"The museum will be closing in half an hour. At that time, something very special will be distributed to the Tributes brave enough to risk their peers at the first floor elevators."

The storm is still raging outside, casting everything on the first floor in a dim light occasionally shattered by flashes of lightning. The thunder rolling in the background seems to set the tone, although some may find it a welcome distraction from silence.

Half an hour passes. Five minutes before it's done, the elevators cease functioning, leaving Tributes to use the stairwells.

Each elevator door opens to reveal a handful of weapons: firecrackers, revolvers, grenades. There are no threats to the Tributes who try to retrieve them - none but their fellow competitors.

[OOC note: party-style post. Everyone tag away.]

Who: Max and You
What: Further exploration and more Tributes
Where: Second Floor
When: Week Two
Notes: Mask violence

( Hit a Sista Back )

Who| Everyone and anyone! May be with or without the Initiate
What| IT'S VOODOO TIME. COME GET YOUR FREE DOSINGS OF FEAR & NIGHTMARES!!!
Where| Specifically the culture exhibits, but really anywhere
When| Starting from early-mid week 1 and carrying on with increasing severity from there (in ten minute bursts)
WARNINGS| to be announced!! / self harm?

( Gonna use you and abuse you, I wanna know what's inside you )

The Tributes are woken up early for this Arena, and switched from whatever sleeping attire they're currently in to a set of pajamas, each designed for the individual in questions. Women wear onesies, and most of the men wear two-pieces, but other than that any similarities are at random - the outfits are in all sorts of colors and patterns.

The floor of the helicopter taking them to their Arena location, and of the underground entrance to the tubes that hoist them to the surface, will feel cold under their bare feet.

Rather than bringing them to sunlight, like the tubes have in the past, instead the Tributes are presented to a dark concrete ceiling in a badly-lit parking lot. Fluorescent lights do little to illuminate the cavernous space.

The countdown begins, announced as if from far away.

20

19

18…

The Cornucopia, a ghastly thing carved from stone and concrete, sits at the center of a pattern of white and yellow lines reminiscent of spots for parked cars. The painted lines create a sort of spoked wheel, providing lanes for the Tributes leading to the prizes at the center. Some of the more unfortunate Tributes will find the concrete architecture has placed pillars in their lanes.

8

7

6…

Six parked cars lie around the outskirts of the huge lot, barely visible in the dim lighting. Glowing exit signs on two opposite sides of the chamber announce where Tributes should go to escape the bloodbath. Elevator doors are perched beneath them.

3

2

1

The gong rings out, and the countdown's voice announces "the Arena is now open". The Games have begun.

Who| Marius, Cosette, and OPEN!
What| Making alliances/enemies, food scouting, etc.! Three starters available. :3
Where| Forest; Lab at the Western end of the arena
When| Throughout Week One
Warnings/Notes| Pontmercying; will add as appropriate

( Day One; Food Search )

( Night One; Forest )

( End of Week One; Abandoned Lab )

Today begins particularly early by normal standards. Long before the sun, or even a hint of dawn arrives. When the world is still and black and quiet, save for the parties still raging on from the night before. Night owls still have not gone to sleep. Everyone knows what today is, even if you've only just arrived.

There is a palpable tension in the air as everyone is ushered out under the cover of darkness to board the hovercrafts. A stream of faces both familiar and unknown filter in and take their seats, and very little is said as tributes are strapped in and attendants make their rounds, activating tracking devices. There are no windows, no openings no view of the outside world as it passes silently, below. The journey takes hours. And when everyone finally arrives, there is no hint of sky or grass or cloud or tree. Just long concrete hallways and rows of uniformed peacekeepers that remind everyone to keep in line in the underbelly of the unknown.

One by one, each tribute is lead into a small concrete room where stylists outfit tributes in their only bit of protection for the next coming weeks. Little is given away by the clothing each stylists put their tribute in. No flair or flourish or costumed monstrosity this time. Just simple, functional mundane civilian clothing. Khakis, cotton shirts, boots.

There is little time to dress and say goodbyes. Only a few small moments left to gather your thoughts. And then, the countdown starts. A countdown displayed in holographic blue begins:

25. 24. 23. 22....

The smell of earth and grass and a general damp green fills your lungs as you rise, slowly into a large grass field. At first, its the only thing you can see in all directions until the pedestal locks in place.

20. 19. 18. 17....

In the near distance, the cornucopia looms. Massive. Copper. Even hidden by the grass you can see its spoils are plentiful, tempting anyone with even a mild curiosity streak to come explore. Some may see this as a warning sign already .

15. 14. 13...

You can see the others, around you. Their heads, maybe the shoulders of taller tributes, and very little else. If there is anything hidden in this field you would never know it. The grass is too tall and too thick to show what might be lurking near the ground.

10. 9. 8....

There is just a hint of a breeze and the lingering scent of recent rain. The humidity is more uncomfortable than the heat., its a thick, jungle-like warm. You can see a dense tangle of trees in the distance. Blue sky filled with towering white clouds. Its the sort of place where nothing ever truly seems to be dry. At least you might not have to worry about freezing to death.

6. 5. 4...

For just a moment, everything goes perfectly still. Perfectly silent.

The grass rustles.

You feel the breeze.

2.

1.

0.

You will have two hours until a short warning alarm will sound and the sonic fences turn on across the entire arena.

Who| Eliot, Parker, Lindsey, Anna, and Chris
What| Death party
Where| the Cornucopia in the candy Arena
When| the first half hour of the first day
Warnings/Notes| death, death, and injury

( Are you, are you coming to the tree? )

Who| Everyone in the arena
What| Even more reasons to hate the Capitol.
Where| Everywhere.
When| 4 am.
Warnings/Notes| Any group is being targeted to be separated. Everyone should be tagging someone they are not with, as well as those they are, as the Gamemakers are driving them apart. (You can feel free to search for, and possibly find your buddies later)


Once upon a time, when this place was a much happier place, fireworks would light up the sky, delighting children and leaving everyone with a magical feeling in their hearts.

This will not leave anyone with a magical feeling.

It was much later than a fireworks show would have ever gone. Closer to dawn then not, when anyone who could rest, even those far from it, would have finally managed to drift off.

It started with a strange, warbling music. For those familiar with this place it feels wrong, close to something they would connect with this show, but wrong. Distorted. Stumbling through a few bars, it starts to peter out just in time for a high pitches whistling.

And then the first firework explodes into the ground in a shower of bright colors, lighting up the castle. There is a moment of silence as the sparks fade.

And then all hell breaks loose.

Whoever is controlling the fireworks obviously have goals in mind. The strikes are tight, controlled. They are herding. Targeting the groups, the pairs, driving them apart.

The fireworks aren't made to kill (although a direct hit may), but they burn flesh, and leave anyone who looks at them too close momentarily blinded. Ever one is a shrieker, loud, louder then the shrillest fourth of July fireworks, screaming toward their targets. The arena is suddenly a shrill battleground, full of blindingly bright colors.

Th whole attack doesn't last longer than 20 minutes, petering off as the divisions have been deemed enough. A few squeal through the night here and there and then finally, blissfully silent.

Who| Alex Rider, R, Eliot Spencer
What| Alex bumps into R and comes out the worse for it.
Where| Near Pirates of the Caribbean ride
When| Late week 2
Warnings/Notes| Not cake (aka death)

( Alex had not had very good luck this Arena. )

Who|  Anyone who replied here
In the remains of a little pavilion, with broken teacups scattered around the remains of a fence at the edge, a tea party is set up. 

At one end of the table sits a white placemat with a white satin bag, neatly tied up with pretty white ribbons. And the other end is the same display, in black. Along each side there are 5 a piece, one for each district, in their colors.

The table is also covered with teapots, contained for tea and sugar... however all of them have covers. Covers that are moving, being pushed up from within by a tiny creature with bright eyes and sharp teeth. As soon as the first tribute touches one of the bags the pots burst open and dozens of small, mice muttation pour out, with mouths full of sharp teeth and paws with razor sharp claws on them.

Anyone who makes it away with one of the pretty satin bags will find it contains a large thermostat of tea, 4 petit fours, a small locket containing a small amount of shimmer medicine-about enough for one wound, and a sturdy hat pin, with a very sharp point at one end. Although both the tea and cakes are very sugary, they are also very filling-they will last a few days if rationed well. 

( The winners and losers. )