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d6a georgie cham 🍓🐢 frankel
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4,375 POSTS
Pronouns: She/Her
last seen Nov 21, 2024 5:14:00 GMT -5

call me jaded

Public Training Sessions Nov 4, 2024 13:46:01 GMT -5

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Post by d6a georgie cham 🍓🐢 frankel on Nov 4, 2024 13:46:01 GMT -5

There’s been a whole lot of prep for Georgie’s private training session. Not physical prep. Nope. The girl has not been squaring up to training dummies or rolling around in camouflage paint. Nope. She’s been sitting in front of a computer, working out her fingers on the keyboard. Okay, the girl is from District Six; she doesn’t need to be taught how to turn the computer on or how to copy and paste. Even if the tech trainer insisted on showing her. Georgie just shoved her hand in their face and said I have got this.

She’s got this.

Even when the tech trainer digged out a microphone for Georgie to record her words.

”Have you rehearsed?” The tech trainer asked. This really was not on their job description when they took up the post, they hoped tributes would be using more deadly tech than the old-fashioned tools they were made to carry.

”I don’t need to rehearse.” Georgie is just so confident. She has always been the first audience member of her dad’s speeches, she gives her approval (and most of the time disapproval) before he goes and delivers it to the real people. She knows how to do this. She’s got this.

The avoxes have got her props, carrying them through the demonstration room ahead of her. Two of them are pushing a massive television screen on wheels and another carries a cardboard box filled with an array of dolls of different identities. Georgie waits for the box to be settled on the floor before smiling at the gamemakers.

And there’s more prep. All fifty dolls need standing up on the floor, she sets out the first five but realizes this must be so boring to watch so she hits play on the touch screen.

”Welcome Gamemakers to my presentation. I hope this helps to tidy up the mess that I have left behind in District Six. Please consider this as my application for mayor when I come of age and an application of how good of a tribute I am going to be. My dad has already shared the plan with me, so I have nothing to worry about.

Okay, well… This presentation is about HOW WOULD I STOP A PROTEST?”

Georgie continues to place the dolls in rows on the floor as the recording behind her plays out. Her voice reads word for word the text on the screen.

”ARWAARRRR” Beneath Georgie’s booted feet, porcelain dolls faces are crushed on the floor as she stomps over all of them. Her fingers represent the imagined laser beams shooting from her eyes as one swift swoop of her leg takes out a good group of the mini protesters. Not a single doll is left unscathed.

Maybe all the people that have been teasing her the past few months would not be happy with this outcome. Their parents arrested versus crushed under a titan tortoise? Who knows, she is a kid not the mayor. People have told her to play the game. What game? Her own game? Well pretending to be a gigantic city stomping beast in front of Capitol Gamemakers is certainly a fun game.

Georgie turns to the gamemakers as the recording stops and addresses them with a conclusion. ”The Capitol have stopped a lot of rebellions in the past but I think this method would make sure that no more would ever happen! Thank you for listening.” A bow. Another beaming smile. She is out.

Dars.

k e l s i e r .

The next name on the list is Georgie Cham. Her reaping had seemingly been a shock to the rest of the world, her name had been floating around the control room since the day Kel had first appeared in the training centre and for good reason. She was the district six mayor’s daughter.

It was an interesting message for the Capitol to send, especially the reaping after the district had just brought home another victor. Remember your place was the obvious moral to Georgie’s particular story. Kel wonders how she plans to overcome it.

A large screen is wheeled out ahead of her and Kel settles back, crossing his arms with a soft sigh. After the last few tributes, he doesn’t really know what to expect at this point though anyway. He wants to keep an open mind, but something about the creepy dolls she’s setting up on the floor has already closed it off.

Then the screen flickers to life, and Georgie Cham begins. It’s seemingly a presentation, which is mildly funny. Not funny in a way that might illicit a soft chuckle, but funny in an odd way. If Kel had a nickel for every presentation he’d already seen today, he’d already have a few.

She tells them with great confidence that she’ll go home and run for mayor. To be fair, her district’s track record in the last decade has been fairly good but when he compares Georgie’s current performance to that first one they saw, he’s not as confident as she is.

The presentation only gets stranger from there. Yes, he understands that the doll heads she’s stomping on are meant to represent people, the very people she wants to go home and lead…

It’s just that a distinct lack of empathy is not a skill. That, and this presentation has nothing to do with the current situation that she’s in, the last ten minutes feel more like a strange out of body experience than anything else to kel.

As the girl leaves the room, Kel glances at Sloane, who looks like she mentally clocked out on this one within the first minute. ”One,” she says flatly.

”Her violent aspirations are admirable, four?” Georgia counters.

”Six does have a good track record,” Kel shrugs.

Sloane visibly rolls her eyes, ”Fine.”

Four it is.

Zhespy
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Public Training Sessions Nov 7, 2024 0:51:59 GMT -5

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Post by Zhespy on Nov 7, 2024 0:51:59 GMT -5

Andres waited in the wings a deep breath filling his lungs as he awaited his opportunity to impress the Gamemakers and earn favour with them and the Capitolites who may sponsor him. He had to impress, he had to prove himself. From the train ride to the training center, he has become a changed man. All because of his determination, his love, for Hawke. His passion for the other man filled him with feelings he could not describe. When he held his weapon of choice in his hand that fiery romantic passion turned into a whirlwind of pure bloodlust, it became fury. He clenched the weapon tighter, he had to win. He didn't care much for the other tributes, whatever got them here or whatever they had to prove pale in comparison. His deep umber eyes sparked with that golden fire, they saw what he desired. With the money and notoriety that came with being a victor, he'd give his prizes to his family, the old woman who slept rough that he cared for, and he'd use his life for Hawke.

What he planned to demonstrate would be a testament to the strength that he gained from his life of hard work. A nod to medieval times, his weapon of choice was a warhammer used by cavalry known as the Horseman's Pick. An ode to the theme of the arena and his lover's steed Clementine. He stepped out of the shadows proudly holding the large two-handed weapon. He stood proudly as he presented himself to the Gamemakers. He gave a deep bow, a nobleman to a king, who was ready to prove himself worthy of being hailed a knight. He knew from overhearing other tributes and peering at the library, that someone important was a fan of fairytales and stories. So that is what he was going to do. Tell a story to the storytellers, and become the protagonist in their epic.

"I am Andres Bramwell of District 10. I worked on my family's sheep farm where I sheared sheep to make wool for your fine clothes, I butchered their carcases to make your food and I used their skin to make fair parchment paper. Making parchment paper is a long and tedious process, and you skin the sheep and soak its skin in lime. You then stretch it over a frame and remove excess tissue and hairs by scraping it. This process is repeated until the skin is thin and even, allowing it to be used for writing or the binding of books. Should you sponsor me and my journey through these games I would like to return to that farm and continue that process for you, so that you may enjoy timeless stories to come in a most rare form."

He tried his best to mask his southern accent that painted him as District 10 through and through, but it slipped through at the end of a few sentences. He paused and thought carefully about what he was to say next. A part of him felt guilty, he knew his place in life, just a random district citizen, nothing special, nothing notable. He was just like the other tributes, lambs to the slaughter. He thought about what his family would think of him, what he would think of him. No. He was doing it for them. If this is how he wanted to do it, then so be it. He slammed the hilt of his weapon into the ground, a large bang echoed throughout the room.

"You saw me at the reaping, the passion I hold for the man I love speaks endlessly for me. I will reunite with him and I know what I must do as your tribute to achieve what I set out to do. What I must do."

As he told his tale he became more comfortable with the room, with the story. He spoke like the district citizen that he was. He knew, even as a victor, they would never see him as equal and he made sure to let them know that. He would return to his work once the day was out, but not until he commanded their respect for his dedication, to the games, his work, and his life.

The weapon he held firmly in his hand, with its weight resting on the ground, was almost as tall as him. It had a large hammer head at the top with one side of it being a large sharpened claw. He moved the weapon so that it now stood in front of him, like a chess piece waiting for their turn. He closed his eyes and breathed. He had to get this right. He tensed his muscles as he prepared himself to swing the mighty warhammer. 23 replicas appeared in a semi-circle a few metres away from him, all of them representing his fellow tributes. His eyes remained closed as he breathed through his anxiety.

"On a cold night." The true story began. As he continued, his eyes remained closed. "I was out in a field that felt like it went on for eternity, there was no light from the moon to guide my way. I trudged through tall grass that lapped at my legs entangled around my ankles and forced me into different directions. I spent so long looking for a light in the pitch-black darkness that I began to panic. Would I ever find my way out, would this be the end of me? There was nothing on me that was worth a greedy scavenger's eye, I would die alone and forgotten. I was out there determined to find a young lost sheep, but how could I find the sheep if I could barely find myself? I paused, and let my senses guide me and that's when I could hear it. The bleating of that little lost sheep. It was scared, like I was, in the endless unforgiving night." Three of the replica tributes walked forward clanging their weapons quietly on the ground and on their shields the noise growing louder as they slowly advanced towards him. "I followed the sound that was carried on the wind. A wind that started to swell and whip at my body." He turned his head to face the tributes, his eyes closed. They clanged their weapons louder as they spoke with text-to-speech voices jeering and whistling. "When I came upon the sheep, the clouds drifted past the moon to reveal it was entangled in wires. It had cut its limbs terribly its eyes frantic with fear and fury." All of the replicas looked at each other with hatred and fear as they fanned out further around him. The three that were advancing hissed at him, a wild look in their digital eyes. "There was no saving the young sheep. It was lost to the entanglement it had got itself into. This was the path that destiny had played out for that little sheep. I did what I had to, what I must do, I'll put those sheep out of their misery." He heaved his warhammer and with all of his might, his fury and his determination he swung at the tributes' heads with the hammer smashing clean into them shattering their images back into the pixelated void. His eyes opened to reveal the burning fire within him as he continued his momentum and swung the weapon. Like a pendulum, he maintained his rhythm and began to waltz with the other tributes as they attacked him in waves. They screamed, spat, and growled ferociously and he tore them down like a harvester wielding their scyth. His fear dissipated from him and became excitement. He swung the heavy hammer into one of the smallest tributes before using his body's momentum to swing back around and strike another with the claw. One tribute remained and in two swings of the almighty hammer, he had knocked them to the ground with the final blow coming from the claw to their chest. At once the screaming, clattering and jeering ceased. The room was quiet again, the field was at peace.

Andres stood up tall as he returned the hammer to its resting position in front of him. He breathed heavily for a few moments, once he had caught his breath he continued. "I have killed for Panem my whole life, and now I will do it again for the Capital, for you- Gamemakers, and for my love." He raised the hammer and held it horizontally in front of him. He gave the audience another bow before placing it on the ground before them, the knight returned his sword after a long life of service.

[OOC Context Provided for the GMs: he story about the sheep is a mostly true one for Andres. While at first glance it's just an embellished story that tells a tale of him putting a sheep down it's actually the tale of his life as a tribute. In the darkness with no future and nothing to his name (him in District 10) the whirlwind and fear (getting chosen to at the reaping) it ends with the realisation that every tribute is just like that sheep fighting with all they have but inevitably fated to die and since he is so used to killing those wounded sheep he will happily provide them with the mercy they need as he's accepted that this is his new place in the world now. The choice of the weapon was cause big hammer go swing (and to showcase strength yadayada) which is cool (also discovered there was a weapon that was called the horseman's pick which was just a fantastic coincidence storywise). Even if in-game the gamemakers couldn't care less I had a lot of fun writing the little story for this so I hope you enjoyed reading it]

| table by kaitlin |

k e l s i e r .

By the time Andres steps out of the shadows with a warhammer, Kelsier is expecting very little of the tributes. There've been some promising options but perhaps they only look that way compared to the acts that they followed.

He remembers watching the reaping in ten and seeing the difference between Andres and Lucius. Where the other boy had seemed vaguely vacant, as if he was a husk rotting from the inside out, Andres had a lightness to him. Even with that grief-struck expression twisting his face, his shoulders were still squared as they led the two of them like cattle to their stable.

He sees that brightness again today in Andres as he approaches them and despite his better judgement, the young gamemaker is hopeful that this tribute will be different.

Andres starts talking, his calm, swaying tone opening into yet another story. Kelsier sighs and settles back, mind pulling on a coat for a wander as this tribute is sure to ramble just as long as some of the other children they've seen today. Andres is just about to lose him when Kelsier is pulled back, tuning back in as he understands what Andres is telling them.

This isn't a family record or a sad attempt to sway them, the boy is telling them how to kill and skin livestock, the Warhammer resting on his shoulder all the while.

Kel leans forward again, gaze flicking to Sloane and Georgia quickly as he listens and Andres continues to weave his words beautifully, flowing into a telling of the love he hopes to return to. The boy has a way with words, perhaps it doesn't even matter if the Warhammer on his shoulder is of any use to him, he'll make for a good story.

Almost as if he can hear kel think, replicas of the other tributes flicker into being and surround Andres. His story doesn't miss a beat even as the replicas swing at him and he meets them with his Warhammer, movements smooth as silk, captivating his audience as he paces his storytelling perfectly to match.

He hardly breathes as Andres strikes his final blow, watching with rapt attention as the boy carefully places his Warhammer down before turning to face the three gamemakers.

As soon as the boy exits the room, Kel stands up to pace back and forth in excitement, his hands opening and closing in front of him. His holographic form flickers as he walks through the chair set out for him, entirely forgetting its existence. After so much disappointment, he wasn't expecting that kind of performance.

"Now that's how you tell a story," Georgia murmurs as Kel passes in front of her. She marks a number on her pad even as Sloane rolls her eyes in barely contained annoyance.

"I for one, am SICK of all these stories," says the more seasoned gamamaker, then seeing Kel's expression she corrects herself slightly, "His was better though."

Kel stops and turns on his heel to look at the both of them, his usual reserved expression is bright with his excitement. "That was incredible," he says, "That was exactly what I was hoping for when I was writing the lore, Sloane, he's going to put on a real show."

"Quite possibly the best of the day" Georgia says with a gentle nod, her pen still skittering across her page.

"What?! Sloane balks, sitting straighter in her chair, "For a story? What about four? That girl from one?"

Kel shakes his head, "Too much efficiency from one, no showmanship."

"Four was great but he just killed twenty-three replicas," Georgia says.

"Okay well-"

"Of the other tributes."

"While telling a story, a good one-,"

"Enough," Sloane raises a perfectly manicured hand, not so much in defeat, more done with the conversation than anything. "Ten but no higher," she declares.

"Ten," Kel crows.

"Ten," Georgia nods.

"I did like how he started with all that talk of skinning animals," Sloane comments as she flips to a new page for the next tribute, "It was ballsy."

Kel sits back down in his chair, gaze sliding back to the war hammer now nestled safely back in place.

It will be a long time before he forgets that smooth sound of the boy's voice and the determination in his eyes. Of course he could still crumble when stood face to face with the smooth talker from four or the deadly skill of the girl from one.

Whatever the boy's fate, he's proven that his will be a story well worth watching.