Intro Log: Death Comes

[hadrielmods]

Who: New arrivals and everyone else!
What: The intro log for July.
Where: The colosseum and all around the city.
When: July 10th-15th
Warnings: Deathclaws. That's all you really need to know.

As usual, the new arrivals in Hadriel will be waking up on the dirt ground of the colosseum, and as usual, they won't be waking up alone. This month brings coat hangers of all shapes and, uh, sizes strewn about the colloseum floor around all of the new arrivals.

Get up, get out, meet and greet, find some new exciting interior decorating options, but don't forget about the more prominent threat: the (newly) local deathclaws roaming about in the inner halls of the arena. These deathclaws are vicious bipedal creatures with long arms ending in curved talons, horns ripe for goring and, of course, teeth as long as fingers. These animals have been engineered to be as deadly as they can possibly be, so you might want to buddy up before taking one on.

Have you escaped from the deathclaws? Made a few friends? Not died horribly? 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 July 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

[valiantabsurdity]

[ Ah. He has turned a good ma — wolf away from his ho — ...lair. He should be ashamed of himself.

( He will be, once his new bout of enthusiasm pales, and he's not rushing to step after the wolf. Follow the leader, follow him close. ) ]

Truly? You have the time? And the inclination? I should well thank you —

[ Ahem. ]

I do well thank you. For your time. [ He's... said this before, hasn't he. ] And your teaching.

[ Much better. ]

[blowyoudown]

You look like you could use the help. [Or a babysitter.] Besides, it's not like we have anything better to do. We have to make our own entertainment.

[He leads the way out of the building, and smells the air carefully as he steps outside. No Deathclaws around right now, though that could probably change in an instant. He half-turns to look back at Lir.]

Welcome to Hadriel. It's a giant cave underground somewhere where the gods torment us to make themselves stronger.

[valiantabsurdity]

Who are we?

[ No. Less existentially-inclined as he trails after the wolf, barely stopping to scent the air as his benefactor does — Lir's nose wrinkles, twitches, then tips down, as he privately admits the inevitable: no smell he can catch there. Maybe some mould?

...no, nothing at all. ]

How many are we? Is this our village?

[ Rather gloomy, if so, should Lir be allowed to say. ]

[blowyoudown]

It's our home away from home. We're essentially prisoners here. The gods dragged us here and don't know how to get us out again. There's probably close to a hundred people here now. [He can't say he's spoken to many of them, but they're still there.] You're allowed to call it shit, none of us exactly wanna be here.

[valiantabsurdity]

[ Rock, labyrinthine 'street', ridges, no water, no weeds. It's a wasteland of a tomb, though Lir isn't entirely sure what else he might have expected.

Flowers, maybe. If he's to be buried alive, he wouldn't quite mind some chrysanthemums. ]

I wouldn't wish to offend our home. It's the only one who'll have us.

[ There's the smile again, gentle. ]

Perhaps you wouldn't understand. You are a wolf, and wolves are welcome anywhere and friends to any forest. But I am only a man, and we've turned to enemies of everything.

[blowyoudown]

[Holy shit Lir. Bigby has to try so hard not to piss himself laughing. And even with the worst of it smothered, there's a smile on his face that he tries to hide by rubbing his jaw with one hand.]

You're, ah, a bit off the mark there. I told you I'm called the big bad wolf, right? My thing was trying to eat whoever I came across. There are entire stories dedicated to it in the twentieth century.

[Hmm. He should probably simplify that.]

I'm not welcome anywhere, and I certainly don't have friends. People are terrified of me.