[storage for dars]

tl;dr version if yall don't wanna read it all rn!
umber bases his pts on a method of getting rid of burrowing animals like this which his father once used on the gophers that were taking over their cemetery. umber digs some small lil ravines out in the pattern shown on this diagram i made HERE. whereas his father simply filled the holes with gasoline and lit them on fire, Umber dipped several rolls of gauze bandages into a tar-straw mixture and then buried them along the lines shown in the graphic previously linked. He then (very comically) enacts himself being chased by a tribute in the games by tying a mannequin to his waist and running around the training center screaming for help, slowly making his way to his trap. Once he's far enough in, he strikes a match and successfully ignites the gauze, wherein his plan of causing a small explosion like his dad's gasoline trap did, it instead turns into the entire forestry section quickly being caught on fire. trees, bushes, and all! from the blaze, the mannequin can be seen slowly melting into goop, and then umber grimaces and is basically like "heehee hoohoo, we don't have trees in the cemetery! that is so crazy!" and leaves

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On one hand, his plan was to technically blow up Capitol property, which was a huge risk. But it was only a little dirt! Or maybe a few trees if the explosion was big enough. On the other hand, Umber knew he was next to last on a list of very interesting people who'd already had their own chances of making the Gamemakers like them. And apart from a few who were in the same position as Umber, most all of them were older, more talented, and more capable. AKA the odds were stacked against him anyway. So what if he blew up a teensy tiny portion of the Center, they'd likely have it repaired come day's end. And besides, the only person who was supposed to go after him was Tick! Was he going to need the forestry area? Well... actually, maybe he would? Umber only realized he should've had the thought to ask as the doors closed behind him from being summoned. The gamemakers stared down at him already from across the way. He did his best to keep his chin high, and quickened pace so that he could bound close enough for them to hear him without his voice squeaking. That would've been the most humiliating thing ever.

"Umber Vivuus," he said, bowing slightly and awkwardly after realizing he had no idea how he was supposed to properly address them. Keeping his gaze down, and then fixed on the trees to his right, he hefted a shovel onto his shoulder.

"My family owns a graveyard," he explained matter-of-factly, "and I remember that when I was eleven, we had a gopher problem." He began making his way over to the trees as he spoke, "They showed up out of nowhere! Over night, almost! Digging tunnels everywhere- eating flowers right off the graves!"

He also remembered a lot more gruesome details, like how the iron deposits which made the ground water red also dyed the soil red, so these awful little rodents were digging around in a cemetery, popping up blood-red, and eating the bouquets of these people's loved ones. Needless to say, more than one guest launched concerns and complaints.

"My parents tried everything, setting traps and hauling them further down the mountain, filling the holes with water-" He paused, considering how honest he should be. Would they care to hear this story, or would it bore them? Would they prefer he work in complete silence, like when he was taking a test in school? Maybe that wasn't a bad idea- it'd help him to focus!

The forestry section was a small square, roughly playground-sized, and filled with various trees and shrubs. It was meant to simulate an actual forest, he supposed, but it looked so out of place beneath the florescent lights far above that it ultimately gave off more of an 'overgrown planter box' kind of vibe. He broke ground and began digging a shallow ditch in a straight line. Nothing deep or crazy- enough to leave an impression. When he was finished, he started making another line which was perpendicular to that, slowly but surely creating a sort of grid-pattern in the outcropping.

While he worked, Umber wound up going on about how they also tried poisoning the critters a number of different ways, and explained that at one point his father even started spending large parts of the night patrolling the area with a shovel like the one in Umber's hands now, collapsing holes as quickly as he could find them.

"None of it worked," he carried on, "Until my Dad heard of a method like this from one of his friends." Of course, his father didn't had to dig the tunnels himself, but hopefully Umber wouldn't either! What were the chances of burrowing critters being in this arena? They just did the whole 'barren desert' thing last year, so Nico had told him to prepare for something vibrant and alive- hopefully that meant a tight-knit root system or some caves he could exploit. Lure 'em in and light 'em up. Worse came to worst, Umber was already showing them he was capable of taking matters into his own hands, anyway.

By the time he finished with the shovel, his palms were tingling in an unpleasant way and a distinct grid pattern of upturned dirt lay before him among the trees. He quickly made his way over to grab several rolls of bandages, some tar, and some matches.

"My dad used gasoline, but anything flammable enough could work. Just might not have the exact same results, so... you know. Rubbing alcohol from a first aid kit, or cooking oil- it doesn't need much help, really." Like he knew. He was actually just counting on this to work at all. As he talked, Umber mixed the tar with loose straw using a stick, then dipped the rolls of bandages into the tar and slathered it around until it was evenly coated. Once he was left with several rolls of giant glorified sticky fly traps, he began to lay them down one by one into the tiny little ravines he dug out earlier, covering them with topsoil as he went. Once he made it to the end, Umber turned and faced the gamemakers for the first time since entering. His hands were covered in black tar and bits of straw, balled into fists to hide the already-forming blisters on his palms. His face was smeared with sweat, his hair clung to his forehead and cheeks in a curly heap. The evidence of his trap was buried all around him, just beneath the surface. And he smiled.

"Oh, help!" he cried melodramatically quite suddenly, slapping his hands to his cheeks. He ran over to a mannequin and quickly tied himself to its waist with a rope. "Please! Somebody! This big strong tribute is chasing me!" He crooned in a silly, purposefully fretful voice. He ran around in circles, dragging the mannequin behind him by its waist. It gracelessly smashed around, rigid and unyielding, knocking things over and banging into racks and shelves loudly. Umber finally made a b-line back to the forestry section.

Just as soon as he reached the center, he struck a match and dropped it into the waiting mouth of a tar-dipped gauze bandage. He had no time to wait and see if it worked. (He wouldn't have time in the real world, duh!) He didn't look back, but he did hear the ignition of flames. Nothing explosive like he'd been hoping for, but something different began to happen. Behind him and to both sides, he started to see lines of flame. It was stronger in some parts than others, far from perfect, but to Umber's horror, the flames were spreading. Fast. He barely had time to clear the trees himself before the entire area was encircled.

Umber stared up with huge, marveling eyes. A wall of heat made it impossible to get within a certain radius, so Umber found himself drifting closer and closer to the Gamemakers.

"There are no trees in our cemetery," he explained, chuckling, "AKA...sorry for the overkill."

Deep within the forestry section, the mannequin slowly melted into a pile of goop. Umber made himself sparse, and ducked out of the waiting door without anything further.