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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"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.

"Mmm." He hadn't heard nor thought of it that way, and the side of his mouth twists at the thought of that. "Ah, that certainly puts a morbid spin on it, doesn't it. Just pawns and batteries in a greater game, yes?"

The thought causes his lip to curl a little. "You've met these gods, then?"

Pawns and batteries in a greater game describes the very purpose of mortals already, but she's unsurprised to find him unaware of that. If they all knew how little purpose their lives had, they would do something about it, and that just wouldn't be helpful in the slightest.

"I have. Mostly one, who calls herself Rage. But they all should be simple enough to contact - just go to one of the temples and address them directly, if you want. They're not the worst creatures I've dealt with, but they think too highly of themselves for how little they know and how little they can do."

"Perhaps I'll try. I've never had the chance to meet a god before, no matter what they really are." He chuckles to himself, trying to think of what kind of god would suit him. Too bad there's not a god of Indulgence--perhaps Love, then.

"But thank you for telling me about them. I'm still getting used to all this." He supposes he'd be more out of balance if he hadn't traveled as much as he did. Or if he was a normal, respectable prince.

"They're hardly worth it. Don't feed their egos."

Although unfortunately there is no true way not to feed them at all. Any emotion at all benefits at least one of them, it seems. She can only imagine how much they have benefited from her and her actions. Time for more absinthe, though again she makes a face and sets it aside.

"You might have to finish that for me, it's not to my taste."

Ianchus laughs, taking the glass and draining it into his own; he, himself, has absolutely no trouble polishing off drinks. He's quite merry as a result, his mood buoyed by the alcohol--even the thought of being a battery for some sort of egotistical otherworldly being isn't enough to keep him down.

"My, but I seem to be having a poor run of luck with ordering for you."

"Oh, no, the rum was fine. I think I've just had enough for the night. I don't have the tolerance I used to."

No thanks to the false gods - to Hope in particular, by the sound of it.

"Perhaps I should head off, in fact. But it has been a pleasure to meet you, Ianchus."

"Ah, and the lady takes her leave. It's been a pleasure, Caedra."

He smiles, and raises a glass to her.

"I'll be seeing you around, I suppose."

Caedra slides off the seat and collects the map as well as another spare napkin with a sweep of her hand. Just cleaning up, of course. She smiles and nods, then smooths out her skirt.

"I'm sure you will."

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Intro Log: Fly, My Pretties!

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