The Gamemakers (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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thearena2012-03-31 11:30 am
gamemakers) wrote in thearena2012-03-31 11:30 am
Arena 01: Ready, set, go!
There's no word, before they arrive, of what the Arena will look like, what hazards and advantages it will give to the Tributes. It was a topic of interest in the news coverage beforehand, it always is, but as always, it's a closely guarded secret of the Gamemakers. They're gathered from the Training Center, individually, and taken into the hovercraft, where everyone is implanted with a tracking device, buried deep in the muscle of their forearm. It's harmless, but cutting it out would not be.
The hovercraft delivers them to an underground bunker, with only their stylists, and there they receive their one advance clue about the Arena; their clothing. Each Tribute is dressed in thick cloth pants and shirt, given sturdy hiking boots with thin neoprene socks, and a short, weather-proof jacket with deep pockets and a plastic hood. Nothing more.
There's just time to say goodbye to the stylists when the countdown starts. Each Tribute is directed into a glass and metal tube, which then ascends. And the countdown keeps going, a loud projected voice.
25 - 24 - 23 - 22 - 21
It's noon in the Arena, the sun brilliant on water, on cliffs, on the snow high above them. Twenty-four pedestals stand in the span of a wide tide-flat, surrounded by stony mud encrusted with oysters, cut through with rivulets of glistening water.
18 - 17 - 16 - 15
Through the middle of their circle runs a thigh-deep river, the run-off of the massive waterfall that stands a short ways back in the woods, and in the middle of that is the Cornucopia, blinding gold in the sunlight, reflecting the sea and the trees and the mountains.
9 - 8 - 7
They've all been warned, don't step off your pedestal early.
4 - 3
2
And then the gong, rolling out to echo off the cliffs and water, seeming to ring forever.
[OOC: Don't forget the OOC Arena post, especially those of you running for the Cornucopia. And here are your fellow tributes. Every single one of you ought to post to this post. There will be a Cornucopia thread, and anyone else feel free to post as you will. Please add a tag with your character's name.]
The hovercraft delivers them to an underground bunker, with only their stylists, and there they receive their one advance clue about the Arena; their clothing. Each Tribute is dressed in thick cloth pants and shirt, given sturdy hiking boots with thin neoprene socks, and a short, weather-proof jacket with deep pockets and a plastic hood. Nothing more.
There's just time to say goodbye to the stylists when the countdown starts. Each Tribute is directed into a glass and metal tube, which then ascends. And the countdown keeps going, a loud projected voice.
25 - 24 - 23 - 22 - 21
It's noon in the Arena, the sun brilliant on water, on cliffs, on the snow high above them. Twenty-four pedestals stand in the span of a wide tide-flat, surrounded by stony mud encrusted with oysters, cut through with rivulets of glistening water.
18 - 17 - 16 - 15
Through the middle of their circle runs a thigh-deep river, the run-off of the massive waterfall that stands a short ways back in the woods, and in the middle of that is the Cornucopia, blinding gold in the sunlight, reflecting the sea and the trees and the mountains.
9 - 8 - 7
They've all been warned, don't step off your pedestal early.
4 - 3
2
And then the gong, rolling out to echo off the cliffs and water, seeming to ring forever.
[OOC: Don't forget the OOC Arena post, especially those of you running for the Cornucopia. And here are your fellow tributes. Every single one of you ought to post to this post. There will be a Cornucopia thread, and anyone else feel free to post as you will. Please add a tag with your character's name.]
no subject
The fear had settled in, the DOG's voice was slowly sliding in and out of her reality. That is, until she hears an extra pair of foot steps behind her. She doesn't even understand why she turned her head, since it only took so much more until every inch of reality would be controlled by that monster she did her best to desperately hide.
Unfortunately, fate was not on her side when it came down to not exposing that part of her she hated most about herself. Once she saw the towering man behind her, eyes immediately widen with every last bit of fear she could find, and that familiar voice had practically growled in her ears.
Come on! Come on! You're scared, right? It's okay, I'll press the switch, and then everything will be fun!
No matter how much she mentally protested, Lily's once brightly lit world was now surrounded by black as the monster had finally clawed its way out.
No yelp or cry for help, but a low growl escaped from her throat as she turned quickly on her heel. Though her genetically enhanced powers had been terribly reduced, it didn't stop the DOG from doing exactly what the other tribute had predicted. Tiny fingers curling around the handle of the knife she was more than glad to have received, the last thing the male would see was a nothing more than a sick and twisted smile of a dog with bared fangs.
Quickly turning on her heels, the young girl had found herself lucky enough to have reached the male's neck. The blade so easily slicing through skin as the crimson coloured liquid quickly poured and hit against her skin, before quickly turning in order for the body to tumble hard against the ground.
As the dog, she enjoyed this. The thrill and excitement she was able to achieve when taking another persons life. But as the girl, as Lily, nothing more than regret and mistrust against herself came once she had returned from the black.
Bright blue eyes had returned, looking at the fallen body before her heart desperately sank into the deepest parts of her chest. Looking at the blade still in her hands as she was unable to find the voice to scream and cry with the realization that the monster she so desperately wanted to escape from was no where from gone.
Tears quickly filled her eyes, as she knelt down in the puddle of blood that the DOG had created. A shaking, hesitant hand reaching out to the - what she hoped - life before her. Only to find out that her actions had lead to a swift and painful death, "I'm sorry..." She whispers, to where she took a moment to hide her face in those tiny hands of hers. The hands of a murderer. A monster.
"I'm so sorry, I'm sorry."
With obviously nothing more for her to do, the young girl slowly made her way up. Taking another glance towards the dead tribute before she finally ran through the entrance of the woods.