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Gamemaker Introductions (Cosmere HG's)

Edema Rue

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It's time to meet your gamemakers for the Cosmere Hunger Games! We hope you're excited, because we certainly are! 

First up, we have our darling friends @SmilingPanda19 and @Anguished_One


Cosette and Emeric walk up together and sit down on the couch. Emeric flashes a big pearly smile for the camera. He absolutely adores the attention.

“Hello there! Well, aren’t you two just the cutest couple?” The interviewer smiles at them and then the camera. 

 “Oh s'il te plaît,”  Cosette says, waving her hand dismissively. 

He gently shoves her in the shoulder and mumbles to her, loud enough for the microphones to pick up. “Tu plaisantes, nous sommes si mignons- We are simply the best of the best if I do say so myself.” He has a thick French accent underlying his English. 

She gives the camera a tight-lipped smile. “Oui, le best…” She slips her hand through his arm, her fingers resting just above his elbow. “Pouvons-nous nous dépêcher, s'il vous plaît ? J'ai des choses à faire.” She says airily, shaking her head and making her dark curls bounce slightly. 

“Why in such a hurry mon amour?” He hisses slightly, making a silly kissy face at her, leaning over as if wanting a kiss. He over-exaggerates his expression, trying to be as ridiculous and madly in love as possible.

Cosette rolls her eyes. “Vous avez l'air ridicule.” But she smiles. 

The reporter just chuckles. “Not all of us speak French you know…” He seems rather annoyed that they’ll have to edit a translation later for all the people at home. 

Cosette sniffs, looking down her nose at him. “It’s not our fault none of you are civilized enough to speak in a decent tongue. Homme stupide.” 

The reporter mumbles something offscreen, probably asking for a translator before turning back. “Well, the people certainly look forward to seeing what this Hunger Games has in store with our rather… delightful French couple on staff.” 

“That's Mr. and Mrs. French Couple to you.” Emeric grins at him, giving him a wink.

The reporter gives them a blank stare.   

Cosette stands up, dragging Emeric with her. “Au revoir!” She twitters as they walk out. 

He gets dragged out by his wife. He waves his other arm at the crowd. “And in case I don’t see yuh, good morning, good afternoon, good evening, goodnight!” 

Someone in the audience screams. “THAT’S FROM THE TRUMAN SHOW!” 

The reporter just facepalms and gets shoved backstage.

Emeric Moreau (Panda):



Cosette Moreau (Stick):



Next up is @Ancient Elantrian!


Alderic Mageking walked onto the stage quietly, the interviewer smiling, fakely, like the two of them were best friends. 

"Welcome!" The interviewer said, "Take a seat!"

Alderic did so, but didn't smile back. 

"So, Alderic Mageking. The tool of Siylna. Shedder of blood and maker of widows! Tell me, how did you get wrapped up in these games?"

"I helped kill thousands before. I suppose they thought I would make a good candidate for more murder."

"I see... and do you know the other GMs?"


"Uh- and what do you think about them?"

"They're a fine bunch of people. Not the most sane, but for some reason gamemakers never are."

"Isn't that right!" The interviewer laughs a fake laugh. "And... you have a kid right? And a wife?"

"A grandchild, yes, and a wife."

"She's... thirteen?"

"My wife?"

"Ha! No, of course not! The grandchild!"

"Yes, she is." 

"What does she think of the games?"

Alderic paused. "She thinks what she wants to think."

"Come on, tell us!"

"I just did."

"No, tell us what she actually thinks!"

"We're done here." Alderic says, standing up and walking off the stage. The interviewer sat there, stunned. I hate interviews. Alderic thought to himself, quietly rubbing his white beard. 



And here's @Experience


It had been a long time since Rekker had been truly excited. 

He glanced over at Epiphany through his glasses and saw her smiling at nothing in particular. It was a beautiful smile, for it could mean only one thing. Their dream was finally becoming reality. 

Someone opened the door and motioned them inside. 

A short time later, Rekker and his sister were seated next to some reporter. Epiphany surely knew his name, but it wasn't important enough for Rekker to remember. He was going to be a Game Master for the largest Hunger Games ever, after all. 

He answered a few questions about the games, then let Epiphany talk for a bit when the reporter asked about their reasons for wanting to run the games while he studied the device that was being used to film them. It really was a wonder of technology, the camera. All the other Game Makers were being interviewed at the same time in different rooms, and it was being broadcast as if they were all together. Truly magical. 

It took Rekker a bit to realize that the reporter was sitting silently, appearing somewhat awkward. He glanced at Epiphany and saw that she had finished talking, realizing he had probably missed a question aimed at him. 

"Sorry, I must have missed that?" 

The reporter still seemed confused, but asked again, "And what are your reasons for wanting to run the games?"

Odd. Epiphany just answered that question. Oh well. He might as well humor the man. 

"Like my sister said, it has been our dream since we can remember to bring back this wonderful tradition, and have been working towards this goal for our entire lives, and the opportunity that we had to design much of the games has been an amazing start in this journey." 

"Well Mr. Rekker we are ver-" the reporter began until Rekker interrupted him.

"I think you're forgetting someone," he whispered, nodding towards his twin.

The reporter chuckled nervously. Epiphany had that effect on people; Rekker assumed it was probably due to her beauty. "Oh of course, how could I forget. Rekker and Epiphany, thank you very much for your time with us. We look forward to watching the games."



And last, but hopefully not least or I'll be angry, we have me!


Gavin Moreau smiled cheerily at the camera, trying to ignore his reflection in the glass. He hated how young he looked. Surely it can’t be that hard to get rid of one stupid dimple…

”So,” the interviewer said, “I know plenty of ladies out there are endlessly excited about our youngest gamemaker, but tell me, why do you want to be one? Is it more than just your parents?”

”W-w-well,” Gavin said, “I-I-I kn-kno-know th-that I-I’m y-young, b-b-b-but I-I’m s-s-smart.” He shrugged. “A-a-and H-h-her G-g-g-greatness w-was y-young too.”

”Ah,” the interviewer said, tactfully ignoring his stutter, “so is that your goal? To emulate Her Greatness?”

Gavin thought for a moment. “N-no,” he decided. “I-I’m g-g-going t-t-t- I-I’m going t-t-to b-b-become m-my own p-p-p-person.”

The interviewer nodded thoughtfully. “Well then, Gavin, the question everyone has been waiting for…” he leaned in. “Have you got a special lady?”

Gavin laughed. He liked interviews. Easy, surface questions. An easy part to play: himself. Or at least, a twistedly happy version of himself. “N-n-not y-yet.” He winked at the camera. “A-a-and n-not until a-a-after th-the g-g-games.”

The interviewer laughed too. “Well, that’s almost our time. Anything else you’d like to say?”

”Y-yes,” Gavin said. He looked straight into the cameras, letting the tiniest bit of his truer self slip into his eyes. “I-I-I-I’m s-s-sorry.” Those who needed it, those who were going into the arena…they’d understand. And as for the others…his gaze lightened, his eyes glittering with mirth. “B-b-but-I w-won’t b-b-be g-g-g-giving th-th-the v-victor m-m-my number. Th-th-thought I-I’d q-qu-qu-qua- Th-thought I-I’d s-stop th-those r-r-rumors n-now.”

The interviewer laughed again. “And there you have it, citizens. Gavin Moreau, our youngest, and most eligible gamemaker!” The light on the camera blinked out, and Gavin stood up, ice drifting into his eyes. The interviewer cleared his throat as if to say something more, then looked at Gavin and changed his mind, mumbling an excuse about having an appointment. 

Gavin walked slowly through the back corridors of the studio, eventually finding his way to an elevator. He was done with formalities, with petty people and their pettier games. It was time to pick up his brush and paint himself a masterpiece. 

And if his medium was blood, well. The tributes had chosen this, and it was his duty and his privilege to make them as beautiful as he could.



And here we are! 7 days left to sign up if you haven't yet. Happy hunger games, everyone!

Edited by Edema Rue
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