Intro Log: A Day at the Beach

[hadrielmods]

Who: New arrivals and everyone else!
What: The intro log for December
Where: The colosseum and all around the city.
When: December 10th-13th
Warnings: None

It's icy cold when you wake up, so let's hope you arrived here wearing warm clothes. They're not too easy to find right now, either - Hadriel is a pretty unwelcoming place. You're on the floor of the colosseum, which is sandy and (right now) a bit frosty. It's you, the other newcomers - and of course, a battalion of newly-arrived giant scorpions, just as confused as you and ready to fight. They're big and fast, they've got armor covering their creepy bodies, and that stinger will seriously mess you up if you're not careful. So... welcome to Hadriel!

You might be cold, but the Door doesn't seem to be. Scattered across the ground of the colosseum can be found some beach towels with creative designs. And if that's not enough, you'll be all prepared for a day at the beach with these cute sandals (jandals?). Too bad there's no beach and it's really cold and everything sucks, right?

Once you've finished dreaming about a warm beach vacation, feel free to look around. 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 December 10th-13th.
► 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!

Comments

FIRE PIT | OTA & Mingle-y

[offloaded]

[ DiMA's been busy the past week.

Knowing there will be new arrivals, and having discovered that none of the housing has fireplaces, he's worried for the organics that need to stay warm. That need to cook their food and boil their water, but may not have the magical abilities he's seen mentioned and used around the city since the move. As always, the old synth wants to help. As he isn't terribly affected by the cold, he's been out and scavenging and building.

Using scrap from the unrestored buildings and sheets and blankets he doesn't need from his apartment, he's built a windbreak around a fire pit, just outside the colosseum. It's a circular frame with the fabrics tied to it except for where it can be pulled apart to enter in two places -- light smoke is rising from the center, and inside there's a low fire burning, a small stack of wood from the offered resources off to the side but he's going to try and conserve it as best he can.

Anyone who needs to warm up or get their water boiled for use or a safe fire to cook with is welcome to poke on in. Don't mind the obviously mechanical man minding the place. (Or do, he's quite personable!)


((ooc: mod approved, hop in as you will!)) ]

steak; food fantasy; ota

[battlebound]

— colosseum;
( He hasn't been summoned, that much goes without saying. An unfamiliar place, no human waiting to greet him, and a headache that he doesn't remember falling asleep with. Though perhaps that's something to do with being sprawled out on cold, hard ground and being the owner of a very real pair of horns which spurt from brilliantly red hair.

Steak doesn't have a second more to contemplate his arrival, unfortunately, nor to gauge his surroundings any further as a claw comes arcing down towards his exposed midriff. The roll is... hardly the most elegant movement he's ever managed, and not nearly as nimble as Red Wine would manage, but it's efficient enough to get him out of the way of his attacker. Hands reach for the swords hanging off his belt and there's a brief, brief moment's relief when his palm connects with their grips.

It would be a far worse day if he was unarmed against a mystery attacker — a scorpion of nearly absurd dimensions, whose reflexes are sharp enough to attempt a second attack before Steak has a chance to manage his first. He grits his teeth and blocks with both swords, an iridescent gold bubble appearing around him as he does so, absorbing any potential damage and allowing him to push back against the beast before striking with the lighter of his two blades.

It doesn't kill the thing — of course not, that would simply be too easy — but one strike after the next wears it down, each and every counterattack endured by Steak with a grimace and that protective bubble. He takes in more of the area, the circular stage surrounded by the raised seating (or what's left of it), and the other scorpions skittering around, attacking others standing up or those who rush in from through the doors leading to this stage.

Interesting.

But first: he slams the monster into a nearby wall with enough force to make the ruined walls shudder, and only breathes a sigh of relief once it stops twitching. One down, many more to go. This may not be the inn he was staying at, and this may not be a summoning, but there are many humans — or human-appearing people — here who need his help. Steak wipes the sweat from his brow and dashes towards the nearest person accosted by a scorpion, whether they're fighting or not, and draws his swords once more.

And, if he's lucky, perhaps he can gather more information about his location and arrival. )

What country is this?!

( Because who has time to say hello? )

— city;
( It isn't until the scorpions have been cleared that Steak even considers leaving the Colosseum. He can hardly call himself a leader of the Knights of the Holy Sword if he was to abandon those in need, those endangered by monsters,to search out his own answers. No. There would have to be time for that later.

And now there is.

He walks without direction or aim, wandering into random buildings without much regard for just what they are — shop, clinic, bakery, someone's unlocked house — with narrowed eyes and a stern expression drawing his lips into a straight line, red eyes darting from one side of the room to the other. And always coming away looking grimmer than before.

In all honesty, he knows that searching is fruitless. Knows that his comrades would have been in that arena with him, fighting those monsters, had they been dragged here. Still— )

You! ( Sorry, random person, but humour him a moment, would you? ) Where would I find fine clothes?

( Looking at the way he's dressed, this is probably not a question he asks often. )

— wildcard;
( Hit me with something else! Steak can be found exploring the city or on the outskirts, likely fighting something. )

keith | voltron: legendary defender | ota

[marmoron]

i. arrival

[Insulated as Keith is by his paladin armor,it's not really the cold that gets him to wake up so much as it is the large space wolf that's prodding his side. For a moment, Keith's clearly disoriented as all hell as he gets to his feet, eyes darting from place to place. Instinctively he snags the phone by his feet, but none of this is familiar at all. Judging from those massive scorpions his confusion may just not be the most urgent of his problems.

Or, for that matter, anyone else's problem. For whatever reason he sure isn't the only one who's been brought here to be scorpion food. As one scitters towards him, Cosmo glows blue and teleports the pair of them to the other side of the colosseum. From there, Keith reaches for his bayard, which activates and turns into a black sword. He breathes out then heads straight for the nearest person still on the ground.

Hey. Get up. You need to get out of here.

ii. around the city

[After that rather rude awakening, Keith can be found wandering the now icy city with a scowl. The space wolf is walking alongside him. It's pretty clear that both of them have their guards up, and neither seem particularly pleased about being here.

By now he's read through the newbie guide and information documented on that phone he found at the colosseum, but whether he believes a word of it or not is a separate question entirely. As soon as he spots someone, he approaches them quickly, his bayard-sword still in his hand; the place has already tried to kill him once, he's not letting his guard down any time soon.]

Got a moment?

[It's a question in theory, but his tone is flat and rather to the point.]

iii. outside the city

[It's probably ill-advised, but that hasn't really stopped Keith before. He hasn't strayed too far yet and won't do so until it's a lighter out, but he can be found sitting on top of a rock formation staring up at the sky at nightfall, studying the constellations with a frown whilst idly scratching the wolf's ears.]

Wonder if this place is registered on the castleship's database.

iv. wildcard

[If there's anything in particular that you'd like to thread, feel free to hit me up! If you wanna discuss things, feel free to pm this journal or contact me on plurk]

Alucard | Castlevania | OTA

[dhamphirs]

introduction;

[It's very cold.

That's not the worst thing in the world, but it's not pleasant, especially for a creature whose internal organs no one really understands. He's a little more sluggish in the snow (although, honestly, a little more sluggish for Alucard means that he's still leagues above ordinary humans, so). He walks around for a bit, his expression neutral, quietly observing the colosseum and all those gathered in it. But he doesn't connect-- indeed, he seems eager to keep himself removed from it all, though he can't actually stop anyone from just straight up speaking to him.

The sandals, though . . . those earn a wrinkled nose.]

How humorous.

[Or maybe you catch him perched up somewhere, crouching and studying his phone. That newbie guide is pretty decent, honestly; he rereads it several times before chuckling quietly and tucking the phone away.]

City;

[Obviously he's going to explore. That's what you do in a new environment, right? Explore around . . . probably ought to get to know others, but again, he's really enjoying the broody vampire shtick, so. The temples are first, though he oddly enough stays outside of them, just wandering around and peering in through open doors. But when he tires of that, he heads to the clinic-- and there, at least, he seems more comfortable.]

It's a bit run-down, isn't it?

[That's so rude?

Anyway. His last stop is the laboratory, and he moves through it as fluidly and easily as he does everywhere else: gliding through as though he owns the place, observing with a keen eye. At least the lab is warm, if nothing else, he's grateful for that.]

Creatures;

[Ah. Wherever there's humans, there's usually monsters.

Truthfully, Alucard is grateful. No matter what kind of monster or animal comes upon him, he seems spoiling for a fight. But just to make sure it isn't too easy, he doesn't fight as a man, oh, no. That would be over in an instant.

He fights as a wolf. A massive wolf, all white-blond fur and sharp teeth, growling low and threatening as it circles its prey. Or, well. Opponent, technically, but let's be real: it was prey from the moment Alucard spotted it.]

agent maine | red vs. blue | ota

[bloodbathing]

i. assessment

[ Maine wakes up spitting blood.

There's blood splattered across the inside of his visor, distorting the warnings flashing on his HUD. The Freelancer blinks up at them, trying to make sense of the information. There should be more warnings, some part of him thinks — but how the fuck could he be alive if there were more? He spits again. Rolls onto his hands and knees. Starts pushing himself upright as he struggles to gain his bearings.

That he's been unconscious is clear, though he has no idea how long he was out. He's still armed: there's a pistol mag-locked to his thigh, and he has the Brute Shot in hand. (Something else is secured to the magnetic holster on his back, but it's either incompatible with his HUD's readout, or it isn't a weapon.) He's still fully armored, but the suit's been damaged. Judging by his HUD's warnings, most of the damage is concentrated at his—...

Fuck.

Maine's free hand flies to his throat as he recalls the last minute of his life. As he remembers the highway, the fight for the briefcase, and the nine bullets that ripped into his neck. Would've killed anyone else, but he got up. He kept fighting. And then...

... Then he saw Wash and Carolina? And they were ... older?

Shit. He'd better not be fucking dead.

With a low growl that he quickly cuts off — it sounds strange to his ears; feels strange in his throat — Maine shakes himself from his thoughts. Scans his surroundings and spots a few beach towels nearby. Hideous ones, but Maine can't be picky. Not when he knows that, despite the relative lack of pain, he's probably bleeding out. So he starts towards the towels, intending to scoop one up and press it to his bloody throat.

And then a fucking giant scorpion skitters into his field of vision, heading straight for Maine's chosen towel.

This time, Maine doesn't cut off the animalistic snarl that resonates from his armor. That's his towel. And, if the behemoth of a man has to fight a giant bug to get it, he sure as hell will. ]


ii. first aid

[ There's not a lot that Maine can do for himself without supplies. Even then, he's nowhere near qualified to treat nine gunshot wounds to the neck. Best he can do is keep a towel pressed to the injury to try and staunch the flow of blood.

Although there doesn't seem to be much blood. Sure, it's all over his armor, but it's almost as though the wounds have stopped bleeding on their own.

Unwilling to trust it, Maine consults the map on the phone he found and keeps making his way towards the building labeled clinic. It might be easier if he were to remove his helmet and wipe the blood from his visor so he could see properly, but fuck that. The helmet, along with his weapons and the rest of his armor, is staying firmly on his body. ]


iii. shelter

[ Knock knock! Who's there? It's a blood-splattered, seven-foot-four, heavily armored wall of muscle. And he's not actually knocking; he's just barging right in.

Excuse the shitty manners. It's been a long day, he's new, and he's just trying to find a safe place to rest. ]


iv. wildcard

( ooc: have another idea? come at me! maine's info/permissions post is here, and i can be reached by pm or @ twofouroneten. )

1. assessment

[hardwearing]

[ Wash wakes up this morning with a strange sense of desperation. It's arrivals day, he's well aware, but he needs to get to the colosseum. Now. There's no logic behind it, anything he may have dreamed was just a dream, right? And yet, he's got this gut feeling that a certain someone might be here, like he's never had before. So out of bed, bundling and arming up, and rushing across the city it is.

When he gets there he discovers that maybe this month his armor would have been a good idea, but he isn't all that worried honestly. He's handled worse before, with only Confusion around it's safer that he doesn't wear it. He makes sure he's clear of the scorpions for the moment and scans the arena, trying to size up who's here, who might need help, who he... might... know.

And there's a gigantic man in blood-spattered white armor, heading straight for one of the beasts.

Oh boy.

Wash books it, darting between the waking newbies and monsters all getting their bearings, blue eyes locked on his friend -- or who he thinks is his friend. It has to be Maine, right, or he wouldn't have this feeling. There's only one real way to know, but he doesn't want to call out and compromise the other man by distracting him before he's right there. So he keeps running, skidding to a stop at the soldier's side and drawing his combat knife, only now sparing the scorpion a glance. Hmm. This'll be tricky. ]

I should've brought a bigger knife.

city; clinic

[pellameno]

[ It's arrivals day. Pell doesn't fare well in the cold or he'd be setting up shop right outside the colosseum, but instead he's trusting others to know where to bring the injured they can't handle. When he hears the door open he steps out into the makeshift reception area, just in time to hear the newcomer's comment.

It is a bit rude, but he doesn't seem insulted. Rather, his lips quirk. Must be new, he thinks, subtly looking the man over to see if he's hurt. ]

A bit. This whole city is, and we've been without new supplies for some time now. Are you injured? Or know anyone who is?

Speakeasy mingle.

[circumitus]

Things are a little different this time at the Speakeasy -- and possibly for the better. If you found notes around the city pointing in the location of the local gaming and watering hole, there's a new addendum even for those who have been in Hadriel for some time now:

Warmth.

Not that it's entirely necessary. After all, the building lights up like a quiet beacon in the distance. Of the few places in the city, the Speakeasy is dimly lit and warm between the indoor firepit within the lounge area and the electricity powering the establishment. While the lighting is kept at a minimum, music still plays from the jukebox and sound system and the dancefloor is open to any who wish to venture onto it. The energy is more subdued than usual, but so long as it's a haven from the cold outside, that might suffice enough for some. If you're looking for anything specific to satisfy your palate, just ask a bartender what you need.

Upstairs you will find the Game Room, which houses a variety of recreational activities. Between the casino style activities, you can find board games such as checkers, chess, and Battleship, and even an arcade machine with many two player options and several selections to choose from.

It's good to have some indoor options this time of year, right?

[ooc: This is the (kinda) monthly Welcome Dance Night! Consider this an open mingle thread for both old and new folks alike. Tag in, tag out, hit up your friends or rivals or meet new people. Assume that this is set around the 12th. At the time being, the Speakeasy is one of the few places in the city that is powered by electricity, as is explained here.]

[bloodbathing]

[ A less violent individual might have given up on the towel. They might have looked around, spotted one of the other towels scattered nearby, and gone for that instead. They might have bypassed a fight with a giant scorpion entirely — because seriously, who wants to fight a fucking giant scorpion?

But Maine is not most people. So naturally he's going straight for the fucker, claws and stinger and impossible size be damned.

(And maybe, just maybe, it's because Maine lost his last fight. Maybe it's because he wants to banish the feeling of helplessness that crowds in when he remembers that boot pinning him down. Maybe it's because violence makes him feel alive in a way that nothing else does, and fuck, he doesn't want to be dead.)

Then, like some kind of unfortunately unarmored but oh-so-welcome miracle, Wash is at his side. Wash is there, and he's talking about the size of his knife, of all things. And maybe Maine's not dead, because he's pretty sure that his unconscious (or dying, or whatever) mind would've preferred an armored ally right now.

The big man snorts — "no shit" — and reaches for the Magnum at his thigh. Without taking his eyes from the enemy, he holds the handgun out, offering it to his friend.

If Wash lays down covering fire and keeps the creature off-balance, Maine's confident that he can quickly close in and decapitate it with the wickedly curved blade of the Brute Shot. ]

[hardwearing]

[ From that one comment, Wash can't tell who he's backing right now. But the blood at his throat, that specific injury and knowing how the Door works, how little it cares for the timeline... he's going to go out on a limb and say this is actually Maine, from after they got the Sarcophagus. How is he standing right now? He fell from the freeway... must be the Door again, that's all Wash can think. Because it has to be Maine. He needs it to be Maine. The other solider is definitely ready for a fight, in any case, so Wash sheathes his knife and reaches out for the gun, drawing his own from his other hip. He's got more ammo as well, Maine's magnum takes the same caliber as his and he isn't terribly worried about his stash.

For these guys, the best thing would be a sword, but he's still not great with one. Oh well. Distraction and the brute shot it is. So strange to see it in Maine's hands instead of Grif's. Wash shakes that off and calls out as he backs up to try and draw the scorpion's attention. ]

Don't use the grenades, we have no way of getting more ammo right now!

[ Then he's firing, and they're fighting, the scorpion skittering against the ground of the colosseum as Wash hits it with every shot. ]

II.

[toiletseat_girl]

[George looks so unimpressed with the sword. so very, very unimpressed. fringe benefit of being a Reaper, you can't kill what's already dead. so there]

Depends. Put that thing away and I might.

City, Temples

[theladyofhighever]

[Mariane makes a habit of patrolling the temples, even when she's not on Guard duty. back home, the Maker was an absent god, but these creatures? demons? spirits? calling themselves gods were much more present. at least they were when she arrived. now, only Confusion's temple has any meaning, a vague sense of confusion settling on her whenever she draws too near. so she gives it a wide berth. her mind has mazes of its own, it doesn't need the help]

I suppose that depends upon what one is used to.

iii

[lemontree]

[ It shouldn't be so surprising that a dark-haired man with a wolf companion draws her attention: she's dangerously close with one of those. So, Dany slows to a stop as the stranger muses aloud, staring upward, and she follows his gaze.

Surely, a "castleship" is something from his world, something 'modern' and...somehow, exactly what it sounds like, but that doesn't stop her from remarking: ]

A "castleship" sounds as if it would be impractical.

[ It would be either a very small castle, or an impossibly large ship.

(She isn't smiling, but she is joking.) ]

iii. shelter

[roseofthetyrells]

[Margaery hears a knock at the door of the house she shares and immediately goes to answer. she's got no reason not to, she has a sword belted at her waist and a dagger in a sheath on her left forearm. and she knows well how to defend herself.

but this man is in armor similar to Wash's and Ephemera's, so she's going to be hospitable, assuming he's a friend of at least one of theirs]

Hello! Would you come in? [she steps back, allowing him room to come in should he choose] I have some tea getting ready, would you like some?

[lemontree]

[ The enormous wolf captures her attention, of course. She'd just been slipping carefully past one of the many monsters that had escaped the coliseum when an animal that she assumed was Ghost struck down the beast in question. Dany hesitates, confused at the direwolf being without his partner...until she takes in the scene more thoroughly, realizes that this big, white wolf is not the one she knows.

It brings a flicker of fear to her stomach. As usual, she has little means of defending herself in this world, and none against something like that. If the Door's monster was the weaker of the two, then this thing must be very strong indeed. And with a thirst for blood, if the way it takes down its prey is any indication.

Again, she works to move along her way without drawing the attention of anything in the vicinity that might rend her asunder. Again, she curses her having been brought into Hadriel in the first place, and misses her children. ]

[unphase]

[Tinya is in need of the heat. she has a can of apples she spiced and while they'd be edible cold, they'd be so much nicer heated up. so she approaches DiMA to make sure that it's okay to heat her food over the fire. it's only polite! and goodness knows she's had rules of etiquette drilled into her mind for as long as she can remember. longer, probably]

Hi. You did this? It's very nice of you.

city

[abyssalarcana]

[Well, well. Isn't this one unique. Another tiefling, perhaps? A few have come and gone in the time Caedra has been here and they always catch her eye, wondering which side of the war they descended from and whether they care for it or their ancestors any. Most don't. Most don't even seem to realize the war is real and still raging ever onward. But it's worth her investigation here, in a land with so few allies of her own.

So as the boy walks down the street, she angles toward him. And these days, with the oppressive cold that even she feels, she's back to wearing her coat and long skirt - and that brilliant red pallium with the symbol of her lord's rule imprinted at the end of it. Some day, perhaps one of the newcomers will recognize it. She can only hope.

Anyway, he apparently thinks shouting 'you' at her is an appropriate form of address and while it's not shocking, it's not pleasant, either.]

Fine clothes? There are none here. The creatures in charge of stocking this place are gone but even when they're present, they do a poor job of it.

city

[outofthefire]

[Laura looks like a seventeen year old girl in clothes that were in fashion back in the eighties. which she is. she's in a pleated plaid skirt and a sweater set to match with a coat thrown overtop everything. and that question has to make her laugh. it does because while she's been lucky to find things that were in fashion in 1989, she can't say much about the years after. so she laughs]

You've got me. There's a sewing shop they say is good at producing custom shit, but beyond that? Don't have a clue.

shigeru miyata | ota

[mysophobic]

colosseum;

[ Luckily Shigeru was actually wearing a jacket and winter clothes before his arrival. Not that they'll do much in the bitter cold, but something is better than nothing. He's covered from head to toe though so that's good. However that also doesn't really help much when it comes to fighting giant scorpions?! He's not as phased as most people should be, mostly because of fighting monsters back at home and these were pretty tame looking compared to the monstrosity of Kasuitiga. He'll be ready to fight, despite his peaceful nature. When it comes to monsters Shigeru's not really one to ask questions. So he'll be readily apparent on the battlefield considering there's a giant purple glowing sigil silently floating behind him as he dips and dodges those scorpion attacks. His eyes are also strangely colored too. Black sclera and purple irises to match his sigil and also his sword, Valent and shield, Xevrant. Everytime his sword strikes his opponent though pieces of the creature dissolve away into nothingness and one scorpion will learn the hard way as its stinger collides with Shigeru's shield with a loud thud. But that stinger doesn't last for long as it basically melts away. There's pained shrieks from the creatures as Shigeru continues helping anyone that might need it. ]

city;

[ The problem with Shigeru when left to his own devices and not preoccupied fighting monsters or things is that he...gets into his own head. It's just how his phobia is, unfortunately. Having gone this long without washing his hands is a miracle but at some point the urge to get clean is all too much for him. He looks a bit...lost and sort of uncomfortable as he rubs his gloved hands together. Everything looked so...dirty ugh he's getting sick just by looking at things. If his pale features weren't even to give away his current state then him covering his mouth to fight off vomiting will be. It's so...unclean how is he supposed to do this. He really can't do this, not at all.

He'll be going through the shops looking for something with a lot of intent. There had to be cleaning supplies or gloves somewhere around here, right?! ]

clinic ;

[ He'll eventually find his way to the clinic and thank god. Because he really needs to clean his hands. He feels so...dirty. Ugh he really hates when his phobia flares up this badly, but he can't actually stand it so he just will...use whatever disinfectant is on hand at the time and just scrub his hands still they're almost raw. Someone might want to stop him before he actually makes them bleed. ]

wildcard;

[ Hit me up with a new scenario! Or if you wanna plot out a thing catch me plurk @ pathogenic ]

[dhamphirs]

[He focuses on him for a few seconds, studying him before relaxing slightly. There's no injuries visible on him, though there are traces of blood dotting his sleeves here and there.]

No. And no, although I admit, I haven't been the most social of those of us who have arrived.

[He glances around again.]

What supplies are you lacking? I assume you work here and aren't just a particularly helpful patient.

[dhamphirs]

Certainly something different from this.

[Not necessarily better, though, if his even tone is any indication. He gives it one final glance before turning his attention to the woman before him.]

Are you new here as well?

[theladyofhighever]

Then I'm afraid you're in for disappointment.

[she remembers the Chantries back home, the brothers and sisters and mothers who were sure that the Maker heard every prayer. she remembers one sister in particular]

Relatively. I came in last month. I would wish you a warm welcome, but the situation being what it is? I can offer the welcome, at least.

[dhamphirs]

[But almost as if the wolf had read her thoughts, his head snaps up, staring over at Dany with fixed interest. There's blood on his muzzle, and he likely does himself no favors by licking it off with a languid loll of its tongue. The motion is lazy, but there's nothing but keen, intelligent interest in those eyes.

But he doesn't approach just yet. He knows better than anyone that size and shape are no indicators of powers-- and besides, this one smells interesting. Human, yes, but there's another scent on her that makes his nose itch.

He might have left it at that. But while he'd killed a few monsters, he hadn't destroyed all of them-- and while they're staying away now, monsters have short memories. He can already hear them chittering, circling about as the human tries to make herself unknown. And while he does not owe this human anything--

--well. He doesn't need a reason to protect a single human, does he? No. With a little huff he trots forward, coming towards her with a decidedly unwolfish sigh.]

CW: Descriptions of monster animal death

[often_impaled]

[If Dante is bothered by any of what's going on in Hadriel today, it's not visible in his expression or actions. If he's angry about being dumped into a frigid Colosseum full of monstrous scorpions, it doesn't show. No, to the contrary it seems that he's having a blast. He's darting between scorpions with intense speed, stabbing one through the head with a grotesque crunch. Then he's off, stepping on the tail of another to hold it still while he embeds the same sword in it and slices forward from the back through it's head. It falls cleanly in half. Then he's off to battle another, dodging a stinger that strikes next to him just a little too close for comfort by simply leaning back.]

Showtime! [As if the show hasn't already started, he calls out to the scorpions as if he actually wants their attention. And when he gets it, he's suddenly surrounded.] That's more like it. [Dante grabs the closest one by the tail, and swings it in a circle hard. It knocks the scorpions nearest back and flying, but unfortunately the tail is made for injecting poison, not for being used as a swinging tool. And it detaches, sending the poor monster flying into yet another poor scorpion knocking them both against the wall.

It's just not a good day to be an arthropod monster.] C'mon, who's next?

[marmoron]

[The indifference is noted, as is the fact that evidently nobody else seems to think it's dangerous enough to be walking around with weapons draw in the actual city itself. There's a moment -- one where Keith's obviously giving the stranger a quick up-down glance to try and determine just how much of a threat the guy is before nodding.

A gesture for a gesture then. If anything, Cosmo's ample back up. The sword glows white, then reverts back to its inactive form.]

Better?

[He's complying yes, but his tone's still a little dry.]