Who| All those on the liberation mission and all those being made to fight against them.
What| The liberation of District 9.
Where| District 9
When| This week.
Warnings/Notes| War, violence, death. Please warn for more in headers.

By now, even the most remote and isolated Districts are well aware of the chaos ravaging Panem. District Nine, golden with wheat and blinding with its expansive blue horizon, is quiet, and yet nothing about it feels safe; the stillness is less like a serene oasis than like tall grass that cannot help but contain lions prowling. An air raid siren was going off an hour ago at the sight of hovercrafts, driving everyone inside. No one is outside working the fields or traveling the dirt roads to the hub of the District, which sits in the center like a spider in its web or the axel of a wheel. Displaced Capitolite and Districter both are hunkered down within the corrugated-metal buildings.

The air is hot, and once outside the hovercrafts one finds that what was previously mistaken for silence is in fact the monotonous hum and whine of insects, too continuous and amorphous to really qualify as actual sound but certainly not the absence of it. The sun glares down from a cloudless sky. The earth was tilled until an hour ago, and many of the fields are only partially plowed. Some still have farm equipment left out. Mills and water towers sit awkwardly at the edge of the fields like sentinels or oversized dominos.

The crops stretch out to the horizon, ranging from waist-height to taller than the average full-grown man, depending on the breed. The sheer variety is astonishing, the quality even moreso; ears of corn are as large as toddlers and the wheat is a flawless golden color, thanks to Capitol technology and genetic modification. There are no pests, as most of the plants have a natural pesticide that is fatal upon ingestion and only removable with sprays available to importers to the Capitol, to prevent theft by the hungry employees.

There are crop circles, many in the Capitol’s logo and a few stamped with the insignias of local Capitol-run businesses. It does not reflect the sentiments of the natives but rather an attempt by those clinging to their echelons to enforce a mindset in vain. The propaganda has largely been repelled from the souls of the people here like bugs to a windshield. Only the rarest bit of graffiti may be spotted saying "All is not lost" and "you are weak" both of which have clear attempts to be scrubbed away.

The war continues, and in the back of everyone's mind is a familiar phrase; may the odds be ever in your favor.

WHO| Everyone
WHAT| Power Chip Liberation plot; and you get superpowers, and YOU get superpowers...
WHEN| After D7 breakout
WHERE| District Six, Distrixt Thirteen, the Capitol
WARNINGS| Death, cannibalism.

The manufacturing plant in District Six takes nearly a day to get to for the District Thirteen soldiers; there's word that the Capitol has invested in better radar and anti-aircraft technology, so the hovercraft has to stay low, barely above the line of trees and then, once in the flat desert of the District, only feet above the ground and moving slowly enough not to kick up a visible trail of dust.

When they spy the line of anti-aircraft guns ringing the plant, the soldiers know that they made the right choice in not rushing. The plant is guarded well beyond what a normal factory here in District Six would be, which is a dead giveaway that they've come to the right one. Thankfully, the hacking team back home has carved out a small blind space that the combat team can sneak in through, and from that point the first wave of Peacekeepers defending the command system aren't effective in keeping the soldiers from the controls.

It's only after that that things begin to go wrong. The remaining Peacekeepers in the cramped, busy plant full of machinery and materials start attacking with powers that certainly didn't come from Panem. The factory workers, innocents, run for cover behind assemblylines and hide under tables, and on the second floor of the three-story building they take leaps out the window for safety. Chaos reigns. Holes are blown in the walls; shrapnel flits through the air and takes blood and flesh with it; Gowan Stevens, an unimpressive-looking man with rolled-up sleeves, grabs something from the control panel and a gun from one of his security guards and runs, protected by the mania around him.

Every offworld Tribute will be able to feel it - either the return of their familiar powers, or a rush of intuition and power that they never before had but that seems as easy to come to as riding a bike. From District Thirteen to the Capitol, the rush of power comes heady and wild - and just in time, because disaster strikes both in District Six and in the city.

Who| All those on the liberation mission and all those being made to fight against them.
What| The liberation of District 12.
Where| District 12.
When| This week.
Warnings/Notes| War, violence, death. Please warn for more in headers.

It doesn't take long to get to District 12, the closest district to the rebel district. It's one of the smallest districts, and you only know you reach it when rolling hills grow and grow until they become large, fertile green mountains. The environment looks green and lush, beautiful, really--That is, until you reach the part of the District where people actually live. The weather is chillier than the Capitol, though the wind bares the worst of it. Anyone planning on spending any time outside should definitely get a coat.

The town is smaller than any of the others, and more worn down. Everything seems to have a thin layer of cole settled over it, no matter how much cleaning is done. The center of the town isn't too shabby, and there are a few things that stand new and shining--A metal whipping post and stocks. The latter occasionally has an unfortunate person in it, though most people have learned to buckle down and accept the new rules.

In the merchant part of town, there's some signs of wildlife, knobby trees and green enough yards. The merchants used to ply their trades here, though for now, everything's locked down. As you get farther, it gets shabbier, poorer. Into the Seam, where the poorest of the poor live. Here, the houses are barely more than shacks. Trees grow wild, and what animal life exists is quick to run from any humans, no doubt having survived at least one attempt by the people of the Seam to capture them for the supper pot.

One thing in common with all the sections of the District is a feeling of hopelessness. The mood is dour, as heavy and permanent as the cole dust that seeps into everything. The only sign of anything even resembling any rebellion is a few chalk scratchings on the sides of abandoned buildings, a few zodiac symbols--Anyone who knows the trolls can recognize the symbols of Karkat, Terezi, Psiioniic, and even the Initiate. That, and the grand pictures of Sam Wilson and Joan Watson, and the bold words stating NOT ALONE and WE ALL DESERVE BETTER.

The war continues, and in the back of everyone's mind is a familiar phrase; may the odds be ever in your favor.

Who| Bucky Barnes, Jane Shepard, Jet Link, Sam Wilson, & Steve Rogers
What| It's like highlander up in here, only one survives.
Where| Around the entry of the Castle, outside the Castle, slightly in the Castle too
When| Later in the Final Week
Warnings/Notes| Death, a lot of death. Violence.

( Read more... )

Who | Avengerpalooza + friends
What | Clint ran into some beasties in the woods. He didn't come out of it in one piece.
Where | Heading to and hanging around in the Avenger's Base.
When | End of Week 3, beginning of Week 4
Warnings/Notes | Brief mentions of animal death, bodily injury, and field amputations.

( But now it's like the night is taking sides )

Who| Jet and OPEN
What| The Gamemakers make sure Jet's getting punished for his actions
Where| Outside in some shade and then in the castle for the other two prompts
When| Tuesday-Thursday of Week 3
Warnings/Notes| Mentions of insanity throughout and reference to alcoholism in the last prompt. Feel free to tag any or more than one, if it interests you.
( Got a bullet in the chamber and this is gonna hurt )

Who| Jet Link and Bruce Banner
What| A not-so-friendly jaunt through the woods
Where| The woods, near some of those evil tree roots
When| Late week 2
Warnings/Notes| N/A for now
( Losing life as they drift down )

Who| Éowyn and OPEN
What| Éowyn attends Wednesday's feast; attempts to train a horse on Friday
Where| The castle; the forest
When| Week 2, Wednesday and Friday.
Warnings/Notes| I should probably register that I don't know jackshit about taming horses. So. Yeah.

( i. the broken-hearted many )

( ii. the open-hearted few )

Who| Jet and Sam
What| Flying high and taking a flock of crows to the face
Where| Most of the arena, in the sky
When| Early week 0
Warnings/Notes| None right now! Just a couple of birds.
( Most of the people who seem to be lost in the dark )

The morning breaks to a familiar routine for most of you. Bright and early the Tributes are roused by their escorts and stylists, escorted from their rooms and to the waiting hovercraft. The flight takes them a few hours out from the Capitol and after landing they are escorted quickly into an underground complex to be prepped. Tributes will find to their dismay that their outfits are a little less practical and a little more costume this time around, the ratio of which depends entirely on the whims of their stylist. Peacekeepers will appear almost immediately after they've finished dressing to put them in the waiting launch tubes.

59

58

57

They rise up from the ground and -- phew, what's that smell? The Tribute's look around them to see a full-on medieval village, constructed entirely from wood and thatch. There are empty pens that might have once held pigs and chickens attached to the houses and a well is visible down the street. What commands attention though is what's in the centre of the village square where the Tribute's are standing; a pyre built around a tall wooden stake. Those who look amongst the piles of twigs and wood will see the gleam of weapons, as well as backpacks containing survival supplies. This is your Cornucopia, Tributes.

30

29

28

Anyone who tries to look further afield, over the roofs of the houses, will see the main feature of this arena looming above them. The castle stands tall and forbidding, a monstrous sized building of stone with flags bearing the emblem of the Capitol flying from its parapets. From here, if they squint, they can see the drawbridge is down and the portcullis is open. For now.

3

2

1

A triumphant sounding of trumpets is what signals this arena's beginning and with it those Tribute's with powers may feel a sudden tingling in their bones, a rush of energy as those powers are restored to them. Any with constantly active abilities will find a light illuminates immediately over their head, signalling that something about this powered arena is going to be a little different from the last. For those who try to use their powers right off the bat... well, they'll be in for a nasty shock.


[[OOC: A mod reminder that this arena is designed to punish Tribute's for using powers. If your character will attempt to use powers at any time in week 1 of the arena it needs to be reported here to be RNG'd by the mods for chances of success or injury.

There will be a thread on Death Roll posts for subsequent weeks power usage to be reported.]]