Intro Log: Eight Legs No Heart

[hadrielmods]

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!

Comments

[wormintheglass]

Good boy.

[He may protest it later if he likes; it will do him no good. Meanwhile, Bianca approves hugely of his unquestioning obedience.

She's nowhere near as good as Johanna with the throwing axe, but her native strength and capacity for working out complex aerodynamics in her head make her, at least, effective with it. It's enough to discourage the spider, at least, and while it makes up its mind whether it's worth trying again, Bianca pulls a slender staser pistol from its holster and shoots it dead.]

That's better. What a perfectly vile chair that is you brought with you, dear heart. I am Bianca; may I help you up?

[verinumeri]

[ That's even worse. He's sure he hasn't been called a boy since -- well -- since he was a boy, and even then, it wasn't all that common. (More often, it would have been Junge.) He'd been a terribly serious child and the much older boys at Harrow had more creative words.

More interesting than his immediate offense at the diminutive, is how she handles it. It being the spider, not the diminutive, obviously. He doesn't understand why she bothered with the axe when she had that pistol.

Hermann waits a moment, making sure there won't be more axes or a last death pounce from the spider, then sits up.

His face wrinkles. ]

Agreed. I hope I didn't bring it with me.

[ And the offer. Rather polite, except for the names. Forgivable given the rescue, surely. ]

Thank you, Miss Bianca. [ Securing his cane with his left hand, he reaches with his right. ]

Dr. Gottlieb, as it were.

[wormintheglass]

A doctor? Now that's excellent news.

[She helps him up; she is much stronger than she looks.]

The door you came through acts a little like an interdimensional trawler: people and creatures - and, apparently now furniture - from all manner of realities. The "gods" of this city claim to have no control over it.

[Bianca doesn't actually fingerquote "gods", but her derisive tone when she speaks of them is unmistakable.]

I'm afraid you're as trapped here as are we all. But it isn't the worst place I've lived in, and the amenities are improving constantly. We even have a bar now, thank goodness.

[verinumeri]

[ His mouth seems to twitch, thinning into what technically fits as a smile. It's strained. ]

Not -- not a medical doctor.

[ Not excellent news. He takes back his hand.

His smile gains proper emotion, if not much more pleasant in it -- shared condescension, a sharper edger for it. Hermann approves of criticizing those who inflicted this, going by the message. He nods. ]

Poor gods or a poor lie, however they spin it.

[ Always interdimensional. Or it's the same one. Hermann leaves both possibilities open. He doesn't look surprised to hear he's trapped, or even all that cross, and it isn't only because he read the message.

A bar. He raises his eyebrows, torn between scorn and actual interest. He's never been that much for it, but God, it's been a long time since he's had a beer. Then again, ]

How very cozy.

[ A touch dry, skeptical. ]