Calina from District 1 is the victor, the other two are free to choose places. Because the only places left are low down on the list, I can find a way for you to stay involved in the Storybook. If you want to start we will begin as the plates are rising on the arena.
Words - so innocent and powerless as they are, as standing in a dictionary, how potent for good and evil they become in the hands of one who knows how to combine them. ~Nathaniel Hawthorne
Calina from District 1 is the victor, the other two are free to choose places. Because the only places left are low down on the list, I can find a way for you to stay involved in the Storybook. If you want to start we will begin as the plates are rising on the arena.
Words - so innocent and powerless as they are, as standing in a dictionary, how potent for good and evil they become in the hands of one who knows how to combine them. ~Nathaniel Hawthorne
You should probably post the list of characters on the front part of the storybook. Like edit the first post. That would make it easier to find all the info, I think.
"Blah blah blah. You feel trapped in your life. Here is what I am hearing: happiness isn't worth any inconvenience."
I am nothing but a mouthful of 'sorry's, half-hearted apologies that roll of my tongue, smoothquick, like 'r's or maybe like pocket candy that's just a bit too sweet.
*I'll start us off. But first, one thing I just wanted to mention, I was on a Hunger Games forum and I saw the second Quarter Quell, something just like this. However, people were mentioning Katniss and Peeta and escaping to District 13 if they win and such in their RPG posts. Katniss is NOT alive. She has not been born. Do not mention her. Thankies *
~Arianna~
The silver metal plate began to rise, not very fast but at a sickeningly slow pace. The Game-makers could shoot us up to the arena in 2 seconds but they choose to make us wait for it. Maybe they want us to think a bit, have some time alone, before we are prey and the other 47 tributes are the hunters. No, these are Game-makers we're talking about, they want our hearts to pound, our blood to rush, as we dream up the sick playpen they could have created for us to die in, not have a few moments of peace before our deaths.
Finally, the plate locked in place at the top and all I saw was mountains. Everywhere. We seemed to be in a meadow, the cornucopia in the middle, surrounded by forest trees. Perfect. This is my territory. The sixty seconds went fast and even though I wasn't a Career, I still ran towards the cornucopia, rather than straight to the forest. Murder was already happening and by 12-17 year olds. The world I live in sickens me.
I ran straight to the middle, dodging a spear that ended up lodging itself in some District 9 boy. Well, one less to kill, no? I picked up a large green bag and two axes then ran to the edge of the woods, where the trees are thick and full, just like the ones in District 7.
Now the games were about to begin.
I am nothing but a mouthful of 'sorry's, half-hearted apologies that roll of my tongue, smoothquick, like 'r's or maybe like pocket candy that's just a bit too sweet.
She tried to keep her legs glued to the opening platform, waiting impatiently to begin. Callie had wowed Panem with a nine in her training; now that games were here, she would have to deliver. Everyone she knew was counting on her to make it back alive; her friends, her teachers, and parents especially. With the double amount of tributes, could she win?
Callie began to think of the other careers and when she would meet up with them. She didn't want to, but figured that she had no choice. Finally the timer went off and Callie was free. She darted towards the Cornucopia, and could hear the sounds of several cannons firing already. Each one made Callie go a little faster. Once she arrived, she noticed that no one was there, so she ran over and grabbed a tan knapsack with an embroidered 1. Afterward Callie found a place behind some trees where she could hide. She sat down and started panting heavily, amazed that she was alive after that bloodbath.
All our dreams can come true — if we have the courage to pursue them. -- Walt Disney
The raising of the platforms, and the sixty second wait, was obviously torture for most of the tributes. But for Cari, it was no problem. Patience was her thing. After having to stand still for hours out in the pastures back home, she was used to this.
One tribute was apparently not patient enough. Cari's breath caught in her throat as a young boy, barely over thirteen, jumped off the plate and was blasted to pieces right beside her.
She stared at the boy's remains for too long. By the time she regained her composure, tributes were already sprinting towards the cornucopia. She waited on her plate, trying to get a good look at what was in the pile of goodies. She had to know if it was worth it to get in there.
Nearby, on the ground, was a small dagger. Cari jumped from her platform and grabbed it up, along with a small backpack that didn't look like it had anything in it. With that she took off into part off the forest that covered the lower parts of the mountains. It wasn't like her home, but it would do.
As the silver plate carried her up, the arena came into view. A big, grassy meadow surrounded by mountains. In the middle was the cornucopia. Around it were scattered dozens and dozens of supplies which would be the difference between survival and death. Supplies that anyone here would kill for. Literally.
But I didn't need much. In fact, I would merely pick a few things close to me and run off for the mountains. They seemed my best bet. I spied a small leather satchel about five yards in front of me. A dagger with a belt strap ten. Those I would go for.
The gong clanged and we were off. I pushed off top speed and without pausing scooped the bag up, and did the same with the knife. Dodging spears and knives and desperate tributes, I made my way into the forest for cover.
I ran for an hour. Two. Three. i didn't hesitate once, jumping over logs and roots, pushing through tree branches and leaves. By the time I stopped hours later I was breathing heavily, and covered in small strips of blood, scrapes.
I hadn't heard any cannon shots, so the bloodbath had yet to cease, I assumed.
I needed a break. I climbed a tree and sat on a branch thirty feet up. It worked because I was small and flexible, being one of the youngest and smallest and spending my whole entire life practically on the top branches in the orchard where almost no one else could get to.
I strapped the dagger on. I opened my satchel to see what awaited me. A small loaf of bread, night-seeing glasses, and a water skin. There was still plenty of room in it, in case more supplies were to be found. I uncapped the water skin an found it filled to the rim. Thank you Gamemakers. You're evil and cold and cruel, but thanks you for water.
I noticed that the one thing the bag didn't have was something to keep warm. Oh well. I would just grit my teeth and suck it up. Still, I was not looking forward to nightfall. The day wasn't over though, and other needs would come. I had to find water. My water skin wouldn't last forever.
After putting everything back in the bag, I swung it over my shoulder. I descended the tree and started to run again, being more cautious about the noise, now that I knew dehydration and starvation were not immediate concerns.
"Blah blah blah. You feel trapped in your life. Here is what I am hearing: happiness isn't worth any inconvenience."
My sliver plate slowly rose above into the arena, it gave me time to think. My plan was simple: Help someone who deserved to live and then die. I had already come to terms to death. I got a glimpse of the arena as the plate reached the top. There was a river dropping down a jagged cliff. Water, that's my deal. Before I was able to look at around anymore the gong went off.
I ran to the Cornucopia and grabbed three fishing spears. Someone tried to tackle me. Without thinking I stabbed them through the chest. It was a district 7 girl, she fell with a scream.
I killed someone. That was to much. I killed someone, just like someone killed my parents. I pulled my spear out of her and ran. Ran to the mountains. Looking for caves in the mountains, a place to live.
Oh no! I'm going into the cave. Wha... Call m... Lat... I'm... *Turns phone off* Yes lost them!
The metal plate stopped moving and I could see all of the other tributes standing in a circle. The minute passed by agonizingly slow, with each tribute just standing on their plates waiting for the horn to blow. When it finally sounded I jumped, the silence of the mountains around me suddenly interrupted. I sprang forward, the muscles in my legs reacting without a signal from my brain. A girl from district 1, the girl with a 9 was the first to the pile, but I was close behind her. I grabbed the first bag I could find and through it over my shoulder, then I turned and ran.
I found a dry riverbed and stopped. The small bag held only a small loaf of bread an empty water bottle, and a roll of duct tape. Not a good start to the games. I through everything back in the bag and looked around on the forest floor for a heavy stick, something I could use as a club, or staff if I happened to run into someone.
The forest was spacious, the tall evergreens growing far apart, but each one with trunks ten feet in diameter. The floor was coated in soft pine needles with bushes growing in clumps at the bases of the trees. I followed the river bed at a slow jog for what must have been two hours before it started sloping down hill. That meant it was going back to the valley. I picked up my pace. It might have been a stupid move, but the bloodbath must have stopped by now, which means the careers were probably out hunting the stragglers, leaving the cornucopia open. In my twelve years watching the games I had never seen anyone run back there after the bloodbath, and it had always confused me.
After another hour I came to the end of the trees, and I could see the golden cornucopia sitting in the middle of the valley, three careers gathered around it.
Words - so innocent and powerless as they are, as standing in a dictionary, how potent for good and evil they become in the hands of one who knows how to combine them. ~Nathaniel Hawthorne
I ran and I ran. Where, I couldn't tell you. Up and up I climbed the steep mountainside. The air was starting to grow thin, but it was barely noticeable. I would be fine.
I knew I should be heading down hill; that's where the streams bled to. But with my water skin, my only goal was to get as far from the careers as humanly possible. Water would come next.
My feet were aching and my legs were sore, but I would deal. This was the games. I would be tough, but more importantly, I would look tough. That's what sponsors were looking for; toughness and smartness. I had both, and all I had to do was show them that. Though being the youngest--and that was saying something with so many tributes--that was easier said than done.
I stopped for a few minutes to rest. My stomach was growling and my mouth was parched. I took a short swig of water. That's all that I would allow.
For the first time since on the platter I wholly took in my surroundings. I saw a small, mostly concealed berry bush a few yards away. A closer inspection told me that they were a kind we had at home. I forgot what they were called, but knew they were edible and nontoxic. It's sweet juices burst in my mouth.
I scoured the bush of its berries, placing them in my satchel. There was still a few hours of light, so I set off again, determined to gain higher ground.
"Blah blah blah. You feel trapped in your life. Here is what I am hearing: happiness isn't worth any inconvenience."
The gray mountains loomed over me, Home sweet home. Now I just needed to find a cave preferably near here, I was getting tired and if I had made it to the mountains no doubt someone else was here. The smell of rain spread through the air. A light refreshing sprinkle fell from the darkening sky. A storm was brewing.
Oh no! I'm going into the cave. Wha... Call m... Lat... I'm... *Turns phone off* Yes lost them!
Thunder rumbled across the darkening sky. Cari stopped her trek for a few minutes to inspect what she had brought out of the cornicopia bloodbath for the first time. She knew she had her knife, and the seemingly empty backpack.
Just to be sure, she opened the backpack to see what could be inside. She unzipped it and peered inside. Nothing. It seemed even smaller on the inside than she had thought.
"Well that's crap," she said, tossing the backpack a few feet away and sitting down. She had been walking all day, and was hungry and thirsty.
She glanced back over to the backpack. She wasn't going to leave it here, of course. It could be valuable if she ever came across an edible plant or made a kill. When she looked back to it, something spilled out of it.
Cari crawled over to the backpack and pulled a large cloth out of it. No, it wasn't just a cloth. It was a blanket, a giant blanket. It was almost as tall as she was. But there was something strange about the material.
She held it out in front of her, and moved it from side to side. The design on the blanket changed as she moved it; it changed to match the forest around her.
Cari had landed herself a fancy camouflage blanket.
She looked up toward the sky and flashed a big smile. "Thanks, gamemakers!" She packed the blanket back up in her backpack and continued her trek up into the mountains. Her first priority was shelter, then food, then making sure she made it out of here alive.
You'd be astonished at the intimate stories, hidden struggles, and heartfelt dreams that people are willing to reveal if only they find someone who'll truly listen. — Arcticus
Oh, and I agree with Ultraviolet! Who wants to start?
