Full summary:
The Belt of Deltora has been destroyed and its gems scattered again, its power useless. The quest for Deltora failed at the last, crucial moment in Del—before Lief was revealed as heir. Although everyone in Deltora knows now, because the Shadow Lord has other things in store for him.
Controlling Deltora utterly, the Shadow Lord sends his warships to seek more peoples and lands to conquer. One fleet stumbles across Panem—and becomes the first in a series of events that leads to the ultimate Hunger Games . . .
In Deltora, the Shadow Lord selects fourteen tributes of his own—a girl and a boy between the ages of twelve and eighteen from each gem tribe. Although, in the tribe of the Topaz—the Del tribe—two have already been chosen: Lief and Jasmine.
And this time, the monsters against them are of their own kind.
Is it even possible to outsmart both the Gamemakers and the Shadow Lord?
For if there is not, then there ends the line of heirs to Deltora's throne and the claimer of the Belt's ancient power. If dies the heir, then die the ancient and only defense of the land of Deltora. . . .
The forty-ninth Hunger Games—thirty-eight tributes, of Deltorans and Panemians alike.
~Chapter One: The Games~
Deltora
POV, the Shadow Lord
There is no hope left—not anymore.
Silently, with the dull despair of a people without anything left to hold on to, Deltorans from all around the land make their way to Del.
Del. Through the ages of Deltora's history, it has always stood for something. The capital and trading city of Deltora, where the royal family used to live in the golden palace. It was, once, a place of celebration, joy, and hope. Where Adin the blacksmith and first king had first dreamed of and forged the mythical Belt of Deltora.
But Del is also the place where the Belt and its magic had been torn and scattered once already by the patient, complex plans of the Shadow Lord.
And now, it is about to be broken again—and by the very same being.
The Shadow Lord watches from his perch in the sky, surveying with slitted red eyes in his dark, cloaked human form. The square slowly fills with Deltorans—a square not unlike where the Place of Punishment once stood. Except this time, it is full to the brim of Deltorans and Shadow Lord servants alike.
Grey Guards ring the square, their slings loaded once again with deadly blisters—with a new source of poison besides that of Gellick. Shadow monsters stand by them, casting longing glares at the Deltorans that they see as nothing but clever, entertaining prey. The seven Ak-Baba swoop and flap in the sky, howling and screeching their master's triumph.
The Shadow Lord half smiles to himself.
They were foolish to think they would defeat me . . . and now, I will show them exactly what utter control I have. And I will take away what they had relied on in the past—even though they had failed them.
"And what exactly do you plan on doing, Shadow Lord?" hisses a spiteful voice behind him. That upstart again.
The Shadow Lord almost laughs. Almost.
"If there is one thing you should have learned by now, wild girl, you should know that I am exceedingly patient and that I can wait till time's end for my plans to work."
He hears the girl growl, but even a dimwit like her knows that the Shadow Lord is always, always protected by a thick layer of ancient magic. Something nearly as ancient as the Belt itself.
The Shadow Lord turns and sweeps his view over the mass of Deltorans. At last . . . Eagerness wells up within him. Eagerness at the destruction that is to come. He raises his hands, and all noise falls silent. The Shadow servants look up at their master expectantly, sharing the same eagerness.
"People of Deltora! My people!"
"None of them are your 'people,' Shadow Lord!"
That girl's voice again. But the Shadow Lord ignores her and continues—this is too great to be stopped by any means.
"Today we have gathered here to witness a certain . . . breaking." A smile creeps across the Shadow Lord's dark features. "A breaking of the power you have relied on for centuries, something that will prevent any of you attempting such evils again.
"But this time, I have something else planned for my—pleasure. And to assure that something like the foolish quest will never happen again—for if they had failed, as they have done, the land would be mine. And even if they had succeeded, why, the land would still be mine. I am never without plans, Deltorans, and I am willing to wait for eternities."
Stony silence.
"Let me proceed to the matter at hand: While roaming the seas, my ships came across a country, a country whose people call it Panem. There, they have a certain—way—of controlling their subjects."
The malicious glint in the Shadow Lord's eye makes all the Deltorans assembled go stiff with dread.
And also where the wild girl decides to step in.
"None of us care, Shadow Lord!" she shouts furiously, her voice echoing across the empty square. "If you think this will sink us in despair, think again! In fact, killing one of my companions has done nothing—nothing but make me hungry for vengeance!"
The Shadow Lord laughs this time. It was too hilarious and coincidental to not do so. "Oh, but Jasmine, what fateful words you have chosen! I thank you—this will make continuing much easier."
As Jasmine fumes silently, the boy standing beside her—heir to the throne of Deltora—rushes to comfort her, muttering in a low voice. The Shadow Lord ignores them and turns back to the rest of the Deltorans.
"You see, my people, in Panem they have a certain annual occurrence called the Hunger Games. In these Games, they send twenty-four of their children between ages of twelve through eighteen to the Capitol—which, really, is their own Del, but more . . . sophisticated. Eventually, these twenty-four tributes will be placed in an outdoor wilderness arena to . . . fight to the death."
This time, the silence of the Deltorans is of fear and panic.
The Shadow Lord's smile spreads even further. "Oh, yes! The very best thing, however, that I absolutely love about these Hunger Games, is the fact that the winner survives, granted riches and fame, and the losers die. Killed by their own brethren or the very arena!" He turns to Jasmine and Lief, who meet his bloodred gaze defiantly but hopelessly.
Below in the square, the Deltorans are silent. Mass death is not a new concept, having gone through things like the Shadow Arena and the wars with the Shadow monsters, but this kind of killing is a horror all its own.
"I have worked an agreement with these Panemians. They, after selecting their twenty-four tributes, will send them to Deltora for a short tour of the land. And then I myself will choose—at random!—two tributes from each gem tribe." The Shadow Lord's eyes glitter with malice, still trained on the two. "Two from each gem tribe, to remind you how Adin's cursed little dream Belt failed you all."
He pauses, studying Lief and Jasmine.
"Oh, but those of the Topaz tribe need not worry! For I already have my tributes for that tribe selected already." The Shadow Lord smiles widely again as the faces of the two, realizing their fate, slowly darken with fear and dread.
"Lief and Jasmine of Del!"
The Ak-Baba explode with their weird, howling cries, and quickly the Deltorans start a forced, ragged cheer—Grey Guards unleash blisters and Shadow monsters on those who do not.
The Shadow Lord knows this is a most wonderful plan, doubtlessly more promising than the smaller, simpler ones he made in attempts to destroy the three in search of the gems of the Belt. He smiles.
This time, there are—will be—thirty-six others seeking them out, doing everything to their power to make sure they die.
And that is only if one of them did not turn their back and choose survival over loyalty.
. . . This is a plan that will work.
The Shadow Lord raises a hand and the mass gathered below him quiets.
"However, before we continue . . ." He turns to Lief. "Your sword, royal heir."
Both Lief and Jasmine stare back, uncomprehending. Then, after a tense pause: "No."
The Shadow Lord's red eyes flare in fury and annoyance. "Your sword!"
"Why?" retorts Jasmine, moving forward.
"Oh, no reason . . . that you need to know."
With that said, the Shadow Lord summons the sword himself. The steel soars out in a shining arc, flashing for a moment despite the dull red light. The Shadow Lord's hand shoots out and snatches the hilt in midair.
"Excellent. . . . And now, the Belt, seeing as you are so rigidly stubborn."
Silence prevails as the mythical Belt of Deltora, in its own turn, is called to the Shadow Lord. Its gems are dull and the fine metal of the medallions and chain refuse to shine in the red light.
With his sorcery, the Shadow Lord levitates the Belt in the air and stretches it taught. He glares at it, knowing full well how powerful it is and how many times he could have been brought to a downfall thanks to it.
"Now, my people—witness how I am greater than any little so-called 'defense' your minimal magic can conjure."
The crowd holds its breath, watching with dread and frozen fear—
As the blade of their own heir slashes through Deltora's last defense.
Okay, so I lied. I will not be waiting for votes to determine the uploading "date" of this fanfiction after all. . . . I'm sorry, it was just too hard to resist! O3o
To all others waiting for me to update my three other stories: I'm sorry! You'll have to wait—bear with me! ^_^0 But I did update The First Four, so!
Now, down to business: THIS IS AN SYOT—and also my FIRST one (so if I do anything wrong, tell me please)! Please either PM or review (any would be great!) your tribute, Deltoran or Panemian. The next chapter will be up soon ("soon" meaning between a week and a month), whether I get tributes or not, since chapter two will be Panem's reaction to the announcement about this little twist in their Games. ;D
-NOTE: Submitted tributes are on a first come, first serve basis. So basically, if I find that two female tributes are submitted for, say, the Amethyst tribe, I will see which one was submitted first and have that one written into the Games. Submitting a tribute means you have full understanding of this rule. Okay? ;)
Form for the SYOT:
Name:
-Edit: Deltorans have no middle/last names; Deltorans do not name their children after gemstones or objects or plants (well, okay, Jasmine was an exception, but she's one of the main characters!) without a reason (i.e. Opal the Dreamer); and they usually have names that sound different from ours but still seem familiar.
Gender:
Age:
Gem tribe or District (using this I'll be able to tell if they're Deltoran or Panemian*):
-*If Panemian, their reaction to the addition of Deltorans to the year's Games:
Appearance:
Personality:
Family:
Reaped or volunteered?:
Reaction or reason:
Three strengths:
Three weaknesses:
Weapon of choice:
Least wanted weapon:
How will they react to . . .
Cold:
Heat:
Hunger:
Thirst:
Ambush/attack:
Having to kill someone:
THE FOLLOWING ARE NOT ESSENTIAL BUT WOULD HELP A LOT!
Token:
Reaping outfit:
-Edit: If the tribute is Deltoran, do me a favor and don't include a reaping outfit. Deltorans don't understand the concept of dressing up for an occasion like the reapings, so they'll all appear in their normal clothes. XD
Interview outfit:
Interview angle:
Games strategy (also include if they'll try to get something from the Cornucopia or run and also if they'll be alone or with allies):
Training score:
Rate your tribute on the following skills (1-10 or words like "fair" or "poor"; anything that will describe their skill):
Agility:
Strength:
Running:
Climbing:
Swimming:
Sight:
Hearing:
Plant/hunting knowledge:
Hand-to-hand combat:
Hiding themselves (like camouflage or finding concealing shelter):
ANYTHING ELSE YOU'D LIKE FOR ME TO KNOW ABOUT THEM:
Review pleeeeeaaaase, both Deltorans/DQ fans and THG fans! 8D Reviews make my day, you know that!