hadriel_logs | Intro Log: Fly, My Pretties!

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Intro Log: Fly, My Pretties!

What: The intro log for May
Where: The colosseum and all around the city.
When: May 10th-14th
Warnings: Flying monkeys! New friends! Prosthetic limbs!

Here in Hadriel, we do introductions right. That means dumping you on the ground of an old Roman-style Colosseum with a bunch of scary monsters and also a bunch of weird shit. Your monster of the day happens to be Winged Monkeys, more commonly known as flying monkeys, from the Wizard of Oz and affiliated stories!

As you may have been able to guess, these creatures can fly and they're rather intelligent- intelligent enough to wield spears and daggers as crude weapons and strong enough to pick someone right up off the ground and fly with them to a perch, where they'll... you know, stab them with their knives and stuff.

Why? We don't know. It's Hadriel.

Just in case you lose a couple of limbs in the process of escaping these critters, we've got you covered. Scattered around the newbies are prosthetic limbs for various body parts. These limbs are all fully functional, even if they look a bit... odd, so if you've lost an arm or two, or a leg, or even a pinkie finger, feel free to grab one and try to figure out how to use it!

Good job dealing with those monkeys! It's kind of a weird thing to be threatening, but clearly someone was afraid of them once. Once you're done, you can explore the rest of the city! Find a house, a new monster, a project to help with, or simply scavenge for supplies. Good luck, and enjoy your stay in Hadriel!

► This log covers May 10th-14th.
► Feel free to make your own logs as well!
► All characters arrive with phones that have network communication and the newbie guide installed.
► Please put your character's name and open/closed in the subject line of your starters!

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His crudeness earns him a chuckle. That's better, that's the sort of talk she'd rather have tonight. Her own fault for letting herself sink into irritation anyway. Just because she hates these people doesn't mean she has to sit here and talk about it when she could be hearing tales of high seas adventures.

Also, that makes this, what, the third sailor she's run into recently here? Maybe Nate doesn't truly count though, despite his time on the ocean hunting pirate treasure.

"I've never heard of those places. But it sounds like fun. Kyrthassa, is that the name of the world, then?"

"Ah, no. It's the name of the country. The world is...well, we call it Errdra," Ianchus looks for a napkin, and then begins scribbling on it with a pen that also happens to be on the counter.

"This is the Cephean Sea...the Cephea." He waves his pen tip around the blank white of the napkin, pausing in his speech to scribble. "And the islands there are the Cephean Islands...also, the Cephea." The name encompasses both the sea and the islands. He realizes that perhaps it sounds a little odd. "Some of these islands are part of Kyrthassa, the country. And the King..." His voice falters slightly, a slightly pained grimace flashing across his face. "Sits in Carrah, here. The capital."

Now he's getting a little into it, doodling on the paper. "The Cephea's one of the only safe spots to travel through to get from East to West and back without it taking several months, so..." He laughs, tapping the pen with emphasis at the area between the landbound point he marked as Carrah and the islands of the Cephea. "That's how we earn our money."

Ianchus looks up with a grin, and then forces himself to settle down a bit. It's been a while since he's talked about his homeland and, despite his mixed feelings, he does love it, he loves its history, and it's been a while since he's let himself think about it so easily.

"And that. Is how a small island kingdom with few exports manages to rise to be a power to contend with," He can't help but chuckle.

Oh, now, a map. That's good. Very good. She'll be keeping an eye on that napkin, intending to slip it away with her when she leaves. She enjoys watching him draw it out, though. Catches his reaction to the mention of the king, but that could be anything. People so often harbor hatred for their rulers - it's part of why Amamot's tactics in particular work so well to incite conflict.

"Cepheos from the Cephea. Your family must have very deep roots there," she observes. "Are you traders, then?"

There's a hint of fondness in his eyes at her catching that. It's certainly not anything tricky, but it's been a while since anyone's cared to put that together. And of course, where he's from, said Cephea, that's one of the first thing one was judged on.

Deep roots, indeed. But, ah, traders...a good guess, but. His mouth quirks, caught between truth and omissive lie. He has nothing to lose by bringing it up, but it's still something that catches in his throat.

He goes with the lie. "Ah, no. Nobles. But a long line, yes."

"Oh! Then it makes even more sense you would share your name with the lands you came from. Plus, I'll admit you seem more well-spoken than someone of lesser status."

Caedra pauses, has a sip of her rum. At least she's in distinguished company, rather than the peasants of so many places and times that otherwise populate this place. "So what is it your family is known for there, in the Cephea?"

"Administration, I suppose. We go back a long way, to Kyrthassa's founder." Ianchus himself has an appreciation for people of low status...much more so than nobles, but he doesn't say anything about it.

He supposes the truth will come out eventually--but it's ironic, because even when it does, it won't matter. The Cepheos line dies with him. Perhaps if his brother--Oli, Jebel would never have been able to seduce a woman, much less impregnate her--had had a little bastard somewhere, perhaps there would have been a chance. But Oli was the last type to do that, too busy with his ambassadorial crown prince duties. And now, and now, Cepheos would just be a tragic earmark in the history books.

He waves those thoughts away with another order of absinthe and brings it to his lips, reveling in the taste.

"And what of you? What is your homeland like?"

Ugh. A noble in a house known literally for making and upholding rules and bureaucracy? She tries not to let the disgust show on her face, but she's less good at masking her thoughts when she's been here a while already and has had a few drinks. At least she has finally learned to pace herself, though, after the false gods decided she no longer was welcome to be able to withstand assault and poison better than the mortals do.

And of course, there was only so long that she could postpone questions about herself. It's an easy lie, though, well-practiced here and elsewhere and based on memories she can almost recall, enough to be convincingly real. There's almost no point in it since he'll find out more about her from others than from herself, but there's no point in cutting off an enjoyable chat so quickly.

"I come from a city named Hafeld, in the northern part of my world. It's a port city and home to a well-known wizarding college," she says with a smile as if reminiscing fondly. "I wasn't able to afford to attend, when I was young, but I picked up a few little things here and there."

She hates Hafeld. Hates its people, hates the cold and constant rain, hates how everyone there treated her son. She's glad her biggest impact on the city was to carve a swath of blood through the streets, glad her son and grandson are both there now to help finish what she started.

Ianchus absolutely catches the disdain, and he can't help but be amused, though he just barely manages to stifle the little laugh. He certainly dislikes nobles just as much, and he's always glad to meet like-minded sorts and gossip with them about just how nasty the aristocracy is.

"Wizarding!" Ianchus sits up, with interest. "Like...magic?" Where he's from, they're only just discovering magical elements. To think that there's a place to actually learn to control it...

...of course, that's assuming the "wizarding" she's talking about isn't like the cults he's read about, with dark power and blood sacrifices and not much to show for it.

"Yes. Arcane casting specifically, of course. Why, is that uncommon where you're from?"

She has to ask, given his evident interest. It's bizarre to her how many people here had never encountered magic in any form before their arrival. But good, she's realized - they will be entirely unprepared when the forces of Ironhold find their way there some day. They can have their guns; they won't put a dent in the hide of an armanite or a goristro.

"Yes! We've only just found clear evidence of such a thing, but it's more of...ah, something that exists, and not something that can be controlled."

He's quite excited, eyeing Caedra up and down again.

"What does arcane casting entail then? And, ah. Your glass is near-empty. Would you like more?"

"Please," she says with a smile and tosses back the last little sip so she can get a refill.

"They say there are two types of magic - arcane, and divine. I don't know much about it though. Arcane I guess is magic learned through studies, or something innate, while divine magic comes from the gods."

She shrugs, glad to act like she knows less than she does. Which is easy when she really doesn't know any of the theory. She didn't have to study to get her abilities. She was fortunate enough to work for someone who told her all the secrets of how to use the power without knowing why it really worked.

This time he orders the absinthe for her, sliding it towards her when it comes.
"Try this. It tastes like something from my homeland, but the colour is so different." He taps the glass with its green contents in excitement, and then turns back to the matter at hand.

"That's fascinating, though. And what is this magic used for, typically?" As soon as he says it he has a suspicion. But maybe Caedra will surprise the cynical side of him.

"Huh, it's so green!" And - odd flavor, as she tastes it. Very unusual. She's not sure if she likes it or not. But the color is definitely interesting.

She considers his question for a moment but it's such a silly thing to even ask, she just shakes her head, trying not to laugh.

"Everything! Not everyone has it equally of course, but those who know how - anything you can think of."

"Isn't it!" Ianchus grins, delighted. "That flavor is anise, it was popular as a drink in the Cephea."

He snorts a little at her answer. "So what percentage use it for murder, then?"

OKay, maybe he's being a little cynical. But Caedra seems like the type who won't begrudge him that.

She's glad she's already smiling. She does fail to look suitably horrified by the comment though, if that's what most would expect, instead entirely unbothered by the suggestion.

"Percentage? I have no idea. A fair amount, but that's people for you. Some will use it to kill, some will use it to save others. Or to cook, clean, copy books, and so on."

Caedra has to admit, magical cleaning is very useful when you need to cover for some of the other uses.

"Ah, you can use it for that! That would be amazing."

Ianchus leans with his chin heavily on his hand. "I can't cook worth anything. Perhaps some magical divine gift would be of aid."

He eyes her, thoughtfully, and then: "Can you show me some magic, perhaps?" It's spoken cautiously, ready to back off at any moment.

She shrugs, not minding the request at all. "All right. Um..."

Well, hopefully he doesn't know what Abyssal sounds like since she doesn't know how to cast in other languages. She speaks a short phrase in the harsh, unearthly tongue and makes a simple gesture with her hand, ending in turning her palm upward. Above, an image shimmers into view of ancient black-trunked willow trees, branches gnarled and twisted as they hang full of pink flowers over a silver shimmering river. Another few words as she brushes the iron rose at her chest with her free hand, and a chill fills the air along with the soft sound of running water.

"How's that?"

Ianchus' eyes brighten, and for a moment, he forgets everything. He puts a hand to his ear, breathes in the air, and leans over, watching the picture.

"This is amazing," he breathes. "Is this a real place?"

"That's home."

Her real home. Not some miserable place in Arneth, but the riverbank in Amamot's domain where she likes to sit and write, about a mile from her garden. Even the Abyss is beautiful in some places.

"Ah, it's beautiful. It must have been amazing."

His face softens, and he reaches towards the image instinctively, then pulls his hand back. He knows better than to touch mysterious things he doesn't understand.

"I hope you have a chance to return." He says it very carefully, because he understands not wanting to return. But at the same time...he understands missing home.

"I will. This place won't keep me forever." Of that she's certain, given her unending lifespan. Even if she can't get out of here soon, she will eventually. She just has to break free of the influence of the Door, apparently, since the false gods don't know how to use their own toys or they would have kicked her out long ago.

She dismisses the image with a gesture, then returns to sipping slowly at the absinthe.

Ianchus smiles at that, liking the determination. His tendency for wanderlust causes him to appreciate the need for momentum in others, as well.

"How long have you been here?" Perhaps he should be more concerned about his own tenure, but he takes things as they come. "This has been my first stop, so I haven't seen much other than the Coliseum and the hot springs."

"Hmm. Two full months, I believe. I arrived, then another group came a while back, and now your group, and they say it happens each month." She hasn't kept close track, but that seems right.

It means she must have written over sixty letters now. No wonder the stack has grown so tall.

"But I hear some people have been here for three, maybe four years," she continues, frowning. She will find a way out before she's here that long. There are a lot of things she is willing to put up with, a lot of conditions she can find manageable, but not that. Two months and every day she wishes to be back in his arms.

"Ah..." He tries to imagine that much time. He hasn't spend that long in one area since he was a child, and he runs his hand through his hair thoughtfully, thinking on that.

Despite how he acts, he doesn't really believe in his ability to keep good relations with people. He'd worry about letting them all down at one point or another. And four years is a lot.

He settles into silence, looking down at his glass.

"The trouble is the Door. They - they call themselves gods, but they're not - brought us here to keep us penned up as livestock, to feed off our emotions so they can fight their war. But even if the Null are all defeated, they do not have control over the thing that brought us here and they cannot send us back until they figure it out."

Caedra has been thinking a lot about this lately. The more she learns, the closer she gets to understanding how to get out. Or alternatively, how to cause as much damage as possible to all parties involved. It wouldn't get her home but it would make her feel a lot better.

Intro Log: Fly, My Pretties!

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