Who| All those on the breakout mission and all those being made to fight against them.
What| The liberation of District 4.
Where| District 4.
When| This week.
Warnings/Notes| War, violence, death. Please warn for more in headers.

The ocean is a calm clear beauty only for a short while. Storm clouds loom on the horizon, dark and massive beasts prowl quickly forward and growing size. The waves grow higher and higher over time, crashing violent upon rock, dock, and shore alike. One wrong slip, and the ocean may very will claim you for its own, war be damned.

The once bright and friendly tourist city and pier is on total lockdown. The businesses (curios shops, restaurants, and even games and rides) have closed their doors and barred them with wood. One of the hotels has been turned into the Capitol-soldier boarding and war room, a refuge for Peacekeepers in the new uprising.

Said Peacekeepers are struggling here, quicker to react due to the nature of the District's people. There is an overwhelming amount of rebels here, perhaps even the entirety of the District. Many of them, as comes from being a former career District, know how to fight, make traps, and generally outlast their opponents. Capitol soldiers will be stretched thin trying to help the Peacekeepers settle this District's ire. The people of District four want vengeance.

Everywhere beyond the tourist's city is rebel territory. Propoganda is rampant here. It's greatest control is the weather washing it away. Yet still words can be seen such as in the face of adversity; stand together! and TO BRAVERY! and Time's up, Capitol.

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

Who| All those on the liberation mission and all those being made to fight against them.
What| The liberation of District 10.
Where| District 10.
When| This week.
Warnings/Notes| War, violence, death. Please warn for more in headers.

Fields of grass are all that can be seen in any direction for at least an hour while the hovercraft come in. These fields are broken only by the occasional color change (marking different kinds of grass and even the occasional wheat field) and a farmstead every now and again. It’s easy to see that the animals here far outnumber the people as it’s more likely to see a grazing horse or cow or even something stranger like llamas and elephant before one would ever notice a human being. The temperature is mild in this season, not too cool in the shade and not too hot under the sun, although as the hovercraft come in and the people of the main city come into view, quite a few are dressed in long pants and sleeves, their clothing worn and dirty from hours of hard labor. In wide open fields like these there are only a few groves of trees to park a hovercraft out of sight behind. It’s one of these far off groves the craft lands. It would be a shame to have to hoof it all the way into the city.

If you’re from the Capitol, this doesn’t apply, as they can land wherever is most convenient. For those in the rebel forces... well just be glad someone knew what to expect and has procured more than a few horses to carry you into town.

District Ten has always been overlooked by the Capitol. A large district by landmass alone, its people are perceived to be just as domestic as the livestock they tend to, so despite whatever political climate it may hold, rebellion is not seen as a concern here. Consequently, those on the rebellion’s side will find they’re the first ones on the scene.

They’re greeted by friendly, if not guarded, faces. These are people who stick to their own community, their own families, but they’re not an unfriendly group. They know who you are and why you’re here. They’ve said for ages that the Capitol needed to go down, that something ought to be done about Snow and his Games, but no one ever paid them any mind. Probably because all that talk may be there, but it’s only ever been that. No one expects an uprising from the countryfolk.

Being so laid back, there's really not much in the way of graffiti. No one particularly has anything to say that has been said and shrugged off. One might hear laughs and mutters about the compliance video or a morose mention of Bison and the call to fight. There are also others pointing out that this is just the way things work.

Even the peacekeeping forces here are limited and laid back, not nearly as strict as might be found in other districts, but they are still there, so it’s best to keep your heads down as you move through the town.

As for how the Capitol forces are greeted upon their arrival, well, that all depends on how successful those rebels are.

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

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 7.
Where| District 7.
When| This week.
Warnings/Notes| War, violence, death. Please warn for more in headers.

The forest goes on for miles, a great green, snowy, and towering sea unbroken by the influence of man, at least until the city is reached, parts of the forest cut away around it. It's a city that's come to much ruin as the elements have taken over most of what once was Calgary, but some of the buildings have been converted into lumber mills, the giant saws buzzing loud. A few mills even have a man made river running by them to help run smooth and transport materials, the water's current keeping it from freezing just yet. The river runs into a massive and beautiful lake that's frozen over to the opposite side of the river's mouth, the ice thinner the further one gets from shore.

Posters of Clara and Emily have been put up around the District but some only half-way as the war broke out and parts were lost to the elements. Still more have been defaced, scratching out the lines Peace is the brightest star on the tree. The phrase We can make this our Panem can be seen around, but those too have been blotted out in other areas, sometimes with a note that the offworlders don't belong here. Tiny snowmen faintly resembling Karkat and Wyatt stand around, made by the young and hurried hands of certain residents here.

Much of the homes are log cabins, but a few have been made out of overturned train-cars and trucks. Throughout the open paths, Snow has been piled up to build icy blockades, protecting the buildings and their people, while trenches in the middle of the roads give Districters a vantage point to fight from.

But there is no better vantage point than among the trees. With the cover of the foliage, soldiers, Peacekeepers, and Districters alike able to climb the trunks can sit up high and scope out their enemies, getting the drop well before they're ever even noticed. These people have lived rough, but they are stronger for it, not weaker, and they are largely in favor of the Tributes, grateful for the children that were saved. Much of rebellion has hidden within those woods. The rebels on top of the many wildlife creatures like moose, big cats, foxes and birds of prey, make it a treacherous walk for Peacekeepers.

That in itself is another thing everyone will notice; there are a lot of Peacekeepers here. In District seven, most peacekeepers are the best of the best. Capitol-soldiers will be in no short supply of backup, even despite the District's rebelliousness. Rebels will need to step light no matter what they're doing; the Peacekeepers can be a little trigger happy.

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

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| Luna, Phi
What| A run-in between fellow ex-players.
Where| Edge of the forest, near the water
When| Week 3, after Winterfell's bombing
Warnings/Notes| None for now.

( And why have you made our souls leave their abodes? )

Who| Maglev, Karkat, Luna
What| One-handed joy rides, Alternia exploration, survival & separation
Where| The desert and Alternia sections
When| Week one
Warnings/Notes| limb loss mention, Alternian horribleness, hungry gamers

( Who is the lamb and who is the knife? )

Who: Ruffnut and Open to All
What: Ruffnut finally feels at home...and then it burns to the ground
Where: The isle of Berk, the water area and then the forests
When: Week 4
Warnings: Death, pain, violence.

( Home again home again jiggity jig )

Who| Sansa and OPEN, with a closed prompt for Luna and Arya
What| Catch-all for Arena 4 so far because my activity sucks
Where| Throughout the Arena (desert/city in week 1, Winterfell/medieval fantasy in weeks 2-3, forest in week 4)
When| ALL THE TIMES week 1-4, backdated like whoa
Warnings/Notes| TBC

( i held it in but now it seems you've set it running free )

( closed to arya and luna )