Arena 05 - Chill

[gamemakers]

Usually, the tribute's outfits for the arena aren't accessorized. But today, the last thing their stylists hand them before the countdown begins is a pair of heavy black glasses, polarized and thick-lensed. They look at odds with the thick, winter gear they've been outfitted in.


It's a long rise to the surface today, inside their individual little tubes, much longer than usual. They start to feel the cold only about halfway up, and to hear the wind. It howls across the surface as they reach it, pressing all of their clothes flat against their bodies. And the reason for the glasses is immediately apparent.


20 - 19 - 18


The sky is white. The ground is white (and gray and black and blue but mostly white), the far-off sea is blinding silver. Everything in sight flings light around, fractures it into scintilating rainbows and sheer white beams of reflection. It is strong, cruel light, and it bears no heat at all. The surface is so cold that the little metal trackers ache in everyone's arm, and the countdown has to continue at a deafening volume to be heard.


 12 - 11 - 10 -


The circle of silver pedestals is the only regular shape to be seen. All else is fractured and split, the most uneven footing imaginable. And at the center of the circle, the Cornucopia sports icycles hanging from its lip, almost to the pile of supplies tucked all neatly inside its mouth.


4


3


2


There's a lull in the wind just as the gong sounds, letting it peal out across the frozen glacier, and echo off the high rock cliffs in the distance. And the ice answers, with a loud crack that seems to come from miles down.


Let the Games begin.

Comments

Cornucopia

[gamemakers]

[cherrypie]

So the last circle of hell WAS cold.

As soon as the sound went off, De went for it. She had already decided to do it, and seeing the arena? Only confirmed that.

No way in hell she could survive this without something.

Heart pounding, body moving, she kept focused on her goal. But didn't ignore the other forms, moving in her peripheral. There was a pile of bags and glittering weapons with her name on them.

[luckofthedevil]

Alex had not liked what his outfit implied from the moment he laid eyes on it. And the heavy glasses just confirmed his suspicions. Snow. And lots of it.

It occurs to Alex as his platform reaches the top that it is going to be difficult to tell who everyone is. The glasses will cover their eyes and the parka hoods will cover their hair. All they'll have to go off of is body size and shape, while will be partially obscured by the heavy clothing.

Of course, some Tributes are identifiable no matter what they wear.

As the timer counts down the last few seconds, barely audible over the howling wind, Alex zeros in his sights on a couple of items. He can see a number of harpoons among the supplies and quickly decides he wants one. Looking a little past it he picks out a supply bag.

And then he brings his attention back to the other Tributes as the gong sounds. As he leaps of his platform and toward he supplies, he hopes that crack of ice isn't the prelude to something more ominous.

open

[futilecycle]

The Doctor felt immediate dread as the wind howled through the tube. As his pedestal lifted him into the open air, he was unprepared for the aggressive burst of cold against his body. He was used to surviving odds stacked against his favour, but not like this. Never like this.

His eye caught the glistening Cornucopia and he suppressed a gasp. Food. Supplies. He'd promised himself to make a run for shelter immediately, to keep up his act from the onset, but doubt paralyzed him as he looked over the glacial landscape. To not take their bait would be suicide. There was nothing here, and no one would sponsor him. No one wanted to help a dying old man. His last shred of hope for survival vanished as the countdown finished and he had not a single premonition.

As the gong tolled, he bolted from his pedestal towards the only aid he knew he'd get a chance to claim. There was a bag-

Howard (open)

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

Howard felt the chill long before the tube. He felt the chill as soon as they brought out winter gear. He stared at his stylist in mute horror as they dressed him in what felt like mounds and mounds of warm clothing, feeling like he was made of ice even inside so many layers he was sweating. Inside the tube he took off his sunglasses because he wanted to see the arena to its fullest upon exiting, but as soon as he gets to the top, he puts them back on. It doesn't much help - even a brief sighting has left stars and spots blotting out his vision. He looks for Eponine, or for Wyatt, but he can't make out anyone through their heavy clothing except Lorne - or maybe Donatello? Someone green.

He's never left California. He's never seen snow. He's terrified. He wonders if cold causes people to not be able to breathe or if that's just fear.

At the sound, he leaps off the platform and sprints full tilt at the cornucopia. His feet slip from under him - ice, he should have realized that would be a problem - but he manages to get back upright in a fraction of a second and is back to running. He's extremely fast, and he gets to the cornucopia before the bloodbath has fully started. He glances around for something, anything, even something he doesn't know how to use is better than being empty-handed in this breathtaking cold, and spies a knife. He turns, loses his footing, and slides towards it as if going for a home base in a softball game.

[mudbloodhater]

He'd been keeping to himself a lot more before this Arena, mentally preparing himself for actually getting into it. He hated just dying over and over, and he had to prove himself as someone worth backing - he was going for the Cornucopia. He didn't even care what he got; there was enough there that he could probably snatch up whatever was within reach and do just fine. So that was what he was going to do.

Draco squinted behind the glasses Cinna had provided him with, frowning out over the whiteness, letting his eyes adjust somewhat in the remaining few seconds he had before it was a veritable fight to the death.

He hated snow. Absolutely hated it.

But at the sound of the gong, he was off like a shot, finally putting his rather athletic build to good use, heading straight into the fray instead of away from it this time around.

Chris - Open

[big_badass_hero]

Chris shuddered a little halfway up, and drew his jacket a little tighter waiting for the gong. He scans quickly not sure if he really can tell who's who, even though he's keeping an eye out for Wesker. Last thing he wants is to get caught off guard again with the man who wasn't his captain.

Instead his eye catches on a knife, it's not far from where he's standing, maybe he can get it, he'd be fine with having a weapon this early. Yeah they'll want to see it covered in blood by the first day too. He shoved the thought out of his head. One of the adults maybe, but like hell he was killing a kid.

The gong went off, Chris was moving rolling for the knife, snatching it out of the snow he shifted it in his hand so that the flat end was against his arm, ready to slice at someone if needed.

Open

[dieinpajamas]

Alpha grinned when he saw the knives glinting in the snow. He was fairly ambivalent about the setting, secure that he could survive well enough if that was the only obstacle, but that was a secondary consideration to his favorite tool of choice just waiting for him to snatch it up.

He bolted soon as the gong went off, angling for one near a bag as long as he was at it.

[the_marshal]

The morning had come even faster than expected. He could still taste the bourbon in the back of his mouth, on the breath that misted before him as his platform rose slowly through the tube.

It took a bit the edge off the bitter dread stirring in his belly. The unease that grew inside him as the temperature around him dropped.

At least, until the tube opened and he faced the arena.

What fresh hell....

They'd outdone themselves this time.

Unlike some of the others, he knew snow, had seen it, lived it, and hated it. Bitterly.

Already his mouth was drying, stinging white flakes clinging to his mustache, just as he stood there, eyes scanning the unbroken field of snow and ice.

He skimmed over the Cornucopia, wondering how any of them could hope to last in this wasteland, and then started looking over the tributes closest to him. Hoping maybe to see a familiar face-

-but the glare, the snow, the bulk of the clothes made it hard to pick any one out. To distinguish friend from foe.

And then the gong was sounding and everyone was moving.

Re: Cornucopia

[polyturtle]

Oh shell it was cold. Oh shell--

Suddenly, Donatello was regretting the coffee. Oh, oh. If he hadn't eaten it, he could have used the cold to let him hibernate, and then his blood could help him-


10 9 8


No dice now, though. Even with the warm clothing, he was shivering. His teeth were chattering. And his eyes, even under the sunglasses, ached from the brightness of the snow that was all around the pedestals.

Shell. Shell.


7 6 5


There were more Tributes, too. Including a child. A child. Don could feel his insides twist even more. In between this, and Shepard...why? Why did it have to be like this?


4 3 2

No. He had to focus. He had to. He needed supplies for this one. And quickly, he spotted a bag. Yes. He would take that one. Take it and run.


1


And pray he'd survive long enough to help Momoko or Lottie...or the young child. Someone. Anyone.

Open

[ordonaturalis]

Such flair for the dramatics. It served a purpose, to be sure. But that knowledge made the entire spectacle no less annoying. Morrigan stood, arms crossed over her chest in staunch disapproval, until the count reach two. Only then did her position change and, as they were freed to move, she darted across the open space, swift as the child of the wilds she was.

Food was the priority. Then whatever else she could get her hands on. The rest? A concern for a future moment.

"Out of my way."

[wheresthepie]

Dean made a run for the cornucopia this time. He was determined to get some form of weapon, since being without one until late in the games last time was definitely a huge disadvantage. And as he ran, he felt the cold upon his face, but he just kept running, knowing it would keep his body heat up.

Seeing a knife, he grabbed it, then ran as far away from the cornucopia as possible, and ran until he couldn't possibly run any more.

[warbleronsmythe]

For once, his speed was going to work to his advantage. Sure, he had no other skills but running and tackling, but it would get him at least through the first round of fights. As he saw people tear each other limb from limb, he ran, using all the agility he could, he ran towards a pack.

Grabbing it, he ran away from the group. He had no idea what was in the pack, but he knew there had to be at least something helpful in there, otherwise why would they use it? Slinging it over his back once he knew he was far enough away, panting, steam coming from his mouth, he kept running until he could no longer hear the people at the blood bath.

Open

[justoutrunyou]

Sandy felt her heart racing the minute she was shoved into a tiny platform and lifted up a long tunnel. The blinding whiteness immediately took her back to a tiny cold room watching an old cartoon on her TV.

Somehow she didn't think that this was the same winter wonderland frosty had lived in.

In her home it had never snowed, only rain. She had often dreamed of the cool clean purity of a snow covered city.

"Be careful what you wish for." She muttered bitterly.

As the numbers continued to pound she felt the clutch of fear in her chest like claws in her ribcage. She had been told it was important to grab something, anything from the cornucopia. She was fast. Faster then fast she knew she could do this.

Then all she had to do was survive.

And before she knew it the games had begun! The final number counted and people were running. She silently screamed at herself to move only to find she was already flying.

Her shoes slid in the snow but somehow found enough traction to push her onward. The world was turning white around her as she focused on the items strewn about in front of her.

NO! A voice in her head bellowed and snapped her focus back to where her body was. This was just like outrunning the Reign at home. Focus on where they are not where you're going!

Forgetting about the items she tilted her line of sight just enough to see where any potential threats were. Would these people really kill her?

[Open: Injury is okay but no death please.]

[greymatter]

His expression is grim and tight-lipped as soon as he sees what his stylist intends to dress him in for this arena. The Arctic isn't exactly his idea of a good time. He dresses quickly and silently before entering the tube for the long ride up, hoping this particular arena will be a quick one. No sense sitting around freezing for weeks.

As his pedestal meets the surface, he glances around at his surroundings. Somehow, things are even worse than he thought. It's a glacier. There is precious little room for food or shelter on a glacier.

20 - 19 - 18

His eyes snap straight up to the Cornucopia. If the Cornucopia was ever going to be an absolute necessity for survival, it was now.

12 - 11 - 10 -

He'll set his priorities on bags and cans. A weapon will be a bonus. A very nice bonus.

4


3


2

Tearing off of his pedestal, he makes straight for the Cornucopia, trying to go for the bags at least midway in. Slipping twice, he catches himself, snatching up a bag and then, out of sheer luck, a harpoon.

In and out, he takes off to find some cover where he can look over his spoils.

(Injury fine, but nothing too serious please)

[itwasrhetorical]

The spear.

The witch's eyes narrowed as she spotted it, anxiously waiting for the gong to go and stepping up onto the balls of her feet, ready to spring forward as soon as they were allowed. She would get the spear and one of the cans and then run like her life depended on it. Which it did.

The gong went and the witch ran.

Somebody had gotten to the spear and the food she had wanted before her. Glinda turned on her heel, snatching up the two items closest to her before ducking and weaving around the other candidates and trying to keep her head down as she darted away.

[danno_williams]

This was absolutely insane. It really was. As he got dressed in his 'outfit' it became obvious that whatever he had been planning to do, needed to be thrown out the window right the fuck now. He'd been thinking he'd be able to run for cover and eat squirrel or something like that. But this gear meant snow, which meant food was going to be way harder to find. Crap. He'd been on enough winter search and rescues to know just how much more stacked against him the odds has just become. He was going to have to wade into the Cornucopia. He'd been cautioned against it, but he had to go for it.

The brightness of the glacier took him utterly by surprise, he'd just managed to get his eyes to adjust when the countdown clock reached zero. Then he sprinted, making a beeline for one of the bags and whatever random crap he could grab on the way.

For Copycat

[tailforbrains]

Neeshka was still out of sorts. Between hardly sleeping, fretting over the possibility of painful death and potential discomfort like last arena, and the fight with Wyatt weighing on her mind, she was most definitely not at her best this morning.

Still, she was quick, and she relied on that. She made a mad dash for the Cornucopia, sending snow flying and with her tail lashing about behind her for balance, and the bow that had served her so well last time. If only she could get that, she could be all right, even without stupid Wyatt.

OPEN

[hartless_cowboy]

The countdown. Dressed in warm clothes and urged to put on gloves, something that was missing in the last Arena, Lindsey already got a bad feeling. Technically no one knew what the arena looked like until the game began, but obviously the ones who arranged it did.

And as they got raised to a barren land of ice and snow, Lindsey was both glad and pissed that they saw fit to dress them yet not warn them of the harsh environment.

3... 2... 1...

No time for that. As soon as the noise sounded, he ran straight for the supplies that he saw and grabbed the first bag he came across. He dashed for a second one immediately after but swerved when he saw someone was already going for it. Instead, he dashed to pick up a few more cans instead.

[gruesome]

The length of the countdown, Some was oblivious to the digitized voice, to the shrieking wind. He crouched rigid on his pedestal, his custom boots keeping him from gripping its edges, and stared around them, at the white. The ice. The glacier.


And then the gong rang, and the ice answered with its terrifying, hateful voice. He tried to scream, but all that came out was a puff of clouded great and a squeak. He tried to pray, but he had forgotten all of the words.


They were all going to die. And their bones would never be found.

[needsaprince]

Lottie lept from her pedestal as soon as the gong rang. It was cold, colder than she had ever been in, and she was about to bolt away, as fast as her legs could take her, when she saw Some.

Some who was not moving.

"Aw hell." She said, letting out a very unlady like curse, before bolting across the ice, towards Some.

[makeflowersgrow]

Eponine was shivering even before she was halfway up the tunnel. Wherever they were putting her was cold, as cold as France had been in the winter - colder. She didn't want to go. Had there been any way to get out of the tube, she would have taken it.

But naturally, like every other tribute, she was deposited onto her pedestal. She hugged her arms to herself, shivering through her layers and looked around in wonder. She had never seen anywhere so beautiful.

Whilst the countdown continued, Eponine was lost in thought, remembering winter beneath the bridge and the snow she had stood barefoot in. She could survive the conditions if she wanted to.

She didn't want to. As soon as the gong sounded, she stepped off her pedestal, cast a triumphant look around and sat down. She'd show them. She'd soon be back in the Capitol.

[pursuitofcappiness]

There is a man running towards her, yelling at her to run and gesturing wildly. He will reach down, pluck her up and carry her where he is going, if she doesn't move. Everyone else can squabble for whatever's at the cornucopia, but he doesn't want a weapon. He doesn't want this woman to die, either.

She needs to get up. She needs to get up and run; he won't run away and listen as her blood is the first to stain the fresh white snow.

[rea_norton]

Andrea is completely bewildered. Just hours ago, she was at school, teasing a bunch of chavs. And now she's awakened into some strange world where people dress like a cross between the Posh Totties and the chavs and been dragged into some weapon hall to be JUDGED and then stripped of her uniform and forced into some awful suit and told she's about to fight to the death?

That is one weird trip.

And yet, it felt so real. What was happening?
She looked around at her fellow tributes in bewilderment. Had they all known about this? Who were they? And is that - is that a turtle?

Rea was horribly confused. And as soon as the gong sounded, she legged it, as far away from everyone else as she could get. Which, she realised, was the wrong thing to do. If she was going to fight to the death, she needed some weapons.

Andrea doubled back to the Cornucopia and stood to watch the bloodbath from about 150 metres away.

[polyturtle]

To answer your question, yes, Andrea. That is a turtle who just palm-chopped a black dude and is now running off with a bag. If its a trip, its a really good trip, because the turtle looks pretty freaking real. As does the blood spurting the black dude's face. And that's not even getting into the centaur running around, the green demon who is...well, who knows where, and the four-legged monster on the platform. And Albert Wesker.

In other words, welcome to Panem.

[cowardfacinghappiness]

Well this was a problem. Normally Momoko turned her back on the Cornucopia and aimed straight for the nearest shelter. Here, however, there didn't appear to be any sort of real shelter.

No time to worry about it now. If nothing else, she needed distance between herself and the others until she had a some semblance of a safe place, so as usual, soon as the gong went off Momoko booked it, heading into that blindingly white and blue-green vista.

And falling straight into a crevasse just as she was nearing the end of her initial burst of energy. With a shriek she fell, grabbing a jutting ledge of ice in a move that hurt, but kept her from falling too far. She pulled herself with a wince onto the small ledge and just curled up there for a moment. She was relatively safe, as long as the ice held, and she didn't really feel up to climbing back up just yet.

[polyturtle]

"Momoko!"

And then Don was there, up at the top of the crevasse. He leaned down, looking shocked.

"Hang on! Let me help you out!"

Of course, he doesn't say anything about how he nearly fell in.

for sherlock

[downbeat]

Katurian traveled up the tube with his eyes squeezed shut. He told himself again and again that he had resigned himself to death, but with each passing second, his stomach grew sicker and his limbs grew heavier. That first blast of icy air was like electricity, and his breath caught and his lungs screamed.

Then something inside him shut down.

It sounded like a buzzing inside his head at first, an irritating insect ducking in and out of the wind, but then that buzzing became the roar of a lawnmower, a truck, a train, and it overtook his entire body, that phantom sound, and made him feel like he was drowning in the open air. All of a sudden, he was outside of his body, he was the buzzing sound, and he was safe because he was a noise and no could ever ever ever touch a noise, and he was a cardboard cutout, he was paper mache, he was a character in a story and he was going to be all right because the protagonist always wins.

When he ran, Katurian heard nothing but the wind and the thunderous screams inside his own head.

[alldeduction]

Sherlock face was a mask - stern, sharp edges and no softness. His curiosity had disappeared and was replaced by petulance and spite, and he had been quite nasty to his handlers as he was brought to the arena. Prepared.

The parka (suitable for at least minus forty, he told himself, glancing at it) gave him a clue to what to expect, even if he couldn't quite believe it.

The countdown and the tunnel only served to further steel the muscles on his face. He would not look out of his element. He would not look afraid. And really, he wasn't. Sherlock Holmes wasn't afraid, he was mad.

The wind hit him with the force of a typhoon, and he braced himself against it. His eyes immediately scanned the entire landscape. Barren. Barren, save for the large metal structure, the heaps of supplies at its centre, and the dozens of tributes arrayed in a circle around the edge.

A death trap, in other words. But one he had to keep a close eye on.

He took off in the other direction almost immediately at the sound of the gong, running far enough to a crest of snow, throwing himself down behind it to better see what was happening at the centre.

And, unfortunately, the man barreling straight in his direction.

[strangeasangels]

Castiel shivered as the cold bit at him. It was an odd sensation to be effected this way. He looked around trying to survey the terrain in front of him. His plan was very clear cut, locate dean, and protect him.

Looking around at the other competitors he noted some that might be a problem. He did not like the idea of harming innocents, but protecting Dean was his main objective.