ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴅᴛᴇᴀᴍ ᴏғ ʜᴀᴅʀɪᴇʟ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hadrielmods) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
hadriel_logs2017-05-10 10:08 am
hadrielmods) wrote in hadriel_logs2017-05-10 10:08 am
Intro Log: A Stinging Letdown
Who: New arrivals and everyone else!
What: The intro log for May
Where: The colosseum and all around the city.
When: May 10th-16th
Warnings: Monsters. Newbies. Disappointment.
What: The intro log for May
Where: The colosseum and all around the city.
When: May 10th-16th
Warnings: Monsters. Newbies. Disappointment.
You awaken rather unceremoniously, finding yourself on the hard ground of a large arena, a stone ceiling stretching high above you. Welcome to Hadriel, newcomer, we hope you enjoy your stay in our lovely cave city. This may be a little more difficult to do than expected, considering the monsters.
Yes, it looks as though a few manticores arrived along with you - and they woke up before you, because that's just how your luck is going today. These creatures are large, about the size and shape of a lion, and not very attractive. In fact, they're a bit like a collection of spare parts - the body of a lion, the wings of a bat, the face of a human, and the tail of a scorpion. And that tail's not just for show. If their lion claws don't get you, that tail might shoot a poisonous spine that will paralyze you, leaving you defenseless and all ready to be eaten. Good times!
But wait! There's more! Starting to feel like you might need a stiff drink? Throughout the arena, you can also find a number of very interesting-looking bottles of liquor. Give one a try, if you dare - or if you just really need to drink your misery away. And that'll be your very first lesson in the disappointment of Hadriel - because though they taste the way they're supposed to, each and every one of these bottles of liquor has become non-alcoholic. Yikes.
Hopefully you can recover from that heart-crushing disappointment. 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 May 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!
taako | OTA!
[Taako snaps his eyes open on the floor of the coliseum with a sharp gasp.
It takes him a few more seconds to actually get up- frankly, the floor is nice, he's not one to jump to duty, and getting pulled under a floor to black out in a dark void is not really his idea of a good time. In a few moments, he pulls himself at least sitting upright, picking up from his side a rather fancy umbrella and assessing his surroundings.
His surroundings being a bunch of other people and a big, big manticore that has apparently already taken notice of him.]
Well shit.
[The manticore begins to charge him, and in a flash, he extends the arm with the umbrella outwards towards the beast, and as it gets within a few feet of him, hits an invisible barrier face-first like a cat hitting a window. Taako laughs as he stands, the barrier only becoming visible to shimmer slightly as it dissipates.]
Classic. Absolutely classic. Alright, big guy, I guess we're doing this.
[Objectively, he looks ridiculous, considering he's an obviously nonhuman man with a pointy wizard hat and a cloak pointing nothing but an umbrella at a mythical beast. While surprisingly, he knows exactly what he's doing, he looks like he might need a hand with this one.]
ii. around the shops
[Some time later, if people are poking around the shops, they may find a... new addition, of sorts, among them. Sitting a little out of the way is, what appears on the outside, to be a rather humble tent. However, if someone were to poke their way inside, they'll find themselves in a rather spacious spa room, with a fountain in the center. There's even a mud bath. It's very classy. It'd be classier if the ground wasn't absolutely littered with as much fake alcohol from the coliseum as Taako could carry. Not to mention the fact that the elf is digging through- and apparently arguing with- what looks like a small ice chest in the far corner, his back to the doorway.]
Seriously, only cucumber? You can only make one type of sandwich? I paid 900 gold and you can't even make other vegetables?
[Apropos of nothing, he seems to poke his head up, actually acknowledging whoever ended up stumbling in here with a lopsided sort of grin.]
Uh, hail and well met, or whatever. Do you have better sandwich ingredients? Man can't live on cucumber alone and I don't wanna sound desperate here, but I'm getting more invested in this than I thought I was.
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[...This is quite possibly the closest a location has ever come to making her cry since the apocalypse hit. It looks so?? nice??? It's enough to make her stand there stunned for a while, voice almost robotic in response. At least she's too out of it for the moment to really focus on that whole What The Hell An Elf thing for the time being.]
I can't remember the last time I had a real vegetable. [Someone will eat this horrible sandwiches, at least... But she doesn't have something to sate Taako's non-cucumber envy.] How lenient are you when it comes to defining a sandwich? I've seen some crazy things.
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poptarts aren't sandwiches, sazed
SANDWICHES HAVE BREAD, SAZED
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2
He notices the tent and, not quite recognizing it yet (it looks rather plain from the outside, so it could be any ol' tent), peeks inside. He's greeted by the image of the full service pocket spa's luxurious interiors, and smirks fondly when he sees Taako apparently bent on relaxing rather than making... any sort of effort at all.
When Magnus overhears Taako arguing with the ice chest, he pulls open the small bag he has over his shoulder and peeks inside. He's been actually foraging, so maybe he has something.]
The shops around here have got some food, uh... I've got a couple apples? Apple sandwich? No? Raw rice? Get that good al dente crunch?
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i;
As he moves in to provide assistance, clad in full plate and mail with an arming sword in his right hand and a heater shield on his left arm, Henry briefly shoots Taako a querying and ever-so-slightly bemused glance before his gaze focuses on the recovering beast.]
What was that?
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...Can I kill it, or do you got this?
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Matt | Death Note | Open
[The thing about dying is: you're not supposed to wake up. Period, so it's safe to say that eventually ending up in a fucking ancient-looking, dilapidated, glorified fight ring isn't Matt's idea of what's supposed to be. Not that he had any idea of what was supposed to be before now.]
[Whatever. There's literal danger too close for comfort and something about being hit thirteen times will make someone less likely to confront potential conflict head-on. So he's slipping around the various figures (those tails don't look like they're promising anything good), coming to a dead halt every time there's a shuffle or growl.]
[Growling. These fucking things are growling. Why is this happening.]
Hey.
[You.]
Wall's wide open over there. [Vague gesture in the opposite direction while he's carefully slipping a bottle into the inside of his vest. No, he has no intention of putting himself at a disadvantage when he's got no clue as to what's even happening, but later is a different story.]
Think we can make a run for it?
[2. Clinic]
[And somewhere outside of the structure, there is a nineteen year-old guy with his chin tucked into his collar, hands shoved in his pockets, pacing the area with all the nonchalance of a bobcat pursuing a squirrel. Though goggles and his vest successfully obscure most of his face, Matt is visibly impatient. Twitchy. When he exhales, there's no subtlety to it. Frustration, indecision: who knows. But he knows that he was gone and now he's not, and that warrants some kind of medical attention, right?]
[Every now and then he'll pause by the entrance, appear as though he's about to take the final step inside. Just for a second, then he's popping a heel against the ground and turning back in the other direction. He's too concerned with his own well-being to bother lifting his eyes, but there's one thing — the only thing — that's going to dictate his next course of action.]
Ah — excuse me.
[That's polite, right? Okay.]
You happen to know what kind of paperwork they need to treat someone in there?
[Because even basic I.D. is a no-go. And if they keep records? Not happening.]
[3. Network — slightly post-arrival]
[At this point in time, Matt's chances of putting his voice out there on the network are slim to none.]
Anyone need a hollowed-out smoke gun with no ammo? I'm sure it'll come in handy at some point.
Willing to trade for one carton of any brand of cigarettes, or I've got a non-functional Nokia that would be worth information on where I could find some. If none of this stuff is up your alley, I'll trade you one favor. No weird shit. One.
[Priorities.]
[4. Wildcard!]
((None of these work for you? Hit me with anything! Doesn't have to be discussed beforehand but if you'd like to, you can catch me at
clinic.
Mello only ventures in long enough to determine to his satisfaction that Near isn't there. He checks the shops next, remembering that was where he found Near last time, and when his search turns up no one of interest, he heads for the next logical place to look - the clinic. It stands to reason that if Near did come back with prior memories, he would contact Mello right away, or simply head to the house. If not, though - if he were injured, or found unconscious, the clinic might be where he'd end up.
Mello's so wrapped up in his own thoughts, he almost misses Matt outside the clinic. Almost. The familiar voice is enough to bring his attention to a screeching halt; all thoughts of Near are shoved neatly aside.
It's Matt. He's here - for real. Mello pulls the novelty glasses off his face and takes a step in toward Matt - not quite as close as when he'd encountered Matt at the masked ball, but just as tense.]
They're not big on paperwork here. What's wrong with you?
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4. On the street
If anything similar to hope exists in L's mind, it's probably the thought that maybe he could find that one great lost rival, the person he wants to see and who deserves to be dragged down into hell with him. He could hold Light down, here, keep him, smother him, make him confess again and again. That, more than anything, drives L to keep scoping out the recent arrivals. Even if Light doesn't arrive, never arrives, L thinks he might be able to settle for Misa, maybe, possibly...? Any Kira in a storm. He's lonely and stagnating and desperate to tie someone down and demand relief.
He passes someone who at first gets no notice from him. He's grown over the course of five years, like Mello, and carries certain stylistic differences that weren't present when L last saw him through a camera lens, but on closer examination, the young man really is unmistakable. His steps falter to a stop, and the wiry, thin detective looks at the third-in-line for the first time in over half a decade.]
who's this guy idk
It is a mystery~
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3
( Just so we're all on the same page, here...she doesn't mind scavenging for cigarettes but that might take a while. The smoke gun seems pretty useful to just ignore the notification, though. )
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Whistler | Sneakers | OTA
The first thing that strikes Whistler is the quiet and the stillness. The low guttering reverberation of the van's engine is no longer threatening to shake his frontal lobe free of his skull and instead his hands, which had only moments before been gripping at the van's broad steering wheel for dear life, now flex purposelessly against what feels like...dirt? Why dirt? Or better yet how dirt? His mind reels. He remembers Bish's last transmission over the walkie-talkie, and the disorienting feeling of the van barreling down a sudden incline, before everything dissipated in the deafening sound of wheels screeching and metal crunching as the van shuddered violently, smashing head on into...something.
What had he hit? And why was he now flat on his back?
Had he simply been thrown from the driver's seat then surely he would now feel the cold slap of the van's floor against his knuckles along with the familiar bubbling of the sheet metal. If somehow the impact into the building had been strong enough to throw him clear of the vehicle he would certainly feel the rough scratching of the concrete parking lot. And either way he'd still hear the engine whirring
And he'd still be able to hear Bishop
Oh god. Has he gone deaf?
"Bish?" Whistler tries, voice tight as a ball of nervous tension seems to close off part of his throat. But he can't help but breathe a small breath of relief when he can at least hear his own voice. For the moment he has been spared a Hellen Keller fate. "Bish?" He tries again, a bit more insistent now as it is starting to dawn upon him that he has absolutely no reference point from which he can now orient himself. He palms at the ground with more urgency, but finds only more dirt no matter which direction he tries. And still there is no answer. The walkie talkie doesn't even crackle. It makes no recognition of its partner being anywhere nearby.
"Bish," Whistler's voice drops to a low, frightened whisper. "Bish I...I don't know where I am."
The only answer is the low rumble of a growl, distinctly more animalistic than the van's engine. And the sound is unnervingly followed by an overpowering stench. Saliva? Rotted meat? Blood? Its so thick and heavy and comes with such in damp, hot wave against his face that Whistler freezes, afraid to move.
And though he cannot see it, a manticore looms over him, ready for the strike.
[Around the City]
Once free of the arena, Whistler is no less lost. He wanders down streets with slow, cautious steps, purposely dragging his heels before shifting his weight to be sure of his next footfall. His hands he holds out before him with palm flat and fingers spread out in a fan as they seek out obstacles and clues. He's trying to get a sense of his surroundings but as his fingers paw at walls and benches, he only seems to succeed in feeling more lost.
What on earth kind of place is this and how did he get here?
"Bish?" He tries calling now and again, along with "Mother?" and "Crease?"
City
Thus far, no one has died. She'd like to keep it that way.
She hears someone calling and pauses, turning. A man, hands out and searching.
Maketh clears her throat, dragging her heels against the ground. She's not sure. But the way he moves reminds Maketh of her mother - though with less cursing. "Are you all right, sir?"
Re: City
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Arena
Asgore lets it go. He still doesn't really savor fighting, but it's very necessary at times here. He's taken to coming to the arena when it's time for new arrivals, now that things are a little more secure and he's learned the regular intervals. It's hard enough to arrive in Hadriel without being immediately attacked by creatures. "Sir?" Asgore leans over, hands on his knees, and doesn't step any closer. It's plain the human is blind, or he probably would have noticed the manticore. "This place is dangerous, there are beasts here. May I lead you out?"
Re: Arena
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city
Hotaru makes her own steps crunch harder against the ground and rustles fabric of her winter coat -- easiest way to alert him to an approach that wasn't someone suddenly shouting at him. "Hey, uh. I can...try to get you where you're going, if you know where you're going. I don't know actually where anything is, but I'm reliable!"
Tooootally reliable teen girl just as new as him and kind of getting trapped in her own head. Ahem.
Re: city
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saruhiko fushimi | ota
[ Fushimi has always been good at keeping his head in a crisis and that’s true even in a situation as irritating as this one. Instead of panicking, he observes, taking note of what he can and worrying about the rest later. The details of the area may not match what he remembers—a crumbling structure in place of a an underground room, or a snarling mythological monster instead of a scythe-wielding brat—but from what he can tell, the odds of survival haven’t changed considerably.
Since none of the creatures have noticed him yet, he takes advantage of the temporary luck to start moving away from the center, keeping a knife in hand and a close eye on the surroundings. Aside from the monsters, there’s a handful of people who seem to be holding their own, several bottles of alcohol that he passes disdainfully, and...
... someone with no survival instinct leaning down to grab one of the bottles, too preoccupied(?) to notice the Manticore coming up behind them.
With a scoff, he acts, throwing the knife out above the other person’s head to strike a glancing blow to the beast. Even with the blue aura surrounding the weapon, it only serves as a momentary distraction, providing a pause just long enough for him to
complainspeak. ]What are you doing? Pay attention next time.
[ And don’t make him regret this. ]
⛌ clinic
[ Once the excitement is over and Fushimi’s had time to go over the newcomer’s guide, he starts heading towards the clinic. Most of his injuries are minor—scrapes and bruises that will heal on their own time—but there’s a sluggishly bleeding wound on his right arm that needs treatment, a mark left from when one of the creatures had managed to get too close. Under other circumstances, he would have preferred to stitch it up himself and avoid the fuss. Unfortunately without the proper supplies and sanitation, that’s obviously not an option.
Upon arrival, he looks around skeptically at the furnishings before taking a seat in the waiting room. The slouched posture and scowl clearly him as a dream patient for whoever is on duty today. ]
⛌ armory
[ The coliseum made a few facts about this place clear. Along with being frustrating and alien, it’s also dangerous and likely to stay that way. Which means he needs to be prepared.
For that reason, anyone who happens to be around the armory the next day will find a serious looking young man testing out a sword. His stance indicates a level of expertise but there’s a noticeable lack of energy being expended.
After a few practice swings, he gives a click of the tongue and places it back with the rest, clearly dissatisfied. ]
⛌ wildcard
[ Choose your own adventure. Fushimi can be found in all the places above, as well as investigating the rest of the city. Choosing an apartment, looking at the murals, around the guard headquarters... go wild. ]
Clinic!
As such he is ready and waiting at the clinic for anyone who manages to get there.
Including this young man who doesn't exactly look the most thrilled to be there.]
Ah. Hello there [He approaches with an awkward but friendly smile. He's not great with strangers but he's gotten more practice]
Are you injured?
['Are you new' seems like a pointless question.]
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Wildcard - Colesium
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armory.
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Hotaru Kotobuki | ShootAround | OTA.
[Now that she's out of the arena and in a place she deems suitably safe, Hotaru can't help but to collapse into a chair and stare out the window.]
...I'm starting to think this isn't pain meds. Those would be some really interesting pain meds to use on someone whose brother you maybe screwed over, maybe screwed. Also my arm doesn't not hurt and I'm pretty sure I can still remember the Dokémon rap...
[She's never done drugs, so she's not sure how accurate her perception of them is, but remembering the rap seems like an alright way to judge whether or not she's in her right mind. Then again, she's thinking about the Dokémon rap while in some underground city...thing filled with mythical creatures. So that's maybe not so great.]
Shared psychosis -- oomph -- still on the table!
[...Well anyway. She's going to try to wrestle herself out of these heavy winter clothes so she doesn't die from overheating. It's harder than expected, arm as broken as it is.]
[B - 99 bottles of beer on the ground.]
[Hotaru might have introduced a few more chaotic elements into her life since zombies became a Thing, but in her heart she's still one of those Lawful Goods. She's underage! She's the captain of the basketball team!! Her body is a temple.
So instead of trying to drink all this non-alcoholic alcohol, she's using her feet to keep partly-dumped out bottles still while she tries to turn them into molotov cocktails. This would go easier if she had more than a basic understanding of them and two usable arms... But hey, as a bright spot in this dire situation, there's some perfectly good, full bottles at her side, too! Good ol' trading goods/bribes. In theory.
She spent a good deal of time gathering up these supplies, too -- plus a small, sharp knife easier for her to wield -- so feel free to run into her while she's creaking around shops.]
[C - Wildcard.]
[Read the tin.]
A!
That being said... she doesn't know a ton about human physiology, but she can't help but let out a little squeak at the movement of a broken arm. She's almost certain arms Aren't Supposed To Do That.
... Pretty sure, anyway.]
Is... i-is your arm okay??
It's actually in a sling! oops. still being moved awkwardly.
WHOOPS sorry. still a point for concern lmao
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Alistair | SO OPEN COME AT ME
[ Waking up on the cold, hard ground is nothing new to Alistair. It would be far stranger to wake up in a nice, warm bed with a roof over his head. Or just wake up feeling comfortable. Or rested, for that matter. But this? This is completely normal.
[ He sits up with a groan — did he seriously fall asleep in his armor? — and blearily takes in his surroundings. Nothing familiar. That's ... familiar. But wait, weren't they in Denerim...? Groggily, he asks, ]
Am I still dreaming, or are we actually back in the Deep Roads?
b: manticores
[ The manticore circles slowly, poisonous tail raised, snarling and salivating as it eyes its prey.
[ Alistair circles opposite the creature, shield and sword at the ready, and his expression says it all: what is that even. ]
Soooo is this thing some horrible experiment gone wrong, or some worse experiment gone right?
c: temples. ALL OF THEM.
[ The swell of emotion is both startling and distinctly foreign. It puts the former Templar on edge: curiosity turns to suspicion, and he readies himself for combat.
[ Anyone who enters — or who happens to be there already — will find Alistair exploring every nook and cranny of the place. Every nook and cranny. Just don't sneak up on him. He looks a bit jumpy. ]
d: what is this phone thing
[ Behold, the heir to Ferelden's throne. Alistair. He's handsome. He's ripped. He's a warrior, fighting to end the Blight and save the world. He loves dogs. He's a hopeless romantic. And he's here, in the glorious flesh.
[ He's also holding his phone as far away from himself as possible, letting it dangle between two fingers like it's trying to bite him. Or explode.
[ ... Well. We all have our flaws. ]
e: WILDCARD
[ I'M NEW HERE I DON'T KNOW ALL THE PLACES. Want to run into him house-hunting? Checking out the City Guard? Wandering into the clinic, or the armory, or — le gasp! — SILENT HILL? Hit me up with anything. Want to chat first? I'm on plurk @
d
It's been a while for me, too, but it's not some future alien phone.
[yeah, let's act like we didn't screech and cry with joy when we found it. cough.]
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B. Manticore
*^*!!
why hello!
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c!
/o/
\o\
\o/ and sorry for the wait!
it's perfectly fine!!
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C
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magnus burnsides | ota
[Magnus shoots up with a start from his place on the ground, ready to spring into action. He was about to summon the sword -- did he summon the sword? He realizes it's not in his hands, curses under his breath, and hops up only to realize that he's also missing... everything else. No Railsplitter, no Chance Lance, no Phantom Fist, no Shield of Heroic Memories... oh, yeah, and no clothes at all. That makes him curse a little louder, knowing he's not hidden away in a back room of the Fantasy Costco anymore, and try to cover himself up.
To top it all off, he has a rather nasty cut on his shoulder that's still bleeding. Either that's attracting monsters, or Magnus is just really generally unlucky in this moment, because soon there's a real ugly mishmash of animal parts who is already giving him some unwelcome attention.]
Uhhh. Hey?
[It doesn't seem to greet him back, instead readying itself to pounce.
Magnus isn't really one to run away, even when he is unarmed, disrobed, and unprepared, not even a Phantom Fist to his name. So he does what he does best, even in the most dire of circumstances. He readies himself, and when the manticore charges at him, he uses its momentum to hit it with a heavy, barefooted kick which sends it flying a few feet away.
...Yeah, he could win this fight, but also, he is completely nude out here. Help??]
2. on the streets
[After Magnus has bandaged his shoulder, found some clothes -- a nice red cotton shirt and cargo shorts -- and armed himself with an axe from the armory, he can be found with a pile of bottles, pouring out the last bits of a fish-flavored stout into his mouth.
When he sees it's empty, he just wails and tosses it with a loud clink of glass against glass into another pile of empty bottles.]
Noooo! My new body is impervious to alcohooooool!
[Continuing to whine his lament, he just throws himself into the pile of empty bottles, scattering them everywhere.]
I'm cursed to a life of sobrietyyyyy!
1
Don't fight naked! What's wrong with you?!
[HERE, HOLD HER AXE...probably use it, too, since one of her arms is up in a sling and she's having a rough time of it. Still, there's blood as evidence that she's not totally useless, even injured. Right now, though... She's got more important things to worry about, like struggling to get free of her heavy winter coat so she can hide the Magnus dong. So important.]
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saber | open
[ It's not the first time Saber's woken up in a new place, and it won't be the last. But flat on her back, with no Master in sight and feeling drained of energy — that's a new one. She's on her feet in seconds, and not a moment too soon; immediately leaping to the side to avoid the lunge of a Manticore.
The next time it moves, she meets it head-on; going toe-to-toe with the beast instead of surrendering an inch of ground. With every swing of her invisible sword, wind whips around her and bottles go flying through the air. Try not to get hit in the face by one. Or by the Manticore parts that kind of just... go everywhere when she starts slicing bits off it during the fight.
Ew. ]
b. outside | still a waste of perfectly good non-alcohol
[ Once all the monsters are cleared out, Saber can be found outside, still in her armour (complete with blood splatter) and staring confusedly down at a particular bottle in her hand. ]
Pizza... beer. [ She sounds baffled. ] How is such a thing possible? One is food, the other a drink.
c. wildcard | maybe not a waste of... etc etc etc
[ hmu with whatever! i'll roll with most anything or you can hit me up at
B
Well, normal. Just plain a person, a new person, for lack of a better and more precise thought.
And yet she does - and it might be... well, one part loneliness and another part a low-key fascination at having strangers around her who weren't drawn in by... something else. People who it couldn't be doubted would have their own lives, hypothetically. Running on a clock completely off-sync from hers.
And so? She stops when she overhears, her arms crossing over her lower torso. And... she chuckles. Just once softly, faintly, but with the humor hopefully clear.]
Have you ever heard of cake-flavored vodka...?
[The downward-then-faintly-upward-creep is also with some... light humor in mind, along with the trace of a smile she's got on - non-judgmental; really at the whole situation more than anything else.]
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closed to some cup, i mean irisviel, i mean what's the difference
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that icon made me choke on my drink
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Zoe Baker | Resident Evil | OTA
[One moment, she'd been standing on the dock, her mind wide awake and burning and boiling with anger.
And in the next, she'd been on her back, swimming back up into herself out of dull unconsciousness, that anger sticking like the aftershocks of a bad dream.
Initially, she isn't afraid. Absolutely concerned, yes, and figuratively electrified all through - maybe it was Eveline's doing. Maybe she'd seen her trying and failing, and was now reaching up for further hold of her to rub in her face that this was what she'd be bound for all along.
Finally, and with no escape.
But when she gets a better hold of her senses, taking in her surroundings as she sits up and pushes herself to her feet with a soft grunt and wide-open eyes, all of that's blasted diffused by disorientation.
It's a Roman arena. Her first thought: it's an illusion, but it doesn't stick long - this is such a big one for Evie, and why would she...?
And then she hears growling. And turns sharply.
A stranger - being circled by a monster. Oh, she's seen monsters before - but this one's like none of those. Feline body, scorpion tail - the very picture of a real-life manticore.
Now she's afraid.
She lifts her hands slightly above elbow level, swallows - keep it together, Zoe; you can get start making sense of this once you get your ass to safety - and reluctantly, reluctantly takes her eyes off the stranger and monster to scan her surroundings.
There. An exit. That looks like an exit, and she makes for it -
A bit too fast. In a moment, the manticore rounds, lopes toward her, leaves her scrambling backward a few steps, leaning back into it and sucking in a gasp. It stops - and starts to circle her now, getting between her and that exit.
She backs up, keeping her breathing and mental ticking as steady as she can...
And thought. She looks just a moment over her shoulder (and sort of hates herself for it, please don't attack now) and calls out to the stranger:]
Help me keep it distracted!
B. City Streets.
[And with leaving the arena comes a second rattling blast to her consciousness.
A deep, deep underground city.
She's started wandering through it, keeping quiet and to the sides of paths, taking in the completely foreign architecture and whatever she can of the lay of it all and what details could mean what with all her senses while feeling nothing more than like she's very, very lucidly dreaming. Neither a good dream nor a bad one - just a strange one, cooked up in some weary part of her brain to give her some novelty.
It's all so... suddenly disconnected. Suddenly removed. She doesn't know whether to trust it, but she doesn't know what else to make of it, either.
And speaking of disconnection, she's, well, lost them.
Her brain's more coldly quiet than it's been in years. She's taken pauses to try and focus, but nope, she can't track them anymore, get a read on them. No Ethan, no Lucas, no Eveline. It actually leaves her kind of unsettled more than anything, that lack of lifelines to fuller awareness; and maybe it's because they're too far off to train her focus on...? But then, if this is far enough away from home for anything like that, if said "anything like that" is even how this works, Evie shouldn't have let her get here.
She doesn't want to get her hopes up - something in her chest tightly wrenches with an upward twist - but... maybe, maybe, there's a possibility that between the dock and the coliseum... she was exposed to a cure after all...?
There's a way to test it - in fact, just tossing herself at one of those manticores would've been enough to do that, but well, if she's wrong, it's a stupid risk.
Instead... might be best to go with the most simple option. If it is an option.
On the next nearby set of footsteps she hears, she'll look straight up and over. Call out to whoever's nearby a little softly husky and not too much louder than necessary to hopefully grab attention.]
-- Hey...
[And head on over, a couple steps at a jog and slowing through to a more casual roll and a stop.]
Excuse me.
[Her voice is soft and relatively polite, though the look on her face is a bit blank and tired.]
Do you know where in this city I could find a clinic?
[The inflection drops rather than rises.]
C. Wildcard.
[Would you like another prompt? Ask away for one or toss anything you might have in mind at me!]
B.
[Maybe he looks like he knows what he's even doing here, which might be why he's being mistaken for the local tour guide. While not particularly social, he'd prefer to travel in groups until he knows for a fact that those things inside of the coliseum aren't lurking around every corner.]
[Currently, he's got his back pressed up against a building, full attention on the small ball bouncing back and forth on his screen. Something, anything to keep his hands occupied.]
Oh, hey.
[Cheek scratch. People are bad enough. Girls? Thank god for these unnecessarily huge goggles.]
Yeah, ah. [A piece of skin comes off between his teeth from his inner lip; his face scrunches slightly as he presses his tongue against the area, finishes tearing it only to taste the copper that follows. He lifts his arm to gesture in the direction he was heading before he decided to hold off for a bit.]
Supposed to be over that way. [The blip of the ball making it past his side draws his attention back to the mobile for a second. He wasn't going for the high score or anything, but losing still makes him want to stomp this thing. So he tucks it into his back pocket instead.]
[Zoe might notice that the person she's speaking to seems more physically agitated than not. Small bouts of fidgeting; his hands slip in and out of his pockets a few times. Chewing at his inner lip, shifting on his feet — Matt is clearly physically uncomfortable.]
I was headed there, but. [Got distracted. A pause, and he's patting down his vest for something that doesn't seem to be there.] I mean, I can show you. If you want.
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Mae Borowski | ota
[Just one normal day.
Just one normal day is all she freaking wants anymore.
She doesn't remember the moment it happened, somewhere between talking to Bea and starting band practice with Gregg. But next thing she knows, she's on the floor of... someplace? It looks like some kind of weird medieval shit.
As Mae gets up, groggy and disorientated, she finds Gregg's bass still laying at her feet.
There's a growl that interrupts her as she reaches down to pick it up, and when she looks up, there's a lion with a weird face and a stingy tail staring her down.]
Holy shit!
[Uhhh shit shit shit she doesn't have any weapons what the hell even is that??
Mae turns and bolts towards some unknown direction, holding the guitar protectively to her chest as she makes a run for it.]
[Around the City]
[About a half hour of escaping the coliseum and wandering around aimlessly, Mae has no effing clue where she is. It's a city. It's a giant cave. It's a giant cave city. That's about as much as she can gather from walking around.
... She doesn't do well in caves. But it's fine. When she finds Gregg, Bea, and Angus, she can properly panic. Not this growing feeling of dread and nausea that's building up in her stomach.
God, please no. Not this again.
Anyone passing by will see a bipedal black cat walking around, holding tightly to a guitar. She seems kind of dazed, but not dazed enough not to ask a few questions to anyone she sees.]
Hey, I got a few questions. You got time to answer them?
Around the city
But this is, apparently, his life now, so he just gives a shrug in response.]
I don't have anything better to do right now, so shoot.
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bigby wolf (ota)
[Sometimes, Bigby wonders if he should even bother sleeping anymore. With everything that's been happening every time he opens his eyes following unconsciousness, intentional or otherwise, he's starting to wonder if the universe is trying to tell him something. "Sleep's for slackers and the weak," if it's in a good mood. "Screw you for thinking you can have nice things," if it feels like being an asshole. Either way, something or someone has it out for him every time he even thinks about getting more than four hours of uninterrupted rest.
Evidently this is one of those latter slates of mind. But just waking up to bad news would be too blase, too ordinary. After all, you'd have to jump through some pretty big hoops to beat out what Bigby's been experiencing in his day to day life lately.
The solution? Just send a really big, really angry monster after him. No foreplay, no warning, not even a chance to wonder where the hell he even is — just good old fashioned murder with a twist.
If the intention was to scare him witless, it almost works, especially in the split-second window of time he has to react when he awakens low growling, a familiar sound Bigby knows very well that doesn't signify hunger so much as territorial anger — a warning — followed by a hiss. He's looking at one very pissed off manticore padding around him in a semi-circle, and specifically at its tail which bobs slightly in the air behind it before lashing out at him stinger-first.
In situations like these, fear doesn't solve anything. It doesn't get results, nor does it save lives.
Anger is a different story, though.
Bigby catches the tail in mid-strike, grabbing hold of it with both hands, and for anyone close by to witness the spectacle as it unfolds, it's easy to assume that this is a struggle he can't win — the alarmed look on his face certainly makes it seem like he's in over his head even when it begins to give way to something narrowed, focused, mad.
Then his eyes flash brightly and it sticks even and especially as the manticore begins to yowl in horrific pain, a chitinous crunch cutting through the air as he begins to pull back, even going so far as to plant his foot against the beast for leverage as he tears at the wildly quivering, venomous appendage. If that doesn't distract from the way his now luminous eyes burn yellow and his nails lengthen into something close to claws, being in the splash zone when he rips that sucker off definitely will.]
(b. riverside)
[Jeez, what a mess.
It's...certainly been a while since he's gone toe-to-toe with something that...mythical? Is the right word? Chimera, manticore, something like that. The last time Bigby's seen anything even remotely similar to one of those was in the Homelands, so he feels justified in initially assuming that's where he is as he drags himself away from the coliseum and through the streets, pressing his hand against the right side of his rib cage where his formally clean(ish) white shirt is shredded. He can feel the sticky trickle of blood between his fingers, although it thankfully seems to be slowing quite a bit with every step he takes. He can't say the same about the pain. Win some, lose some, he supposes. The story of my life.
He hears the river before it actually comes into view, the sound of running water a welcome one in his ears, and he doesn't hesitate to lower himself onto the ground, flopping clearly being out of the question in this state. Sighing, he gingerly takes his bloodied hand away and reaches out to cup a handful of water from the edge, splashing some on his slowly but steadily healing wound, watching the flesh knit itself back together behind reddened strips of fabric.
That's good enough for him. Exhausted, Bigby lies back in a rather unceremonious heap on the ground and actually allows himself to shut his eyes.
Just for a moment. Couldn't hurt...right?]
(c. network — text)
[This? This is not a phone. This is a little glowy square with way too many picture boxes and letters that are way too big for his fingers. So, clearly not a phone, no matter what the handy little guide that came pre-installed with it claims. Whoever wrote that thing understands Bigby way more than they'll ever possibly know.
He's had a good long while to pour over all the information within. It's...a shock to the system, for sure. An adjustment that'll take time to get used to, definitely. Clearly this is a unique situation that requires a delicate touch, an open mind, and an extra conscientious approach since he's using mundy technology he's never touched before.]
DID I DO THAT RIGHT
[Ladies and gentlemen, our brave detective and seeker of truth.]
(wildcard)
[Anything goes!)
riverside
[The last refuge of a sober ancient marsh monster is the river. It's not perfect, but at least he can drop glamour and lurk underwater and not have to deal with anyone for a while.]
[It seems, though, that today's not quite done with Gren yet, because there's a person on the bank of this river. A very familiar person who'd been here before, but had been gone for months.]
[Bigby goddamn Wolf. Of course, out of all of the people who had disappeared from the shithole, it'd be Wolf who'd show back up like a bad penny. Because fuck Gren, apparently.]
[He walks over until he's standing by Bigby's side, looking down at him. Looks like he'd been hurt, considering the stained part of his shirt, and Gren'd be tempted to kick him right in that side if it didn't already look like it'd healed over. Instead, he sort of shoves at Bigby's shoulder with his foot; wakey-wakey, asshole.]
[The right sleeve of Gren's jacket is empty, and he hasn't forgotten why.]
You're a fuckin' eyesore, Wolf.
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elise | (mostly) OTA
( [ continued from here ]
Did she say something about Sleep Powder? Mushrooms? No, can't be...these creatures are clearly much more dangerous than that. Also a little more hodgepodge. Must be part of that shared psychosis they were talking about. )
Keep leading then. This would be so much easier if there were feasible weapons lying around... ( Fire, though...that may be more doable. )
You've never been camping, right? Does that mean you don't know how to start a fire? ( They probably have enough raw materials to make something work, and she knows how to do it in theory, but they usually at least had some sort of starter. )
b; arrival
( This sudden change of scenery is being categorized as a survival situation in Elise's mind. What do you do when you need to survive? You scavenge.
Elise definitely doesn't trust any beverage that's just lying on the ground, and it's not like she's interested in alcohol. She's also not outfitted with any type of knapsack or bag for carrying things, so she can only hold onto one or two for emergencies. Alcohol can be used in wounds and stuff, right? Pretty sure she's seen that's a thing.
For the most part, though, she's interested in the bottles themselves. They can easily be used as a distraction or broken to be used for cutting up manticores -- or a suspicious, unsavory person. That's why she's dumping out the alcohol in a rather large bottle she's found, hoping to turn it into her newest weapon of choice. )
c; around the stores
( While the structure of this weird underground city is certainly not anything she's ever seen before, the dilapidated look that some of it has going for it is reminiscent of how things were starting to look back home.
Elise is pretty stealthy -- but being 100% stealthy doesn't exactly bode well for OTA intro logs. She's sort of canvased a few of the stores, mostly on the lookout for any more of those lion-lizard creatures, but she's also trying to be aware of any people nearby.
There's no assumption that she's stealing anything since it all looks pretty abandoned, but she certainly is attempting to loot several stores; she shoves as much useful equipment into a small sack she'd "found" (the weird sensation of guilt that overwhelmed her was peculiar). Sorry if you run into this behavior totally unawares. )
d; wildcard
( Come up with something, or PP me at
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Okay, now that that's all settled.]
H-hey! You have my axe! That's a great weapon. [And far more traditionally deadly than wielding a crossbow bolt as a melee weapon. Though maybe it's heavier than what Elise is used to...? Yikes. Carrying big math textbooks, this girl should be ripped.] You just rub two sticks together really quick, right? Or hit rocks together? That's what they do in movies!
[She's got this.]
Oh, I...wouldn't be helpful with either of those right now. [Good thing somebody has two working arms.]
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