Panem Events (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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thecircus2015-01-28 08:53 pm
etcircenses) wrote in thecircus2015-01-28 08:53 pm
Entry tags:
TEST DRIVE MEME
Welcome to Panem. You have been selected to participate in the 75th Annual Hunger Games!
Premise: Something has gone a bit wrong with the device, and it's pulling in more people than the Capitol had planned. Extras, doubles, or even the same exact version of someone already pulled into Panem, with or without their memories! It's a mess. But somebody has to clean it up. And what better way to do so than to have a televised death-match!?
This Arena is designed to be a small mock arena not all that dissimilar to the in-game arenas we run here at The Games. Our hope is to give new and prospective players a place to get their feet wet, and get a feel for the fun (and bloody) mess that goes on around here. This meme is open to anyone and everyone who would like to play. Current cast members, veteran and new, as well as anyone just wanting top drop in and have some fun!
How To Play.
Current cast members - you may tag into this arena in any way they choose. Even cast members who aren't or are no longer tributes. Since this meme is taking place between Arenas 12 and 13, you may play your character as though they have been sent into this arena after Arena 12, CR and in-game history intact. OR. You may play your character as having a clean slate; as though this is their very first Hunger Games. Or, at least the first one they can remember.
This meme may not count for in-game CR because it will not be considered as having actually happened, plot-wise.
Guests - welcome to Panem. This is your first time here. Your first Hunger Games. Run for the Cornucopia. Hide in a corner and cry. We don't care. Go crazy. Have fun. Make new friends. Profit.
***An important side note, as it is within the confines of the Area in-game, all powers are lessened/nullified to bring any character down to a vincible level. (I.E. Make more magical/super-powered characters easier to actually kill for a normal person).
The Arena.
Below, you will find a description of the setting for this arena as well as a few details regarding weapons, supplies and hazards.
Setting.
The sky above is a vivid and clear blue and the air is cool and thin; crisp and sharp with the distinctive smell of autumn. In the distance, you can see the peaks of tall purple mountains capped with fresh white snow but they are still many long miles from where you are.
To some, the immediate surroundings may seem slightly familiar, to others it is a strange place filled with peculiar and unstable structures scattered across roughly a square mile of clearly unmaintained concrete pathways. You are in an amusement park. Or what must have been one at some point in time. The rotted out husk of what once had been a Ferris wheel, and the weather-worn shells of old vendor stalls are the nearest things in sight. Some of their signs are even still legible; faded paint having not chipped off entirely. "Cotton Candy", "Win A Prize!" "Buy Ride Tickets Here"
You have been outfitted in a pair of heavy cotton denim jeans, a pair of high-topped black athletic shoes, a form-fitting grey long-sleeved nylon-blend undershirt and a heavier cotton shirt of the same colour to wear over the top, as well as a dark grey windbreaker with reflective white edging.
Shelter here is scarce but available. There are three brick buildings found throughout the park with restively intact roofs, all of them were once public restrooms that also served as tornado shelters. The plumbing in these buildings have long since been unusable. Ruptured pipes have damaged interior walls and floors. Several pools have formed in the lower areas of the ruined floors and the stagnate water is ripe with bacteria and grime. The southern-most building also has a very impressive infestation of rats.
Vendor and food stalls as well as storage and control sheds were not made quite of the same caliber as the restroom facilities, and though they are more frequent, they are also significantly less insulated. Though the wood from these places would be easy enough to break off and turn into firewood if you can find something to start a flame with.
Another key landmark is the sizable lake to the west of the park, man-made and stagnant, there is a peculiar odor that comes off the water if the wind is blowing the wrong way. A green and murky colour, the almost the entire surface of the water is coated in a thick layer of algae and bacteria. Though you can easily see from one shore to the next, the lake is deep and likely teeming with life below. Most of it... probably unpleasant.
Aside from the overgrowth of weeds that have begun to break through the concrete and twist around the bars of the rusted-out rides, there is very little vegetation here. A few thin trees have clung to life in their broken planters, and the boundaries of the park are thick with waist-high grasses, brown and dead in the near-winter of this place. In fact, the only real thing that seems to be thriving here is the algae floating upon the surface of the lake.
Supplies.
The Cornucopia is your first, most important resource. Around it are scattered the available resources:
Weapons:
-steel-tipped leather bull whip
-crowbar
-throwing axe
-six-inch serrated hunting knife
Equipment:
-day-glow orange backpacks containing the following items:
waterproof matches, high-tensile metal chord (12 feet), wool gloves, iodine
-small crate labeled "apples"
-chords of nylon rope
-metal quart-sized container presumably full of water
-small white plastic, containing the following items:
insect repellant, two strips of beef jerky, silver (reflective) emergency blanket
**IMPORTANT NOTE!!!!
Since this is a meme, we are going to allow each character the pick of ONE weapon and ONE equipment item, if you believe that your character would risk running for the cornucopia. Just remember. These are high demand items and we rather encourage you to fight over them ;) So long as you all remain civilized about it, of course. If things get out of hand, a mod will step in. Have fun with it, but be realistic too.
Immediate Hazards.
-The Cold. During the day temperatures are cool, but bearable. However, as soon as the sun drops behind the mountains, the temperatures plummet dramatically, lingering well below freezing until mid-morning.
-Debris. Broken glass, rusted metal, broken concrete, rotten wood. This place has been falling apart for years and you weren't given a tetanus shot before you came here.
-Insects. The stagnant lake is a ripe breeding ground for an alarming amount of insects. From giant dragon flies to tiny biting gnats, prepare yourself for a bite or two. Just hope nothing too nasty sinks it's teeth into you. You may not enjoy the results.
-The Water. Easy to acquire but bad to drink. Maybe you should pray for a rainstorm...
Wildlife.
**Cyprinus Acidus. These large bottom-feeding fish are abundant in the lake and though not recommended to consume raw, if cooked properly, could be eaten.
**Loxosceles reclusa granda. Aggressive and unnervingly large brown spiders native to the area and love to lurk in dark corners. Their bites are incredibly poisonous and will begin to rot away the surrounding flesh if not treated promptly.
**Rattus norvegicus. The common rat. Edible if cooked. Known to be carriers of diseases. (Especially if they were put here to do just that...)
Foodstuffs.
The aforementioned animals and some of the algae from lake are the only sources of food here, and they are not particularly good ones at that. Food and water are not easy to come by in the arena and will likely make for a miserable time for many.
As always, we here at The Games would like to wish you a very happy Hunger Games!
May the odds be ever in your favor.
Premise: Something has gone a bit wrong with the device, and it's pulling in more people than the Capitol had planned. Extras, doubles, or even the same exact version of someone already pulled into Panem, with or without their memories! It's a mess. But somebody has to clean it up. And what better way to do so than to have a televised death-match!?
This Arena is designed to be a small mock arena not all that dissimilar to the in-game arenas we run here at The Games. Our hope is to give new and prospective players a place to get their feet wet, and get a feel for the fun (and bloody) mess that goes on around here. This meme is open to anyone and everyone who would like to play. Current cast members, veteran and new, as well as anyone just wanting top drop in and have some fun!
How To Play.
Current cast members - you may tag into this arena in any way they choose. Even cast members who aren't or are no longer tributes. Since this meme is taking place between Arenas 12 and 13, you may play your character as though they have been sent into this arena after Arena 12, CR and in-game history intact. OR. You may play your character as having a clean slate; as though this is their very first Hunger Games. Or, at least the first one they can remember.
This meme may not count for in-game CR because it will not be considered as having actually happened, plot-wise.
Guests - welcome to Panem. This is your first time here. Your first Hunger Games. Run for the Cornucopia. Hide in a corner and cry. We don't care. Go crazy. Have fun. Make new friends. Profit.
***An important side note, as it is within the confines of the Area in-game, all powers are lessened/nullified to bring any character down to a vincible level. (I.E. Make more magical/super-powered characters easier to actually kill for a normal person).
The Arena.
Below, you will find a description of the setting for this arena as well as a few details regarding weapons, supplies and hazards.
Setting.
The sky above is a vivid and clear blue and the air is cool and thin; crisp and sharp with the distinctive smell of autumn. In the distance, you can see the peaks of tall purple mountains capped with fresh white snow but they are still many long miles from where you are.
To some, the immediate surroundings may seem slightly familiar, to others it is a strange place filled with peculiar and unstable structures scattered across roughly a square mile of clearly unmaintained concrete pathways. You are in an amusement park. Or what must have been one at some point in time. The rotted out husk of what once had been a Ferris wheel, and the weather-worn shells of old vendor stalls are the nearest things in sight. Some of their signs are even still legible; faded paint having not chipped off entirely. "Cotton Candy", "Win A Prize!" "Buy Ride Tickets Here"
You have been outfitted in a pair of heavy cotton denim jeans, a pair of high-topped black athletic shoes, a form-fitting grey long-sleeved nylon-blend undershirt and a heavier cotton shirt of the same colour to wear over the top, as well as a dark grey windbreaker with reflective white edging.
Shelter here is scarce but available. There are three brick buildings found throughout the park with restively intact roofs, all of them were once public restrooms that also served as tornado shelters. The plumbing in these buildings have long since been unusable. Ruptured pipes have damaged interior walls and floors. Several pools have formed in the lower areas of the ruined floors and the stagnate water is ripe with bacteria and grime. The southern-most building also has a very impressive infestation of rats.
Vendor and food stalls as well as storage and control sheds were not made quite of the same caliber as the restroom facilities, and though they are more frequent, they are also significantly less insulated. Though the wood from these places would be easy enough to break off and turn into firewood if you can find something to start a flame with.
Another key landmark is the sizable lake to the west of the park, man-made and stagnant, there is a peculiar odor that comes off the water if the wind is blowing the wrong way. A green and murky colour, the almost the entire surface of the water is coated in a thick layer of algae and bacteria. Though you can easily see from one shore to the next, the lake is deep and likely teeming with life below. Most of it... probably unpleasant.
Aside from the overgrowth of weeds that have begun to break through the concrete and twist around the bars of the rusted-out rides, there is very little vegetation here. A few thin trees have clung to life in their broken planters, and the boundaries of the park are thick with waist-high grasses, brown and dead in the near-winter of this place. In fact, the only real thing that seems to be thriving here is the algae floating upon the surface of the lake.
Supplies.
The Cornucopia is your first, most important resource. Around it are scattered the available resources:
Weapons:
-steel-tipped leather bull whip
-crowbar
-throwing axe
-six-inch serrated hunting knife
Equipment:
-day-glow orange backpacks containing the following items:
waterproof matches, high-tensile metal chord (12 feet), wool gloves, iodine
-small crate labeled "apples"
-chords of nylon rope
-metal quart-sized container presumably full of water
-small white plastic, containing the following items:
insect repellant, two strips of beef jerky, silver (reflective) emergency blanket
**IMPORTANT NOTE!!!!
Since this is a meme, we are going to allow each character the pick of ONE weapon and ONE equipment item, if you believe that your character would risk running for the cornucopia. Just remember. These are high demand items and we rather encourage you to fight over them ;) So long as you all remain civilized about it, of course. If things get out of hand, a mod will step in. Have fun with it, but be realistic too.
Immediate Hazards.
-The Cold. During the day temperatures are cool, but bearable. However, as soon as the sun drops behind the mountains, the temperatures plummet dramatically, lingering well below freezing until mid-morning.
-Debris. Broken glass, rusted metal, broken concrete, rotten wood. This place has been falling apart for years and you weren't given a tetanus shot before you came here.
-Insects. The stagnant lake is a ripe breeding ground for an alarming amount of insects. From giant dragon flies to tiny biting gnats, prepare yourself for a bite or two. Just hope nothing too nasty sinks it's teeth into you. You may not enjoy the results.
-The Water. Easy to acquire but bad to drink. Maybe you should pray for a rainstorm...
Wildlife.
**Cyprinus Acidus. These large bottom-feeding fish are abundant in the lake and though not recommended to consume raw, if cooked properly, could be eaten.
**Loxosceles reclusa granda. Aggressive and unnervingly large brown spiders native to the area and love to lurk in dark corners. Their bites are incredibly poisonous and will begin to rot away the surrounding flesh if not treated promptly.
**Rattus norvegicus. The common rat. Edible if cooked. Known to be carriers of diseases. (Especially if they were put here to do just that...)
Foodstuffs.
The aforementioned animals and some of the algae from lake are the only sources of food here, and they are not particularly good ones at that. Food and water are not easy to come by in the arena and will likely make for a miserable time for many.
As always, we here at The Games would like to wish you a very happy Hunger Games!
May the odds be ever in your favor.
no subject
"Arwen," he repeats, softer -- sadder. He reaches out and brushes fingertips against her cheek -- softly, reverently, as though reassuring himself that she is real.
let the record state that arwen undomiel is just as arresting in jeans as she is in elf-gowns, ok, wow he's never going to be over how amazing she is"Alas! The woes here run deeper than even you can mend. It is an ill fate that brings you here. It was not my will that you should ever come to this place."Aragorn's grief becomes tinged with resolve, even anger -- though it is not directed at her.
He is going to END the Gamemakers.
"Come, we must not be caught in the open. Once we have found a safer place, I will tell you all."
no subject
For a moment she cannot breathe, just reading the misery in his eyes, and it takes a enormous amount of self control not to step forward and throw her arms around him. Anything to erase that look. Oh, Aragorn, what sorrows and troubles keep finding their way to your shoulders? It does not matter that they are strong, and wide enough, to hold as many as he deems fit. He should not have to.
Arwen turns her face to press against his touch, the movement instinctive and as natural as the beating of her heart.
"Ill fates might yet be changed. Dark to light, tears to laughter. There is little so terrible that cannot be mended with effort." Her father's influence, though he and the Dunadan may be at odds over her future. "But your words are wise. Lead on, my ranger. I will follow."
She secures her grip around the steel and extends her free hand, in hopes he might take it.
no subject
So he takes her hand instead, and leads her through this poisoned land. It is a control shed he leads her into: it's intact enough to conceal them and run-down enough to discourage others from seeking shelter in it. A hole in the ceiling means they're fucked if it rains but makes a fire possible. It looks like he had a fire going last night, actually, judging from the scorch marks and ash that's settled into the cracks on the concrete floor. It's a miserable place, but it shields them from the wind.
"This way, lady."
Aragorn checks, before he leads her in, that no one else has decided to take up residence here, but once he's sure the way is clear and they're both inside safely and the old rickety door is shut behind them, Arwen's getting pulled into his arms and held around her back, tightly. Perhaps in another time and place he could have kept a respectful, reverential distance -- contented himself with a touch of her hand, a kiss to her brow, but here? Now? No -- it is one thing to be here himself, and another altogether to know that she will suffer this as he has. He cannot keep away; he fears for her too much. For a moment, the smell of her hair drives away the oppressing sickness and filth that surrounds them; for a moment, he thinks he can almost forget where they are.
no subject
She may be sheltered in some of the ways of the world, but her father -- and her brothers -- have taught her the basic skills of forestry, of healing, of surviving in the wild should that ever be necessary. That said, the state of the land around them is like a punch to the gut.
Nature has a song and elves can hear its intertwining melodies clearly.
Here, there is nothing. No joy, no memories, nothing to tell her who built the arena, or how long ago. It frightens her in a way that being on her own so briefly hasn't. She follows behind, careful to step where he has in an effort to obscure the tracks of two people, and casts a careful eye around the shed as she steps inside. Shelter is shelter and she will make do with what they have; should the sky open up, she is more easily to shrug off the effects of rain and will act as a shield, if necessary. But there is distraction from fretful thoughts, for Aragorn tucks her against him, arms enfolding her in tangible warmth. It's almost too much for her state of mind - brought without warning to a place where they've let growing things die, as they let people die - and how could they think this is okay? Arwen drops the pipe, wrapping slender arms around Aragorn's waist, and buries her face in the crook of his neck.
"What darkness holds sway here, to treat others so basely? Like trinkets instead of people."
no subject
wow implying he would ever use Arwen as a living umbrella, get out"Only the darkness that lurks in Men's hearts," he says, burying a hand in her hair for a moment -- just a moment. Aragorn holds her to him for a heartbeat more, then pulls away, just enough to let him take her face in his hands and bring it close to his own, holding her eyes with his.
"There are devilries here," he says, as quiet as he can, "that let our captors watch us always. Even now, I deem, we are being observed: all in the city can hear what we say. We cannot speak freely. Not here." He leaves an implication there: maybe, elsewhere, we can. He pulls away again, his fingers falling to her upper arm, his touch less urgent -- but he still can't bring himself to break contact completely. "But I will tell you what I can of this place," he goes on, and his voice is less hushed. Have you been to the city, or did they lead you straight here?"
no subject
but what if Arwen volunteered what thenShe stills at that, absolutely motionless beneath his touch. Men are capable of darkness, the downfall of her uncle's kingdom shows that much, but she wants to protest. Not just Men, but dwarves and elves and -- well, everyone. Every living being has the potential for good or evil, and who would know that better than Aragorn himself, whose feet have traveled so far and wide across the breadth of their world. Wisdom suggests listening, instead, so Arwen stills her tongue and does just that, caught in the welcome snare of his touch.
What she subsequently learns is troubling. The only items capable of spying on others from afar are the Palantiri, and they invite trouble as easily as they help communication. Does this mean their captors are as skilled as Feanor himself? Do they bear his potential for madness, too? She has no ready answer, and, if they are eavesdropping, cannot ask those questions yet.
"If there was a city beforehand, I do not recall it. Only this place and those who arrived with me." Arwen reaches up, letting the tips of her fingers drift across the curve of his jaw, seeking comfort (both for herself and him). The ranger is not the only one loath to break physical contact. "How long do you think they intend to keep us?"
no subject
the answer is still no; he will insist that he has weathered worse storms with less shelter and they will cuddle the driest corner they can, ok, that's how this is going to go
no arwenbrella
His eyes fall, when her fingers brush his face; he is not distracted, he is still alert to dangers, still listening to her, but his attention is split between his cares and her touch, the latter lessening the pain of the former. When Arwen Undomiel touches your face, you fucking pay attention.
Aragorn only wishes he had better news.
"They do not intend to release us," he says gravely. His words are chosen carefully: there are no falsehoods (as if he could lie to Arwen, come the fuck on) but there is also nothing dangerous. "They intend for us to fight to the death here, then revive us by unknown arts only to fight and be killed again in a cycle with no end."
no subject
well gosh, the race of Men is more stubborn than Durin's folk when they want to be. see if she ever offers to be an arwenbrella againSo it is true. She had hopes that her ears had misheard the instructions and muttering between other captives, that they were mistaken somehow. Surely no civilization could be so barbaric as to sacrifice their own citizens. Or even strangers, and somehow that strikes her as even colder.
Arwen remains silent, absorbing what he's said, and what she understands, while her fingers soon resume brushing against his stubble.
"What if someone refuses to participate?" She's not so bold as to declare her intentions right away, though Aragorn will most likely suspect them (he has a nigh supernatural ability to ferret out her thoughts when desired), but games have rules. They may be bizarre or arbitrarily applied, certainly, but they will set down somewhere. "Do they have a penalty?"
As much as she doesn't want to know, it would be far worse to jump into trouble un-informed, than with eyes wide open.
no subject
"There is no official punishment for refusing to kill," he says. "I have not done it, slaying only the monsters that they shut in here with us. There are some here who will help you, if you ask for it, and others who fight only to protect the others here whom they care for." But that said...
"However, the Game-makers have complete control of the world around us. They will send creatures, enemies, disasters. They want to be amused," Aragorn goes on, darkly. "And a pack of Tributes at each other's throats is more amusing than a camp of allies."
no subject
'They' brought her there through some as-yet unknown power, and the level of pettiness she perceives in what Aragorn says is so reminiscent of Sauron that she has to stop herself from trembling. What if those who run the games are allied with him, or someone of his ilk? Using mortal and immortal alike as pawns in a fight to the death is not that far from the ritualistic sacrifices of Numenor's last king, when the nation turned to Morgoth worship.
Arwen makes a little noise of protest against anyone having to endure such cruelty, and leans forward just enough to rest her brow against Aragorn's. "I am not a warrior, nor have I ever wished to be one." The urge to defend her family is one thing, to aid those like Frodo. But deliberately shedding the blood of another? "If they wish to punish me for my views, then so be it."
no subject
NOPEanger at the thought of the Gamemakers harming Arwen. The hand at the back of her neck buries itself in her hair. In his head, he knows it's possible, but in his heart, he's ready to do anything to prevent it."A balance can be struck," he whispers, hoping that the devices they use to listen are not strong enough to catch his words, "that allows one to keep one's honor without bringing down the ire of our captors. Patience, Arwen," he murmurs quieter still, eyes closed. "A death in the Arena is a curable injury. Time, for once, is on our side." He knows he doesn't have to tell her to be patient -- she is wise, wiser than he in many ways, and she will know that he has not been idle here.
no subject
"Balance suggests a compromise." Her voice is just as low, stern though tinged with affection. "There is little I am willing to cede here, neither for myself, or ... other captives."
Not that their fellow tributes may be willing to extend the same courtesy. She recalls the rush toward the supplies, and how casual some were in taking down competitors before she reached the park. A shiver works its way down her spine, and Arwen releases his face to rub her arms in hopes of generating some warmth. Being cold is a new sensation for her.
no subject
no subject
It could also be interfering with her perception. "And perhaps not as warm as I would like."