The Furry Games (11 Slots Available. See OOC Companion for more detail and character sheet.)

[SinGenesis]

Caspar sighed, his cream fur covered in dirt and grit from working in the mines all day. He wanted a bath, but unlike the super-rich residents he would have to heat the water himself and only had a gritty bar of old soap and a piece of one of his Dad's old shirts to wash with. Still, it was better than nothing. He entered his rickety wooden house, where his mother was in the kitchen, cooking dinner for both of them. It smelt like beef stew, his favourite. But he knew why. Tomorrow was the Reaping. Tomorrow was the day where two teenagers, a boy and a girl would be chosen for the Hunger Games, and Caspar was eligible. It was a family tradition after his cousin was chosen seven years ago. He never came back, almost none of the District 12 tributes did. What chance did a poor miner have against teenagers who had dedicated their whole lives to learning how to survive in the games. He ate the stew and watched the television, before having his bath and going to bed. He woke up and put on his best clothes, and by that it was simply the ones that we're the cleanest and least ripped up. He marched down to the Tribute Podium with the other eligible people for the Games. The Capitol Cheetah spoke into the microphone. "As a special twist, both tributes from District 12 shall be boys." The rich Cheetah picked from the boys box. "Jacob Chase." A massive Kimono Dragon stepped out, it looked strong enough to be able to break Caspar's neck effortlessly. He watched as the Seven foot tall creature stepped onto the podium. The Cheetah then picked the second name. "Adam Thomson." A small, thin tiger stepped out, frozen in fear. He evidently was from the poorer parts of District 12. He was too young to die so brutally. He couldn't take it, and screamed at the top of his voice. "NO! I VOLUNTEER AS A TRIBUTE!" Caspar ran out, his mother did too, crying and screaming, before he knew it he was being escorted to the podium, his mother was dragged away by two guards, she still called his name over and over. The Cheetah turned to him. "And what might your name be, dear?" She asked politely. "Caspar Thansan..." He spoke quietly. "We have our two tributes, Jacob Chase and Caspar Thansan! May the odds ever be in your favour!" The cheetah exclaimed before walking off. Whatever the young White Lion had gotten himself into now, there was no backing out.

[Ben]

It was the day before the Reaping the sun was slowly falling along with many trees, the smell of cedar filled the air around the site. Ben was walking back to his apartment sweat rolling down his brow from the hard days work, everything seemed so quiet that night just adding to the tension of the Reaping of course the guys didn't have to worry about being chosen they all knew Ben was going to volunteer for tribute he made it quite clear to everybody. Ben opens the door to his apartment and throws his coat down in a chair revealing his only shirt torn in places, he lays on his bed and slowly drifts off. That morning he shows up at the Reaping and volunteers before the boys name is called and walks silently up on the stage and takes a bow at the crowd with the girl tribute, he would have nobody to say goodbye to, no tears would be cried for him, and nobody would remember him.

[FarranOtsoa]

Tomorrow was the day of the reaping. Farran's district rarely won the games. He had watched children have their names called out every year. He had then watched them walk away,  going off to be slaughtered like pigs. His mother had cooked him his favourite meal tonight. She did that every year on the eve of the reaping. He got changed for bed, got into bed and went to sleep. He woke up the next morning. His nicest clothes were laid out on the chair for him. He put them on before heading into the kitchen and grabbing something quick for breakfast. He ate it quickly before heading out for the reaping. He stood,  looking up at the stage. No one spoke as a slip of paper was pulled out of the bowl for the girls. A name was called out. A fox of 13 years old walked up to the stage slowly and hesitantly. As if it would make the ordeal better by prolonging it. A name was pulled out of the bowl of boys names now, everyone watching in silence. Farran's name was called out. He walked forward to the stage. Out of all of the boys here, why did it have to be him? He stood next to the vixen. He looked into the crowd for his mother, he saw her. Shock and horror on her face.