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

[Diego stops talking to Silver Bullet, but it's another half-second before he looks down at Polnareff. And he is looking down, which is no doubt familiar even if it's never been blue eyes before. He doesn't feel particularly grateful for being given the hint about the cover between buildings. At least not grateful enough to not find that question somewhat offensive, and certainly not enough to mask his offense.]

[It's been a very long time since Diego's been anywhere where someone didn't know his name.]

Diego Brando. Some know me better as Dio, in case you're struggling to read.

No, I read that just fine.

[Diego. That's not his Dio either (Brando, that's new too, Dio had never had a last name; just one word, like he was fucking Cher). So . . . so, okay, this is Dio, but it also isn't. Like a cousin or something, except Dio had never had anything so normal as cousins.]

What're you, some kinda jockey?

[He says it not only because he wants to know, but because it might help him sort this out. Because he can't just go and attack a guy who isn't Dio, but at the same time, he can't just let the guy go.]

[What're you, some kinda jockey?]

[Diego raises an eyebrow. He's already somewhat offended at not receiving immediate recognition, but that has to be a joke. It better be a joke. Silver Bullet shifts beneath Diego as Diego leans back some, sneering down at Polnareff.]

Let's see, I'm known as the prince of the British racing world, soon I'm going to be the champion of the Steel Ball Run Race, and I'm sitting on a horse in riding gear. Oh, I just don't know. Am I a jockey?

[. . . and? Seriously, none of those titles register to him. He knows fuck-all about horse racing, to be fair, and prince of the British racing world speaks for itself, but it also doesn't. Like, come back when you're the prince of the baseball world, maybe then he'll have some astonishment for you.]

I guess so.

[More importantly: that sneer is most definitely recognizable, and he narrows his eyes. Chariot doesn't spring out, not yet, because regardless of who this is, he'll be able to see the Stand. No sense in making this immediately hostile. The Stand boils under his skin, though, on edge and ready to fight at a second's notice.]

So that's your whole thing, then? Winning a race and being a good jockey, that's your life? No weird mythic shit, nothing occult, nothing like that?

[Something dark crosses through Diego's eyes at the condescension about racing and riding horses. He's not defensive about his ability with horses in the traditional sense because he knows he's the unequivocal champion, and no one can come even close to challenging him when it comes to natural talent. It's a different sort of defensiveness because his talent with horses has been what's carried him through to the top and will eventually place him in the correct position to exact his revenge on the world that tossed him and his mother side like trash. There is little else in this world that's more important to Diego. To have this man — whoever the fuck he thinks he is — condescend to him like that...]

[Diego's anger is powerful, but it's cold and contained. He's not on the cusp of losing his temper albeit his patience is dwindling fast.]

No.

[Well, all right. All right. He can see the growing irritation in Not-Dio's eyes, but that's the least of his concerns. Of course, there's always the possibility the guy is lying, but even looking in close, Polnareff can't see any hint of vampirism. No fangs, no red eyes, and of course, the fact that it's daytime helps.

Right. Okay. So this guy is irritating, and worth keeping an eye on, but not someone who immediately needs to be taken care of.]

All right.

[Right. Well.]

Your horse got a name?

[It's good that Polnareff accepts the answer. Not that there's anything he can really do at this point to earn points in Diego's book, but it certainly prevents the loss of any further. Sure, he is lying, but that doesn't mean he's going to take well to being called a liar. Besides, he's not about to start chatting about Scary Monsters to this bozo simply because he asked.]

Silver Bullet.

[Diego looks up at the sky at the sound of a distant roar, and makes the decision to dismount. It's safe enough in this spot to let Silver Bullet rest even if it's not quite safe enough yet to leave the cover between the two buildings. It's better to let Silver Bullet rest, anyway. That was the hardest he's been ridden since he'd been pushed to the point of exhaustion. Diego doesn't hold onto the reins, but continues to stroke Silver Bullet along the neck.]

What does he eat?

[That's actually a friendly enough inquiry. Not taking his eyes off Diego, Polnareff digs around in his bag, trying to find some of his snacks. Chips? Nah. Soda? Definitely not. Oh, wait--]

How does he feel about peanuts? I think I've got an apple somewhere, but it might be pretty bruised.

[First, the flat reply:]

Peanuts would kill him.

[Not that he'd ever leave Silver Bullet alone with this guy (or anyone for that matter), he also doesn't trust him not to try and sneak the horse some snacks regardless. Better to firmly and without question establish that legumes are off the menu now rather than later.]

[As for the apple?]

The apple's fine if he wants to eat it, but don't let him try to eat it all at once. He could choke.

[Diego doesn't mind Silver Bullet getting a treat. He just ran hard and deserves it. Or more accurately, he deserves better than a bruised apple, but that's what happens to be on-hand.]

All right.

[He gets to feed a horse, that's pretty cool. Polnareff reaches his arm deeper. It takes a bit of rummaging, but he eventually does find an apple, bruised and a little old, but perfectly acceptable. With a slight smile he offers it to Silver Bullet.

This is the most fun he's ever had with anyone connected to Dio, he thinks. And honestly, though he's still wary, maybe this guy isn't so bad after all. Polnareff glances between the horse and his rider.]

Why the name Silver Bullet?

[Silver Bullet sniffs at the offered apple for a moment before he tries to take it from Polnareff. Of course, assuming Polnareff is not a weenie, he'll only be successful in taking a big bite out of it rather than stealing the whole apple.]

His dam is Silver Screen and his sire is Last Bullet. It's common practice to combine parts of the sire's and dam's names for the foal. It makes it easier for spectators to know which lineages they come from when they're laying down their bets.

[Horses are unpredictable, but Silver Bullet seems pretty okay with him. Polnareff tugs on the apple, as requested, making sure the horse doesn't eat the entire thing in one go.]

Huh! I didn't know that.

[Man, he thinks. This guy isn't exactly warm and friendly, but he's certainly no Dio. Dio wouldn't be standing here, talking shop about horses. Oh, he could, and he would have been charming and persuasive and terrifying in doing so, but it would have had a purpose behind it. There would have been an element of manipulation in it.

Diego seems to really just like horses. Polnareff can appreciate that.]

It's a good name. [He means it, too.] So he's a purebred, then? Did you breed him yourself, or did you buy him?

[Enjoy the dulcet tones of Silver Bullet's munch & crunch, Polnareff.]

He's an Arabian Thoroughbred. That makes him better than any damn purebred.

[Just as he was before about not feeding Silver Bullet peanuts, he's terse in his correction to Polnareff's inaccurate assumptions. To say the very least, he's protective and defensive when it comes to this horse.]

I've ridden him since his maiden, [he says, about to continue until it occurs to him that this idiot probably doesn't know what "maiden" means.] A maiden race is for horses that haven't won. In his case, it was his first, but not every horse wins their first race.

Anyway, I purchased him from his initial owner a few races after that.

[Silver Bullet finishes off the rest of Polnareff's apple, and gets a grin for his trouble.]

So I guess that makes him the best, huh? How long have you had him?

[He's 100% ready to spend the next hour talking about this horse.]

Ahh--

[That's a soft coo for Silver Bullet, and Polnareff strokes his nose, his fingers gentle enough.]

[And surprisingly, or perhaps unsurprisingly, Diego could spend the next hour talking about Silver Bullet, too. So this works out nicely. At the very least, he's mildly less annoyed than he was answering questions about himself. He's watching Polnareff like a hawk though as he pets Silver Bullet.]

Almost two years. I'll probably retire him at the end of this year or early next year. Outside of the breeding season, he'll have a quiet life.

Meaning what, a pasture and a bunch of oats?

[Barring any protest from either Diego or Silver Bullet, Polnareff keeps petting the horse. It's not a dog, it's hardly so companionable, but this is kind of nice.]

Is that average for racing horses, only a few years?

[Silver Bullet is appreciative of it. Or at least appears to not mind it seeing how he doesn't shift away and is chillin' like a villain, etc.]

Most don't race beyond five. He's already four and competing in a race like the Steel Ball Run Race. No one will particularly care what he does he wins that race, but he can still run in a few more races before retiring.

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