User blog:Oblivion1001/The 98th Hunger Games :D

Bold = Career Tributes

Good luck & may the odds be EVER in your favor!! I will do reapings, chariot rides, interviews, the Games (duh) and victor interviews. Hope you like it!! :)

All my needs:
Each person has a limit to 4 tributes. Thanks. Here's what I need:

Name

District

Age

Career Tribute or Not

Skills

Weaknesses

Strategy

Personality

Reaped/Not Reaped

Token

Arena
OK. Here's how it works.



56 tributes are locked in a giant maze.

There will be mutts. Lots of mutts.

Each of the hedges are 15 feet high and not easy to climb.

The climate is very warm.

There will be water and lakes thrroughout the maze.

The tributes all start at different parts of the maze.

The first one who gets to the middle transports all the others still alive home. So for now the number of victors is unknown.

But it will be dangerous.

The tributes can kill each other.

The mutts can kill the tributes.

The tributes can starve or die of thirst.

Reapings
District 0:

Venus Chrome:

I wake up, pulling back my thin sheets and immeadiately grabbing my soft fur coat from a hook on the wall. The air is chilled, my bare feet are freezing. I carefully walk down the wooden stairs so as not to wake my siblings and parents. Jupiter, my brother, is already awake. Together we get ready and, after 30 minutes, we walk out. The others will, catch up, we're not worried. And sure enough, they're running after us, hastily washed and groomed. But we're not worried about THAT either. What we ARE worried about is the cold creeping up our legs. I hug myself as I join the other 18-year olds in my pen. I see Saturn and Juiter slip into the 13 and 16 year olds' pens. Eris is nowhere in sight, but I'm not worried about her. "May I have your attention, please... OK, boys first." I see the look of determination on Saturn's face, and I pray, "Please don't let him be reaped." "SATURN CHROME!" "Yes!" Saturn yells, then scurries up to the stage to join the escort. She reads another slip. "Jupiter Chrome!" Another cry of agony escapes my lips. "Let's see, girls now... Falin Frost!" I sigh with releif that it's not one of my siblings. that is, until I hear an all-too-farmiliar voice calling, "I VOLUNTEER! Ha, in your FACE, Saturn!" Then Eris is on the stage, too. Then, as if in slow motion, the escort picks a slip of paper from the reaping ball. And before she can read it out loud. I see the name, scrawled in tiny, black letters, but it's there. It's my name.

District 1:

Marvel Dismond:

I stare out my window, the contents of my bowl sloshed back and forth with my spoon. I'm too nervous to eat. "Marvel, eat." My sister, Teresa, walks in and grabs a bowl, filling it up with the stuff in my bowl. "I can't," I say. "Then make yourself useful and take the dog out!" I get up and let out the dog, then see the first few people gathering at the reaping ceremony. The escort this year is tall and thin, about 21 with aqua eyes and makeup and hair the same color. She smiles as she reaches the platform where to two glass bowls stand. For goodness sakes, here's nothing to smile about! I think, before I join my friends. People start arriving by the dozens. We're lucky we live so close, looking at the tired people all around us. Teresa joins the 18-year-olds. "Lydia Peirce!" A 16-year old girl steps forward to the stage. She looks nice, but can probably kill viciously. "Sparkle Chan!" Oh no! Not Sparkle! "Blade Johnson!" A sturdy, 17-year-old boy with an arrogant expression plastered across his face looks up at the escort, narrowing his eyes before stepping between the girls on the platform. "Marvel Dismond!" It only akes a millisecond for the people around me to realize that's my name.

District 2:

Ginger Dunn

I walk outside, rays of sun hitting my face. The air is colder than I wouled have expected, but I'll be fine. I start the long walk down the dirt paths to the Reaping Platform. It's a good 12 miles, but I can handle that. As I see it, a tiny dot in the distance, I begin to run. My feet pound the dirt, sending up storms of billowing dust. I reach the platform, coughing. "Ladies first!" I join the others in my pen. "And the lucky person iiiis... HARPY EVERMIST!!!" A 16-year old jumps up onto the stage. "Any volunteers... no? Well, best of luck then, Harpy. Next is... JAMIE CROCKELL!" "I volunteer!" A girl shouts. "Your name, dear?" "It's Isis Holly." "Well, thank you Isis, best of luck to you also. Now for the boys! Let's see..." Her hand closes around a tiny white slip. "AXL DAVIS!" "I volunteer!" A 15-year old unlocks the gate of his pen and strolls up to the stage. "I'm Everest Sateer." "Thank you, Everest. Last one... GINGER DUNN! Any volunteers?" But the crowd answers only with silence and I am hauled off to my death.

District 3:

Lexi Strong

"16-year olds here!" The stocky escort grumbles, his short black hair combed neatly. He seems upset it's whipping around in the wind, trying to flatten it and hit the wind. I am trampled by a herd of 18-year olds as they psh past like they own the place. "For goodness sakes," I grumble. I look over my shoulder to see some boys slip into my pen. Then I run in, seconds befor the metal gate clangs shut. "Now, for the first tribute," the escort mutters. "BRIGHT STREAK!" The girl runs up onto the stage. "IGNITE MYFIRE!" "Oh for cripes sakes!" Bright, the girl on the platform murmurs, slapping her forehead. "LEXI STRONG!" "That's me!" I yell. I can see one, two people who want to volunteer for me. They're just about to shout when the escort says, "OH, WE HAVE SOME CONFUSION HERE. EVERYONE, PLEASE SIT STILL AND SHUT UP. THANK YOU." He talks to the other people next to him. "NEVERMIND." I get up, wanting to say he didn' ask for volunteers first, but he's already drawing the final district 3 tribute. "STEEL PLATE!" The boy, 17 with dark reddish hair is all too farmilliar. "NO! STEEL!" I yell,wanting to get up, wanting to run to the front of the stage. "YOU CAN'T DO THIS!" I want to scream, angry with everyone. Angry at my district, my escort, the Capitol. Angry at myself especially. I don't want to be dragged out of my district in tears.

District 4:

Michelle Beach

I pull the last strap of the blue dress over my right shoulder. I comb my hair as best I can. I try to clear my mind, but they are haunted with images of the many I have lost. I curse, throw my brush on the floor and bury my head in my hands. Knowing this is not going to help anything, I get up and try to start brushing my hair again. "Michelle, ready?" my aunt calls. "Yes," I lie, putting on some sandals, grabbing my token. As we head out, I turn my face away so my aunt can't see the tears. "Michelle, are you all right?" she asks. "Yes," I say. "Yes, I'm fine." "Good..." she turns her face away, too. About 20 minutes later, we reach the place where the reaping ceremony will be held. The escort this year is a woman with green hair and blue skin. I think it's supposed to make her look like the colors of the ocean, but in reality it makes her look like some sort of horrible mutt or something and I can't help but laugh. I sllide into a pen with the other 17-year-olds who are talking happily, but unlike last year, I don't join in. "Is everyone ready?" the escort calls. "Okay then... ladies first: Kyley Harte!" I look up at the girl on the stage. She's only 12 and looks fragile and weak. "I VOLUNTEER!" I scream, not wanting to let her die. "Very good, your name?" "Michelle." "Ok, come join the stage, Brekelle." "Um, my name is Michelle." But she's already drawing the second girl: "Artemis Elto!" she calls. The girl called Artemis joins the stage. "Hey BREKELLE," she teases. "Shut up," I say, waving her off. Her brother, Apollo, is reaped next. Then a 15-year-old boy walks up when they call Cod Harbor. I know him. He was with me in my family's "fishing accident". And it turns out he's coming to the Games also.

District 5:

Heather Lavender

I wake up, the hum of the power plant lulling me into a daze. I sit up in my bed and open my eyes, crusted around the edges. Pulling on a nice shirt, I stagger over to the mirror and start the daily battle with my hair. I brush out all the knots. Finally, when that's done, I head downstairs. "Well, SOMEbody's a little groggy!" Skott yells from the other side of the room. "Shut up," I mumble, not noticing I'm pouring my cereal on the counter. I roll my eyes as they break out into fits of laughter. "Hi Heather," my two sisters say in unison, flouncing past with their blonde curls trailing out behind them. I sigh, my usual peppy self replaced by anger. "Ready for the Games?" Cinder teases. "Shut up," I say, blinking as she turns on a bright light. "Still tired?" Skott asks. "I had nightmares," I reply, shrugging. It's the truth. My dreams were clogged with nightmares. Horrors of past Games I have been forced to watch with my older sisters to see if there's any "heartbreaking romance". Ick. "Let's go," my father says. Half an hour later, we're at the stage. The escort is a bubbly redhead, who makes a big show about the whole thing. Geez. "H-hey Heather," Malco crest says as he slides into a pen near mine. "Oh, hi," I answer, a little distracted. There's pushing and shoving, screaming, yelling, cursing, then finally everyone settles down. "Ahem... Amanda Hills!" The escort begins the reaping. "Here!" A 17-year old shouts. "I mean, yea. I'm Amanda." She sashays over to the stage. "Heather Lavender!" "That's me!" I yell, running up. "Malco Crest!" Malco is now on the stage.

Malt Easer

The escort is about to draw the last name. I close my eyes, hoping it's not me. I don't want to go into a living hell for who knows how long. But then my name is drawn. The whole of District 5 is silent. The only thing you can hear is the dry wind blowing through the pine trees, the gentle hum of the power plant nearby, lulling me into a daze. Then two peacekeepers grab me and the rest of us and drag us up to a huge train car.

District 6:

Kyle Sutherland

I wake up, the morning sun hitting me in the face and making my eyes water. The air is warm-ish, and I swing my legs over the side of my bed. I walk outside, seeing that the reaping platform isn't far. I dress, wash up, and then I am ready to leave the house. "This way!" a small blonde woman tells me, escorting me to my pen. I settle in among the others, in a comfortable, spacey spot in the back. The reaping ceremony begins. "Ladies first!" the blonde woman who pushes me into the pen reaches her hand into the reaping ball, and I tense up. " Cynthia Cross!" I sigh with releif because it's not Esmerelda. The girl's green eyes have no fear in them, she is doing well to conceal the fact that she's terrified to go to the Games. "Esmerelda..." Esmerelda steps forward -- MY Esmerelda! I want to scream, but it's stuck in my throat. Now the boys are being drawn. "Copper Smith!" That annoying boy from school walks up. Again, no volunteers. "Last one...Harry Gates!" "I VOLUNTEER!" I scream. I HAVE to save Esmerelda, or at least keep her safe. I feel it's my duty. "My name is Kyle. Kyle Sutherland." "Thank you," is the last thing anyone says to me. It's Esmerelda. Esmie, I want to call her. It feels like there's a fire burning inside me. I love the feeling of it. As it reaches my heart, I begin to feel calm and caring. Esmerelda will be safe with me.

District 7:

Fall Breeze