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intotherubble,@ 2012-02-27 00:20:00
| Cinder & Rubble : : An AU OC Hunger Games GPSL (cinderandrubble) wrote in intotherubble, @ 2012-02-27 00:20:00 |
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Writing Prompt #3(2 points for Tributes) Prior to the start of the games, each Tribute must appear before the Gamemakers to exhibit the skills that he or she possesses. The number of skills shown and the method of demonstration is entirely up to the Tribute; however, the skills demonstration may not exceed twenty minutes. All Tributes are allotted the same amount of time in the interest of fairness. Points will be awarded in a national broadcast the evening that the examinations are complete. Scores range in number from 1 to 12, and they are awarded on an individual basis. Comparisons will not be drawn between Tributes, and each boy and girl will be judged on his or her own individual merit. Demonstrations that more impress the judges will receive higher scores. A higher score indicates a better likelihood of success in the arena as determined by the Gamemakers. To receive credit for this writing prompt you must reply to this post with a 300+ word narrative of your character's skill demonstration. If your narrative does not meet this word count we will contact you and ask for it to be expanded. You will receive a comment on Friday, March 2 with your character's Gamemaker determined score. No scores will be given until that date. Please do not reply to each other's narratives, reply directly to this post. Above all, have fun with this and be creative! And keep your character in mind when writing. We expect your character to have a realistic demonstration of what you've presented as his or her strengths and weaknesses to this point. We look forward to your demonstrations. |
| Cinder & Rubble : : An AU OC Hunger Games GPSL (cinderandrubble) wrote in intotherubble, @ 2012-03-05 01:50:00 |
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Writing Prompt #4(2 points for Tributes) The elevators from the prep rooms rose into the arena, stylists and mentors left behind, the games beginning in only a matter of moments. An announcement from President Snow boomed in the sky. This year's Victor, who would only be crowned when he or she was the only one left standing with two or more kills under his or her belt, would be allowed to move to the Capitol, would be given freedom and luxuries that none had ever before seen. It was certainly set up to be quite a game. Each tribute was dressed in a solid white bodysuit of a stretchy material that fit like a second skin. It had a high neck, a zipper down the front to the navel, long sleeves, and long pants that disappeared into sturdy, black, lace up boots. Over it was set a thin, white robe made of satin with a hood that tied around the waist with a black sash. On the back of each coat was the tribute's name, District, and tribute number in bold, black letters. A patch of the District's crest was stitched in over the heart. Something was amiss with the Cornucopia, however. It was remarkably sparse, all of the gifts set very close to the shimmering gold structure itself. Around the outer edge were hard hats and lanterns. A few feet in were pickaxes and shovels. Further in was a row of white, red, green, and blue backpacks that were otherwise nondescript. Inside the Cornucopia itself sat only a single object: a black backpack. The countdown began, numbers projected on the sky counting down from 10 to 1. A cannon shot sounded. The 85th Hunger Games, The Decimation Match, had begun. In order to get credit for this prompt you must reply with what your tribute does at the Cornucopia. If your character is staying please use this post or set up your own in runout to discuss with others any ensuing fights or alliances. If you need the outcomes of any fights determined please let the mod team know. You are more than welcome to carry over any fights or other events set up here into threads of your own. They need not be conducted under this prompt.If your character is planning to grab an item or two and run or just run please indicate what items he/she is trying for and whether you'd be up for your character to be targeted for an attack by anyone else. Also, please indicate what direction your character will be running. All posts should indicate in some fashion where you hope for your character to ideally end up should he/she survive the Cornucopia. This will help the mods plan for future events, traps, and other details! Important Edit: Please keep in mind that the only objects at the Cornucopia are those listed in this description. Also, those Tributes who successfully grab backpacks and get away will receive a comment from the mods informing them of what is contained in the pack. Please be sure to indicate what color backpack your Tribute is going for. |
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2012-03-06 01:43 am UTC (link)  |
| Leif had closed his eyes as soon as he'd stepped into the elevator, blocking out the last view of the training facilities. It was in those quiet few moments that he would switch gears from the safety of training to the Decimation Match that he'd volunteered for himself. What Leif felt wasn't excitement or fear; actually, he felt nothing. Absolutely nothing, like every nerve in his body had gone numb. It was almost as if he'd reached enlightenment in his little elevator tube beneath the arena. But when it started moving, reality came rushing back, crushing him from every side. Leif's eyes opened in time to peer over the edge of his pedestal and he was lifted into it, feeling the air of the arena, smelling it, tasting it. Every breath he took hurt a little, because he was trying to breathe correctly but couldn't. He was taking too much air in, pushing too little out, and he wasn't sure if it was excitement or the realization that he'd done something horrible and irreversible to himself. Leif knew he'd die in the arena, and there was nothing more real than that fact anymore. He looked around for Briallan, and relaxed once he spotted her. With just enough patience to keep from fidgeting, he stood in his annoyingly white jumpsuit and surveyed the Cornucopia while he awaited the canon. What Leif wanted was a weapon first and foremost, so he tried to figure out which pickaxe to aim for. After that, he'd grab a backpack if he could, but he had a feeling in between doing both he'd have to kill someone. Finally, excitement set in. His body hummed with pleasure at the prospect of staining his jumpsuit red. The canon sounded, and Leif leaped away from his pedestal, paying special attention to how deeply his sturdy boots sunk into the ground. Not so much. He didn't pause before his hand curled around the handle of an axe, but once he was armed he did a check of his surroundings. The fast people were already further in, or they'd darted off. There were others going for lesser prizes than the black backpack as Leif was, and once he spotted the blond District 5 tribute not too far away, Leif decided he'd go after the same backpack. Aden could be his first kill. Leif advanced on the other boy, pulling his arms back for an axe swing without any warning. |
 | stochastical
2012-03-07 08:50 am UTC (link) |
| Aden had essentially been panicking since the gamemaker's scores were released, and he had scored a whopping three, next-to-lowest of everyone. Sure, sometimes tributes would score low to be underestimated, but that was really only useful if you were actually being underestimated. Aden, sadly, was not. He tried to remind himself that there had been at least one victor with a training score of three, but he had probably been one of the underestimated ones. In far too short of time, he was standing on the platform, staring at his mentor in wide-eyed panic and trying not to throw up everywhere as the platform rose from the ground. As he desperately swallowed and trembled from the force he was putting into not accidentally falling and trigger the explosives, he missed the beginning of the president's speech. He tuned in, however, when it came to the "special reward". Were they telling the truth? All blood relatives? Did they only mean immediate family? And did the exemption to the Games apply to all of those, or just sibling and children? Or did that "all" mean that he could save every one of his approximately seventy billion cousins from ever having to be in this spot? Keep the Games from taking even a single more Willebrand? The heady feeling that idea gave him was enough to pull him out of his panic, and harden his wavering resolve. He was going to do this. He didn't know how, but he was sure it would come to him. The feeling evaporated a second later, when he was told that two personal kills were needed. He had thought he would just stay out of the way and manage to survive longer than anyone else - Aden honestly wasn't sure if he could kill anyone, physically or emotionally. But for the sake of his family, he would certainly try. He had come up with his basic plan for the Cornucopia days ago, having started thinking about it on the train from his district to the Capitol. The one thing he had going for himself was speed, so running away from the bloodbath was probably a good idea. On the other hand, all he had going for him was his speed, so he'd certainly need some help to survive. So, he had decided, depending on the layout of supplies, he would dart in, grab something hopefully useful, and run off before anyone could catch him. It was a decent plan, except that it relied upon two variables: there being something useful to grab nearby, and him being faster than everyone else. Still, he might have made it, if it weren't for a further two things: when the cannon went off, Aden hesitated for a fraction of a second before starting to run, not wanting to accidentally blow himself up; and when he reached the red backpack he had aimed for, he stopped to pick it up. Both of these things slowed him down enough that he took a full blow of a pickaxe to - and through - his left shoulder. Aden couldn't stop the scream that forced its way out, and to be honest he didn't really try. It hurt, hurt beyond anything he had ever felt before, a thousand times worse than when he had fallen out of a tree when he was five and broke both his arms. Somehow - and if he ever managed to look back at this point, he'd be very proud of himself - he managed to wrench himself away, and even managed to turn, wobbly, and launch a kick at the red-headed Career who had attacked him. The kick missed, and threw him further off balance. (Reply to this)(Parent) (Thread) |
| kerrnot
2012-03-07 04:56 pm UTC (link) |
| The blood didn't shock Leif. He watched Aden's shoulder open up with eyes that had seen enough gore that it wasn't anything new. Blood poured from the wound, it splattered, it stained the head of Leif's axe. And like Aden, Leif had been knocked off balance. The distraction of tearing into his first human target in the arena paired with how he'd overestimated the axe's heft made him overstep, and Aden's kick didn't connect with him based on sheer technicality. Leif laughed. He was actually impressed. The tribute who had scored a measly three in front of the Gamemakers was still standing - kicking, even - after an axe had sliced open his shoulder. While in training, Leif had been disappointed by the number of tributes he found completely worthless, but it was good to know that there were some who were better than they'd seemed. Using Aden's lack of balance against him, Leif swung the axe back around and jabbed it straight at Aden, meaning to hit him with the blunt top of the head. It wouldn't cut him, but it would bruise nastily if it hit him with full force - plus it's knock him to the ground, which was what Leif intended to do. (Reply to this)(Parent) (Thread) |
| stochastical
2012-03-08 05:25 am UTC (link) |
| The Career laughed at his attempt to kick, and despite the overwhelming pain and terror, a very small part of Aden's mind was highly indignant over that. Not everyone could be highly trained psychopaths, after all. That very small part was completely ignored as Leif jabbed the axe at him - sure, the blunt part probably wouldn't hurt as bad as the current gaping wound in his shoulder, but that didn't mean it would feel good either, so Aden immediately tried to backup. He was partially successful, but the blow was still hard enough to cause serious bruising and crack a few ribs as well as knock him down. He gasped hard for air and tried to scoot further away from the redheaded tribute. No! Aden refused to die here, at the bloodbath of all places. And he also refused to give up the backpack he'd already paid so much for. The red backpack still clutched in a death-grip by his left hand (a hand which he was not looking forward to trying to open if - when - he got away), his right hand grabbed for another of the row of backpacks, a blue one this time, and Aden threw it at the other boy's face, hoping that would be enough of a distraction to escape with. (Reply to this)(Parent) (Thread) |
| laurelleaves
2012-03-08 05:52 am UTC (link) |
| Laurel had launched along with everyone, had heard the announcement, and she felt something in her change. She'd come here to die in a way where it might mean something, come to provide enough of a distraction that people with futures might live. But if she got to go live in the Capitol and be taken care of? Well. That made everything different. She and Lyndon could go live there. They could both be healed by Capitol medicine. They could live. They could have real lives. That all took a long while to digest, and by the time she came around she was still standing on her platform while all Hell broke loose around her. It was fortunate that everyone seemed to be moving in opposite directions. Half the group seemed to be heading for the Cornucopia while half of the group seemed to be heading away from it. A girl who was standing stark still wasn't really noticed too much. She was aware of the smaller kids scattering, of them busting a move off to parts unknown. That seemed like a good idea, but damn was the Arena strange. Urban? A city? A district? That was new. She wasn't sure if she liked it. That wasn't exactly her forte, and she was going to have trouble delivering when it came to the promises she'd made to the Gamemakers back during her demonstration. Already children were falling. Blood was heavy in the air. She gazed over to her right to look at Districts 5 and 6. Her eyes fell immediately upon Nell, registering where she was going. North. Up that street over there. She could manage that. They should go together since Nellicy was the closest to a friend and alliance she had, and the boy from 7 seemed to be elsewhere already. So much for district pride. But just as she was about to move the girl from 5 went up in a spray of blood and she saw Aden running for the Cornucopia where he was felled by Lief. She didn't know him well, but nobody deserved to be made Career fodder. Not when he seemed to be trying so hard, dammit. Nellicy would be able to wait. She was away and safe, and Laurel would find her later. But Aden was hurt bad. Grabbing a handful of dirt, Laurel took off running toward Aden and the red haired boy from 2. There was enough going on that she wasn't glaringly obvious while approaching him. She tossed the sand at Leif's face as hard as she could, following the blue backpack assault, and grabbed Aden around the waist with one arm. "C'MON!" she yelled, playing the part of the good redhead to counteract the evil one. "Let's go!" Not caring what hurt, not caring if she had to drag him, not even caring about the fact that she was dressed ridiculously, she began taking off with him in the direction that Nellicy went, which was North, though she chose a more round about path through the buildings and alleys instead of making a beeline towards the Victor's Village. (Reply to this)(Parent) (Thread) |
| kerrnot
2012-03-08 06:06 am UTC (link) |
| The boy was fast, Leif had to give him that. It was an area where he was lacking himself. Not to say Leif's reaction time was bad, because he had good reflexes, but he was heavy. Still, his axe thrust had made contact with flesh and bone, and Leif's ears strained to hear every sound that resulted in metal meeting the white fabric of Aden's uniform. Once Aden was on the ground, Leif advanced and lifted the axe to finish him off. He'd chop the kid in half if he needed to. Electricity sparkled through Leif's chest just thinking about it, seizing his heart. This was what his parents created by training him as a Career. However, Aden had other plans, and it seemed he also had an ally. With his arms over his head, Leif had a split second to decide how to deal with the blue backpack that was coming his way. He could stop the axe swing to catch it, or he could hope to slam it to the ground with the force of his arms. Leif chose the latter, attempting to drive the blade of the axe into his fellow Tribute despite the backpack sailing toward him. Unfortunately, he didn't just have the backpack to contend with as sand flew into his eyes, nose, and mouth. When the axehead connected to the ground, it wasn't through Aden. In fact, far from it. He heard Laurel's voice close, but his eyes were closed and running as his tear ducts activated at the intrusion. When he was able to see straight, fighting the pain, he watched Laurel help Aden flee from the Cornucopia. Leif could have run after them, and he probably would have caught them, but he paused instead to grab the blue pack from the ground, slipping it onto his back. If he came across them again, together or separate, he'd kill both of them. And next time he wouldn't make it quick. With one last look toward the District 5 boy and his savior, Leif turned and jogged toward his own district mate, still rubbing at his eyes. |
| stochastical
2012-03-08 06:27 am UTC (link) |
| Someone had actually decided to help him! That was more than he had ever hoped would happen - he had avoided all socializing with the other tributes, knowing himself well enough that if he knew even the smallest things about his opponents, there would be no way he could cheerfully leave them to their deaths. Nameless, faceless others, the kind he had seen every year on TV, that he could handle, had to handle, but the second he recognized them as real people with real families, he would lose. So he hadn't expected anyone to help him out, especially not now when all he had going for him was blood dripping everywhere and a backpack that would be easy enough to rip off his corpse. Sure, this new redhead could be taking him away to kill him and take the backpack for herself, but unless she was the best actress in the universe, that didn't seem terribly likely. Running hurt, even with the extra support, but Aden stubbornly bit down (and almost through) his bottom lip to keep from crying out and alerting anyone to where they were. His only chance was for them to get far enough away to hopefully do something about his shoulder before he lost too much blood (he didn't think there was anything that could really be done for his ribs). "Thank you," he managed to hiss out past the pain. (Reply to this)(Parent) (Thread) |
| laurelleaves
2012-03-08 07:10 am UTC (link) |
| Saving him in order to finish him off had not yet crossed her mind. She wasn't sure if it ever would. As much as she wanted to live so she could be healed and live in the Capitol and have a perfect life she wasn't a killer at heart. She wasn't sure that she'd ever be able to kill someone who didn't deserve it. And that was the kicker right there, killing someone who deserved it. Leif back there was looking pretty good. She could kill him. What kind of creep went after a kid who had scored a 3 when he was just going for a backpack? It wasn't like the Careers couldn't survive for a while. But they acted like they wanted this to be over and done with already. Disgusting. The flaw in the plan was that she didn't know a scrap of first aid. She knew nothing about plants, nothing about injuries. Hell, she hadn't even bothered to grab supplies for herself. She'd just grabbed, well, Aden. Considering how much he was bleeding and how sore he seemed? That wasn't going to do her much good for very long. But she would've hated herself if she hadn't tried. Lyndon was probably back home cussing her out while someone described to him what was going on, but that wasn't her concern. What was her concern was the fact that Aden reminded her of him. That could prove very, very bad. "Don't thank me yet," she hissed back at him, voice barely higher than a whisper. "I have no idea where we're going, and we're still technically out in the open even if nobody's around at the moment." Her eyes moved to his shoulder as she kept on speed-walking and helping him along. "Shit. You're really hurt. What're we going to do?" She bit her lip and looked around nervously at the buildings they were worming between. At least it seemed to the best of her knowledge that they weren't leaving a blood trail for someone to follow. (Reply to this)(Parent) (Thread) |
| stochastical
2012-03-08 09:54 am UTC (link) |
| Aden hadn't been particularly clumsy as a child, but he had been roped into numerous "adventures" with his cousins that had a tendency to end badly. Not as badly as 'gaping hole in the shoulder', but he'd still picked up a few things when it came to wounds. Things as useful as 'keep the area clean' (he was now wondering exactly how sanitary that pick-axe had been, which was a pretty useless train of thought) and 'stop the bleeding'. Why, oh why couldn't he have studied something useful in his life? Sure, he knew science, but not medical science. He also was not looking forward to when the adrenaline completely wore off. If this was how bad he felt now, well... He tried not to let his thoughts show too much, part of him (rather ridiculously) not wanting to worry the girl who had helped him. "Maybe we'll get lucky and the bag I grabbed will have a magical super-healing pill," he offered in a low tone, his hand still holding said backpack in a death-grip. He couldn't actually feel the fingers in that hand anymore, which probably wasn't a good thing, but hopefully from holding on too tight and not nerve damage from his shoulder. That would just be icing, wouldn't it? Icing on his cake of pain. Not giggling at the thought his adrenaline-soaked mind came up with took some effort, but coming off as completely unhinged would hurt his cause far more. (Reply to this)(Parent) (Thread) |
| laurelleaves
2012-03-12 06:33 pm UTC (link) |
| It was likely that Aden was much, much smarter than Laurel could ever hope to be. Her only exposure to science had been when she'd begun getting sick, and for the most part she tuned it all out and cleared her mind. There was no use knowing all the technical terms for what was wrong with her. She'd only heard that it was likely that she would die from it, and not die a number of years from then but sooner rather than later. From there everything had become a strange blur, a fast forward effect. That could explain well why she was now in an Arena fighting for her life. And saving the life of someone who would likely kill her one day. "You ever been known for a really great run of good luck?" she asked, the corners of her eyes curled up in a smile though her mouth was set in a line of concentration. "Because that would have to come all from you. Not from me. I'm mischievous, not lucky. I think in this life you only get one or the other. Though who knows what is in that bag that you grabbed. I only hope it's not a novelty rifle that fires a little flag with the words 'bang' or 'pow' on it instead of bullets. Though I wouldn't put that past the Gamemakers." Not wanting to remain outside, Laurel maneuvered them toward one of the nearby houses. It looked abandoned, or maybe it had never been lived in at all. At least for now it would do, provide some cover so they could regroup and take stock. "In here," she all but whispered, dragging Aden through the door and into the sitting room. She placed him gently on the floor, propping him in the corner, then went back to lock the door. For a moment she thought about moving something in front of it, but the siding and dragging of furniture might draw someone to them. She had no idea if they had been pursued. All of this was a lot harder than she'd imagined. Moving back to him, she plopped down on the floor in front of him and sat Indian style, legs curled. She tugged off the robe that she'd been given, leaving her in only the body suit, and she undid her ponytail, shaking out her hair. Offering one hand, she chuckled and shook her head. "So. I'm Laurel. And you look like shit, but at least you're alive." Her other hand gave her own shoulder a pat on the back. "Nicely done. We're a pretty good team. Want to be allies?" |
