Indrik Pantheon // District One

Unsurprisingly for a District One Career youth, Indrik is a paragon of physical fitness. Standing at a lean, sinewy six foot two, weighing in at a sizable (For a District youth) ninety two kilos, he comes from a line of ex-Career potentials, from both sides of his family, and has undergone intense training since he was eight. Pale-skinned and handsome, he fits the mould of a District One Career well, being as physically capable as he is aesthetically pleasing. After all, nobody wants to watch an ugly brute. That would be unsightly.

His features are framed by fairly long, well kept, and frequently styled, deep brown hair, the sort of hair that makes girls envious, being naturally lustrous, straight, and having that slight curl towards the tips, framing piercing green eyes, that blend into russet, that exude the confidence of someone taught only to win, and never to accept defeat.

Having spent so much time training with numerous weapons, his hands have become somewhat calloused and tough. His tutelage has left its mark both mentally, and more noticably, physically, with the occasional scar making itself known, the most severe of which is a nine inch long, quarter inch wide line of twisted flesh, earned from a particularly catastrophic mistake while learning to riposte.

Confident to the point of arrogance, Indrik carries himself with the composure and poise of a warrior, verging on celebrity, he often comes across as haughty, frequently taking it upon himself to condescend his 'inferiors' (Which is anyone who isn't a tutor or a champion) comparative lack of skill, or strength, or anything else he feels he does better. He has, in fact, earned more than his fair share of strikes across the head, when he chooses to take issue with his tutors, for when condescending other youths is simply not enough to slake his need for feeling better than everyone else.

Beneath his somewhat hostile exterior, there is someone human, and not simply a specially bred killing machine. He's actually a reasonably nice guy, if you can stand up always being regarded as being inferior at any rate. While he considers himself better than others, he's not one to persecute them physically. After all, where's the sport in bullying someone obviously outclassed by you? He tends to strike a good rapport with most other Career youths, partially because many share a similarly haughty attitude, and being naturally competitive and easy-going, he can take relentless abuse even as he dishes it out.

Hilariously, however, he's something of a romantic. Shamelessly so. Where others will simply express their feelings physically, frequently ignoring whether they are reciprocated, Indrik is always one to make grand gestures of his affection. This has, naturally, earned him an enormous amount of abuse, being called at best 'gentle' and at worst 'a pansy'. Needless to say, he laughs it off, and simply responds with a quip of his own.

However, despite this, everything changes once he gets a weapon in his hand. It's almost as if he has been honed to simply shut off everything but the desire to win, the instinct to kill, and the drive to survive once he gets hold of cold steel. His normal jovial banter and condescension simply evaporate, where the only words he speaks are short, unassuming retorts, punctuated by the staccato warcries he unleashes when he presses his precise, deadly attack, combined with the grunts of exertion, and the panting of combat accelerated breath.

Like so many of those born into District One, Indrik was brought into the world in far better circumstances than almost any other in the Districts. An only child, born to Darius and Talia Pantheon, both ex-career prospects, it was inevitable what his lot of life would inevitably fall to.

For the first eight years of his life, much of his time was spent in school, learning the basics of reading, writing, speaking, and naturally, pro-Capitol propaganda, educated to believe that the Capitol had their interests in mind, and indoctrinated into the thought that the Hunger Games were a field of glory, the ultimate test for people such as he.

By the time he turned eight, he was already set on becoming a Career himself, with many of his childhood games being revolved around he and other future potentials pretending to be Tributes. Naturally of course, the harsh, effective training regimen he was subjected to removed all thought of it being a game from his head.

By the age of twelve, he had been turned from a child into part of the next batch of potential Career Tributes. His true potential lay with the spear, much to the delight of his mother, who also favoured the spear. He became reasonably deft with the weapon, able to hurl it accurately over a respectable distance, and able to wield it in close quarters with elegant efficiency.

As he has grown in stature, his arrogance has swelled, partially due to his ability, partially because he is simply very prone to arrogance. Having been trained by possibly the best tutors in the District, if not all of Panem, and practicing away from the eyes of the Peacekeepers with the other prospects, he has, in the past four years, grown into a formidable opponent. His peers have often noted that his arrogance would be intolerable, if it weren't so close to being justified.

This year, Indrik had, like so many from District One, vied for spots to compete in the Hunger Games. Despite his not being picked, he is hopeful for the Sixty-First, and has been watching (And condescending) the performances of the Tributes of the Sixtieth, eager to get back to his training once they have concluded.

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