hadriel_logs | INTRO LOG: FACE OFF

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INTRO LOG: FACE OFF

Who: New arrivals and everyone else!
What: The intro log for November. Don't get your face eaten!
Where: The colosseum and all around the city.
When: November 10th-17th
Warnings: Monster-related violence, people lamps, general unpleasantness, mass confusion.

You wake up on the hard earth of the colosseum. By the state of things and the various aches and pains in your body, you've probably been passed out there for awhile. A few things should immediately become clear to you upon an initial assessment.
1. You're not alone
2. You're near other people who look to be in a similar state.
3. You're also near an assortment of human shaped lamps.
4. You're also near something that skitters off into the shadows of the colosseum.
Of all of these alarming things, the skittery object might be your largest concern. Be wary when turning corners or shutting out the lights: the Hunters work best when your vision is obscured, so their gelatinous form is even harder to spot. Their main goal will be to kill people of course, though they prefer to hide in corners and smaller rooms. Watch out when trying to work through the halls of the colosseum to find the outdoors- they're surprisingly quick, and they prefer to kill their prey by opening their face-flaps and wrapping their mouths around your head. Fun!

More information on Hunters can be found here!

Second largest concern? Maybe it's the people lamps. Maybe it's the actual people around you. Whatever it is, be sure to familiarize yourself with it quickly. The devil you know is better than the devil you don't, after all.

All done with the horrible monsters and awkward greetings? Try your hand at exploring the rest of the city! Find a house, find a new monster, or simply scavenge for supplies until your little heart is content. Good luck, and enjoy your stay in Hadriel!

► This log covers November 10th-17th.
► 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

"Hey," says Bob, "hey."

He's a few dozen paces behind him, in one of the small pools of light, crouched near the lamp on the floor.

"Hey, man, they live in the dark." And extending a hand to him in an easy beckon. "You gotta move."

Fast, and hopefully without stopping to think too long about it. He projects as much reassurance as he possibly can, but can't quite disguise the worry.

It takes a moment for Chris to figure out he's being spoken to, rather than it being just a part of the general rising chaos around him, but once he realizes it he spares a quick glance back toward Bob. "Do you know what they are?"

Maybe this guy's familiar with them or something, but Chris is pretty sure that would also fall under the 'no way he's that lucky' thing. Still, whether or not he actually knows much about them, it does seem Bob's right about them living in the dark so moving toward the light sounds like a pretty good idea.

Easier said than done, but Chris is not about getting eaten by whatever the hell those things are so he'll just have to deal. "Right. You wouldn't happen to have like, a gun or something?" It's a nervous chatter type of question, gaze still fixed on where he last saw the monster even as he's starting to move toward Bob; despite the obvious limp he's still able to move decently quickly--at least for now--even if it might not be considered fast. Unfortunately.

Whether he's lucky or not remains to be seen. Something shifts closer in the dark, and Bob does in fact pull out the glock, holding it expertly and in both hands, squaring up on the noise in the dark.

He lowers it without firing, though, and glances up at Chris, with a shake of his head. Yes, he does have a gun, but no, he has absolutely no idea what they are.

Bob is a quiet man at the best of times, but right now his voice is absolutely lodged in his throat. He barely, barely rasps;

"We need an exit."

Okay, well, gun is definitely way better than nothing. Now to hope these monsters can actually be hurt by bullets, and they might have a chance.

Chris nods at the comment, close enough now to Bob that he can trust the other man will be able to keep lookout long enough for Chris to try to catch sight of a way to get out of this place. It's like a coliseum--maybe that's exactly what it is--so it should have tunnels, right?

Like any of this is following any logic.

Not to mention it's pretty dark, except for the stupid lamps, but as he's taking quick glances around he notices one lamp that doesn't seem to be illuminating what should be a wall behind it. He points toward it, though he glances around them again to make sure nothing's about to leap out as he speaks. "There. I think there's a tunnel."

"Right."

Says Bob, with a single nod- he clutches his arm tighter around his chest, and to the subtly squirming thing that's just staying zipped into the front of his jacket for the moment.

"We make a run for it?"

They're fast, whatever the hell these things are, but there's enough going on in here that humans have a chance of being faster.

"Yeah. To the lamp." Then they could make sure there actually is a tunnel beyond it and figure out how to get through it. Maybe once they find an exit they can help direct some of the others here out as well.

But that involves not dying first, and not dying involves running, which is enough of a problem without thinking too many steps ahead. "Ready when you are, man."

Bob nods, gets his breath, secures his poor dog, and then runs. It's so dark, and dangerous, he finds himself instinctively crouching- he'd always thought it was a conceit on television, an effort to look more serious, but it's something else- an instinctive furl in, away from everything he can hear scuttling around them.

Scuttling up closer behind them, now, too. He swears under his breath, and looks over his shoulder and behind Chris, to try to give him a moment of warning if something is creeping up.

This sucks so hard.

Last time he'd run from monsters, it had at least been light enough to see decently well and in surroundings he was familiar with. The time before that it had been pretty dark, but he'd had a shotgun and that sort of made up for how horrible the rest of it was.

But this just feels even more suicidal than the other times, even though they really don't have a lot of options. He can hear the creatures in the darkness, listening more than looking for them, and really wishes he had a flashlight or that his phone wasn't hopelessly devoid of battery. Or at least that he could run faster; as it is he's keeping up, but who knows for how long.

Chris hears the scuttling as well, but as much as he wants to look back when Bob does it'll just slow him down. "K-Keep going!" They're nearly to the next light; they can regroup and figure out what to do there, provided they makes it and as long as the creatures don't decide to get brave and venture from the shadows too quickly.

Bob feels something brush his coat, but shoves it off with a slam of his forearm, staggering a little but making it on and past, and into the small pool of light. This lamp is a woman, standing, arms akimbo, though her body seems subtly distorted and swollen, and in every other circumstance Bob wouldn't go anywhere near this thing.

Whatever's behind them hisses, cutting that train of thought off and crowding him further into the light.

"Fuck."

Is about the only thing he can manage off the top of his head, and more sincerely;

"Fuck."

Chris definitely agrees with the sentiment, adding a curse of his own under his breath as he stops by the creepy lamp and crouches down awkwardly both to stay more in the light and to take some weight off his leg.

"You okay?" He asks, sparing a glance toward Bob again before looking back out into the darkness, looking and listening for the hissing creature and any others that might be there. This time he finally catches sight of that Bob's carrying a dog, and offers a quick suggestion. "Hey, if you're like, holding onto that little guy I can take the gun. Got some experience shooting monsters."

As surreal and weird as that is to say and mean.

"Can't fire in here, anyways."

He admits, with a reluctant shake of his head, and a glance at a sound in the shadows- he points- with his jaw, not with the gun hand, and certainly not the arm cradling Rocco.

"Footsteps. Human footsteps. There are a dozen of us, maybe more."

He isn't going to lend him his gun, because honestly he isn't going to take a single shot unless something is so close as it wouldn't make a difference who's carrying it.

Well, that isn't the answer he particularly wants--or necessarily agrees with; not about not wanting to shoot people on accident of course, but more that it's a big enough risk not to attack the monsters--but he's not going to argue it. "As long as you shoot one of those things if it jumps us."

That's the important part, anyway.

Moving on, he tries to ignore the sounds of scuttling for the moment to look for the tunnel he'd caught sight of earlier, and it seems there is indeed a passage. Of course it's completely dark, but it's there. "Okay, looks like there is tunnel. What are the chances it actually leads out?"

"We'll try."

Bob decides, with a ragged breath. Truthfully, he'd like a minute, he'd like ten minutes to catch his breath and calm his heart and get himself ready to handle everything out there. However, the longer they wait, the closer he can hear the things coming, preparing an ambush.

"Blunt force does a lot with them." The source of some of the black goo on him so far. "Ready?"

This, he presumes, is going to be one of those awful things in life that quite simply has to be lived through.

Chris would really like to rest as well; he's been going nonstop for what feels like forever at this point, but the longer they wait the more danger they're putting themselves in. Staying on task and keeping a step ahead of the monsters is going to be their best bet.

That blunt force does something is encouraging at least, and he nods in understanding and at the question. But then he remembers something and suddenly digs in his pockets, looking for one item in particular; a moment later and he procures the zippo lighter Josh had tossed to him before everything went so suddenly wrong.

Don't think about it. Back on task.

"Better than nothing." He explains under his breath, flicking the lighter open and igniting the flame. "Ready."

"Good."

He says, and steps closer to him, letting out a breath.

"Hold it in front of us."

They tend to leap out of the dark. Bob and Chris will be much, much more visible this way, but will at least stand a chance of seeing something if it comes for them- something all too easy to miss, with the shadowed corridors, the intermittent lamps and the light blindness they cause.

Ready, and go. He steps out, into their little puddle of light, chasing away the inky black.

"Got it." As much as it kind of feels like sticking his hand into a lion's mouth, Chris extends the lighter out into the darkness. Fortunately the flame is bright; not enough to truly illuminate anything, but definitely enough that they might be able to see the flashes of shadows--real or imaginary--and keep track of the tunnel walls.

The flame also flickers, just briefly, as they enter the tunnel, indicating that it is--hopefully--a way out. Chris sticks as close to Bob as he can, about a half-step in front so the light can lead the way, listening for anything other than their own breathing and footsteps.

There's a skittering behind them, a few steps back, but it's seeming to keep its distance. For the moment, at least.

Something hits Bob from behind, sending him staggering- fortunately it doesn't get a grip on him, and he lashes out, trying to find it back when it makes a second snap at Chris, impossible edges of its' head expanding and flailing wildly.

"Run!"

He probably doesn't even need to say it, of course.

Chris stops immediately when Bob staggers, turning to try to help take on the monster as well--it seems utterly suicidal after facing the wendigos, but he's going to try what Bob said about it being possible to at least hurt these things--but the sight of it causes him to freeze instead. It isn't the face, as horrifying as that is, but the glimpse of long spindly arms and fingers and claws, and for just a moment there's snow under his feet and a high pitched shrieking ringing through his ears in the dark.

But he snaps out of it quickly enough to at least shield his face, which would've been too little too late if it didn't happen to bring the lighter in his hand directly in front of the creature. It reels back, at least for an instant, but it's enough to give Chris and Bob an opening.

"Yeah, go!" Bob doesn't have to tell him twice to run; he turns back the direction they'd been originally heading and shoves Bob in front of him, because going blind is still safer than being attacked by a monster, and Chris is definitely a slower runner at the moment. Besides, if fire might be able to keep the thing at bay for even a second or two at a time, then he should be in the back.

Hopefully there isn't one in front of them, too.

There isn't- but there is something he wasn't expect, and that is a stairwell. It isn't built the way they are back home, with quick and short doubled up back to back flights; it's more long, curving, and it gives him the impression of a yawning maw.

To make matters worse, it goes up, as well as down, and Bob is disoriented enough that he has no real idea which direction is a better one. Are they underground? Or upstairs in some huge building? There's no light except the lamps, and nothing else to guess by- no time to flip a coin or consult much, either, because something is coming fast at them from behind- something that makes Bob break his own word, lift the gun, and take a shot.

The crack is almost deafeningly loud in the hollow stairwell.

"Son of a bitch--" Chris is none too happy to see stairs, casting a glance up and then down, trying to figuring out which way they should go, and then there's an incredibly loud bang. He slams himself into one of the tunnel walls to stay out of the line of any further fire, trying to see if the bullet had hit or done any damage to the monster chasing them.

"Did you get it?" He asks, holding up his lighter, voice a little high pitched from nerves and slightly too loud due to the ringing in his ears. But he doesn't wait for an answer before moving to the stairs again, still trying to stay out of the way of any other shots Bob might want to take, stepping onto the staircase heading up.

Heading down never works out for anyone, after all, and if this place is anything like a real arena then up is probably the way to go.

Edited 2015-11-15 23:07 (UTC)

He nods; horrible as it is, he can definitely tell that he heard the splash. Bob follows him, still moving quickly. The good news here- the only bit of good news- is that the field is a little more narrow; things will either come from in front or behind, but not side to side.

The bad news is that it is is black as pitch once they get more than a few paces upwards. He runs his hand up the wall, frantically blinking, hoping his eyes adjust, that there's some light.

Realizing Chris may very well not have seen the nod, then;

"It's down."

It's so dark, even with his lighter, and going up the stairs on his injured leg is painful enough that even adrenaline isn't dampening it at this point. But Bob's words bring some relief at least; that's one monster down, who knows how many more to go.

"Great. Awesome." It's dry and strained, under his breath, but sincere. That's good, at least. "You and your dog okay?" They didn't get swiped by the monster or anything when it attacked, right?

"I don't think he's bleeding."

Bob says, though okay feels like a bit of a stretch. Rocco has stopped crying, but it doesn't seem at all to be because he's comfortable or calm. Not that this is to Bob's surprise.

"We need to get out of here, that's all."

He can check on him properly then.

"How badly are you hurt?"

"Yeah, getting out of here would be pretty nice." They're nearing the top of the stairs, though Chris can't see yet if there are any more flights or if it will level out. His lighter does flicker briefly when he raises it higher, though, another hopeful indication of going the right direction.

"I'm okay." He answers the question belatedly; he's definitely not actually fine, but none of his injuries are life-threatening and there's not much that can be done for him anyway while they're trying to avoid being eaten. "Just getting really sick of monsters."

"Well."

Says Bob, a soft, shaky agreement. Well, that's about all you can say, in a situation like this. He adjusts his grip on the gun, and keeps climbing.

Except, he vaguely supposes it's appropriate to murmur;

"Bob. And Rocco."

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