City Name: Dario Montague Position: Baker in a smallish shop in the middle class district.
History: Dario is the son of an immigrant to the Diamond city who married into the middle class southeast district. As a child, he’d always be interested in his mother and grandmother’s recipes, trying to replicate, then improve on their work. As he grew older, he got a job as a maintenance man in the apartment building his family lived in, allowing him some disposable income to get more exotic and expensive ingredients to try.
It was around this time that there was an accident at his parent’s workplace that killed them both, leaving just his grandmother and his sister alive. He left his job as a maintenance man for a higher paying one at a bakery, and stepped up into the role of ‘man of the family’, trying to maintain their position in the middle class ring without his sister or grandmother needing to go back into the workforce.
By the time the Disaster hit, things were getting tense, and in an effort to keep up on all of their bills, his sister had gone to work, and they had gone without on tight paychecks, although he always tried to keep food on the table, even if it was the stale leftovers from the bakery.
Proof: A photo of him standing in front of the bakery, covered in flour.
Playing First-person sample: If the girl on fire is out there, respond. That cant have been a dream. I dont dream like that.
No one dreams like that. I dont want to go back, I want to get people out. Third-person sample:
Thresh stared at the photo he had found on the desk. This wasn’t possible. He couldn’t have just imagined his entire life. Who would imagine something like that? If he was going to pick his life, why didn’t he pick the job of a peacekeeper instead of a field worker?
If he was going to imagine his life, he wasn’t going to kill his parents, not from a freak explosion in the flour plant. This had to be a trick, something thought up by the Gamemakers to throw them off. It hadn’t happened before, but they were almost at a Quarter Quell, they had to be coming up with new things.
The photo could be faked, they could do things like that in the Capitol. He supposed it was almost a good sign, he must have survived long enough after all. He had thought he’d counted correctly, he was in the final five, which was far higher than he’d expected. Most of the time, tributes from the lowest districts were the first to die.
Still, he needed to find out what was going on. He pushed away from the desk and started looking around for tools, food, anything that would give him an edge in what was to come. The drawers of the desk came up with nothing, but the food preparation area was a goldmine of supplies, not the least of which was a knife. Thresh grinned and clung tightly to his new found weapon while he searched the remainder of the room for anything of use, eventually turning up nothing.
Finally, he approached the device on the desk, returning to where he had started. The telephone he discarded, he had seen its use at the peacekeeper’s headquarters often enough that he didn’t need to examine it. Instead, he looked over the terminal, exploring its functions and uses. He scrolled through the list of names, not seeing any that he recognized. In the end, he sent out a short message on a location where others seemed to be posting, and went to barricade himself in until he had a better idea of what was going on.
Thresh, The Hunger Games, 2/2
Name: Dario Montague
Position: Baker in a smallish shop in the middle class district.
History:
Dario is the son of an immigrant to the Diamond city who married into the middle class southeast district. As a child, he’d always be interested in his mother and grandmother’s recipes, trying to replicate, then improve on their work. As he grew older, he got a job as a maintenance man in the apartment building his family lived in, allowing him some disposable income to get more exotic and expensive ingredients to try.
It was around this time that there was an accident at his parent’s workplace that killed them both, leaving just his grandmother and his sister alive. He left his job as a maintenance man for a higher paying one at a bakery, and stepped up into the role of ‘man of the family’, trying to maintain their position in the middle class ring without his sister or grandmother needing to go back into the workforce.
By the time the Disaster hit, things were getting tense, and in an effort to keep up on all of their bills, his sister had gone to work, and they had gone without on tight paychecks, although he always tried to keep food on the table, even if it was the stale leftovers from the bakery.
Proof: A photo of him standing in front of the bakery, covered in flour.
Playing
First-person sample:
If the girl on fire is out there, respond. That cant have been a dream. I dont dream like that.
No one dreams like that. I dont want to go back, I want to get people out.
Third-person sample:
Thresh stared at the photo he had found on the desk. This wasn’t possible. He couldn’t have just imagined his entire life. Who would imagine something like that? If he was going to pick his life, why didn’t he pick the job of a peacekeeper instead of a field worker?
If he was going to imagine his life, he wasn’t going to kill his parents, not from a freak explosion in the flour plant. This had to be a trick, something thought up by the Gamemakers to throw them off. It hadn’t happened before, but they were almost at a Quarter Quell, they had to be coming up with new things.
The photo could be faked, they could do things like that in the Capitol. He supposed it was almost a good sign, he must have survived long enough after all. He had thought he’d counted correctly, he was in the final five, which was far higher than he’d expected. Most of the time, tributes from the lowest districts were the first to die.
Still, he needed to find out what was going on. He pushed away from the desk and started looking around for tools, food, anything that would give him an edge in what was to come. The drawers of the desk came up with nothing, but the food preparation area was a goldmine of supplies, not the least of which was a knife. Thresh grinned and clung tightly to his new found weapon while he searched the remainder of the room for anything of use, eventually turning up nothing.
Finally, he approached the device on the desk, returning to where he had started. The telephone he discarded, he had seen its use at the peacekeeper’s headquarters often enough that he didn’t need to examine it. Instead, he looked over the terminal, exploring its functions and uses. He scrolled through the list of names, not seeing any that he recognized. In the end, he sent out a short message on a location where others seemed to be posting, and went to barricade himself in until he had a better idea of what was going on.
Did you read the rules? Yes, yes I have.