INTRO LOG: A TAXING JOURNEY

[hadrielmods]

Who: New arrivals and everyone else!
What: The intro log for December. Watch your step!
Where: The colosseum and all around the city.
When: December 10th-17th
Warnings: Taxxon-related violence, teeth shoes, general unpleasantness, mass confusion.

You wake up in the dust of the colosseum with no shoes on, regardless of the state of your feet when you arrived. There's dust covering your clothing and in your hair, but other than that, there's no signs of injury or bruising. You're also not alone- nearby, there are others, either still passed out or just waking up like you are. Feel free to take solace in that fact. Or don't- some of you aren't human, and are clearly not great people either. No offense.

To your left, there is a door in the wall of the arena, supposedly leading to the halls which will then show you to your freedom. To your right, and scattered haphazardly on the ground, are a myriad of teeth shoes. These shoes might be better than going barefoot right now, but good luck finding a matching set, let alone one that fits you.

When you do eventually try to escape, be careful. The halls are crawling with Taxxons. Large and grotesque, these caterpillar-like creatures have circular mouths and multiple rows of sharp teeth. Their sense of smell is impeccable, and they will stop at nothing to feed when they scent blood. So, you know, try to avoid stepping on anything sharp on your way out.

All done with the horrible monsters and awkward greetings? Try your hand at exploring the rest of the city! Find a house, find a new monster, or simply scavenge for supplies until your little heart is content. Good luck, and enjoy your stay in Hadriel!

► This log covers December 10th-17th.
► Feel free to make your own logs, as well!
► Characters may find their own shoes scattered around with the teeth shoes if you like.
► All characters now arrive with phones that have network communication.
► Please put your character's name and open/closed in the subject line of your starters!

Comments

[morphinum]

[ She gives the Capitol scum a little curtsy, out of mockery, and bares her teeth. ]

Actually, I do. See, it's real simple. I got to your shoes first. So, I'm taking them. You think there are rules here?

[ Hah! She scoffs. Her voice is rough, too, but it's the roughness of someone who's nowhere near close to perfect health. ]

This ain't like back home. You want something? Fight for it.

[ Come at her. She dares you. Johanna is a professional killer, murder girl extraordinaire, and god, she's missed this. ]

[respired]

[It's saronite armor that she's put on; armor forged from the hardened blood of an old god. The Scourge had put its living prisoners to work mining the stuff, and every one of them had gone mad. Koltira's armor whispers; it breathes. It corrupts.

He has little time for this.]

Enough of you.

[Icy power gathers in his hand. He releases it, throwing his open palm towards her. Ice-rimed chains burst from the dusty floor of the arena, seeking her ankles; her wrists; her legs. Seeking to bind her in place.]

[morphinum]

[ Johanna can see the man gearing up for some kind of attack, and likewise prepares herself. She draws an axe. It's a battle axe, crafted specifically for murder, and Johanna's is literally a professional axe murder. She's itching for a fight, truthfully.

She rolls out of the way of the chains, then brings her axe down on them in an attempt to break them. If the chains shatter, she'll turn onto the man, swinging that axe faster than most people couldn't imagine.

And if the chains don't break?

Then Johanna's in for something much, much more dangerous. But she isn't going to give up the fight. She can stop fighting when she's dead. ]

[respired]

[The chains tremble, but they hold fast, reinforced as they are with their unnatural rime. Koltira stands over Johanna, sneering at her axe.]

Strike me if you must. It will do you no good.

[Can't murder what's already dead.]

Take off the boot.

[morphinum]

I don't. Take. Orders.

[ She snarls. Johanna's angry, really angry, even though she brought this on herself. Johanna hates being controlled. She hates being told what to do, and if she's stuck in another goddamn arena, well, she isn't going to let herself get fucking manipulated any longer.

She throws the axe, with great force, right at his chest. ]

[respired]

[The axe strikes him dead-on, cracking his armor, biting through his tunic and into the flesh beneath. Black blood spurts from the wound, pouring in rivulets down the cracked breastplate and hissing as it splashes onto the colosseum floor.

He stares down at her, nonplussed.]

No. You take what is not yours.

[He rips the axe out of his chest, causing further blood spray, but he doesn't even buckle. It hurts, yes. But he's had worse.

Frost energy envelops both his hands, giving the axe and his runeblade a crackling glow. Ice thickens on the chains, spreading outward onto Johanna's legs; arms; neck.]

I grow weary of this.

[morphinum]

[ Johanna's snarl turns to an expression of pure terror as the ice chains wrap around her. She's paralyzed where she stands, unable to move, unable to even think about moving. The Capitol doused her in water and followed with electric shocks while she was their prisoner. Johanna's mind is a thousand miles away, back in her torture chamber. The cold ice feels too much like the water on her skin. Her flesh prickles, it's going to sting soon, they're coming, it's coming --

Johanna screams, a cry of pure agony. She looks very, very different from the cocky, antagonizing woman she was a moment ago. Now, the cracks begin to show. ]

Stop!

[respired]

[He won't deny it. It feels good, to see that look on her face. Her sudden terror is palpable, and it's a balm to the curse that spikes Koltira's blood, that tears at him from moment to moment. He exhales, hard, his eyes widening.

The chains snap. The ice shatters, disappearing into thin air.

Guilt passes over his features, and he kneels down. The wound in his chest, still bleeding, throbs.]

This did not have to happen.

[morphinum]

[ Johanna remains rooted to the spot after the chains disappear, like she's still tied up. She's shaking, and for a long while, her eyes are glazed over. She's lost in her own mind, and coming back to reality is a slow and painful process. The last time this happened, she had to be sedated, but this time, she's on her own. Johanna grips her left arm with her right hand, squeezing until her fingernails draw blood. The sensation helps her focus on the present, somewhat. ]

No.

[ She says, at last, voice hoarse. ]

It's not -- you didn't know.

[ She laughs, bitter and perhaps slightly crazy. This wasn't the man's fault. This was the doing of the Capitol, and Johanna will never forget it. ]

[respired]

[She's unhappy; still frightened. Koltira wishes he didn't enjoy it so much. He looks away from her.]

I am sorry. But my armor--it's forged from the blood of old gods. It's not meant for the living.

[morphinum]

It's fine.

[ She barks, harsher this time. That's a good sign, though -- she's getting closer to her usual angry self. ]

I don't need any fucking pity.

[ Her eyes focus on him at last, perplexed. ] From the blood of -- what? You look pretty alive to me, or I'm crazier than I thought.

[respired]

It is not pity. It's a statement.

[He gestures to the bloody wound in his chest.]

There is no beating heart beneath this chestplate.

[morphinum]

[ Johanna looks at the wound properly for the first time. The blood is weird -- thick, black, and frankly, disgusting. Dead people don't usually walk around, but then again, she's never met someone with grey skin who wasn't from the Capitol. Johanna's not sure who the hell this guy is. Maybe some kind of mutation. ]

Well, shit. Congratulations for still being up and walking around, I guess. [ There's a bite of sarcasm in there. ]

They tell me I don't have a heart either, but that's a metaphor.

[respired]

I have a heart. It simply does not beat.

[He frowns at her irreverence.]

Your heart's noise is unceasing.

[morphinum]

[ She checks her pulse, more as a twisted kind of joke than anything else. ]

You're absolutely right. You think they'll let me out of the goddamn hospital? Their sedation's bullshit anyway, I've already built up quite the tolerance to most of their sissy painkillers.

[ She says, with a strange sort of pride. ]

[respired]

[He glances from her to their surroundings, then back again.]

I can't say there's even an infirmary here. Or even a 'they' to control your comings and goings.

that icon is so good

[morphinum]

[ She'll believe you about the infirmary part, but not the 'they.' Call her paranoid, if you must. You'd probably be right. ]

I wouldn't count on it. Nobody's ever safe. Somebody's always watching.

ikr

[respired]

[He shrugs; that's true enough, in his case.]

I spent many years under such a yoke. But it's not the pressing matter right now.

[He sits down with a heavy thump in the dirt, then holds out his hand.]

My boot.

[morphinum]

[ Johanna knows when she's beaten. She gives Koltira a long, hard glare, and then chucks the boot back at him, with all the strength she's got. It's a throw typically reserved for an axe.

She hopes it breaks his nose. ]

There. Happy?

[respired]

[He's not nearly so willing to take a boot to the face as he was to take an axe to the chest. He catches his armor handily, though he is impressed by the strength of her force.

He shrugs as he replaces the boot.]

No. But it is good that you saw reason.