion, they were a reckless people. Over the years, they have crafted a tyrannical factor, and promoted bits of fear and destruction within it. What could they ever hope for? Did they wish to press the districts into extinction, or is this all just some sick game to them; as if we are marionettes that are bent to their puppeteer's hand? Unfortunately, it was most likely the latter.
He was calmed, however, when his mother arrived to the scene. She scanned over him with her careful, analytic eyes, and shook her head. "Your tie is a bit crooked, dear." She pointed out the flaw without hesitation, but all Sebastian did was smile, causing her to sigh before joining him in an establishment of smiles. She ruffled his hair affectionately. "Oh well, that will have to do I suppose. Come along, the reaping's should begin at any moment."
Sebastian nodded, and took a comb to primp his golden mane as he accompanied his mother. His father appeared shortly. He grinned at the sight of the duo, albeit slightly crestfallen. He had failed to be accepted as a meteorologist for the seventh time now, but his family didn't need to be aware of this. Not yet, when they already have little profit. For now, he smiled, as he took his wife's hand.
Comet looked very much like his son, although he had inherited his mother's green eyes, while his eyes sparkled lake blue. Other than that, the similarities were that of Comet's; the two of them both have the same blond locks, notwithstanding that Sebastian's own hair varied in length from his greatly, as well as other things. Stress took over Comet most of the time, forcing some of his hairs to become silvery. He had more of a mane than Sebastian as well, as his hair grew unruly over his shoulders, giving him the appearance of a slob. He looked very much like the sad, poor man he was.
His hand slipped from Luna's grip and placed it on Sebastian's shoulder, causing him to look up at the giant that was his father. "We should be going now," Comet began. "I've already seen people rush to the plaza."
Sebastian nodded in understanding. They couldn't afford to be late. Not that they wanted to attend the reaping's, but due to the threats of not. The Peacekeepers were known for maliciously and viciously kicking down the doors of people who aren't present at the event. And what happened to them afterwards was a mystery. Most of the time, they do come back, albeit covered in whip marks, but some would disappear. As if they vanished like smoke.
They hurriedly strolled towards the town square, and thankfully managed to avoid the ruffians that lurked the vicinity. Most likely, they were already at the reaping's, but they could never be fully certain. Their neighborhood was famous for the crime rate of people ditching the reaping's, after all. But their paranoia was suppressed as no one encountered them. They had accomplished getting to the plaza unscathed.
Sebastian temporarily said farewell to his family, as he rushed past the incoherent masses of crowds. He muttered the occasional apology, as people rudely pushed and shoved. He understood their discontent, as that was a given; but it was getting aggravating as every second passed by. Ultimately, he was relieved as he approached a counter. A lady with a clipboard examined him impassively as she asked for his finger. He complied, and the woman swiftly stings him with the zapper. He winces during the process, but other than the first few seconds, the pain could hardly be considered agonizing.
Afterwards, he settled in the ensemble of the other boys his age, as he stood patiently for the escort to arrive on stage. As expected, a wildly-haired man emerges. He smiles madly at the crowd, as if he was already placing guesses at which pair of unfortunate teens would be given the title of tribute. His virescent mane covers much of his face, although his wide madder red eyes and murderous grin is open to the public. His skin was of a vibrant carmine shade, making him look more devil than man. His suit was the only normal thing about him; just a simple bland ebony tuxedo.
The Capitol man smirked as he spoke. "As you are aware, it's that time of the year again. Since I'm certain none of you recognize me, my name is Silvius Cyder, and I will be your district's escort for quite a while." He leered at the crowds, revealing a menacing grin. "I hope we can all get along with each other during this time period. Regardless, on to business. I will be reaping a fortunate young man and woman," He gestured at the two, separate crowds, causing Sebastian to shiver. "To represent your district in this year's Hunger Games. Exciting, isn't it? For now, as the saying goes, we will start off by selecting our delightful lady." His hand reaches into a decently sized bowl filled with names. He searches mindlessly until his fingers finally curl around a favorable ballot. Grasping it, he slithers the slip out of the reaping bowl as he held up for both him and the crowd to see. He speaks a name, one Sebastian thankfully enough cannot identify.
"Alodia Byzantium." He announces. A shrill shriek emanates from the far crowd as a middle-aged woman runs towards us. But to no avail. A Peacekeeper catches her by the wrist, causing her to fall as the cold-blooded man kicked her away. She groaned, but made a desperate attempt to persist, when she was caught by the arms by another Peacekeeper. They take her away, probably to some harsh punishment, as Sebastian stared in wonder.
He turned his head back to the stage, where he found a newcomer has taken the stand. Despite the determined expression on her face, Sebastian found it evident that she was shivering. Her long brown hair was tied in a ponytail, while she wore a dress topped with a coat and muffler in order to withstand the cold. Seeing little drips of fluids fall from her eyes, he realized she was crying. Perhaps that was her mother?
Silvius whistled. "Well, that was certainly eventful. Regardless, our male tribute is . . . Sebastian Caesar!"
Sebastian looked up in disbelief. Why. Is the only thing he can think of as he unwilling strolled up the stage.
The tears continue to flow like little streams from Alodia's eyes, even as her district partner Sebastian takes the stand with her. Although he seems unaware of it, a display of disturbance is exhibited obviously on him. He waltzed up the stage hesitantly, and kept his head low as if to shield himself from the watchful gazes of the people of District 0. It's apparent he isn't aware his reaction is being showcased for all to see, including the Capitol, which lowers his chances of receiving sponsors because of the reaping. Which jolted Alodia from reality, as she began to silently chide herself. How could she have been so ignorant? The Capitol will see her weeping as a show of weakness. Then again, it will make her appear as a tragical figure, and if she plays her cards right, she can make it work.
But she never enjoyed being looked down upon. As Sebastian stood by her, she glared at him, causing the boy to whimper a bit. Her male counterpart was just a boy, who was likely innocent, but she needed to look fierce and determined for the cameras. If she hesitated once, she would easily be identified as a fraud, which wouldn't at all put the odds in her favor. No, she had to do this.
Seeing the tension between the two tributes, Silvius chuckled, before chiding them. "Now, now. There's no need to start getting at each others' throats." His voice shifted to a low whisper. "You'll have plenty of time for that in the arena." Sebastian's eyes widened, but Alodia just stared gravely, already preparing herself for the upcoming bloodshed. "And that," Silvius turned to the crowd again. "Concludes this year's reaping! Happy Hunger Games!"
As the crowd begins to slowly disperse, Peacekeepers arrive to the scene. One of them, who Alodia unhappily recognizes as the Head Peacekeeper Amalia, mutters at them. "The two of you are to report to the Justice Building. There, you will say your perhaps final," Her gaze rested on Alodia for awhile, "Goodbyes. After which, you will arrive on the train that will ultimately take you both to the Capitol. Understood?" Her tone was harsh and final, and it was clear she didn't expect either of them to survive very long. But Alodia was determined, and nodded as Sebastian just continued to stare.
The two tributes are slowly escorted into the Justice Building, before being abruptly shoved into separate rooms. In a matter of seconds, the door is padlocked and escape becomes a faint possibility. Sighing, Alodia slumps into a chair, awaiting any possible visitors. Thoughts of mother begin to surface, and Alodia begins to shake madly. Now that no one can witness her tears, she cries with her hands covering her face. Where was her mother? Where could the Peacekeepers have taken her?
When the door is opened, she looks up in consolation, but her relief instantaneously ceases as Mayor Bluestrider entered the expanse. Hodge Bluestrider was a distant companion of her mother's, although Alodia suspected that the mayor was in a scandalous affair with her mother. He regarded Alodia with a sad smile, while she quickly collected herself and wiped away the droplets from her eyes.
"You probably didn't expect to see me here, I'm certain." Mayor Bluestrider stated matter-of-fact. "I'm sure you expected your mother instead, which is exactly why I'm here."
Alodia went frigid. A long silence began to wash over them until she finally spoke. "Has something happened to her?"
Mayor Bluestrider sighed. "I'm afraid so. After you were reaped, I'm sure you witnessed your mother's outburst. What you didn't see, however, what happened behind the scenes. As soon as the Peacekeepers pulled her away from you, she struck one of them, aggravating the man. He hit her back, and a beating invoked. She's alive, in the Peacekeeper's cells at the moment, but I can't assure she will last any longer."
Alodia gazed at the ground, unsure of what to say. Mayor Bluestrider looked up at her sympathetically. "I understand that this is a lot of take in, especially since you're about to head to the Capitol and later on into that dreadful arena. I know you have never really looked up to me, and that we aren't in the best terms with one another. But I'm going to give you a bit of advice." Alodia now looked at him questionably, causing Mayor Bluestrider to shrug. "Hey, I might as well as help you out, since you're representing our district." He coughs. "Along with other things. Regardless, I want you to know that if you do manage to make it out alive, you will change. There is no doubt about that. But you shouldn't let this change affect you terribly. Don't fall into rehab, Alodia. Keep pushing yourself. No matter what others may claim, only you can determine the course of your life-"
He never got to finish. Amalia stared at them impatiently. "Time's up." She grumbled, as she glared accusingly at Mayor Bluestrider. He sighed, but complied, walking past Amalia and into the darkness. Alodia exited as well.
Amalia stared at her. "Come along, your district partner Sebastian is already stationed on the train. Stand prominently and with grace as well, the cameras will scan your every movement from now on. You cannot afford to exhibit fragility."
Alodia nodded, but asked. "Why are you helping me?"
Amalia grimaced. "Probably because I'm your mentor."