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

cw blood/gore................ sorry........... he gross

[howlingblast]

[Wow, dude, at least pay for dinner first.

Rag'kar listens to the cheering. He isn't sure how he feels about it. No one cheers on a death knight unless they are cheering for him to die. He puts it in the back of his mind and focuses on dismantling the worm. As it comes down for another round, he ducks just underneath it and shoves one blade straight upward into its throat, letting loose a battle cry of his own.

It's not an ideal angle, but it holds the worm there for a minute. And that's all he needs. Shadowfrost magic swirls around both blades, making blue runes light up along both, and then he guts the creature like a fish. There's another anguished, inhuman scream and a symphony of alien blood covering anyone within range.

Rag'kar shoves the worm over and steps out from beneath it, positively dripping. He brings a gauntlet up to his face and wipes the blood from his eyes, then considers and shoves a finger in his mouth.

Not bad.]

... elf is also gross... I am also sorry.

[barebacking]

[ The man is still alive.

That thought comes first before acknowledging the spray of blood and gore that splattered against his person. His one dust covered hair is now dripping in pieces of the worm and red. He lifts his hand to wipe his face clean as he is just a little blinded.

Peeling a piece of meat out of his hair, he picks the strands of wet reddened blond out. Lifting the piece up, he bites down to taste what has been defeated. Pity it is not the one before him but ... it is an acceptable meal.

He sighs as he steps forward, tossing what is left upon the ground, and begins applauding once more. Applause, applause. Yes, this isn't someone to fight unless the stage is right, unless everything is in his favor. ]

That was breathtaking. Truly, I doubt anyone could do better. I am ever so grateful to have been able to see such a sight. You really are a marvelous warrior... may I have your name?

TWO PEAS IN A POD omfg

[howlingblast]

Rag'kar Furykill, Knight of the Ebon Blade.

[Rag'kar still hates the simpering, but it's clear the elf won't stop. He knows when to pick his battles. He's still riding the battle high and a part of him thinks he could probably dismantle the elf and drain his life, too, but he probably shouldn't. Koltira is around, and he would rather not have his ass kicked by an elf who could have him executed when they get back home.

Embarrassing.

He flicks off the remnants of the worm from his weapons so they don't rust. The last wisps of blood magic drain from the corpse and are absorbed into the blades; the cyan glow of his eyes intensifies for a moment and then returns to normal. Both swords are rather large; a normal warrior might wield one or the other, but not both at once, unless of course they're built like a brick shithouse.]

More fiends will come. Be ready, elf.

[For his part, Rag'kar doesn't even sound a bit worried. He's enjoying this, clearly.]