Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games. They belong to Suzanne Collins.
Note: Sorry for the delay with this one guys, real life's been kinda kicking me in the nuts lately and leaving me with not as much time to sit down and really work on my HG fic stuff. But, I found some time and a glimmer of inspiration, so here we are with the result! Dragon here may be one of my favourite Victors so far, especially of the Career Victors. Hope you like the nutjob as much as I do. :D
Katniss turned her gaze away from Dragon's imprinted face on the ground and looked towards Peeta, curious.
"What do you mean 'challenge runner'?" Katniss asked, lost.
"Something Brutus mentioned when we were practising with spears before the Quell began," Peeta said, still slowly shaking his head. "Apparently he thought the Games were going to be so 'pathetically easy' that he went out of his way to make things much harder for himself. Just because he didn't want an 'easy victory'."
Katniss stared, bewildered by this revelation.
"...What?" she said, flatly.
"I know, it's really stupid," Peeta agreed, groaning. "He broke his own arm down in his launch room and that's just one of the things he did."
"...WHAT?!"
27th Annual Hunger Games
Name: Dragon Batofel
Gender: Male
District: 2
Age: 18
Kills: 7
Dragon was a boy that liked to do everything the hard way.
Everything.
Whether it was taking on extra work that would be sure to cause stress, pushing himself beyond his limit when training at the academy, duelling with a hand tied behind his back or staying out after curfew so that he'd have to sneak past spotlights and guards to reach his bed the bottom line was that Dragon never did things the ease, safe or even sane way. It simply didn't seem to be an option for him.
It was a mindset that he learnt from his Grandpa as a young boy, the man having been a reckless war hero back in the Dark Days. As a kid Dragon would spend numerous hours admiring his Grandpa's vast amount of medals for bravery and a multitude of war accomplishments. He was often told the same thing by his Grandpa, words that he took to heart.
"I'd not have earned a thing if I always played it safe. The rest of my squad could tell you that, poor saps without medals."
Dragon never ever played it safe, not even once. No amount of scratches, bruises, broken bones and discipline could ever break his sheer spirit and fearless nature. If anything, that only seemed to make it all the more fun for him and kept him coming back for more.
With his desire for an extreme challenge it seemed only logical to Dragon that his destiny was to enter The Hunger Games for better or for worse. He'd always survived every past danger and challenge he'd gotten into, never unable to simply walk off the pain. Why should the ultimate risk, the ultimate challenge be any different?
His training scores were stellar all across the board in the academy of District Two. He was deemed to be one of the most powerful, vicious tributes that had ever trained within the stone walls of the academy. Even Olga had to admit that he was an obvious choice to enter the arena, his Victory seeming incredibly likely.
Of course, where's the fun in taking part in something that you already know you'll win? Dragon didn't want an easy victory – the lame kind of Victory – and instead wanted to win in the most epic of manners while simultaneously having an incredible challenge to overcome.
It may be hard, it may be agonizing, it may even lead to his death... but Dragon didn't care, simply wanting to demonstrate his power and have a great time doing it.
That and, most of all, following in the footsteps of his Grandpa and facing enough challenge to make him proud.
TEN WAYS DRAGON BATOFEL MADE THE HUNGER GAMES MUCH HARDER THAN THEY REALLY NEEDED TO BE
#1: Blowing The First Impression
As a sort of rule the tributes from District Two would always make a stellar first impression upon the Capitol. While always shown second, after District One of course, the Twos were the most ferocious tributes, the most Capitol loyal tributes and, of course, were the most likely tributes to win. No tributes from Two aside from Slate in the First Games had ever made a terrible first impression, always securing many sponsors from the word go.
Dragon felt that such an extreme advantage over almost every single other District being handed to him was nothing short of playing the Hunger Games with training wheels on. So, naturally, the only thing to do was make the Capitol lose any possible favour with him from the beginning. He could win this thing without any sponsor aid, dammit!
One irregularity happened at the reaping before Dragon could do a thing. His sister, always a glory hound and usually the order to contrast her brother's chaos, volunteered before the chosen volunteer could get the practically magic words out. After a fistfight and the original volunteer getting her wrist broken it was official that Wyrm Batofel would be the female tribute and that Olga was very close to an aneurysm.
Dragon couldn't help but laugh. Being in the arena with a family member? Emotionally, it didn't get much harder than that! If she wanted to make a deadly debut, he figured it'd help his goal of making things harder by doing the exact opposite.
"Rubble Umbri!"
"Like, omigosh, I toooooootally volunteer!"
The residents of District Two could only stare in complete and utter shock and horror as Dragon pranced his way up to the stage in the most effeminate manner he could possibly put on. With an outright girly giggle he skipped onto the stage and wave a cheeky wave to the District.
"Oh em gee, I am like soooooo totally excited right now!" Dragon let out a shrill squee of delight, popping a knee back as he bounced around. "I'm, like, gonna slap all those mean tributes with my purse!"
As Dragon was led into the Judgement Building alongside Wyrm it quickly became clear to the Capitol citizens that the boy from Two made perhaps the hands down worst impression of the full batch of tributes. Acting all camp, giggly and like he was some kind of a stereotype? It was just not what anybody needed to see. Even the boy from Six who shit his pants at least had a beard!
Dragon just relaxed in the room he'd been shoved into, his hands behind his head and his feet resting upon the table. He'd gotten exactly what he wanted out of his debut on the stage; he'd had a great laugh at the expense of everybody else and the sponsors wouldn't see him as a viable candidate to put any early pledges towards.
The challenge was building up, but it was far from enough to satisfy his sheer desire for insane odds to overcome...
#2: Ditching The Career Pack
Dragon took one look at the pair from One and came to an instant realisation, a matter of pure and careful insight that simply could not be argued with.
They were fucking weak!
In his own not-so-humble view Brilliant and Sparkles were pretty weedy by the standards of District One and didn't look like they'd score any higher than an eight. The tree chopping brute from Seven, Weeder, looked tougher than them and he'd not even had any actual training in his life.
Dragon figured he stood to lose little if he just went solo. Sure, it wasn't exactly the biggest of challenges that he was looking but having an alliance automatically made his upcoming challenge run totally pointless. Where was the challenge if you had three people watching your back? It didn't exist, plain and simple.
"Yeah, fuck this, I'm out," Dragon said with a casual shrug, making his way over to the sword training station.
"Out? Wait, what do you mean 'out'?" Wyrm asked, a scowl of contempt upon her face.
"Maybe he's coming out as gay?" Sparkles added, fiddling with her hair whilst tossing a knife nowhere near the target. "I mean, his reaping made me wonder."
"...Uh, no? I'm ditching the pack as you're fucking worthless and I'd just do better alone anyway," Dragon shrugged, shaking his head. "Honestly, ask Wyrm, I like girls. How many did I sneak into my room at the academy?"
"At least twenty," Wyrm drawled. "Are you being serious right now, brother? I know you're insane, but are you actually stupid as well? This makes no sense!"
"I kinda figured he was insane from the start," Brilliant said, chuckling over the whole display.
"He gets it," Dragon remarked. "I want a challenge and I can't get that alongside you lot."
"So basically you're gonna piss off Olga like Rook did? You fool!" Wyrm spat, disgusted.
"He ditched the pack because it made his odds better," Dragon said, starting to use his sword against a training dummy. "I'm doing this because it makes my odds worse."
And so it was that Dragon showed the other Careers his favourite finger and proceeded to ignore their shouts and jeers. He kept up the ignoring right after insulting the families of the pair from One for extra challenge, of course.
What better way to have a disadvantage than to have trained killers out for your blood? Even Wyrm no longer saw him as family, merely competition and Dragon was perfectly fine with this.
His satisfaction grew higher when Weeder and Flicker, the girl from Three, were recruited into the Career pack. After all, in Dragon's opinion a pack of five was a much more satisfying challenge to brute force his way past than a tiny pack of just three people.
#3: Scoring Even Lower Than Slate, That Poor Sap From The First Games.
When it came to training sessions there was often a wide variety, even amongst the toughest Careers or the most feeble outliers... even if the latter was sometimes just a variety of different crying noises. The Gamemakers would watch, sometimes half-focused if even that, and take note on what the tributes could do, often privately thinking of them as hopeless or worthy of mockery.
Some chose to show their skills with weapons like swords or spears, with the occasional display of more unique weapons like bolas or even a kusarigama. Others focused on survival skills like water finding, identification of plants and edible bugs or even basic first aid. There were even those who would just tell jokes in hopes of making the Gamemakers laugh and take pity on them (contrary to popular belief Fir had not actually done this).
Dragon had a target. He had to score lower than Slate, the timid thirteen year old who had been the first ever tribute from District Two, a boy who got slashed by King's sword many years prior and only scored a mere three.
There was really only one certain way for Dragon to get an even worse score than Slate and so he did not hesitate to put the plan into action.
He walked in when his name was called and laid down to take a nap. That was it.
He got up and yawned fifteen minutes later, leaving the room with a snicker over how disappointed and pissed off the Gamemakers looked. It was all going according to his plan and he couldn't be more pleased about it.
Dragon had to admit he was wrong. He felt even more pleased when he was awarded a two when the scores were announced for the nation.
"A two for a Two, it feels like a good omen," Dragon had said to his disgusted sister and sickened Olga. "Has a nice ring to it."
Olga muttered some kind of scathing Russian curse word and headed for her private vodka cupboard. Vercingetorix just looked at Dragon like he was some kind of mentally ill freak and quickly made an excuse to leave.
Dragon had to wonder why he'd not gotten a one, but shrugged it off as merely the Gamemakers thinking his powerful, trained body had some kind of potential. He knew he'd find a way past this and keep the challenge rising.
#4: Acting Like A Truly Creepy Son Of A Bitch At The Interview
Caesar Flickerman was back to host the interviews again following his success from the previous year. His natural charisma and charm made him a smash hit that really bought out the best in even the seemingly least popular tributes. Everybody in the Capitol, and even a select few on the Districts, appreciated his sense of humour, the way he could spin any interview into a positive experience to watch and take part in and the how his interviews gave each tribute at least some sort of a chance of getting sponsors.
Of course, that all being said, Dragon certainly gave him one of the toughest interviews of his entire decades long hosting career.
After all, most tributes would at least speak back or give some grunts of acknowledgement. Even the rare mute tributes would give a physical sort of reaction. But Dragon wasn't just any sort of tribute, he was a challenge runner!
That was why he spent his interview staring at the audience with creepy, lecherous eyes and breathing slow, deep breathes as he did so. Not a single person watching the show didn't feel at least some kind of low-key mortal terror at the sight.
"So, Dragon, do you have a special girl back home?"
Deep breathing. Constant staring.
"Do you have any particular fun hobbies... say, playing the banjo?"
Deep breathing. Constant staring.
"Come on Dragon, give me something here!"
"BOO!"
Dragon left the stage to very minor applause, some jeers, a lot of bewildered silence and two audience members moaning from their heart attacks. What could he say besides the fact he was satisfied?
The ground work had been laid out but the real challenge began now. Surviving the arena and upping the difficulty any time the opportunity presented itself.
#5: Breaking His Arm
Dragon relaxed throughout the hovercraft ride to the distant arena, feeling refreshed and ready to get cracking once the gong rang. Looking around at the other tributes, though, made him feel a certain sort of underwhelmed.
Most of them were incredibly week this year, scoring between a two and a five. Only the five member of the Career pack scored above a seven and the sole other person who got better than a five was Rik from District Six and the fact he had shit his pants at the reaping automatically made him worthless to Dragon.
With pathetic tributes like them to battle against Dragon felt as though his sincere efforts to raise the challenge for himself would be for naught. These guys were practically incapable of fighting, let alone walking around unaided!
As Dragon entered his launch room he knew exactly what he had to do to get himself the ultimate victory he craved so very badly.
"Stop! Stop it! What in Orion's name are you doing?!" the stylist shrieked in sheer horror at what he was seeing.
That being, of course, Dragon repeatedly jumping over and landing on his right arm. On the fourth attempt a nasty crack filled the room as his arm broke. Despite the pain that surged through him the Career boy still managed to smirk in deep satisfaction.
"Ahhhhhh... aw yeah, that's what I needed," Dragon said, laughing.
"Are you literally fucking insane?!" the stylist wailed.
"Nope, I'll be fucking a supermodel once I win," Dragon said with a snicker. "Though I'll give you one thing, I might be just a tiny bit crazy. I'd have to be mad to volunteer, right?"
The stylist couldn't find it in himself to remotely disagree, just telling Dragon to get in the launch tube and out of his sight.
#6: No Running, Only Walking
As Dragon's launch pedestal clicked into place he had to put his hands out to steady himself as a powerful wind began to slow around him, a task made harder by the broken state of his right arm. This year's arena was among the windiest yet, perhaps second only to the stormy island of the Twentieth Games. All around him gales blow with incredible force, his tribute outfit billowing wildly.
It was another forest this year, one that was certainly a tad odd to look at. The entire place was completely monochrome. Black and white all over, nothing else aside a few rare shades of grey in scant supply. Wind had the white blossoms and leaves flying around, the black tree bark peeling here and there as a result of the almost-hurricane.
Just as Dragon spotted a nearby pool of what may have been some kind of soapy, bubbly liquid and the faintest glimpse of a small puny looking creature that had a yellow bulb upon its single antennae there was a swift disaster.
The fierce wind caused Rik to lose his balance and, with a scream, fall off of his pedestal. The explosion tore him to pieces, his body blasted around in scorched chunks. The combination of the noise and wind ended up making the beanpole boy from Eight and the fat girl from Five fall to the landmines as well, both ending up just as dead as Rik.
With three opponents dead before the gong had even rang out Dragon had began to get worried, his hard fought victory looking easier by the second. He scowled, scared that the difficulty would be locked into easy mode if these idiots didn't stop getting themselves blown up.
If they intended to make it easy, he'd fight with everything he had to make it harder. That was why, when the gong did ring, he did not join the other twenty tributes in running towards the Cornucopia.
He casually walked towards it.
The battle was quick to get started just as it did every year. Wyrm was quick to cut down the girls from Six, Twelve and Seven with a massive, serrated sword and showed no emotion at all as she did so. The pair from One worked together to hold down the tough boy from Ten and beat him bloody. Even Weeder was able to effectively slay the willowy boy from Four, giving Flicker the chance to get into the Cornucopia and hide, her role in the pack only possible if she ended up surviving the opening minutes.
Meanwhile Dragon casually scooped up a knife and a small vibrant green duffel bag midway between his pedestal and the Cornucopia. Despite his broken arm and slow speed he made the very, very slow charge towards the boy from Three who was rifling through the contents of a large bag moments before his planned retreat.
It was with great ease that Dragon stabbed the boy in his back. The smart boy tried to flee before it was too late, but all his stumbling ended up making it simple for Dragon to take him out in short order.
Dragon left after that, having gotten the bare basic equipment that he needed. But, given he was going no faster than a casual stroll it made him quite the easy target for Weeder to make a charge at.
"Might wanna be a bit quiet next time," Dragon remarked, turning on his heel to plant his knife right into Weeder's lung. "Not that there's ever gonna be a next time, mate."
Dragon left into the windy, monochrome forest without anymore issues after that. The other Careers had been busy chasing after Pippin from Eleven, he having been able to make off with a burlap sack of water bottles, leaving Dragon to take his pick of where to go next without the risk of a violent stabbing. He had to admit, he missed the danger already.
As thirteen cannons boomed and his walk became a strut Dragon started to make a beeline for the high ground of the forest where the worst of the wind seemed to be located.
#7: Taking The Hard Route, No Exceptions
The windy forest of monochrome madness was quick to claim its victims. The combination of the Career pack hunting with cool efficiency under Wyrm's leadership and the immense gales made navigation extremely difficult for the Outliers and Dragon. Even the pack had their own struggles as they tried to bare the endless wind storm.
Dragon wasn't a small boy by any means, he oozed toughness... and yet, even he was having his issues keeping himself balanced as he kept on hunting through the fierce forest. He'd lost the trail of the girl from Eleven at least three times and, as much as he appreciated a lengthy chase, he was starting to feel just plain irked. Mainly from boredom more than anything.
"Come on, come on, where are you?" Dragon grumbled, lost as to how a thirteen year old was evading him so easily.
Dragon came to a crossroad of sorts on the fourth day in the arena. To one side was a slope that led up to the top of a steep hill. To the other side was a dangerous, rocky walkway that led to the same place, albeit with pointless danger.
"The sensible man would choose the slope," Dragon mused. He soon snickered as he headed for the rocky route. "Too bad I'm not that lame."
Dragon ignored the slope entirely as he began the trek up the precarious, deadly walkway of sharp rocks and a nasty drop that would claim anybody even slightly clumsy. The walk was dangerous with the crazy Career boy nearly toppling over to his doom six times. His broken right arm made it incredibly hard to keep himself properly balanced on the highly limited space that was available to him.
When all that remained between Dragon and the top of his perilous ascent was a straight fifteen feet climb up a rocky wall his manic grin seemed to double in size. Overcoming that with one of his arms broken? It was exactly the thing that he was looking for to assert his sheer badassery!
"Watch and be amazed, Panem," Dragon said as he started to haul his way slowly but surely up towards the top of the cliff.
The audience were indeed amazed, along with feeling incredulous. Despite his broken arm, lack of any sponsor support and and the howling wind that tore through the woods Dragon managed to inch himself up the cliff over a tense, deadly half hour. It was torturous and painful, just how Dragon liked all his challenges to be.
A cannon boomed distantly as Dragon reached the summit of the large hill and stood in the sunlight, wheezing for breath. Despite how dangerous and sheerly unnecessary his detour had been he felt truly on top of the world, laughing as he raised his non-broken arm in triumph.
"Yeah! I beat you!" Dragon laughed, bellowing and roaring like his namesake. "I fucking beat you!"
Dragon made his way over to a nearby pear tree, plucking the fruit to eat while he took a brief moment to relax. He hardly cared that the safe path would've gotten him up to the top in under two minutes.
#8: No Cheap Kills
Typically, if a tribute were to come across another tribute who was fast asleep they would take them out while they were unable to fight back at all. Either that or run away before the sleeper were to arise and realise they were not alone.
Dragon thought this was ridiculously cheap and unbecoming of the challenging victory he wanted. He wanted to give everybody a fair chance in combat, even if it was less for their sake and more for his own ego. Fair seemed fair.
That was why when Dragon found Brilliant sleeping in the bushes, having split from Wyrm after Sparkles had been sent off a cliff by the powerful wind, he didn't stab him in his sleep. Instead he began to howl and whoop like a monkey in an attempt to wake up his opponent for a proper duel.
"You're insane, anybody ever told you that?" Brilliant added as he gripped his spiked mace close to his chest.
"Many people who were tougher than you," Dragon replied with a wink, he and Brilliant circling around each other.
"Did they say you're fucking stupid as well?" Brilliant persisted, snorting.
"I'm not fucking stupid," Dragon smirked slyly, his eyes alight with mischief. "I'll be fucking your mom once I get to One on my Victory Tour, though!"
Just as Dragon had intended Brilliant became enraged and even fiercer in his fighting ability. He swung his mace again and again, trying to beat the brains out his crazy opponent. Even one armed, Dragon was fast enough on his feet to strut around Brilliant's unfocused blows and swings until the boy from One was in dire need of a break.
"What the fuck... how are you... strutting out of the way... so easily?" Brilliant wheezed as he took a few steps back.
"I mean, you do realise I just got a bad score on purpose right? I could've gotten a twelve but I wanted a challenge, something you failed to give me, mate," Dragon tutted, shaking his head in dismay. A smirk widened on his face. "How about I give you a real challenge instead?"
Even one-armed Dragon was stellar at knife fighting and had Brilliant on the ropes from the start. Dragon ditched the knife midway through and resorted to using his fist to give Brilliant some kind of a chance to turn the tide of battle but the result was inevitable before long.
The cannon boomed and Dragon left the area feeling a rush of bloodlust while Brilliant's corpse was left bloody and beaten, already getting tossed around by the ever stronger wind.
#9: Hit Every Wire
After killing the boy from Five Dragon set off back to the Cornucopia in search of those who were still alive at this late stage of the Games; aside from himself it was just Wyrm, Flicker and Sail from Four. Dragon had already taken out five people and was ready to make it become a grand total of eight if that was the way it had to be.
Arriving at the Cornucopia after a disappointing lack of trouble presented Dragon with the latest challenge of his reckless quest of insanity. The remaining supplies were at the back of the Cornucopia and, he was quick to notice, so was Flicker.
"Give it up Dragon," Flicker said, calm as ice. "Between you and I is a series of wires charged with a lot of voltage. If you touch them it will hurt. So, I suggest you just leave because I am not coming out."
"Challenge accepted," Dragon replied, cracking his knuckles.
Flicker watched incredulously as Dragon charged right at the electric wires, shouting and screaming as he was zapped. Flicker soon began to scream and panic as Dragon overcame the challenge and tackled her to the ground. Even through his twitching and pain it didn't take him long to grab a knife and slit her throat.
"Pain... pain... aw fuck..." Dragon groaned, rather blackened and smokey from the wire trap Flicker had set up.
#10: Cherry Tapping
Dragon missed his chance to kill Sail when Wyrm found the boy first. It wasn't long after that when the forest began to collapse, trees falling all over the place as the heavy wind guided the last two tributes in the arena to their final battle. Dragon barely managed to walk out of the way of the trees, only able to strut to the finale due to how ending a Hunger Games without a final battle was likely to get any self-respecting Head Gamemaker killed.
Dragon and Wyrm crossed paths at sundown of the twelve day in the monochrome forest, the former with a tiny dagger and the latter with a big sword. Dragon greeted his sister openly, ready for a glorious and hard battle. After all, she had a great weapon and both her arms still working. It was sure to be amazing to overcome her.
Wyrm just gave her stupid brother a dull look, called him retarded and charged in with a war cry.
The nation of Panem, mostly just the Capitol and District Two really, watched with awe and excitement as all family ties were discarded and the two siblings fought viciously, just like their draconian namesakes from eras long since passed.
Wrym fought with vicious swings of her word, always focused on the attack. For several moments Dragon felt like he was going to die. A particularly bad slash sent him reeling, a gash torn on his already broken arm.
"That all you got?" Wyrm asked.
Dragon responded with a sudden lunge that was faster than Wyrm could possibly react to. She was left with a small cut in her shoulder, a trickle of blood slowly escaping from her flesh.
"Was that really the best you could do, Dragon?" Wrym scoffed, rolling her eyes as she tried to dodge another strike, failing as a second minor cut was inflicted on her.
For a while the finale became agonisingly slow, a mere showing of Dragon fighting through the pain in his arm to dodge Wyrm's swords strikes and keep on inflicting very minor cuts across her muscular body. Not a single one of the injuries looked remotely serious and Dragon was almost completely out of energy.
But as Dragon ducked and dodged a would-be killing blow the audience began to see the point of his cherry tapping strategy. Wyrm was starting to wear out from blood loss, her energy only getting drained quicker by her heavy attacks.
With a final strike Wyrm collapsed and, with a bittersweet farewell, Dragon ended the Games with a quick stab. It was nothing personal, just business. It was the District way, after all.
No sooner had the victory trumpets rang out Dragon collapsed in a heap of sheer agony. Despite the immense pain, he was victorious and truly satisfied with his hard fought and well earned victory.
"Was that... all you... got?" Dragon wheezed as the hovercraft descended. "My dad hit harder... when I was a...baby..."
Dragon then passed out and entered a month long coma, his idiotic actions finally catching up with him.
"I thought crazy people weren't allowed to win the Hunger Games," Katniss said, frowning. "Most of the time they'd just rig a trap or something against them if the other tributes didn't kill them off first."
"I guess there's a fine line between crazy and insane, one Dragon did not quite cross. I'm sure District Two was impressed by him," Peeta said, soon trailing off into an awkward silence.
The pair said nothing more as they moved over to the next face on the long side walk. The face of young girl with particularly fluffy hair and wide, spirited eyes looked back up at them.
"Teff Withers," Peeta said, observing the image of the young girl. "No pun intended, but I hear she won the Games despite being deaf."
"I guess she must have used her eyes then," Katniss said, humming in thought for a moment. "They sure are wide, don't you think?"
There we go, Dragon Batofel wins in challenging and probably ridiculous fashion. I've seen all kinds of rather insane challenge runs of various video games over the years and I couldn't help wondering what a challenge runner put into the brutal and morbid Hunger Games would be like. The result? A tad over the top in execution (ok, more than a tad...) but a rather comical, insane Victor who I enjoyed writing for. Stay tuned for more!
Stats
District 1: Peridot Gaudy (8th Games), Crystal McCree (14th Games), Bronze Marley (19th Games), Crown Martins (24th Games)
District 2: Baron Overwhill (4th Games), Runa Peace (7th Games), Olga Machete (10th Games), Rook Valiant (17th Games), Boulder Atherston (20th Games), Vercingetorix Carnby (25th Games), Dragon Batofel (27th Games)
District 3: Honorius Perthshire (5th Games), Pi Orbit (22nd Games)
District 4: Museida Selkirk (3rd Games), Mags Flanagan (11th Games), Tide Luther (23rd Games)
District 5: Shunt Gaspar (12th Games), Isobel Sparks (18th Games)
District 6: N/A
District 7: Pliny Aransio (2nd Games), Fir Buzz (9th Games), Jack Tylos (21st Games)
District 8: Woof Casino (16th Games)
District 9: Mizar Aldjoy (1st Games), Gwenith Rosebud (13th Games)
District 10: Stallion March (26th Games)
District 11: Bear Redfoot (15th Games)
District 12: Duke Saint-Rose (6th Games)