The Hunger Games?

Pink suits Karl.
Maishana wants a pretty sword too.

Maishana sprang from her podium as soon as the sixty seconds were up, reaching the cornucopia quickly. Seeing Logan pick up a very pretty sword, she decided that she wanted one too. Searching for a package that looked about the right shape, she paused a moment to mourn the careless shredding of such lovely paper. She only had time to have a good at her prize after she'd unsheathed and run someone through with it. Looking at it, she realised she'd actually picked up a spear. It was light and well balanced, but not perfect for such close proximity combat. She hurled it at another tribute who was running rampage and killing in what seemed to be an unnecessarily messy way; gouging their eyes out, before selecting another parcel. The fighting had quietened a little by now, and she could afford to be more selective in finding something that was hopefully a sword. Her guess was better this time, and she grinned as she unwrapped an elaborate scabbard decorated with elegant engraved swirls and a scattering of jewels. The hilt was long, designed for two handed use and wrapped with black leather. The blade was old-fashioned, medieval-style, broader towards the hilt and flat, the straight edges stretching to a point. The blade, too, had scrollwork engraving along the flat edge, and the single ruby inlaid in the hilt sparkled prettily. Hoping that Logan wouldn’t mind too much that she had kind of copied his weapon, she sheathed the sword and affixed the scabbard to her belt before searching through the trove for some throwing knives.

Thaema turned tail and ran as soon as the countdown finished, heading for the shelter of the dense pine forest, soon vanishing in the shadows of the trees. Kai quickly followed suit.

Wings sprinted confidently forward, only holding the barest minimum of caution. Being in the career pack, he knew they would not kill him - at least, not yet - and at the present moment the other tributes did not pose a threat. He sorted through the cornucopia pile, as the others were doing, finding a gun-like object that shot darts that pleased him. Deciding to try it out, he shot it at a boy who was 10 metres away or so, obviously unsure as to whether to go for the cornucopia or not. It hit its mark, and the boy - Kazuki - fell, clutching a rapidly spreading purple growth in his arm where the dart had hit. They were evidently poisoned.

(wings uses guns, so i thought a dart-gun would be an adequate weapon for him. Also, now Kazuki is dead, yay one less person to worry about.)

Cas had also run forward for the cornucopia, and like the other careers, thinking more about choicy weapons than survival stuff- they would comandeer that - she selected a rapier and swished it a little in her hand. She glanced back regretfully at some of the other weapons, many of which were of better quality, but did not suit her, then ran off after some tributes to kill them quickly. They would just be more effort later otherwise. She ran her rapier easily through one girl - an airheaded girl from district 11 - then turned and went after another, who had at least tried to run, but who Cas easily caught up with and speared, she fell ggasping to the ground before the first girl had even stopped breathing. Cas did not notice the blood that had sprayed up and over her from them. This is what she had been trianed to do. She looked around. The other easy targets had already fled or been killed. She rejoined the career pack.

( Cas's speciality is hand to hand combat, but she is also an accomplished fencer, so i gave her a rapier. Now Sal and Yuiko are dead as well.)

Angel might seem obtuse at times, but he is not dumb. Years of what now seemed like training came into play, and he ran away fast over the snow, without stopping to grab anything. He worked with textiles: he would be able to make whatever he needed out of whatever there was.

Catalyst did not run quickly. She trotted at a casual pace a mile or so into the pine wood, then found a place to sit. She was a master of camouflage, and within 15 minutes somebody could have sat right on top of her and would not have noticed her presence. She also was fortunate in having the ability to gain nutrients from anything, so food was not an issue. She only worried about two things. The first was that, only a metre or so above the snow, as she was, she would get too cold, just sitting. Furthermore, when the gamemakers got bored of her just sitting there, she did not know what they would do. For now, she ate a few of the evergreen leaves and a little snow and dozed, knowing that she was impossible to be found.

(Well, usually catalyst can turn invisible, so excellent camouflage is my compromise.)

Max had turned tail and run into the woods. He was still running, despite knowing that he was tired, hungry and probably dehyrdrated. He knew that the gamemakers would try to turn him around soon, so he stopped, wondering how far away the edge of the arena was, melted some snow, and drank it.

my descriptions of death sound hideously insensitive. I'm sorry. Later, when there are less characters and deaths are fewer etc, i will go into more detail.

the smiley face when you said Kazuki was dead... that hurt my feels man, and he's YOUR character...
Karl: You're right, pink does suit me... ohohoho...

I will write soon I promise...

Gabriel didn't feel like diving into the fighting as much as everyone else did, so he stuck to slipping in amongst fighting, keeping his guard up as he and the rest of the career pack head to the giant Christmas tree, which he thought was rather corny, but then it wasn't as if the decorations mattered. Scavenging through the various packages and what had been discarded by others, he eventually came across a rather fancy bow which was constructed from a strange supple white material that was cool to touch, the chord also white in colouring and very fine. Picking tinsel out from them, Gabriel gathered the arrows -also white, with red tips and feathers- and slipped the quiver up over his shoulder. Running his tongue along the back of his teeth, he drummed his fingers on the inside of the bow and was sorely tempted to use the annoying member of the career back as target practice, but knew he'd be persecuted by the rest for it, so instead he stubbornly ignored the fact that the black hair springy one from district 11 kept waving at him like a six-year old whenever he obviously glanced over at him. It was most certainly some kind of evil plot to distract him. The bow was pretty though, so he admired it rather proudly and looked around at the rest of the career pack and the rest of the tributes, most of whom were dead or had fled.

////I will add on the others later, am being borrowed by things of great importance (like sleep) so I'll just sum up Iris, Karl and Elaine in the form of GIFS (I'm into gifs at this moment, as in OBSESSED, so this shall be apologised for later. For now, let me crazy)

Serrin and Luim are dead. I think Maishana killed them. So that's all my brainless idiots gone.

NCP had sprinted towards the cornucopia as the soon as the 60 seconds were up, but found himself in the situation where the careers were picking off the weaker tributes. He wasn't a member of the career pack, and wasn't intending to join them. Dying would be better than joining that group of heartless, shameless killers with no honour. As a spear whistled by into the gut of another tribute very near him, he decided to put some dramatics into play. Jerking sideways towards the fallen person as if hit, he let himself collapse and curled himself up in imitation of one in great pain. The dead tribute had bled copiously onto the snow, and a wide space of the area around NCP was stained red. He closed his eyes to slits at peered at the cornucopia, where the career pack were massing. They seemed to be inspecting the wrapped presents, removing the wrappings, and discarding the ones that they thoughts worthless; i.e. the ones that weren't weapons. All the better for him, piles of "useless" survival items, and a few of the less impressive weapons, were accumulating less than 20 paces from him.

Juan fled, spraying snow all over the place and leaving very obvious tracks. All he knew was that he had to get as far away as possible from the careers. Everything after that faded into insignificance.
Juan could run pretty quickly when invoked to do so, but had the problem of falling flat on his face every now and again. He was used to the cold; his air headedness had left him stranded in the fields in sudden blizzards, but even so he knew he was slowing. He took shelter under one of the dense pine trees, which was surprising warm, and spent a long time fretting over whether the careers would find him.

Having found the dart gun, Wings continued to sift through the rest of the pile. He collected a belt with space on it to easily carry a water bottle, a dagger (could be useful for hand-to-hand combat), some food and his dart gun. Finding the necessary items, Wings considered himself to have all the basics. He glanced over at the piles of discarded presents that were forming. Running an eye over them, he knew the careers would be able to survive easily. He walked over to a spot where the careers seemed to be regrouping, having finished pillaging te pile of presents, knowing a tactical discussion was about to ensue.

Cas didn't even bother searching through the items for more. Let the more runty members of the career pack sort that out. Last year, the girl from her district had won, and she knew that after her careful training, district 2 was expecting another win. She waited for everyone else to finish whatever menial thing they were doing before they could get on to discussing tactics. What was the point in trying to sort anything out before they'd discussed? They weren't about to be killed and there was no worry. People's lack of logic sometimes irritated her.

Sat in her spot, Catalyst was beginning to get cold. Listening, she heard nothing, and she began to build an igloo around herself, insulating her from the cold. From the outside, it merely looked like a snowdrift against a tree. There were many other identical ones around, and it drew no suspicion. No footsteps marked the area around her, and she was nearly finished when she heard loud, crashing footsteps. Freezing, a boy from another district ran by her with a terrified look on his face. He was an easy target, but Catalyst had no desire to kill anyone, and had no means to either. Still, it had been almost an hour since she had left the cornucopia. This boy- Juan, she thought his name was, though she was not sure- obviously couldn't tell what a straight line was. He passed her, and she completed the igloo.

(sorry anna-chan. he is quite dippy and fun to make fun of)

Max had continued walking. The abundant snow had meant he didn't want for water, and, like most people, he was used to being a bit hungry. Still, he had left the forest far behind him now, and the snow was petering out into a vast, open, rocky expanse. It seemed that the closer you went to the cornucopia, the more festive and pleasant this arena was. Max felt horribly exposed out in the open, so he stopped for a little while, certain that due to his determined efforts no-one would have reached as far as him. He picked up a stone, intending to shape it into a weapon, but it crumbled in his hand. Unnerved, Max started running again, but after only about 10 minutes, he stopped short. He felt something was wrong, and, reaching in front of him, a spark of electricity spat at his hand. The edge of the arena. Looking back, Max could no longer see the forest. he began to panic. Why had he thought there would be anything special about the edge of the arena? Now he was vulnerable, lacking food, water and shelter. "idiot," he cursed to himself under his breath and, dehydrated, he began to trudge back the way he ahd come.

Angel wasn't stupid, and despite being able to easily get water, he knew he needed food. He thought. There was no point going on. It felt like the further he went from the cornucopia, the worse conditions became. He couldn't go back to the cornucopia, as the career pack would still be there. He calculated, however, that except for the career pack, no-one would be looking to hunt yet. He was safe unless they literally ran into him. So he stopped, and he thought. He would need a weapon. Being both an excellent clothes maker and part of an underground gang, this wouldn't be too hard for him. Spending a little time finding the right sort of tree, he came across a birch tree and felt the trunk. ow he was further from the cornucopia, more trees were like this: dead. But it was perfect. The spongy bark peeled away easily in one piece. Pulling one thread of bark off it, he collected some twigs from around him, pierced a hole in a small, thin one, thread the bark through, and began to sew. After a while he had created what he desired. It appeared to be a small, pathetic dagger. made of wood and crudely strung together twigs, it didn't seem like it would do much harm. But inside it, sewed in, were many small, thin, long, sharp points. At pressure, the outer layer would colllapse and the inner layer would spring forward, impaling the attacker. Next to it on the ground lay what looked like a better strung together dagger. It did not look fatal, but it appeared a lot better than the other. Playing weak, he would feint a pathetic attack with this one, then surprise them by dodging all their attacks and impaling them on the other dagger. However clever this was, this was only a last resort. Angel sat down to work again, and began to make traps to string up around the area, both to catch food and people.

(sorry for such a long one guys :/)

So NCP found himself in what he considered the most uncomfortable position he’d ever been in; cured around a spear and his face half covered in blood-stained snow. It smelled and tasted disgusting. His cheek was going numb and he was really, really hoping the careers would move off soon. The area sound the Cornucopia was open and desolate in comparison to the dense pine woodland. If they were sensible, they’d move to the more sheltered area and hopefully not notice him sneak off.

He barely stifled a groan as he heard approaching footfalls, light and unhurried. He froze stock still (not too difficult in his situation) and ceased breathing. The footfalls drew close, and then paused not far from him. Peering though his eyelashes and fringe, he saw the career Maishana survey the other tribute by him, saying “No surprises with this one” to someone back towards the Cornucopia. Satisfied with her observations, she started walking again, and he closed his eyes firmly and waited.
Maishana knelt by the tribute who had taken the spear. His face was obscured by a long fringe, and even though she had a suspicion as to whose face was behind it, she hadn’t expected to see this tribute dead so soon. She lightly brushed aside the dark screen of hair and raised her eyebrows as her suspicions were confirmed.

“I’m a little disappointed,” she murmured quietly to the body. He might not be able to hear her, but the capitol certainly could, and they had a love for the melodramatic. “I thought you might’ve lasted a little longer.” She straightened up and turned away. “Seven,” she called back to the Careers by the Cornucopia, and started walking to the next body.

NCP breathed an imperceptible sigh of relief.