Dustin Hickory's Story

"Grace Clemons," the escort said, loud and clear. There was an awkward moment of silence, before the crowd gave an unenthusiastic cheer. Grace moved her feet numbly, head spinning. "No!" someone screamed. "Not Grace, no! Take me instead!" The voice brought on the tears Grace had been trying to avoid. Of course her brother couldn't volunteer for her. He was male, for one thing. And another was that he was underage. She walked up the wooden steps."Ladies And
Gentlemen, our District 11 Female tribute!"

Bong.
Grace stood for a second, watching the other tributes scatter in different directions. She realized she had better start moving before she was murdered, and started away from the Cornucopia, before remembering that she wouldn't last a day without supplies. She turned around and ran towards the golden trumpet shaped object, and grabbed a set of throwing knives. She heard a sickening scream, then a crack. The first kill. She turned away from the Cornucopia, stumbling over some-ones dead body, before running off into the distance.

((EDIT: I changed it :)))


"Dustin Hickory." Dustin nodded, trying to look strong and brave in front of the cameras. He would need as many sponsors as he could get. He stepped up the stairs, and no-one said anything. No screams of sorrow, no cries of justice, because of course, no-one cared. He could imagine her fathers poker face. He was probably thinking, At least it's not Davis.

Bong.
Dust took of straight away, towards the Cornucopia. He grabbed a mace and a bottle of water. He was about to throw his mace at a boy, but someone beat him to it, beating the boy until death. Dust decided it was probably best to leave this boy alone. He ran again towards the Cornucopia, looking for something else to get.

((OOC:I didn't kill him, but I'm leaving it open for some-one else to kill. EDIT: I'll kill him in my next post.))

(God dam! She shot a random arrow and it almost killed three people? Imagine if she payed attention, we would be all screwed! Lol! Overkill Fail. I'll take care of your little problem Fiery.)

My stylists looked at me affectionately. "Try your best Arlathina..." Danica said delicately, and in return I gave her a weak smile as I stepped onto the metal plate.

"You keep doing your best with those highlights Danica." I joked with her nonchalantly. She gave me a big smile, and then vanished from my view. As the metal platform came to a shuddering stop I looked at my new surroundings. A smirk appeared on my face. So they lied to us. No matter, this just speeds up the process. I thought silently as I scrutinized each of my fellow tributes. Abandoning the sight of them I began to look for a suitable weapon. My first choice was a well-crafted bow, but I saw another girl eyeing it. Everyone wants to be the archer. I sighed. Then a shimmer caught my eye, and I zoned in on a pair of silver daggers. They glittered in the sunlight alluringly.

Bang!

I launched myself towards the daggers with the grace of an antelope, and the speed of a cheetah. As I reached down and clutched the daggers in my hands I calculated where I should hide for the duration of the games. The forest was probaly my best chance, because I could find my own food and fresh water as needed. As I turned back in the direction of the plate that had transported me into the arena a boy charged towards me clumsily swinging a mace this way and that. As he neared me I sprinted up the side of the corncucopia. As gravity began to take hold of my body once more, I propelled myself towards the boy, spinning through the air like a deadly top. When our body's made contact I perched my hands on his shoulders and let my feet swing into his chest with a dull thud.

He was not prepared for this and as he came crashing down the air was forced out of his lungs by my one hundred and sixteen pounds of weight. Before he had a chance to refill his lungs with air I flicked my wrist, sending one of the blades into his neck. A flow of crimson oozed from his pale skin, and in a matter of moments he was dead. I jumped off the boy's chest and into the thorny embrace of the forests, and while a cannon emanated through the arena in the distance I began to run. As I ran trees and shrubbery flew by at an alarming pace. It was another thirty minutes before I felt that I could stop safely.

I looked at my unfamiliar enviroment cautiously. I was surrounded by a large green deciduous forest. In the center of the trees a tall oak stood out for some reason. I grabbed one of the low hanging branches and pulled myself into the upper reaches of the tree, and waited until my next prey would foolishly stroll along.

Grace Clemons

Grace stopped a few metres away from the Cornucopia. She was hardly going to win the Games with only a bunch of throwing knives. Then again, she didn't really expect to win the Games anyway. She turned around, grabbed a box of matches and a coat. Why she would need a coat in this weather, she had no idea. But maybe this was proof that the worst weather was yet to come. She turned away from the Cornucopia yet again, and sprinted towards a clump of trees. It would be good shelter and camouflage, but she wouldn't be the only one to think of that. She had to keep moving. Besides, she hadn't got any food or water at the Blood Bath, and she would be dead by morning if she didn't get anything.

She trudged through the swampy, marshy ground, the sun earing down on her. So far, she didn't hear any sounds of approach, but she kept her her knives around her belt, on in her hand. She had the matches in a pocket in her coat, which was slung over her shoulder. She wiped some sweat off her brow. God, it was warm. Her feet ached from walking so much, and she longed to sit down and take a break. Just for five minutes. But she still hadn't found any food or water, and she was afraid that if she sat down, she wouldn't get up again.

((OOC: To anyone who is planning on killing Grace, please don't do a one hit kill - Arlathina, obviously that was different, because I needed to kill him off (thanks by the way)- but I just noticed it isn't a rule, which means you don't have to follow it, or whatever, but I like to have the chance to fight back, even if it is in a vain attempt...))

Dustin Hickory

A girl launched off the ground and kicked Dust in the chest.
He flew back, his head smacking off the metal edge of the Cornucopia, which burned in the sun. The girl ran towards him again, and before he had the chance to react, she was on top of him, her dagger approaching his neck. And with a small thud, Dustin Hickory, The District 9 Male Tribute, was no more.

He thought of his father as he died. Would he feel sad? Probably not. He would call him weak. Defeated by a girl, not even hurting her first. Not even killing anyone before his death. A bright light shone from above him, and he raised his arm, shielding himself from the light. "Dustin." Dust opened his eyes, to see a light brown haired woman, around the age of 35 standing there. "Mum," Dust whispered, the words forming on his lips. The woman smiled, and reached out her hand. Dust took her outstretched hand, tears falling down his face. This was the first he had cried since he was five. And it the last time he would ever cry, as well.

Dustin Hickory Is Officially Deceased.

I looked at Faye, "How did they pass?" I asked delicately, even in all my arrogance, I would never tease someone about a deceased family member. Guilt welled up inside me, I had been putting off the thoughts of the boy I had killed this morning at the cornucopia. He was also from District 11. I had practiced killing someone many times, but actually doing it. . . It was completely different. "What did you know about Dustin Hickory? I killed him this morning at the cornucopia. We will see his face in the sky tonight." I said with a slight frown.