hadriel_logs | Intro Log: Off my chest

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Intro Log: Off my chest

Who: New arrivals and everyone else!
What: The intro log for April.
Where: The colosseum and all around the city.
When: April 10th-13th
Warnings: Newbies, explosions, and things that are definitely treasure chests and not evil monsters out to get you.

Welcome to your first day in Hadriel! Enjoy your surroundings, meet your fellow travelers, and be sure to start exploring so you can collect as much loot as possible!

On the ground around you may notice bang snaps, scattered haphazardly. Try not to step on any of them, or you might burn your feet! Feel free to gather them up and use these baby fireworks however you see fit; there are dozens strewn about on the ground. Popping them will emit clouds of smoke of various colors, and... well, not much else.

Is there anything else lurking around? Glad you asked! If you look around, you may find a few innocent-looking treasure chests. Which you know, normally means free loot- except, in Hadriel, nothing is quite the way it's advertised of course and the chests are actually dangerous mimics. Mimics- often disguised as treasure chests- are monsters with surprisingly quick movements and gaping maws filled with teeth. They exist to try and fool an unlucky traveler into thinking they've gotten something good... only to lunge at them in their moment of triumph and prove that life is actually terrible and nothing comes for free.

Good luck!

Once you've managed your daring escape from the colosseum, feel free to go explore the rest of the city! Find a house, find a new monster, or simply scavenge for supplies. Good luck, and enjoy your stay in Hadriel!

► This log covers April 10th-13th.
► Feel free to make your own logs, as well!
► All characters now arrive with phones that have network communication.
► Please put your character's name and open/closed in the subject line of your starters!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ York hears him, before he sees him. He's just sort of wandering around, still doing his own slow, curious exploration of the coliseum and the surrounding area, when somewhere behind him he hears -- footsteps. Nothing to worry about, he knows he's not alone, here, but the footsteps get louder, and louder, and they awfully sound like someone running. Like someone who's much, much heavier than an average person.

He turns around, and behind the visor of his helmet, his one eye widens. ]

Maine? [ And he's there, standing, rooted to the spot for a moment, before. ] Oh, you've got to be fucking kidding --

[ Maine is headed his way in a headlong sprint and even with all that advance warning York is going to barely manage to get out of his way, diving and rolling somewhere to the side. It's been too long since he's had to move or fight someone like this, too long since he's last seen Maine, and not fucking long enough since he'd seen her from the ship, lifted into the air with Maine's hands around her throat. ]

Delta, need you to watch my -- [ Fuck. No Delta. No Delta, no one to help cover his left, and he curses under his breath, immediately reaching for his pistol and firing a few shots. Maine was a friend, once, or at least a teammate, but, well.

Not anymore. ]

[Momentum has seldom been the Meta's friend; while he's perfectly adept at a variety of skills that seem improbable for his size and build, stopping on a dime really isn't one of them, so when York dives out of his way the Meta keeps going for a few paces before he can put on the brakes. He growls in frustration as he collects limbs and bearings; he needs the fragment, he's got a space in his head that used to be filled with things, voices, direction, and while he's a month out from everything with the Reds and the Blues and Wash, it's not like it's any better.

Maketh told him not to attack anybody, but that meant civilians. York isn't a civilian, he's a Freelancer with tech he needs.

He ducks to avoid most of the bullets and advances again, more deliberately this time as he prepares to lash out once he's close enough. No bullets or grenades, he can't afford to waste the ammo, it's down to brute force these days but that's never stopped him before.]

[ Of everything he thought he thought he might have to deal with when he'd found himself being pulled through some extra dimensional door, he really, really didn't expect Maine.

Everything about Freelancer was long enough ago that the pain isn't quite gone but is numbed enough for York to ignore. Seeing him drags it all up again, a mix of anger ( you killed her you fucking killed her i saw you ) and guilt ( i could have stopped her ) and bitterness ( it's not his fault it's not really his fault but he killed her ), and thankfully all of that is easily put aside with practiced ease, with pure adrenaline. Focus, York, focus, you probably can't fight him in this state, especially without Delta, you need to get out of here, somehow.

Maine has always been fast, and York manages to get another shot off before he's too close and he's practically being barreled into. York may be a little out of practice, he may be without his AI, but he can still put up a fight -- he's finding it hard to find opportunities to actually strike back, though, even if he can parry what's being thrown at him.

He's compensating as much for his left side without Delta as he can, and when he sees what looks like an opening he goes for it, striking at his side. ]

[It's easy to distance.

Sigma made it impossible to feel once it got its claws in deep, to care, to do anything but act, so it's easy now, even without it, to do the same. Sigma may be gone but its greed lingers because there's nothing and the impulse is to get better. Stronger. Fill it with something. It's easier than what the rest of the place seems to want him to do, with its stores that drag guilt out of him and the mirror that showed what couldn't be. With the good mood the place inspired more recently that only put him in a worse one.

Violence is easy. It's what he excels at.

Once he gets in past the gun, the rest is easy. His suit can take most of the impact, he'll tolerate the rest, so he sets into York with fists to start, more vicious and unchecked than was his habit during sparring, when the point was to avoid killing his teammates. Now, with the fragment involved, there's no limitation so long as he gets it.

The Meta aims for his head, his chest, watches for where he's weak and exploits as much and often as he can and there's something wrong in that, that it's there, but he puts it out of his mind for now because it's not immediately important. Doesn't connect right away. He takes the hits York gives in return, because he can handle them, because if he can work through them he can find an advantage, and that's all he needs.]

[ York's a good soldier, a good fighter, talented, capable, intelligent. Those were always his strengths, resourceful and adaptable and tricksy in a fight, but here he's somewhere entirely new, somewhere he doesn't know, still trying to get used to the lack of a voice in his head, let alone fighting without Delta at his side. Maine? Maine was always vicious.

If he was going to beat him, he'll have to trick him, somehow, but he can't fucking do that when he doesn't know anything about this place, when he's too busy trying to make up for his blind eye to really think. Maine fights just like York remembers, maybe somehow even more ferocious than ever before, and he'd say it was almost like some kind of animal but that's not quite right. An animal would be wild, undisciplined, and he wouldn't say the way Maine fights is controlled but it is definitely -- deliberate.

He keeps trying to get space between them, keeps trying to duck away enough to get ahold of a grenade or something, but Maine is always on his tail. He's still managing to fight him off, gets some blows in here and there, but Maine gets a few in here and there too and he hits a hell of a lot harder. ]

Shit -- [ Just barely managing to get some debris between them so that Maine's fist hits some old crumbling wall. He uses that to get a bit of space, breathe, York, you can do this, Delta, why don't you --

Still no Delta. And that brief hesitation when he realizes that again is probably going to cost him. ]

[He gives York an opening, it's a chance to get the upper hand. A chance of losing, both the fight and the opportunity, because York always fought smart, played to his strengths, and if the Meta lets him he'll find an advantage somewhere. So he doesn't give it to him. He presses what he's got, lays into him without mercy when he can connect. Reaches to grab him to slam him into the wall he'd hit a moment before then follows before he can recover. Before he can find time to think, to calculate, to plan.

There's a pause in York's attacks. A beat that's too long, and that should mean something, but the only thing he takes it for right now is an advantage. An opening. He aims for the head, aims to finish it while he's got it, keeps at it until he stops moving because it's the only outcome this meeting was ever going to have anyway.]

[ York recovered enough from that brief hesitation, tries to turn around in time , but Maine is heading right fucking at him. Getting that space is the only hope he had, and he knows he can't last in a full on brawl with fucking Maine for long at all. He's already worn down from the blows he's taken, and this time, and, well.

Being slammed against the wall is significant enough to stun him. He reaches up, scrabbling his gloved fingers against Maine's armored arms, cursing under his breath, but he doesn't really manage to get any purchase or anything that could help him, already trapped against the wall, and when Maine aims right for the head, well.

His head lolls, and he slumps back against the wall, unconscious. Good job, Maine. You big meany. ]

[Hey, he is what he is, he's never claimed to be anything else.

Once York slumps, the Meta gets to work. The slot is empty when he checks, however, which pulls a deep, menacing growl out of him and a few more blows at the unconscious body because WHY ISN'T IT THERE, ITS SUPPOSED TO BE THERE. Instead he settles for relieving him of his ammo, since his own supply is frustratingly limited. Maybe he should feel bad about it, they were teammates once upon a time, but he can't be bothered to. It's easier not to be. He didn't kill him this time, that's something.

He gathers up the spoils and tucks them away as well as he can and continues on. No point sticking around after all, what happens to him after isn't his problem.]

[thom's not much use with the monsters that show up in the coliseum with every batch of new people, at least not on his own, but avoiding the coliseum at the start of the month had never really seemed like much of an option anyway.

running away from trouble wasn't exactly something that a hero did though, even a deeply unsuited one like thom. and at the very least, he could be nearby to help anyone that was hurt from said monsters, right?

even if there does seem to be a strange lack of monsters around right now. it doesn't stop thom from managing to find someone in need of his help regardless though. which isn't exactly reassuring under the circumstances but he pushes the concern aside for now and moves toward the man in a robot suit(??) collapsed against the wall, trying to find some way to access any bit of skin and get a clearer idea of the damage.]

Can you hear me? Sir? I'm trying to help, okay.

[ York is, at least, in possession of his healing unit. For however long Maine might've left him there, it's been working, sustaining him -- weakly, and not doing much healing, without Delta to run it. It's enough that he flickers in and out of consciousness, occasionally, and when he hears a voice, it's enough that he can try and pull himself awake.

And in the very moment his clouded thoughts start to clear, he might jolt slightly against the wall, his hands scrabbling against the old, crumbling stone. Maine. ]

Fuck -- [ He sounds breathless, a little weak, still not clearheaded enough to really think straight but understanding that there's someone in front of him, someone who's very clearly not Maine. Instinctively, that tells him that Maine might be somewhere else, might be nearby. ] Delta, can you --

[ No, York, Delta can't. ]

-- Where is he? [ Delta, Maine. He probably means both. Bear with him a moment, Thom, he's a little disoriented, but he's without his helmet at least so you'll be able to see that, the helmet tossed somewhere on the ground next to him after Maine tried to get at his AI. Aside from his blind left eye and the clearly old scarring around that side of his face, there isn't any clear, visible damage -- Maine had just managed to knock him unconscious with a blow to the head, but without leaving any gashes or wounds. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Intro Log: Off my chest

how could this happen to me i've made my mistakes

nobody expects the Meta Inquisition?

LIFE GOES ONNN AS IM FADING AWAAAAAAY

that'll teach you to make friends :|

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