• Next Hunger Games
    Our next Hunger Games is a little different than our previous ones. Called "Battle Royale," this Hunger Games will feature one lucky class to be sent to the Hunger Games together. Mr. Dressler's honors history class tried to ignite revolution in Panem. And for their trouble, they will be sent to the arena together. Join us by making a high school junior (16-17 years old) from District 11. See the Battle Royale Subforum for more information. We aim to start in December so now's the time to start developing your character!
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    Callanthas
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    GMT -7
  • Credits
    Thank you to Suzanne Collins for the creation of Panem and The Hunger Games trilogy. And thank you for the following people who contributed to site design: Ring Wang: banner slideshow code, Revo: fixed sidebar code, Gem: site skin(s).

    And many thanks to Sixth Station members for their characters, posts, creativity and work. Thank you to everyone mentioned and unmentioned for the work put into making this site the great board it is.

Thank You

After four years, we have decided to close down Sixth Station. The site has meant so much to many of us who spent countless hours into our game. Thank you to everyone who has been a part of our game.

The 101-Fall Hunger Games are wrapping up. You have 24-48 hours to enter the final posts. Members can still post in the "History of Sixth Station" and the "Connection" forums.



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» Am I Already Gone?, Day 2/Day 3, Open
Pomeroy Johansen
 Posted: Jan 9 2015, 10:37 AM
[QUOTE]
Student
32
posts
17 Years
Male
5'11"
155 LBS
District Eleven
28-December 14 • 165 Moneys

Rydia


Pomeroy was tired. His arm ached; his leg ached. It was too hot and too humid to keep going. A rest would be good right now.

With a sigh, Pomeroy removed the rope from about his body and let his bag slip off his shoulders to the ground. It landed with a thump and he plopped himself down beside it. He laid the axe across his knees and looked around him, taking in the green moss covered trees and the green undergrowth. All he’d seen since leaving the bloodbath was green, but since leaving the bloodbath he’d not seen any of his classmates. That was a good thing. For all he knew though, someone could be around, or something. Pomeroy knew that the Game makers liked to use mutts or the Arena itself to kill off the tributes. Since nothing had come after him, he could only suppose that they liked him enough to keep him around. That didn’t mean he could relax; the boy had to keep his eyes open for any signs of danger.

Pomeroy took his eyes off of the surrounding area and looked to his bag. He unzipped it and took out the half gallon water container and drunk from it deeply. There wasn’t much of it now. He’d been slowly drinking from it as he walked. At least he had an entire gallon left, but at this rate it wouldn’t last him extremely long. Maybe another day. He’d have to find a water resource. There had to be something around here.

~~~
Hp: 150/200
Inventory:
Bag
Bubblegum--pocket
Sleeping Bag
1/2 gallon
1 Banana
Blanket--in strips
Compass--pocket
First Aid Kit
1 gallon
Bug repellent
Flashlight
Wooden Spoon
Stew pot
Candy bar
1 Rope
Splitting Axe
Cleaver
Summary: Enters from Run and Run As the Rains Come Rest time!
Notes: Wounds: left hand, upper left arm, shoulder, leg

This post has been edited by Pomeroy Johansen: Jan 13 2015, 04:15 PM
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Pomeroy Johansen
 Posted: Jan 9 2015, 05:46 PM
[QUOTE]
Student
32
posts
17 Years
Male
5'11"
155 LBS
District Eleven
28-December 14 • 165 Moneys

Rydia


Pomeroy capped the bottle of water, only a mouthful or two of water left. He reached for his bag when the sound of a canon made him jump. He practically vaulted to his feet and the axe fell from his lap to the undergrowth. The boy swept it up and took a defensive stance, ready for anything to come out and attack him.

Boom.

Boom.

Boom.

Boom.

He inwardly flinched with every single canon that went off. How many had died? What had even happen? Were the Gamemakers angry with them that only a few had died the previous day? What was going on? There were so many. So many! Why couldn’t they stop?! Just stop!

Pomeroy could feel his hands trembling as he stood there. He gripped the shaft of the axe harder, his knuckles turning white. His breath hitched as another canon went off. Screams followed shortly after. They were close. Uncomfortably close. Pomeroy back-pedaled. His chest was heaving now from fear. It was rising, threatening to overwhelm him. Was he next? Was he going to die here in this hellhole? He hoped not. He prayed not. He wanted to survive, but he didn’t want to kill anymore. Jarilo’s bloodstained face had haunted his dreams last night.

The screaming stopped, followed by another boom. Another one dead. What was the body count now?

Pomeroy sank to his knees as relief flooded through his body. The screaming had stopped and so had the person’s agony. But-but that meant whatever had killed them could easily come after him. Whoever had just died was close after all. Pomeroy vaulted to his feet, grabbing for his bag and rope. The boy swallowed hard, fighting back the fear that had arisen again. He needed, wanted to leave and to get away as far as he could.

The boy turned and ran, distancing himself from the place. If anything could kill him right now it was the unknown fear that haunted him and relentlessly snapped at his heels as he fled. It was the wolf, and he was the deer. The moment he tired and fell was the moment it would sink its teeth into his neck and devour him whole.

~~~
Hp: 150/200
Inventory:
Bag
Bubblegum--pocket
Sleeping Bag
1/2 gallon
1 Banana
Blanket--in strips
Compass--pocket
First Aid Kit
1 gallon
Bug repellent
Flashlight
Wooden Spoon
Stew pot
Candy bar
1 Rope
Splitting Axe
Cleaver
Summary: Canons go off. Pomeroy gets scared and runs.
Notes: Wounds: left hand, upper left arm, shoulder, leg

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Pomeroy Johansen
 Posted: Jan 9 2015, 08:00 PM
[QUOTE]
Student
32
posts
17 Years
Male
5'11"
155 LBS
District Eleven
28-December 14 • 165 Moneys

Rydia


Plants and vines snarled around his feet as he ran. They reared up, trying to catch him and trip him, hinder him. Branches reached out and tugged and pulled at his hair, his clothes, anything they could latch onto as he passed. Pomeroy batted them away and tried to set his feet carefully, but it was difficult to do as his eyes weren’t constantly on the ground watching where he was going. Time and time again he stumbled and tripped as roots and stones came out of nowhere, and yet each time he managed to regain his balance and keep going.

His brow was slick with sweat and he could feel it dripping down his back, making his shirt stick even more to his skin. Pomeroy hated this place; hated the humidity; hated the foliage; hated what it had made him do. He had to get out. He had to escape, but there was nowhere to go. There were only more plants, more humidity, and more chances of him having to kill again.

His foot struck a rock (it hadn’t been there a moment ago) and he tripped. Unlike the other times, Pomeroy couldn’t regain his balance and with a small shocked cry fell forward. The boy landed on his forearms, just barely managing to keep his head from hitting another rock. The jolt knocked the axe from his hand. Pomeroy laid there, legs sprawling behind him, and stared at his fists, lips parted slightly as he panted. He could feel warmth of breath on his hands and the stinging of his elbows.

What was he even doing? He was letting his fear control him. What had happened to the once calm, collected, and laid-back kid everyone had known? The Games, that’s what. That and killing Jarilo. He was cracking, breaking. That much was easy to see. How much would be left of the old Pomeroy if he managed to get out of the Arena alive? Not much that was for sure.

Pomeroy pushed himself off his elbows and to his knees. Sitting back, the boy examined his forearms. They were bloody, but nothing more than scrapes. They would heal with time—if he even had that much time—and would probably stop stinging soon. He then cast his eyes about to look for the axe, but it was gone; disappeared in the undergrowth.

The boy slowly got to his feet before he raised his head. His jaw clenched and he took a step forward then another one. There was only one thing to do: keep going.

~~~
Hp: 145/200 -5 for falling
Inventory:
Bag
Bubblegum--pocket
Sleeping Bag
1/2 gallon
1 Banana
Blanket--in strips
Compass--pocket
First Aid Kit
1 gallon
Bug repellent
Flashlight
Wooden Spoon
Stew pot
Candy bar
1 Rope
Cleaver
Summary: Falls and looses axe.
Notes:
Wounds: left hand, upper left arm, forearms, shoulder, leg
Kills: Jarilo
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Pomeroy Johansen
 Posted: Jan 10 2015, 05:34 PM
[QUOTE]
Student
32
posts
17 Years
Male
5'11"
155 LBS
District Eleven
28-December 14 • 165 Moneys

Rydia


The sound of flowing water reached Pomeroy’s ears and he let out a sigh of relief. He finally found a much needed water source. Now all he had to do was get to it.

Pomeroy had managed to leave his gloomy thoughts behind (or at least tried to) and had put on a calm mask. He was fine, he kept telling himself. He was fine and everything was going to be okay. He was going to come out of this as the Victor. He was going to survive; he wasn’t going to lose his mind. He was perfectly fine.

No, you’re not, Pomeroy. You’ll never be “fine.” You’re gonna live with this the rest of your pitiful life. That’s if you live.

He pushed away the taunting voice in his head and concentrated on where he was going. The sound of running water had become louder and he swore he could see the glint of sunlight coming off of it. Within minutes Pomeroy reached the river.

Water lapped at his boots and splashed with each step he took. Pomeroy knelt and started to remove the bad from his shoulder when he caught a glimpse of his reflection. He stared at it, lips parted slightly.

Dark reddish-brown blotches were splattered across his face, mainly concentrated on one of his cheeks and part of his brow. A number on his forehead were smeared as if he’d wiped at them. It took him barely a second to realize what it was. It was dried blood; not his own, but Jarilo’s from when he’d swung the cleaver into the other boy’s head.

Pomeroy’s lips started trembling, but he quickly shut it down. He couldn’t afford to let his emotions cloud his mind. The boy cupped some water in his hands and splashed it up to his face in an effort to remove the evidence of his kill.


~~~
Hp: 145/200
Inventory:
Bag
Bubblegum--pocket
Sleeping Bag
1/2 gallon
1 Banana
Blanket--in strips
Compass--pocket
First Aid Kit
1 gallon
Bug repellent
Flashlight
Wooden Spoon
Stew pot
Candy bar
1 Rope
Cleaver
Summary: Finds the river
Notes:
Wounds: left hand, upper left arm, shoulder, leg
Kills: Jarilo

This post has been edited by Pomeroy Johansen: Jan 10 2015, 05:34 PM
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Pomeroy Johansen
 Posted: Jan 12 2015, 03:42 PM
[QUOTE]
Student
32
posts
17 Years
Male
5'11"
155 LBS
District Eleven
28-December 14 • 165 Moneys

Rydia


Once the blood had been washed from his face, Pomeroy finished removing the bag from his shoulders and set it on the dry ground. He reached in and brought out the half gallon container. Uncapping it the boy down the few remaining mouthfuls of water and began to fill it up with the water from the river. Of course he’d have to boil it or something later. He could use the stew pot for that; he’d have to eat the food first which sounded like a pretty good idea since he hadn’t had much for most of the day.

Pomeroy set the now full container back into his bag and withdrew the cleaver. It too was stained like his face had been. He scrubbed away the blood before he zipped the bag, shouldered it, and stood. He glanced around before he moved away from the river to settle on a dry patch underneath a tree. Setting down the bag Pomeroy withdrew the stewpot and wooden spoon—hey look! There actually was a use for this thing!—and began to eat. It was good. Not warm anymore but it still tasted amazing in his mouth. He devoured it then realized he was thirsty again. He brought out his full gallon of clean water and began to sip on it.

The boy was content with where he was. The day had been long and he’d walked for most of it. It was time for a well-earned break.

~~~
Hp: 145/200
Inventory:
Bag
Bubblegum--pocket
Sleeping Bag
1/2 gallon--unclean water
1 Banana
Blanket--in strips
Compass--pocket
First Aid Kit
1 gallon
Bug repellent
Flashlight
Wooden Spoon
Stew pot--empty
Candy bar
1 Rope
Cleaver
Summary: Eats, drinks, relaxes.
Notes:
Wounds: left hand, upper left arm, shoulder, leg
Kills: Jarilo
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Pomeroy Johansen
 Posted: Jan 13 2015, 04:14 PM
[QUOTE]
Student
32
posts
17 Years
Male
5'11"
155 LBS
District Eleven
28-December 14 • 165 Moneys

Rydia


Thirteen. Thirteen had been killed that day. One of those was Thomas. A part of Pomeroy was glad for that—it meant that the boy couldn’t kill him—but a part of him felt bad. Mainly because he had been glad for the kid’s death. Pomeroy shook his thoughts from his head and lay back on his sleeping bag to fall asleep.

A snapping of a branch woke Pomeroy the next morning. He laid there, eyes open but breathing quietly and he heard another branch break and then heavy steps that were coming his way. The boy sat up slowly, look around him. He reached for the cleaver and zipped up his bag before he pulled it and the rope closer to him.

The steps were growing louder and Pomeroy stood and shouldered the bag and rope. He swallowed hard then took a step back, his foot banging loudly against the empty stewpot he’d left out the night before. Stupid! Stupid, Pomeroy! The steps stopped almost immediately, then headed his way faster than before. Pomeroy turned and fled. He was not about to stay where he was with something charging him.

His feet trampled green undergrowth, and he pushed through the higher stuff, praying that it wouldn’t slow him down too much but that it would slow the thing behind him. The part of his brain that had his common sense told him that if he could get through it this easily then the mutt or whatever behind him would have no trouble either.

His breaths were coming out in labored gasps now. The humidity was worse today than yesterday and it sucked. It made running so much worse than it should have been. But Pomeroy couldn't complain—he couldn’t waste his breath on something needless as every breath he took was supplying his body with the oxygen he needed to keep running.

~~~
Hp: 155/200 (+10 for activity)
Inventory:
Bag
Bubblegum--pocket
1/2 gallon--dirty
1 Banana
Blanket--in strips
Compass--pocket
First Aid Kit
1 gallon
Bug repellent
Flashlight
Wooden Spoon
Candy bar
1 Rope
Cleaver
Summary: Anthem. Sleep. Is chased by the unknown thing. Exit to The Beginning of the End
Notes:
Wounds: left hand, upper left arm, shoulder, leg
Kills: Jarilo

This post has been edited by Pomeroy Johansen: Jan 13 2015, 04:19 PM
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