hadriel_logs | Intro Log: None Hadriel With Left Shark

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Intro Log: None Hadriel With Left Shark

Who: New arrivals and everyone else!
What: The intro log for February
Where: The colosseum and all around the city.
When: February 10th-16th
Warnings: Shark week

Once more, new arrivals will wake up on the ground level of the ruined colosseum. There isn't anything particularly comforting about it, either- everything is a bit cold and impersonal and there is, of course, the fact that nobody remembers just how they managed to wind up here in the first place. That can all be explained in time, though- until then, you've got quite a bit on your plate already.

And why is that? Well, that may be because you're also surrounded by sharks.

Yes, on land.

It doesn't mean that they're totally incapacitated though- you still have your two headed sharks, your giant sharks, and your sharktopus that are more than capable of flopping in your general direction before taking you into a death roll. And don't forget the (far more dangerous) sand sharks, capable of swimming through the ground as if it were water itself. You might want to start to find ~~a life raft~~ high ground soon.

But hey, if you manage to get away from the sharks, feel free to help yourself to one of the odd food shaped blankets. These cozy comforters are perfect for your new bed, but they tend to carry a faint scent of the food they represent, so be sure not to sleep on an empty stomach!

Listen to the Jaws theme, grab a harpoon, and get cozy! On your way to safety, make sure to explore the rest of the city! Find a house, a new monster, a project to help with, or simply scavenge for supplies. Good luck, and enjoy your stay in Hadriel!

► This log covers February 10th-16th.
► 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

Though Nick attempts to block Danse's arm and the incoming punch with his cane, his damaged leg prevents him from doing so, the limb collapsing beneath the weight of his metal frame, making him lose his footing at the last second. The former Paladin's fist connects with his abdomen with a surprising amount of force, causing Nick's sensory receptors to fire all at once, simulated pain running through him as his already damaged piping takes a battering it absolutely did not need. It's already being held together with duct tape after taking a bullet from Rey's double.

The synth's legs buckle; his cane clatters to the ground as he wraps an arm around his middle reflexively. He can't have the wind knocked out of him or be injured in the same way a regular human can, given his mechanical nature, but he can bleed nonetheless -- that's definitely coolant he feels spreading across the middle of his shirt. Shit. Rey is not going to be happy about that.

She won't be happy if he comes home in pieces, either. He's on the defense from then on, grabbing his cane and lashing out at his attacker's legs, hoping to knock him off his feet.

The cane connects hard, harder than Danse expected out of a synth clearly past its decommissioning date. The pain blooms across his knee, the blow achieves the desired effect of knocking him down to the ground. His chest takes the brunt of the fall, but the impact is worst felt on the cheek he'd fallen on. He's down alright...but he's not out.

Tasting dust and dirt, Danse spits them out, snarls, and makes a wild grab for the lower end of the synth's cane: strange that it carry around such a blunt weapon instead of a gun, but maybe it was part of the disguise of a crippled, harmless old robot? Whatever. If he can, then he'll whip it out of the synth's hands and give it its own medicine with a swing at its legs. Better to bring it down to his level than to let it tower above him, smug in its victory over the Brotherhood.

At the very least, Danse can avenge the Brotherhood by crushing this snake and making sure no one else falls for its lies.

Edited 2017-02-12 10:26 (UTC)

With his cane wrenched away, Nick is just getting back to his feet as the stranger sweeps them out from under him, sending him toppling once more. This time, he lands hard on his side, probably knocking a screw or two loose from his bare hand. An audible beep chirps from somewhere in him, a reminder that he should be taking it easy. So much for that plan -- even when he avoids the Colosseum, trouble manages to find him.

Nick has half a mind to go for his gun just to see if that's the language this guy listens to, to flash it just enough to make him hold his horses, but he knows good and well that pulling out a piece will probably escalate the situation. He tries his words once more.

"Would you cut it out for one damn second?!" Another beep, and a diagnostic informs him that he has a coolant leak. Little to late for that.

"You dare demand something of me, synth?"

One word injected with all the hatred Danse can muster for its kind. A backhand on the mouth is all Nick gets for his plea. And if he thought he'd earn some mercy, heck, even some god damn hesitation from his assailant, then he's not going to like it that Danse had taken advantage of the synth's fall to pounce onto him, rewarding the synth's patience by shoving it down and keeping it pinned with one hand, the other delivering punch after punch to its head.

"Isn't it enough that you've got what you've wanted!? Your damned Institute, now the kings of the Commonwealth."

His eyes burn with bloodlust and berserker rage, his knuckles are turning raw red from the direct impact of pummelling a synth's tough skin. If he had been of a better mind, he'd have been thoroughly ashamed of his conduct; losing control in this manner is unacceptable for the Brotherhood, and especially so for a Paladin. But then again, there is no Brotherhood left for Danse. There is nothing left for him at all.

His voice cracks, and not just from all the yelling he's doing. It's not just anger that's pouring out of him from this emotional tantrum. Grief, hurt, agony, despair. A feast for Sadness and Rage, an emotional full course meal fit for the gods themselves.

"And now you bring me here to be another's plaything? To be manipulated for, for emotional food!? To suffer!? Isn't it enough that the Institute's won What more do you want to take from me!?"

He doesn't know when he started screaming. But he doesn't care. Much like how he doesn't care that his knuckles have split. He just wants to see Valentine dead, as he should have been all those months ago.

Maybe if he had acted then, the Brotherhood would still be here.

It's the shouting that catches her attention first, voices raised in anger and building still to something worse. Maketh rounds the corner at a sprint, gun held at the ready.

What she sees only gives her pause for a moment.

Assess the situation. React.

Nick is down, a man on top of him, raining down blows. Nick is already injured, not the type of man who will win a beating simply by enduring. And he is her second in command, under her protection, and vital to the guardsmen.

It's simple then. End the threat.

She doesn't shoot. That would be ineffective. She might hit Nick by accident.

Instead, Maketh just charges the man and hits him in the head with the butt of her rifle. There are no words, no warning at all. She keeps hitting him until he stops moving.

Wrapped up in his emotions, Danse misses the running footsteps behind him. He raises one bloody fist up to deliver another crushing blow--...

--...only for the pain to explode at the back of his head. It's not enough to knock him out just yet; the former Paladin is one tough soldier. Danse lets out a yell, trying to whirl around and swing a punch to his new assailant. But the pain's also disorientated and slowed him down; before he can properly turn around, she's hit him on the head. Again.

And again.

And again.

And then only does Danse collapse, consciousness lost. He'll fall onto Nick, crushing the synth underneath his weight...but for now, the fight is over.

Given he'd been preoccupied with desperately trying to block at least some of the blows headed his way, Nick hadn't noticed Maketh's approach either; he's grateful regardless as the stranger's dead weight falls on him and he turns his head finds his friend and savior in his now-blind spot, rifle in hand.

"Shit." He's in bad shape, but he manages to slide himself out from under his attacker's unconscious body, putting a hand to his head to assess his condition as he sits up. He's pretty sure he's got a new dent in his skull; the other damage is more obvious, leaking coolant spreading across the middle of his shirt, the light behind his left eye out as the optic was knocked completely offline, possibly permanently. He'll have to open himself up to get a better look, but the initial scans he's getting back aren't good. Could just be the wiring, could be the mechanism itself.

He retrieves his hat from where it had fallen in the assault and lets out a sigh, his breath having picked up in the struggle despite his mechanical nature -- he still feels human sometimes, especially when tensions are high. His remaining eye scans his cane, as he'll need it if he wants to get back on his feet. "The hell was that about?"

Edited 2017-02-13 03:47 (UTC)

Maketh kneels immediately, trying to assess the damage. It's harder to tell with Nick. He bleeds something other than blood and though he does break, it's not in the ways she's been trained to recognize. "How hurt are you? And who is that?"

She glares at the newcomer, currently unconscious.

He shakes his head -- though it moves in tandem with the other eye, the orbital unit remains offline, black against his already dark eyes. "I'll keep. Be damned if he didn't make a mess of me, though."

He stays on the ground for the moment, letting Maketh take a look; she might not have the technological know-how of Rey, but if there's something immediately and obviously wrong, he expects she'd see it and tell him. "I haven't seen him before in my life, but he's gotta be from my world. That's a laser rifle like you might find in the Commonwealth, and he was yelling about the Institute while trying to bash my skull in. Guess he didn't get the memo that I don't work for them."

A mess indeed. The eye especially worries her. But thus far it doesn't seem like any of his limbs are going to snap off or cause imminent threat to his life. Maketh nods once, firmly, and holds out a hand. "Try to stand, all right?"

She glances down at the man again. "Damn it. I'll have a conversation with him. Can I expect him to be reasonable about it?"

Nick takes Maketh's hand, using his cane to help her help him up. He's aware he's pretty heavy, given all the metal parts. He stands well enough -- looks like his mobility wasn't any more damaged than it already was -- that's some good news.

"Maybe if I'm not in the room, though I've got some questions of my own. He charged right at me the second he saw me. I don't think he even considered just shooting me. Guess he thought tearing me to pieces was a better idea."

He taps his dark eye with his bare finger, the metal clicking softly against it. "I'll have Rey take a look at this when I get home, see if she can't get it back online. We should probably get this guy restrained somewhere before he wakes up, just in case he's still feeling feisty."

The strain hurts her shoulder, but Maketh bears it with a grimace. He's upright, relatively mobile, center of balance seems intact. That covers the basic injuries. Anything else is beyond her, though hopefully something that Rey can address.

Do Synths get brain damage? Stars, she hopes not.

Maketh grimaces. "We still have the equipment from that mess with Sato. I can get it set up while you get looked at. I don't want you hurt."

No more than he already is. Maketh hopes he's not in pain.

Nick returns her grimace with a reassuring smile. "I'm in better shape than I could've been, thanks to you. I'll patch up my middle at the station and get this fixed tonight. It'll probably be a while before Rey gets home, anyway." He lowers his voice, uttering just below his breath, "She's not going to be happy about this."

And he won't be able to settle down himself until he has some answers. The guy mentioned the Institute, that they'd won. What did he mean by that? Was it the rambling of a raging lunatic, or a clue as to where -- or when -- he came from? He certainly wasn't working for the Boogeymen of the Commonwealth with the way he'd been talking, with how he'd reacted the second he saw what Nick was.

No, sooner than that -- the stranger was already furious as he'd turned, a fire sparked just from hearing Nick's voice. This man did know him, but how? For the life of him, Nick can't remember, and given the memory issues he's discovered since his arrival in Hadriel, that doesn't sit well with him.

Limping back to the stranger's side, Nick kneels and runs his hand over and into the man's pockets. Nothing in one pocket; the other has something for him, though. His metal hand emerges, a pair of holotags in his palm.

"Paladin Danse, DN-407P. The Brotherhood of Steel."

Edited 2017-02-13 12:09 (UTC)

Maketh frowns, one hand on her hip. The tags say military, but the title - paladin - implies something else entirely. "Do you know this brotherhood?"

"Yeah." Nick pushes himself to his feet once more, taking the tags with him. "They're an organization that wants to keep technology out of the wrong hands, and more often than not, that means any hands but theirs. They might mean well, but let's just say they aren't fond of anyone who doesn't fit their definition of 'human.'"

And he's pretty sure he doesn't have to explain why an individual from such a group would loathe someone -- something -- like him. Even so, that attack was extreme. There's got to be more behind this.

Wonderful. Another unknown element introduced to the mix and no way to predict the fallout. Maketh rubs a hand over her face with a sigh. "I'll speak with him first. Determine if he can be reasoned with. If he proves himself coherent, you can question him after I am done. Is that acceptable?"

"Works for me," Nick replies. He takes one more look at those tags before tucking them into his pocket to return later.

Next order of business: "Should we call someone to lug him to the station, or can you handle it? I'd offer, but something tells me you'd turn me down." It's probably the fact that Maketh is the sort who likes to do things herself, that he needs a cane to walk these days anyway, or that he just got out of a brawl and is still bleeding coolant.

Maketh considers the problem. "I'll get one of the guardsmen to help me. We can't risk you, Nick. I need you."

Not as a fighter, no, but able to step up and lead if things go wrong. They have before. They will again.

Actually getting the man dragged over to the guard post isn't a chore, though what follows is a touch more complicated. Maketh knows a fair amount of tricks and made a point of saving the rig that they used to contained Sato. Overkill, perhaps, but given the company they find themselves in, maketh sees no need to take chances. Who knows if this man - this paladin - has power beyond what he's already done?

No need to take risks.

She's sitting at her desk when Danse wakes up, working through a report. There's a pistol next to her. Ready in case he feels like being foolish.

He probably won't. He seems sane.

"I wouldn't do that," she informs him, glancing up briefly. "You're sitting on a bomb. Pressure sensitive trigger. Behave if you feel like keeping your legs."

And the majority of his internal organs.

Maketh leans back in her chair. The rig took some time to set up, but it was necessary once before. Perhaps it will be again. She's cuffed Danse to the chair, not uncomfortably. Hopefully he's not too concussed to talk, or this will all have been a waste. But he seems like a hardy fellow. He'll be fine. Probably.

Edited 2017-02-14 22:50 (UTC)

While Maketh prepares for her little chat with Danse, Nick opts to stay out of sight, and hopefully out of mind. He's not out of earshot though, parking himself just around the corner on the other side of the door.

It's in his nature to be curious, to ask questions, to look for answers; however, he's just going to have to let Maketh handle this guy for now, given he doesn't seem all that keen on talking to Nick himself. In good news, she's in her element here. She might not be a bulky soldier like the Brotherhood Paladins, this guy included, but she's crafty and clever, and knows how to turn a situation to her advantage.

And more importantly, he trusts her. Hopefully, this 'Danse' guy will too, enough that he'll talk -- if not, he'll be seeing reason the hard way.

Yeah. Definitely overkill.

If she thought strapping him to a bomb would make him any more willing to talk or cooperate, than she's sorely mistaken. Nick should know that trust doesn't grow on threats.

"Using bombs? How appropriate." He growls back. "I guess you Institute cowards learned a thing or two from those synth-loving bastards before you had them wiped off the map. I'll hate the Railroad till the day I die, but to turn their best operative, their hope, against them? Cruel. Unnecessary."

He leans back against his chair, meeting Maketh's gaze with a cold, hate-filled one of his own. But perhaps this is better than the emotional mess from before. He seems more together now. Less violent.

He's not afraid at all. Not for himself, at least. All full of righteous indignation and snarled warnings. No mention of the risk to his person. He doesn't even flinch or go rigid when the threat registers. Not overly concerned with bodily harm, then.

Curious.

Maketh leans back in her chair. "You tried to kill a member of my command. Without provocation. We're going to discuss that."

She gives him a long look. It's not a kind expression.

"I don't know what your Institute is, nor do I care. If you are prepared to be reasonable, then we shall talk. If you are not, then you will sit there a while longer. Possibly until your muscles finally spasm and I am done with you."

It's all said quite calmly. If it takes a death to teach this man a lesson, then she'll let him die.

"Paladin Danse, yes? My name is Maketh Tua. Nick Valentine is one of my guardsmen. You're not going to attack him again."

Paladin? That's rich. He hasn't been addressed as Paladin since....well. The point being that there's no reason for him to hold that title any more. That gets a bitter chuckle out of him. He's been just plain old Danse for so long.

"Posture and threaten all you want. I'm not intimidated by anyone that would choose to protect that thing."

But after he's got that out of the way, some of the fight does leave him. He's appraising her as much as she is observing him, and most importantly, she mentioned the word "guardsmen". That certainly gets his attention...and more importantly, his cooperation. Someone called Henry Percy had saved him awhile back, and he mentioned a guard as well. That lends some credibility to Tua.

And Danse's own actions...well. They weren't acceptable. Not even in the Brotherhood.

So quietly, he relents. Oh, he's still simmering on the inside. He'd still like nothing better than to rip that synth to pieces. But if he could control his hatred back in Sanctuary, then he could do so here. "...but I won't attack him again. I acknowledge that was inexcusable behavior on my part. And if you truly are not part of the Institute, then I apologize for the hassle this has caused the local guard."

The more the thinks about it, the more shamefaced he gets. He's wasting local resources here, over what? Losing his temper on Nick Valentine? God, what the hell had gotten into him back there? He has his temper, he has his demons...but he's never lost it like that before.

Edited 2017-02-17 02:04 (UTC)

Maketh narrows her eyes. She'll have to get more information out of Nick to fully understand the situation. The chance of Danse giving her an unbiased overview are slim - and even more so considering she has him cuffed to a chair, his life already at risk over the odd muscle twitch.

But a point had to be made. So he'd understand.

"Nick Valentine has earned my trust and holds a position of some respect within the Guard."

She stands abruptly, face hard. Her posture is stiff-backed and formal, entirely military.

"Our duty is to protect the civilians and your nonsense has already wasted resources we cannot spare. I dislike repeating myself, sir, so I will say this only once. I do not care what grudge you carry or why. You're going to bury it. Am I understood?"

If he had a broader understanding of the denizens in Hadriel, Danse might have better appreciated Maketh's caution. Right now though this whole setup seems overly excessive. The Brotherhood understood the necessity of force to ensure cooperation, but interrogations do not usually begin with a bomb strapped chair. Still, he does understand her position. From an outsider's view it does look like Danse has just attacked a member of the law enforcement of Hadriel, at a time when they need all hands on deck. He wouldn't expect her to treat him gently.

But if she expects him to roll over on threats, then she's going to have to do worse than to trap him with an explosive. Danse meets her demand with an ugly scowl. "You don't have the right to tell me how to feel about that thing. You haven't seen the destruction its caused, the lies its told and the lives its taken. Brave men and women, the innocent children, all dead by the hands of that synth!"

That last word comes out again in a burst of anger. He's losing his temper again. Danse takes a deep breath, tries to reel back all his rage and hatred. But he hasn't had an outlet for all these emotions in months, and unfortunately for Nick, the sight of the synth was the trigger for the explosion. Another inhale, another exhale, and his voice comes out quiet but no less bitter, and it's clear no punishment, no threat, nothing will get Danse to give up this grudge.

"I won't attack it again, and I will accept any punishment by the laws of this city for assaulting an...officer of the Guard." God, just saying that makes him feel ten levels of disgust. Nick Valentine, in a position of influence through trust and respect? It's like Nora all over again.

"But if you truly care about the lives of the people, you'd take that thing out and shoot it in the head. Save yourself the pain of knowing you acted too late. God knows, it's too late for the Commonwealth."

Edited 2017-02-20 14:19 (UTC)

There's certainly a story behind that much hate. Maketh watches him silently, thinking. This is a temporary solution at best. She can't detain Danse indefinitely. They don't have the resources to spare for guarding prisoners and unlike with Sato, immobilizing him in any meaningful way would likely count as torture. Other members of the guard have spoken against such measures. It would be the Imperial thing to do, and Maketh is trying desperately hard not to be that person again.

Thus, she'll have to work something else out.

"Really. Nick Valentine solely responsible for that much destruction."

Doubtful. There's likely more to the story. Whether she wants to hear it or not remains to be seen. A lot of things cease being relevant once inside Hadriel's grasp.

Maketh gives Danse a long look. She doesn't smile.

"You're not afraid of dying. Not at all."

It makes things a tad more difficult.

"This place will give you the opportunity to test that soon enough, regardless of what myself or any of my guardsmen chose to do. You'll understand that soon. But understand this first, Danse. Myself and Henry Percy lead the guardsmen. In our absence, Nick Valentine has full control. Should that happen again, you are going to respect his authority. Challenge him and you challenge me."

She narrows her eyes, a clear warning.

"I suggest you refrain from that. I do not want to have this conversation again."

Intro Log: None Hadriel With Left Shark

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This is his fight song, take back his life song

Paladin Danse Pep Rally Ahoy

Welcome to the trashcan rally

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