hadriel_logs | Intro Log: HOLY F*^K THAT'S A F*&KI%G DRAGON

Entry tags:

Intro Log: HOLY F^K THAT'S A F&KI%G DRAGON

Who: New arrivals and everyone else!
What: The intro log for October
Where: The colosseum and all around the city.
When: October 10th-13th
Warnings: New faces, new greeting posts, and dragons. What's more to want?

If your first thought upon waking up on the cold, hard ground of Hadriel's very own Colosseum is 'maybe I partied too hard last night', one, Delight would love you and two, you're wrong. Or- maybe you did, but that's not why you're here. Instead, you wake up with the same clothes you were wearing when you were last home, but surrounded by very different people. So, make some friends! Might as well voice your confusion and concern and show the technologically unsavvy of you how to operate these fancy new phones, right? Just be sure not to trip over these odd bags of chips on your way to greet your fellow man.

Don't spend too much time out in the open, though. There are monsters about, and not quite the usual ones. This month, Hadriel is bringing in four dragons, each with their own unique abilities and raidboss-esque stamina. They'll be terrorizing the city until someone puts them down- maybe that someone is you! Maybe you should, uh, actually hide. They're hungry and territorial and mean and they're definitely out for a good meal. Check out our OOC post for more information, as well as who will be eventually killing the beasts!

But hey, once you escape from the dragons, feel free to go explore the rest of the city! Find a house, find a new monster, or simply scavenge for supplies.

New, as of October's intro log is a Newcomer's guide that installs itself by default on every activated phone. Thanks, Mello!

Good luck, and enjoy your stay in Hadriel!

► This log covers October 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!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Everybody was kinda wanderin' into each other's houses for a few days. Powers goin' haywire too." He pops her a cheerful wink, as if that week didn't singlehandedly dash most of his hopes of a stable living situation in one fell swoop.

(But, heh, he shouldn't flatter Confusion so. Things were well on their way to hell before she came along, weren't they?

Yeah. Pretty much.)

"I voted for Tranquility but, y'know, no one ever listens to me," he adds with the air of long-suffering resignation. "I'm just sayin', dragons probably add to the whole Confusion thing pretty nicely."

No chips, then. Oh well, more norovirus for her!

"Powers going haywire, eh? Yikes! So with your blink step thing, I'd imagine you were just zipping all over this damn place, yes? You do seem tired. I know I would be!"

She tries to imagine it. If powers and abilities were out of control, then she'd probably be flickering between shapes even faster than usual. Yeah, that would get exhausting really quickly. At least it wouldn't be particularly dangerous, except for anyone who happened on her while she was, say, poisonous or made of sharp ends or something.

"Well that'll about do it, then!" There's a roar in the distance, and she looks up as the black dragon lances through the air toward the cavern ceiling. It attacks a few stalactites, as if trying to claw its way up through the solid rock.

"You know, I'm used to dragons being...philosopher types. Odd to see them like this." She looks at Sans again. "Can you blink yourself somewhere safe? Must not be on the fritz anymore if you can blink yourself onto a roof, hu hu! But I could walk you somewhere, 'f need be. My kind are great at providing distractions! And, well, I've got nowhere in particular to be right now."

"Just a little shortcut deal I worked out," he says. Which is, in essence, what they are. Like walkin', but cuttin' out the middle man. Just clippin' through space so he don't have to put a lotta effort into up and actually walking around. Nice little deal he'd figured out after a lot of calculating and theorizing and considering the exact science of it without ending up halfway in a wall or some such nonsense.

"Not used to seein' dragons at all, honestly." He waves off her concern with a shrug of his bony shoulders. "But, nah. I'm good. Just keepin' an eyesocket out for some friends of mine."

If she can go on believing that his power issue has...fixed itself, that's fine by him. It'll be a few days until it stops calibratin', he's pretty sure, but he can last until then. He's more resilient than he really gives himself credit for.

Unfortunately.

"Shortcuts, pfft!" She chuckles a bit. "Bit of an understatement, innit? I once had the blink step world champ in my cafe! This little cu sith fella, blinked himself two hundred miles, set the world record. Didn't even end up inside a tree or nothin'! Magic like that ain't easy."

It's the type of precision magic that usually only Sidhe can manage, or certain Insubstantials. It's easier to just be able to move at the speed of light and claim you blinked yourself somewhere. It might as well be the same thing, anyway.

She squints at him at that second thing.

"Keeping an eyesocket out? Did you miss the part where I said you'd totally passed out in the middle of the street? Just right in the middle! Thought you were dead for a second there, but you were snoring."

She gives herself a couple extra pairs of eyes and looks him over. She's known dozens of people who are the type to claim that they're fine and not sick at all when really they're on the verge of passing out. And sure, he looks tired, but beyond that it's just...hard to tell. Bone just isn't as expressive as flesh, or magic pretending to be flesh.

"Hmmmmmm. Well, maybe I should wait with you. Wouldn't want you falling asleep and falling off the roof or something."

There's another roar in the distance.

"Or! We could get off the roof, since I am fairly sure that being up this high makes us a bit of a target."

It sure as hell wasn't easy to figure out the first few times. That's one memory that sticks pretty clear in his skull.

"I was tired," he says, in mock offense. "Don't tell me you've never you've never been struck with the urge to just up and take a nap mid-step. It really takes a load off, y'know."

Tired don't even really begin to cover it. Also she is, uh...scrutinizin' him pretty thoroughly there. Like, sproutin' whole new pairs of eyes and everything. But, eh, she's got a good point. He shrugs, movin' forward to take a step right off the roof.

He ends up on the ground and on his feet without any mishap, somehow, though he certainly didn't fall and his shortcuts ain't in top shape to zap himself down there. But, eh, y'know. Rule of comedy and all that. Don't think too hard on it.

"Thinkin' of maybe holin' up somewhere?" he asks her, idly.

"Oh, sure! But I'm more the type to just keep going. I've been known to bake in my sleep! Whole loaves of bread, all in my sleep! One time, a cake. A multi-tiered cake. I possibly have a problem!"

She absolutely has a problem, but it's a problem that involves sugar, so oh well.

He goes to walk off the roof, and for a split second she thinks maybe he's just gonna fall and probably just--shatter on the pavement, like an expensive vase. Only then he's on the ground. She's not sure if that was a blink step or something else. Hell, she's not even sure if what he's doing could be described as a blink step, but ehhhh. She has never really cared much about the ins and outs of other people's magic.

For her part, she turns partway into a grasshopper, just enough to give herself jumping power. Then she leaps, and lands rather gracelessly on the street.

"That's the idea!" She sheds the grasshopper bits and turns into something approximating a borzoi. Canine, speedy, and pretty weird looking. "Fortunately, someone like me can camp out just about anywhere, though if I'm here for the long run this time, I'd much prefer a house. Ooh, an actual house! The suburban dream! Always did want to move out of my dinky little apartment. Do you live nearby? I could crash on your couch, mayhap? I can be a very quiet houseguest."

He snorts, a strange and nonsensical sound for a creature without much in the way of the organs necessary for such a function, but somethin' about her delivery is just damn near priceless. She's just so cheerful about it. It's like she's a bit of nonsense that got detached from the world and floated about on the wind a bit until it fluttered down to an unlikely stop in here of all places.

As far as nonsense goes, she's somethin' after his own heart. A bit like a Temmie in her casual reality-breaking camaraderie, but about ten times more, uh..."articulate" ain't really the word.

Ten times less Temmie, maybe.

It's all comin' back to him with a bit more speed now that he's rememberin' their first meeting properly. Their first, dreamlike meaning. Thanks for that, Door, you're a real stand-up fella, a real pal.

"I live with my bro," he says easily, as if his living situation ain't in a constant state of hellish, perpetual re-evaluation. "We all just more or less pick the housin' that suits us. We got spires, which are just about exactly what they sound like. And we got proper houses courtesy of Delight."

An earsplitting roar rattles the cave's foundations off somewhere in the distance, followed by the distinct sound of some large structure toppling.

"Assumin' they survive," he adds, offhand.

Camille is all about nonsense. And she has in fact just casually drifted around on the wind before, for various reasons. Listen, being a literal plastic bag can be very relaxing.

She sits down for a moment to scratch behind her ear, then shakes herself out in an appropriately dog-like manner. Then she's back up and trotting down the street.

"Pick our own houses! If only it were that easy in the real world. Don't have to fill anything out, take out a loan from Hadriel National, eh? How lovely! You know, I like how the word spire sounds, but given we've got this whole lizard pest problem, I'm thinking something more, hu hu, down to earth might be a bit better suited."

House implies more space too, which potentially means better kitchens.

"Your brother, right! Papyrus! The other one! Charming fellow. Where do you two live?"

She pauses, one paw raised at the roar and the distant collapse of a building. Yikes, this is certainly a situation, isn't it?

"...Hopefully not in that direction? Well, if I have to spend the night holed up in an actual hole, I don't really mind. You can sleep anywhere if you're the right size!"

Do you ever feel like a plastic bag?

Yeah, him neither.

"Sure. You take a loan out from the gods, only it's for life, and instead of money, it's an agreement to put up with their glorified turf war." He sounds pretty dang cheerful about it, all things considered. He sounds pretty dang cheerful about most things, though, up to and including his own imminent death. Perspective. Gotta love it.

"Do I feel that," he says with a rueful chuckle. "First few days here, I was mostly crashin' in shops and things."

In fact, he's pretty sure Tina's been doin' exactly that. Someone's really gotta get that kid a real house to live in, only he's a bit concerned she might end blowin' it up for kicks.

She makes a face, which on a borzoi mostly means she just kind of bares her teeth and snorts.

"Powers, almost think I'd rather put up with the banks! Even with the economy in the tank. 'S hard enough to get a loan when you're the wrong sort of Folk. In any case! I still plan on punching at least one of these gods. Or at the very least, doodling their faces on a paper and punching that!"

She'll probably live longer if she keeps it simple.

At the mention of shops and such she pauses and looks up and down the street, actually looking at the buildings proper for once. This one is a clothing shop--she doesn't understand the language on the sign, but there are coats displayed in the window. That one is some kind of convenience store, ot at least she assumes.

"Shops, eh? And no workers! Regular ghost town, this is. Well, at least if you sleep in a convenience store, most things you need are right there at your convenience! Hu hu!"

That might make opening a cafe a bit easier than she thought it would be. If people can just claim whatever house they want, what's to stop her from just claiming one of the unmanned cafes or restaurants?

Her thoughts are interrupted by the approach of heavy wingbeats. She trots back over toward Sans.

"Dragon incoming. Methinks we should duck."

Oh, well, y'know, the economy.

"Duck? Where?" he says, innocently. "I was thinkin' we should drag-on by."

But he draws himself sideways, knockin' open the door of the nearest building with a slippershod foot so it swings inward. Looks to be a nondescript warehouse of some sort, which suits his purposes just fine. He ducks inside, as requested, and beckons for his new shapeshifter friend to follow.

"As far as the gods go," says Sans with a resigned shrug of his shoulders, "good luck gettin' to 'em. I don't think anyone's ever seen any one of 'em in person. Too high and mighty for us mere mortals, I'd think."

Pretty largely the impression he'd got from 'em, in any case. Descending from their manifold ivory towers to make Hadriel's life hell for kicks and giggles, or possibly to inspire whatever thrills of emotions they're meant to represent.

The economy, bro.

"Pfft! This really is quite a drag, isn't it? Talk about tipping the scales out of our favor!"

She follows him on in, sniffing around at the floor and checking out whatever this store sells. Might as well start trying to find a good location for her new cafe now.

"Oh, of course. Maybe I really will be relegated to punching papers."

Makes sense, sadly. Kiba back home is kind of the same way, even if he's not technically a god. Not at all.

The wingbeats draw closer and there's a thunderous sound as one of the dragons passes overhead, followed by a roar. The building shakes and plaster dust trickles down from the ceiling.

"They really are quite feisty, aren't they? Hmmmmmmm, someone's got to kill them eventually, I wonder if they're edible..."

"Edible?" Uh...wow, okay. That's one way to roll with a crisis. Not like he don't have some pretty absurd thoughts ticklin' his noggin on most days, but the fact that are they edible is the first thing her brain jumps to is kinda - well, it is fascinating in a strange and unfortunate kinda way.

He glances in her direction, but don't dispense much other commentary. She's certainly free to find out - he ain't gonna stop her. Nor do much in the way of encouragement but, well, the cookie crumbles in the way it does.

"Place is pretty full of hero types," he says, nonchalant, dusting the powder of plaster and dust from the crown of his skull with a neat, cursory sorta motion. "I imagine someone'll take 'em all down in short order."

"Sure!" He sounds almost nonplussed about it, which is absolutely normal. Only an amorph considers the world based on whether or not things are edible or not, and 98% of the time, things are. You mention that sort of thing around anyone else and the variety of reactions you get is hilarious. What's truly priceless is casually mentioning that you eat things like poisons, industrial cleaners and car parts, and seeing the looks on people's faces.

"They're alive, so they're probably made of meat. Which might mean edible! Edible for me, certainly, though I wonder if other people could eat them too? I'm thinking dragon meat pies! If I could get my hands on some dragonfruit too, ooh, double dragon pies! I've never had dragon before. One would never even consider it back home."

For one thing, it's generally frowned upon to eat sentient creatures when they haven't even done anything bad to you yet. And for another, a dragon would absolutely destroy her utterly if she ever tried.

But talk of food has reminded her that she's hungry. She produces the bag of chips from...somewhere and sticks her whole head in the bag to munch a few more.

"I imagine hero types are quite useful in a place like this." She withdraws from the bag and sneezes to get chip crumbs out of her dog nose. "Bluebird, do you want any chips? Can you eat chips? Or in general? I'm thinking, if I really am here for the long run, I'd better take it upon myself to feed all these pour souls. Four dragons, that'll make a lot of dragon pies! At least one for everyone here. Could be my opening sale!"

Welp, it's, uh...really her prerogative, he supposes. Much as he can appreciate Arya's declaration of nonviolence when it comes to dragons, he's got about as much hope for that succeeding as he did for the human, uh...

Well, he don't have much hope for that succeeding. At all, really. Too many people with swords and things and the means to make those dragons' lives hell, and he ain't really sure what it would count for to let 'em just kinda run free. Or fly free. Whichever. They seem pretty damned destructive.

"Are they magic chips?" he says, debating whether he's got the requisite strength to vault himself onto the countertop and sprawl there for a quick nap, until and unless they get rudely awakened with a tearing off of the roof or some such nonsense. "Food's gotta be magic for me to eat it. Otherwise it goes right on through."

Camille would generally be for leaving the dragons alone if they weren't trying to kill everyone. Once something becomes a direct threat to your life, it becomes a potential meal. That's just how it is.

"Go right th...ohohohoho! Oh, that must be a fun surprise! Good way to prank people, probably. Hmm...hm hm hm!"

Magic food. That is something she can't do. There's ways to imbue spells and good luck charms into food, things like that. But that's kitchen magic, specific to mages and certain Folk. Camille just bakes stuff. Amorphs have no real way of externalizing their magic.

"This is a dilemma." She sits back on her haunches. "Hmmmm, must find a way to bake magic into my food, yes..."

It is, actually. The facial expressions sometimes are priceless. Ordinarily he'd say no big deal, right, no sweat. But she seems pretty concerned about this, as far as shapeshifters go, so he cracks open an eyesocket to survey her for a minute before responding in kind.

"Mostly I been makin' my own stuff. Addin' a little magic, stirring, and poof." He opens a hand and wiggles his phalanges with a wry, completely unenthusiastic approximation of a jazz hand. "Well, maybe not poof but at least not a splat, y'know?"

At this point he decides he won't bother to lever himself up onto the counter, and instead elects to slide on down with his hands shoved in his pockets, stubby legs splayed out ungracefully in front of him, spine braced against the counter for support. Good enough.

Her borzoi fur suddenly turns orange, the exact color of a traffic cone. She's staring at the floor, frowning vaguely and lost in thought. The obvious solution is to just get her hands on some actual, physical magic and just literally bake it into her food, but where is she going to get physical magic? What would she even use?

"That seems like too much effort!" She shakes her head. "That would be like if I had to form a digestive system every time I wanted to eat something! I imagine your brother is the same way, yes? No, no, this won't do. How would I live it down if I had two whole friends who I couldn't even feed properly? Let alone customers!"

She sighs and watches him slide down the counter. That doesn't look comfortable--not with bones, at least. Though they do say a hard surface is good for one's spine, whatever the hell that means.

"I will need to think about this! I will solve this dilemma, and then--! Skeleton-themed cupcakes to celebrate, is what I'm thinking. Are you going to just sleep here? Would you like a blanket at least?"

Sans manages a faintly amused chuckle. She is really worked up about this. He could insist that it's fine, really, except she seems downright dismayed over the idea of not, hypothetically, being able to feed two skeletons.

"I'm good," he says easily, settling a little more firmly onto the ground. "I can sleep just about anywhere if I put my mind to it. And, uh, I wouldn't worry about it. Might be dragons got enough magic in their meat to stick for a guy like me."

That Deathclaw soup had proved as much, at least as far as Sans was concerned. And probably for the best too. That could've gone very wrong very quickly, considering the way that chef had sounded pretty content to merrily curse Sans out at every opportunity.

It's a slight on her honor as a baker! What's the point of making food if you can't actually feed people? Also, it's a challenge, and she does love a good challenge.

"Might be! Might be, we shall have to see once they're all dead and such. In any case, if I aim to sell pastries and baked goods here, I'll have to be thinking about who can eat what and how, and also why! All the usual questions. If I can figure out how to feed a water elemental, I can figure out how to feed a skeleton! It's a matter of pride, you see."

And she's not at all ashamed to admit it.

He says he can sleep anywhere, but still. She trots off further into the store and rummages around a bit, until she finds something that will at least approximate a blanket. It's actually just an empty sack that looks like it might have once held potatoes, or an equivalent.

She deposits it on him unceremoniously and then stands back, shifting her dog form to be more bipedal.

"Well, if you're going to snooze, I might have a wander, see if I can make it to those houses. Alternately, I could stay and stand guard! You do seem like you need the sleep. Would hate to have it interrupted!"

"A water elemental, huh?" He can't help but wonder, idly, if said elemental resembled Grillby, like a cross-dimensional cousin or...nah, probably not. But it's amusing to think about.

He settles down against the counter, all ready to drop off for good until he gets a...something dropped over his lap. A blanket of some sort. Or, uh, the remains of a burlap sack. Well, whatever. Close enough. He makes a few minute adjustments and just decides, fuck it, good enough.

"Suit yourself," says Sans amiably. "My brother'll probably be along at some point anyway, though. Might wanna lie low until those things ain't chewin' on the windows so much."

"Lovely chap." She bobs her head in a nod. "You'd think air elementals would be more difficult to feed, but you'd be wrong! An air elemental can just sort of settle over whatever they're eating, or make a tornado. Water elementals, it's harder! Was very tricky, but so worth it! Nothing's better than a satisfied customer, nothing at all."

Its really is a matter of pride. She just honestly doesn't see the point in baking or making food at all if you can't feed anyone who walks through your front door. If they literally, physically can't eat, well, there's no denying nature. But the amount of Folk she has met who have resigned themselves to never being able to eat anything is just depressing.

Everyone deserves to have a good meal.

"I might do, then, might do. At the very least, I'll stick around until you fall asleep! Don't you worry, Bluebird, no dragons will be munching on skeletons while I'm here!"

"Real stand-up of ya," he says. Stand up, 'cause he's...yeah, she probably gets it, heh.

He wouldn't think dragons would be amenable to tryin' to munch on a thing made of little more than bones, but that had been his general thinkin' with the whole zombie debacle, and that hadn't played out real nice in his favor, had it? Nah, not especially. He considers puttin' up some kinda token resistance, but he remembers her well enough. Not that trust comes real easy to him, but it ain't a question of trust so much as it is one of simple factual acknowledgment.

So he settles for not puttin' up an argument and lets his skull clunk dully against the counter back.

He's always slept easy. Easy as winking.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Intro Log: HOLY F^K THAT'S A F&KI%G DRAGON

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject