hadriel_logs | Intro Log: Welcome to the Snave (snake cave)

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Intro Log: Welcome to the Snave (snake cave)

Who: New arrivals and everyone else!
What: The intro log for March
Where: The colosseum and all around the city.
When: March 10th-15th
Warnings: Snakes! Snakes! It's a snake!

Good morning, new arrivals! Or, well, it's probably morning. The sun is up, anyway. Okay - not the sun, but that ball of light at the top of the cave that functions as the sun, anyway. Whatever. The point is you've woken to find yourself on the floor of Hadriel's colosseum. You may be wondering where you are and what you're doing here, but what you should be wondering is how fast you need to run to get away from a three-headed snake.

You're not the only one who just woke up. Also to be found in the arena, angry and confused, are Runespoors - large three-headed snakes. Only one of the heads is venomous, but all of them are perfectly willing to take a bite out of you if you get too close - or if you annoy it. If you're lucky, an attacking Runespoor may distract itself via infighting between the three heads, giving you time to run. If not, well, let's just hope you can fight off all three heads at once!

But that's not the only thing you might find. Also scattered around the colosseum floor are what look like tasty snacks. Popsicles, cheese, even toast! Unfortunately, if you get hungry and take a bite, you will quickly discover that each and every one of these is actually soap. So that's great. Maybe the Door thinks everyone needs to shower more? You can also find a few that actually look like soap, and if you're really lucky, you might stumble across the rare and coveted 'pile of baby hands' soap.

With luck, you didn't get eaten by a snake or accidentally eat a piece of soap. Once you find your way out of the colosseum there's plenty of other distractions. Feel free to go 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 March 10th-15th.
► 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

[Humans are tall. He's adjusted to the fact pretty damn quick; aside from the fact that kids are tiny, which seems to be a pretty temporary thing, they all kinda tower over him, a foot or more off the ground compared to him.

But this?

This is just ridiculous.

He was just takin' Mandelbrot out for a stroll, honest. The fox trots alongside him easily, up until the high-pitched shrill of one of those bird things cuts across the quiet.

Lady fancies striking up a conversation. Mandelbrot recoils, evidently more than little spooked at the size of her. Can't blame him, given the fact that he's used to living in a house with a couple of squat monsters.]

I'd make a joke about "birds of a feather," but I figured I should wing it instead.

When you've been around for as long as Ravine has, it becomes habit to look down when people speak to you. Only she has to look down a little farther before she meets the hollow eyes of a small skeleton man.

There's a moment where she blinks, less startled by his appearance and more like she's trying to process his sense of humor.

And then she laughs.

"Got something of a funny bone, do we?" She shakes her head despite herself. "I'm sorry, you probably hear that one too much."

Hey, lookin' down on people ain't no object. He's used to bein' looked down upon. It's one of his few winning qualities. People like a guy who don't look real threatening, it turns out. Probably.

Always nice when you can find someone with a kindred spirit, when it comes to havin' a sense of humor. He slides one eyesocket shut in a wink that should be anatomically impossible, bone flexing in ways that bone definitely shouldn't flex in a manner that somehow manages to look natural.

"Not nearly enough, actually." Truth be told, he's had a little too much nervous shoutin' when it comes to his appearance and not enough delightful banter, as of late. "I am very humerus."

Spirits come in all different shapes and sizes. Except usually, by the time a spirit loses its original form, it starts to become something else. Something not quite so funny.

But these are not her spirits. These are not her charges. She tilts her upper half downward, like a dipping bird sticking it's face into a glass of water. Only instead of water, she's dipped to get a better look at the little skeleton man, threads of black hair sliding over her shoulders.

"Are you?" A brow creases as she studies him. "Dead men aren't often concerned with amusing others. But then, you're not all that dead, are you?"

As she says this, she gives his shoulder a brief poke with a long, gloved finger.

Aaaand she's trying to give him a poke. Great. He leans away from the touch instinctively, just enough for her to have brushed up against him without jabbin' too deep.

"Nah," he says, easily. There's a joke there, several in fact, about how he could say somethin' along the lines of not anymore and have that hold real true - dead two times over, both home and here to boot - but that'd lend itself to some real big misconceptions, he's pretty sure.

"People keep askin' that, like I'm somebody's corpse. I'm a monster."

She laughs, this time as if what he said actually was the real joke.

"No, no no no, no. I know what a corpse and a dead man look like. They are much different."

One would think a 'corpse' would be synonymous for 'dead man', but something about Ravine's phrasing seems to indicate that she means two different states of being.

So no poking. Okay. She takes the hint fast and pulls her hand back, but doesn't reel away just yet. "Monster. Yeah, that sounds about right," she grins.

Yeah, okay. Little weird there, the emphasis she places on the separation. Just once, can there be somebody he don't have to keep an eyesocket out for, just 'cause they have a habit of sayin' something unsettling.

His sockets hood at half-mast as he regards her neutrally. Somethin' of her phraseology still rankles at him.

"What makes you say that?"

It's the soul. Something about the soul which rings somewhat different in this one from the being she is used to tangling with. But that isn't always a subject you want to break that ice with.

"To put it simply, I see things," she says in the most vague way imaginable. "We are what we are."

She can see his...

Heh.

Heh heh.

Boy.

That's really something.

Like a * Check. Might as well be, right? Figures she can probably see, crystallizing, clear as day, how she's talkin' to the weakest enemy. 1 HP. There's a reason he never goes up against the human, not unless he has to, and this - this right here.

This is one of those reasons why.

"You wanna elaborate on that?" he rumbles, grinning like there ain't a low prickle chasing the length of his spine.

Fortunately for Sans, strength does not matter much to her. Provided that he isn't a malignant spirit devoid of a husk, she is fine right where she's standing.

And she does, straightening her posture so she is very much like a dark, looming tower. Totally not intimidating at all.

Not really selling that 'wouldn't hurt a fly so long as it's alive' approach, is she?

"It's nothing for you to worry about. I am not one to peek and tell -- not that I always have a choice in the matter." She laughs, perhaps a little inappropriately.

Nothing for him to worry about, huh? Somethin' of the opposite sorta reaction he'd come to expect, particularly since Ushahin can apparently boast that ability to roam through people's heads unchecked. How many people are there in this great, wide multiverse?

Too many. Entirely too many.

"You're just the one to peek. I see." No deviation from his amiable tone, though there's maybe just a hint of something wary in his look, in the pinpricks of light that swing up to track her height.

More than one would find comfortable, that's for sure. She knows that there are more than one of 'her' in said multiverse -- at least, one akin to her. Something that can see and hear and there's not a damned thing to be done about it.

"Correct," she confirms, her laughter stifled. "Don't want to let too many butterflies go, but some people just can't help it. You may know something about that, wouldn't you?"

The threads come in many different colors, shapes and sizes, leading to different yet similar and new outcomes. Everyone has them. Some just more so than others.

God.

Not another one.

"Can't you just sneak one of those peeks and see if I do for yourself?" A joke, a challenge, and a line out for an answer, all rolled into one. Convenient, yeah? Sure is. Sure is real, real handy and convenient. Coupled with the tap of a phalanx against his temporal region, no less.

That challenge does not go beyond her notice. She only chuckles at it.

"Oh, I could. I would. But then, where is the fun in always doing that?"

While, yes, she could abandon all forms of conversation and weed out every little detail from one's brain. Know every answer before it is even uttered. That is no way to live, though -- even if her life had ended a long, long time ago.

Oh, good. He's talkin' to yet another person who more or less refuses to invade people's states of privacy outta the sheer goodness of their heart, however long that's liable to last.

"Yeah, that sure is a word for it," he says evenly. "Fun."

Everybody's about to have a lot more fun, it feels like. Never thought he'd get to a point where he'd be preferrin' Ushahin over somebody else, but he'll take the devil he knows over the one he don't.

"Would you rather I call it something else?" Ravine asks, somewhat tempting Sans here.

She can tell that he's wary, even without knowing what she can do and her own ability to pry with minimal effort. And while a stray thought may creep in every now and then, she's going to keep to herself if she can help it. Watch how things go.

Wait it out.

Brot's tail flicks around the bones of his ankles, signifying that the little fox has returned from whatever detour he took in the interim.

"Call it what you like." He hitches one shoulder in a partial shrug, wearily. He don't have the energy for this. "Just appreciate it if you kept it to a minimum."

"Your complaint has been noted," Ravine says, imitating the politeness of a phone rep reading from a script. But then, more sincere: "In all fairness, however, you were the one challenging me to 'sneak a peak' just a few seconds ago."

Just saying.

Yeah, that's pretty bullshit. His grin ain't much for skepticism, and he keeps it even and steady, as much as his tone, for all the scorn behind the words.

"Makin' it completely all right if you actually do that, yeah? Ain't your fault if you can't interpret the will of the little people."

She shrugs at his little slight.

"Those are your words. Not mine."

"Sure."

It's curt. People like her? Well, they ain't generally likely to admit to the unsettling nature of their powers. Don't matter to them any, huh? Ushahin was the same; the implications of how it felt only really occurred to him when that proverbial blade was turned back against him. No, her words were all about just not being able to help it. About calling an invasion of privacy a complaint.

Yeah. He's done here.

He's already turning aside, his smile utterly mirthless.

"Whatever makes you feel better."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Intro Log: Welcome to the Snave (snake cave)

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