INTRO LOG: FACE OFF

[hadrielmods]

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!

Comments

day 2

[swill]

[Oh god, it's a dog. And a woman. But the dog. And Hawkeye wasn't chicken about dogs- the camp had even adopted that little mutt stray one week, and it wasn't like he had grown up shy of them in the backwoods of Maine, but this was a big dog. After eyeing it for a moment, Hawkeye was just relieved to see it wasn't obviously rabid. Or having skin flake off from mange. Wandering the home (hut, Hawkeye would rather call it), he stalls at a table and fiddles with a pen. It's actually kind of like a screwdriver but if he squeezed it between two fingers it'd actually be like a fountain pen. He knows because now he's drawing circles into that table, but of course the fact that the woman's addressing him makes him smarten up.] At this rate we can open up our own post office, I know. How exciting. We can deliver mail from Snail One-oh-Four to Conch Six-oh-Eight and charge--

[He must not have noticed the dog approach until it was too late, because the instant the hound tries to sniff (it might still smell the innards and goo of that jellyfishman on Hawkeye's dirty khaki trousers or brown uniform jacket) Hawkeye starts. He's quick to (try to) put the table between him and the dog. And because obviously all mastiff-bulldog-ox mix dogs are male, he hurries a question to Neria-] Ah- is he yours? Does he want me for dinner? [He swears he's no chicken around dogs.]

[unabatedly]

[ And he's right about that; the dog is very keenly interested in the smell of those creatures on Hawkeye, and on the man himself, and has come around the table to try to greet him. It's not his fault he's so large, honest! With the table between them, the dog quirks his head to the side, ears perking up in question, large jowls opening to reveal a long tongue that lolls out from between very sharp teeth. He pants, his tail wags, and he gives a little whine, as if to ask, why are you avoiding me?

Neria looks up at the lowly pitched whine and smiles at her dog, going to stand beside him. In comparison, his head comes up just above her waist, making the pair of them an odd little caricature. She rests her hand on the dog's head until he sits. ]

I assure you that he hasn't had a craving for human flesh in years. You're perfectly safe.

[ She rubs at the dogs ears and he thumps one of his back legs on the floor, looking awfully pleased. ]

Really, he won't harm you, I promise. He likes new people. [ Neria tilts her head, in turn. ] And you were saying something about a...'post office'...?

[swill]

[Oh yes, it is that dog's fault it's so large. It could have refused a meal or two growing up but did it? Did it? Hawkeye even gives it a pointed little look when it whined. Well, why aren't you small and fluffy?

He keeps his eyes on the dog when Neria comes to stand by it. It made it easier to take in the whole of her with some guise of subtlety. When Hawkeye finally looks up at the woman's eyes, he gives a sloppy little grin and a nod and a-] Ah-ha. [saying he understood that joke and it better be a joke because he's still not entirely convinced that dog is good, despite all the evidence screaming at him that it is. He does relax. He's not scared of that dog. He's just-- practicing caution, or something. For once in his life. The table's still between him and them. But Neria's much more pleasing to think about and listen to than his nagging thoughts of the mutt.] Oh- right, right, the post office. I was just saying we probably have enough paper, pen, and ink between us two to open our business to send letters. Address letters. Receive letters. It doesn't always have to be letters. It can be parcels. Packages. [All evidence, again, screaming to him that they were going to be subjected to this prison cell for a long time to come. Might as well--

Hawkeye rolls his shoulders back (and ow, he's sore), turns so his side is to the miss, leans on that table and waggles his brows.] Love letters. So what d'ya say, wanna do business, partner?

[unabatedly]

[ The dog seems to settle at her side, small tail waving back and forth. He does not understand why this man seems so nervous about him but it doesn't much matter; mabari are perceptive enough to know a decent person when they see them. Even as a stranger, he is fine enough to be around Neria, and that is enough for the dog.

For her part, she seems far more keen to listen, even as the dog bumps her arm and slips his large head under her hand for more pettings. She lifts a slim eyebrow, slowly smiling...and eventually laughing. It's a genuine sound and something she hasn't done in so long. ]

Love letters? Why, sir, we've barely met. And while I've plenty of experience taking things back and forth to people, I haven't the first idea on how to make it a business. What would we charge? Send letters for a song and a smile? [ She smiles. ] What would the going rate for those be in such a bleak town?

[ She's loath to stop joking; her smile stays in place even as the words sink in, jest and all. ]

There...probably isn't one of those here, is there? All of these people, simply gone. [ It's a disconcerting subject. All these items and no people, as if they were spirited away overnight. She rubs absently at her arm, lifting it off of the dog's head. ] What could've happened?

[swill]

[Ah, and there it was. The sweet nectar of the gods- not that Hawkeye had ever cared to fancy himself one. But he had figured, several times in the dead of night in his flea ridden cot, that if he was ever one, he'd love to hear laughter in his world the most. The noise sparks some life into his gangly, pale self. His blue eyes shine with mischief, his voice drops any attempt at appearing seductive or any relative term of and instead it drips with friendly, impish impatience.] Many a great tales have been told of loves and passions coming from two people who've only barely met. And the best part is, those tales hardly ever tell of the best part- which is the love and the passion.

[As for the going rate... Hawkeye straightens up yet again and pretends to give it thought. His poor new toy- the fountain pen- forgotten for the next eternity. Finally he chirps up.] I'll do you one better than a song and a smile, but you'll have to close your eyes first.

[And since she won't take that bait- he's almost absolutely certain- he pivots to the new -much more dreary- point of conversation. And simply shrugs, a frown slinking into his expression despite his wants.] I dunno. It doesn't look like the plague hit. No- craters. Not that there's anywhere to get bombed from. Whatever happened must have had a warning, because I haven't found any remains. If only they'd have left us a map.

[unabatedly]

[ She tries to smother her laughter with the back of her hand but to no avail. It isn't the raucous laughter of someone taking merriment at someone else's expense; Hawkeye's mischievous comments and attempts at humor bring her genuine joy, something she hasn't felt in a while. It allows her to relax ever so slightly. ]

And a good many of those tales end in tragedy! They never tell of the passion because those people don't live long enough for it. [ She smiles. ] I would so hate to see someone like you fall to a cliched fate merely for me.

[ Neria grins, leaning against the table, and shakes her head just slightly. ]

I don't know if I can fall for that. You might ask me that a week from now and I might be persuaded. A song and a smile might have to do in the meantime.

[ The dog brushes up against her hand once more and she pats him before he goes to sit nearby, plunked down and resting while the two of them chat. She rubs briefly at her inner arm as she watches him. ]

Some places look as if people have just vanished without a trace. Others look as if they've been abandoned for quite some time. [ With a crooked frown, she looks about once more. ] You'd think there'd be some sort of currency left behind for our business, don't you think?

[swill]

[He clicks his tongue in expectant disappointment. His masterful plans, foiled again by this pesky thing called Logic. That was the true tragedy here, and Hawkeye huffs a snicker along with the woman's grin as he gets comfortable in his own true skin again. He regains his hunched shoulders and slouched posture, and he shifts his weight to one leg and to the other and laments, "And what a smile it is".

And his right hand goes to itch at at inside of his left arm.

Hawkeye doesn't understand why.] Nah.

[He almost felt bad, really bad, about not being as curious about the lives of the people before them. Shouldn't that be his job? To care?] After you get people evacuating- I mean, most of them don't just take the clothes on their backs, you've gotta make sure you have a ways to survive wherever else you're going. That means, uh, food, the money your surly uncle hides under the mattress, your kid's medicine- your neighbor's money if you know where they're hiding it and you don't, you know, care about being a decent human being. And after that you have looters, the folk who make a living off of being vultures.

[Not the him hover-over-carrion kind of vulture. The other kind.] Anything we find here, it's not going to be first-rate.

[unabatedly]

Because it might help them.

[ An evacuation. But if this is the only true city residing within a cavern... Where would they have gone? Wouldn't they have understood that there was no escape from whatever came along to take them? And so many houses seem almost undisturbed, she wonders how these people were truly taken, if they existed at all. There are so many questions buzzing in her head that it's difficult to think where they can even begin.

What came first: the cave and the gods or the town inside?

She shakes her head. ]

First-rate or not, anything is better than nothing. We can take cloth, strip it down, wash it well in boiled river water for bandages. We can look for any alcohol lying around to sterilize wounds. Wood can be used for splints.

Food we'll eventually need to hunt for. Materials to craft weaponry if necessary... It doesn't need to be perfect, we just need to give these people a fighting chance.

[ Neria tries for a smile. ]

No one's going to want to send packages when they're sick and dying, after all.

[swill]

[Another click of his tongue- in agreement this time. Absolute, unrestrained. When's the last time he worked under anything better than adverse conditions anyhow? Too long, that's when. Hawkeye's still holding himself together quite well. It's actually astounding that all he does is raise his brows some as Neria begins talking about bandages, splints, alcohol- the useful kind.

His gaze shifts to one side of her. He'd even play nice, and avoid dragging himself into a never-ending battle of twenty questions of why. Why weapons? Keep the bears out of the houses- build a wall or something. Don't give confused people something to shoot, for God's sake. He turns back to the woman and gets nearly frantically to the point. Sick, maybe, but dying? No, no. No, no, not on his watch.] -you're a nurse? [Or a doctor or whatever or just someone with some honest common sense or-] I'm a surgeon. Chief surgeon. Captain Pierce with the Four-oh-Seven-Seven MASH. How much do you know about actually making splints?

[unabatedly]

[ Chief surgeon? Captain? She doesn't know what to do with that information, only that he knows what he's doing, and there's plenty of relief that comes along with that. Of the people from Thedas she's met, she's the only one with healing capabilities, and that in and of itself is not too surprising...albeit dangerous for a world like this one. But if he is a captain, then he has the experience of a soldier with his capabilities as a healer, and that is good enough for her. ]

I know field medicine. I've been in enough battles to hold my own and look after the people I fight beside. Beyond that, I've been practicing healing for over ten years now.

[ Magical healing, of course, with the aid of spirits. But the latter isn't necessary to divulge right now. Neria holds up one finger on each hand, lifting them and bringing them together. ]

Find two pieces of something stabilizing - wood, metal, something substantial - and ensure that they can keep the bone in place in the injury. Wrap tightly enough to keep the pieces from moving and the injury secure, but not tight enough to completely stop blood flow. Tie it off, keep it out of the way, and try not to move the injury. [ She smiles, lifting an eyebrow. ] And hope you aren't bleeding profusely. That's an entirely different mess altogether.