Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-27458579-20170625182511/@comment-27458579-20170626184218

As you spend your final words with your stylist; the person who have styled you, given you makeovers, and remade you, you are forced to walk into a glass cylinder lowering around you, breaking your words off sharply between you and your stylist.

You lift your chin and stand as straight as you can. The cylinder begins to rise. For maybe fifteen seconds, you are in darkness and then you can feel the metal plate pushing you out of the cylinder, into the open air. For a moment, your eyes are dazzled by the bright sunlight and you're conscious only of a strong win with the hopeful smell of pine trees. Then, you hear the legendary announcer, Claudius Templesmith, as his voice booms all around you.

"Ladies and gentlemen, let the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games begin!"

Sixty seconds. That's how long we're required to stand on our metal circles before the sound of a gong releases us. Step off before the minute is up, and land mines will blow your legs off. Sixty seconds to take in the ring of the Cornucopia, a giant golden horn shaped like a cone with a curved tail, the mouth which is at least twenty feet high, sheltering the very few weapons that refuge beneath it. The few things that strewn around the Cornucopia are other supplies, their value decreasing the farther they are from the horn.