hadriel_logs | Intro Log: Eight Legs No Heart

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Intro Log: Eight Legs No Heart

Who: New arrivals and everyone else!
What: The intro log for June.
Where: The colosseum and all around the city.
When: June 10th-15th
Warnings: Spiders. Soooo many spiders. New people. Probably swearing.

For once, the new arrivals to Hadriel will not be waking up on the cold hard ground of the colosseum. Oh, sure, you'll still awaken in the arena - but this time the Door has been kind enough to ensure that you wake up comfortably arranged in a very nice chair. Or maybe not so comfortably. Some of those look pretty awkward - hopefully you didn't wake up with a crick in your neck! And hey, feel free to try to drag some of these super cool chairs to your new homes. They're probably not cursed or anything.

As you make your way out of the arena, be careful getting to close to the walls - well, except that's the only way out, so good luck! Chilling up on there waiting to get the drop on you are Skulltulas. These funky-looking spiders have squishy underbellies, but their upper exoskeletons are hard and very difficult to break through. They really just want to nibble you a few times, and maybe suck out all of your blood. No big deal, right? Have fun!

Have you conquered your arachnophobia and managed to escape? Great! 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 June 10th-15th.
► Feel free to make your own logs as well!
► All characters 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

It does.

[Until the gods decide that it's more convenient not to. Maketh rocks back on her heels.] There could be. We haven't been able to find a way out. A containment measure.

[She pauses.]

Maketh Tua, at your service.

Out of consideration for our circadian rhythms, I am sure.

[ Dryly said, because of course, he doesn't believe a bit of that.

Containment and no way out. Haven or Hadriel, it's not a surprise. Same prison or an exchange. He's tired. He nods, understanding, and leaves it at that. So tired.

The introduction shakes some of it off him, enough that he straightens and offers his hand. ]

Dr. Gottlieb, at yours. Would that be Miss Tua?

[Apparently they shake hands on his world. Maketh hesitates a moment, but takes his hand gingerly. Her hands are callused and marked by fresh scars.] Miss...? Oh. It hardly matters.

[She had a rank once, but she's given up the right to be addressed by it.]

And you're a doctor? That's good. We need more help.

[ Blast. If he'd known she didn't shake hands, he would have been much happier skipping the process. As it is, he makes absolutely no note of the condition of her hands. His might once have been dusted with chalk, but he hasn't had access for a while, or the incentive to waste the little he'd picked up. Yet, they are rougher than they might have been.

Needless to say, thinner, too.

It does matter to him, titles. Miss will have to do.

His smile pinches some. ]

Not that sort, I'm afraid.

[ As had been repeatedly ground into him at Haven, his expertise was worth far less than anything medical, and he had none of that. Really, he should have stopped bothering with the title, but it mattered for all that it was often useless. Sometimes, it felt as though it was all he had. ]

[Maketh blinks.] A scientist, then?

[That could be useful as well. They have Doctor Banner and Carlisle for dealing with injuries. This man - strange and thin - could prove useful in other ways. Most everyone had.]

Ah, yes.

[ At least it isn't in -- well, watch the condescending thought about psychologists, Hermann, they might be very useful in this sort of place -- something like Performance Studies. ]

Applied Sciences and Engineering. Mathematics, Physics... that wide area.

[ So often dependent on the available technology, in terms of seeking practical, applied results. ]

That could be helpful. We've been trying to determine how this place functions and how best to survive in it, but... [Well. He can probably guess.] Thus far, our range of expertise is limited. Military, for the most part. A few with...powers, you might say. Your opinion would be valued.

[ There's an immediate emotion and the struggle against it. Something like hope. It wasn't as though he'd ever given up in Haven (here?), only that, it always went so badly. Start out with too much pride and when it's beaten to a messy pulp, it's hard to -- well, it's hard.

There are more useful emotions. Curiosity, for one. ]

That remains to be seen. What have your efforts looked like to date?

[Maketh rocks back on her heels.] We've set up a city guard. Organized a clinic and some defensive training for the civilians. And we've mapped the area as best we can. The terrain tends to change. We keep up with it as best we can. How much do you know about the situation?

[ Defensive training's already a step up from Haven. Even a guard. Lord, but they'd been a disorganized lot. Hermann cannot help the swell in his chest, though he knows to be wary of it. It could be Haven and it could be intended complacency.

But, he can't help but find some facsimile of order to be soothing. Especially that of the guard. Attribute it to twelve years with the Pan Pacific Defense Corps. He likes a little military management. ]

Only as much as the message provided. Perhaps a little more, but it may not be applicable.

That's good. [It's a start, at least. Maketh nods.] The things in charge here call themselves gods. They feed off the emotions they're named for, and engineer situations to their liking when they get hungry enough. They're in the process of resurrecting their kin. Which is where you come in. Every month, more people are dragged in. Fuel for whatever they intend to do.

[ Things. He does approve of the distinction. Perhaps they have enough power to make it a meaningless linguistic technicality, but it's too distasteful to call them gods. Hermann frowns. ]

Given the circumstances, it's seems appropriate to be wary of whatever will happen when they finish raising them.

[ They'd died before, hadn't they, and possibly took their people with them. This alien architecture, some in better repair than others, spoke to that. And in that, wasn't too dissimilar from Haven. ]

What sort of situations, if I may? I expect there's been no luck with the Door.

I think that would be wisest, yes.

[Perhaps they have no choice in the matter, but Maketh intends to do all she can to thwart their efforts. She shakes her head.]

We believe that it is a physical device of some sort, but we haven't been able to find it. Yet.

[When they do, Maketh intends to take it.]

It depends which one is hungry. Fear buried people alive. Bragged about it. Rage poisoned the food and made us turn on each other. Delight got everyone drunk. Things like that. Some are more painful than others.

What is your basis for the belief? Other than the logic and probability of it. Have you learned anything about it, though not the location?

[ He wonders, idly, if there's a meaningful difference between a Door in an unknown location, and the rumored interior of a locked convenience store that fair guaranteed death with any attempt, large or small, to break inside.

Fear, Rage, Delight, Hope. With behaviors and manipulations that sound appropriately aligned. A cautionary tale, a myth, absurd reality. Again: different, truly, from a corporation with almost complete control? ]

I suppose gods will brag. So the food may not be trustworthy? Was there any indication of a chemical additive?

[ To thus test for. He casts a wary, somber look at the shelves. Little choice, he expects. That or starve. ]

The fact that it requires a large amount of power to operate and the gods claim not to know how it works. If it were simply an extension of their own power, even one that required their collaboration, then it would likely be much more efficient.

[Part of that is likely a lie told to keep them on their toes. There's no way to determine the extent of it just yet, though. Maketh exhales slowly.]

No. I'm not even sure where they found it.

[She's quiet for a moment.]

They added human flesh. It made people susceptible to...possession. By certain monsters.

[ Perhaps it comes down to words, the inherent failings of words and their limitations as symbolic representations. One can use any word regardless of how appropriate. There are different meanings and different truths, meaning no truth at all, not that way.

So while the knee jerk response may be to question the power of gods who are equally flummoxed by a purportedly more powerful device, which -- ] ...if they are truly clueless, then it would logically predate them and suggests another creator... [ -- musing, as much to himself. Or they claim to be flummoxed. Really, the problem's as much in the word god, and the attached assumptions.

To that end, he's not so sure it would be more efficient if as hypothesized. But, he doesn't have anything like enough information, so he only nods.

He... doesn't react to the explanation about the food. He's aware he should, should blanch with horror and disgust, and hates what that suggests, the deadening effect of Haven, but that had been there (here?) as well. The monsters in the tunnels that had been people. The poor fools who'd been eating them before knowing, or fresh arrived, unknowing.

Instead. ]

Well, possession's new, I suppose.

Possible. Or a hierarchy that they've been concealing.

[Hope might be the most powerful currently, but Fear has his own game and apparently Sorrow is the oldest of the bunch. There's too much that Maketh doesn't understand, that she's afraid she doesn't have the capacity to grasp in the first place. She hates that. Feeling helpless. Feeling stupid.

She nods just once.] They do things like that. Almost on a schedule. I suppose it's when they get hungry. There's nowhere to run at this point.

[ A hierarchy -- then the dead gods, perhaps. Were there other options than dead and the currently known? He's barely been here an hour. Not that a year in Haven had made tremendous difference to the known and unknown -- what it had done was well acquaint him with feelings of helplessness and stupidity.

Haven, too, had been almost on a schedule. It doesn't help the columns in his head, the running calculations on probabilities. That might matter. Sussing out a god feud versus the aspirations of a corrupted corporation. Similar tortures, different stories. ]

Because of the tunnels, I suppose. How very convenient. I noticed the phone display rather lacking -- no discernible time or date?

No. The ceiling does an approximation of the sun cycle, but that's it. [Likely on purpose as well. Keep them confused. Maketh rubs her face.] It's a containment measure. We're no good if we run away.

That does call into question the claim that we were an unintended consequence -- that they won't let us go.

[ Though, go to where? The Door, of course, but the experiments needed to be done before sending someone through... Hermann tilts his head, considering. ]

Well, thank you. I expect you didn't come in here to further explain things to a newcomer. Am I keeping you?

[So he noticed that as well. Maketh nods, face going hard.] Exactly. Though I would not say as much to them.

[Her antagonism has not gone unnoticed. Maketh shakes her head.]

No, no. I only meant to pick up a few things.

Are they vain gods, then? They care about that sort of thing?

[ There's a thin thread of amusement in that. He has noted her expression, but it's an absurd, bitter thought. Really, no different than Yao, except even the megalomaniac, sadist corporation hadn't particularly cared what the lab rats thought of them.

How funny that so-called gods would be easier to offend. ]

By all means, continue.

Hope does. Appearances are important to him. Less so for the others.

[Fear, at least, has made no pretenses about his intentions. Maketh smiles just a little, moving towards the shelves.] Have you found a place to settle? They're comfortable, as these things go.

[ It may not be quite Hermann's place to judge that -- when put like that. He won't recognize his own vanity, but there are appearances he cares about and those he does not. He likes it when things run properly and look the part.

There is, however, a legitimate criticism, because things cannot simply look right, they must actually be right. ]

Then, [ Dry again, ] he might take care that things are beyond reproach.

[ Hermann watches her move, reminded of his own intentions. Trouble is, there's too much variety. He isn't used to having a choice. It close to overwhelms. Speaking of -- ]

Not yet. I looked here, first. In the last -- [ He shakes his head, considering. There's no need to blather on about going without both and knowing which to put first. But, something related. ]

Actually, that is -- where I was [ Here or not ] -- we'd gotten a book going. People recorded any information they'd learned, whether from those in control or gleaned from the wreckage, and what sort of things had happened.

Has this lot got anything like?

Any suggestion otherwise annoys him dearly. [Thus far he's done nothing beyond getting annoyed, bu Maketh is wary of the day that changes. It will. It always does. One day she might be the one who pushes too hard and then she'll have to deal with the consequences.

Maketh rocks back on her heels, surprised.] We do. I've been collecting reports since I first arrived here, and the rest of the Guard have been adding their own information to it. One of our healers, Carlisle, was in a place like this before, and has his own notes on it.

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