Test Drive Meme

[etcircenses]

Welcome new Tributes!

The Capitol has gathered a good crop of you at once, and to help morale, and to ease you into Capitol society they are throwing a banquet, just for those who work with the Games. Stylists, Escorts, mentors, a few of the Capitol elite, and of course, you all, the Tributes.

Instead of waking up in the normal way, new Tributes awake in lush beds, in a very posh ski lodge. Elegant but simple clothes are laid out for them, in a warm grey, and a note to come down as soon as they are ready. And if they linger too long, a peacekeeper appears to escort them down.

Those from the Capitol, are brought in on chartered party buses, one for each District, which are about as posh as a bus can get. It's a roughly 45 minute drive, well out of the Capitol's city limits.

Although the party is "mellow" by Capitol standards, it is still pretty damn extravagant. Alcohol flows freely, and banquet tables are kept fully stocked by silent avoxes. The whole ski lodge has been cleared out, and guest can hit up an ice skating rink, or pick out a swim suit and jumped into the huge, natural hot springs tubs.

As the night drags on, however, all does not go as planned. Half way through the night, there is a tremendous roar, and the hotel is plunged into pitch blackness. There is chaos for roughly 10 minutes, till low power emergency lights flicker on. However the generators don't have the power to keep the heater going.

A first aid station is set up, and the avoxes start pulling in blankets to the main lobby, lighting a fire in the fireplace and doing what they can to keep everyone warm. It is quickly communicated that there was an avalanche, and although the hotel remains in good shape, the power and the road to the Capitol has been cut out.

It's going to be a long night.


OOC INFORMATION

Welcome to the test drive meme for thegames!

We are both a jamjar and a Hunger Games AU character game. You can choose to either have your character ported in from their world or AU them into Panem. Detailed knowledge of the Hunger Games is not required. We accept just about any character and character type that we can work into the world, including AUs, OCs, and up to 3 multiples (however, each versions of a character must be significantly different from the others.)

All the information you need can be found in this post, which can always be found at the top of the mod account. And if you don't find something you need, the FAQ is here, so drop us a line!

Welcome, and may the odds be ever in your favor!

Comments

[void_whereprohibited]

Cecil has been hoping-- hoping-- to meet a troll. He's seen them in the Arenas, of course, watched all their interviews, but he's never met one up close. From a distance, he loves how impossible they are, alien in a way that no Capitol construct could replicate. He has a pair of long, crooked orange horns at home, ones he almost wore today, but decided against at the last minute - if there are trolls at this party, he would look pretty silly next to the real thing, right?

He runs into the real thing in the hall. Almost literally. He's not looking for guests under chest height and concentrating on the glass in his own hand besides, and when a mop of curly hair appears in his peripheral vision he avoids a collision by only about half a second. His startled sidestep sets his drink sloshing, and it's a miracle it all stays in the glass.

Cecil balances, focuses-- and his look of surprise changes immediately into one of excitement. "...oh!" Oh, gosh. It's a real troll. He wasn't even looking-- of course, right when he least expects it, no time to prepare-- "Hello." Don't screw this up, Cecil. "I-- wow. This is great. Or-- sorry-- I mean, I didn't mean to run into you. Should have been looking where I was going, right?"

His fixed grin is looking a little desperate. Wow, Cecil. That was intelligent.

[thygospelevity]

The sudden closeness startles him-- enough that he let's out a noise of 'honk' as he scrambles to save his own drink. Enthusiam is one thing, he can deal with it, welcome it even, but he's never had to deal with aliens before this and they tend to be most enthusiastic about the fact he is going to die soon in the cases he knows what they're excited about at all. This is not one of those cases. He can recover this though. Smile. Smarts.

"...It's mother fuckin chill, my brother" He says after a long pause, plastering on a fake but convincing grin of his own. He sets down his drink and gives a formal bow to Cecil since the humans seemed to particularly like that. Really, who didn't? His hands fold as he rises. "Forgiveness and pardon need not be pleaded for by thy holy will they doth be gifted heretofore most mother fuckin sincere. May the special stars guide thee true, my brother, in your evening and on the Dark Carnival's righteous mother fuckin path."

That should do the trick. He retrieves his drink from the floor and tries not to cradle it like a lifeline.

[void_whereprohibited]

Wow. Cecil... isn't actually sure what was just said, but he is terribly impressed nonetheless. Special stars. Oh, he likes that.

"Thank you!" he says, when he's pretty sure the troll is done. "I think. Wow. I don't think I've ever been given such a mighty benediction on a first impression before." Implying, of course, that he has received mighty benedictions on other occasions, or on second or third impressions, from other people. "Is that, like, a troll thing, or...?"

He's going for friendly and casual, and feels like he probably hit pretty close to the mark, while keeping the conversation strictly focused on its most important aspect: I am talking to a troll. (Honestly, his interest is a little too intent-- he's leaning a bit. He doesn't notice.)

[thygospelevity]

Kurloz doesn't blink. But were he not forcing himself to remain in "character", he would be. Mother fuckers here are strange. And a little unnerving. He feels like he's holding his breath.

"With thine words preached, I dost invoke pulchritudinous blessing of our holy Mirthful Messiahs, speaking too in the midnight vein of my righteous brothers and sisters of the church, the family of the Dark Carnival," He preaches. "It stands indubitable the gospelevity touches not in full those who forsake it, the mirthless heretics of which there are plentiful, but lo' my fellow ninjas shall not be of the letting such mother fuckers go without their mother fuckin dues."

He gives a nod-like bow. And makes the most subtle of shuffles away.

[void_whereprohibited]

Such delivery. This person needs to be on the network, he thinks. This is someone who would do better for an audience larger than just him. His preaching has rhythm, and weight, and sits just on the brink of coherency - for all Cecil still isn't entirely sure what he was supposed to be getting out of it, he finds himself moved.

"Their dues," he breathes, and reverence creeps into his tone. "And what are their dues, these-- mirthless heretics?" He pronounces the words with deliberation, liking the heavy feel of them.

[thygospelevity]

He should stop. He should find an escape route. But no, he can't, he's been asked of the church, it's too late, he has to tell more...

"Dependence would be of the ascertained mother fuckin individual, my ninja. Of myself, my family, and those souls erroneously misplaced, I would seek of salvation. With what righteous fucking verbiage that could be slung henceforth, it is mission and most bitchin proclivity to be preaching the pious noise. Long live our saviours, the Mirthful Messiahs! Honk!"

His drink sloshes only a little when his hands shoot up involuntarily with the holy praise.