INTRO LOG: BLACK CATS & WALKING UNDER LADDERS

[hadrielmods]

Who: New arrivals and everyone else!
What: The intro log for February.
Where: The colosseum and all around the city.
When: February 10th-13th
Warnings: Fresh meat, creepy moving shadows, terrible luck, the screams of your loved ones.

Welcome to Hadriel, new friends. While waking up on the ground of a broken colosseum may not be the most pleasant arrival, you can at least find comfort in the fact that there's no giant monster immediately attempting to eat you. Plenty of the people already here will tell you that they weren't quite so lucky. But - wait. Is that something moving in the shadows, or is it just your imagination?

Of course it's not just your imagination. That would be way too easy. No, arriving along with everyone this time are wraiths, vengeful spirits that enjoy darkness, shadows, and misery. On the plus side, they won't try to kill you. On the minus side, their touch chills you and saps your energy, as well as inflicting a temporary curse of awful luck. Anything that can go wrong, will, including (and especially) things that might kill you. Wraiths are subtle and sneaky, so be sure to watch your back. That shadow isn't just a shadow.

Compounding the confusion the wraiths can cause, you just might wake up to the sound of chattering voices - only to be quite alone. A small flock of jabberjays has come through the Door as well. These genetically engineered birds are capable of mimicking entire human voices and conversations - as well as screams of terror and pain. Initially only in the arena and bringing only conversations from their world, they'll soon settle throughout the city and begin to learn the voices of those living in Hadriel. Your best friend screaming bloody murder just a street over? It could be them, or it could just be one of these lovely birds. Don't let it stress you out.

Once you've escaped the colosseum, hopefully without accidentally impaling yourself on your own weapon, feel free to go explore the rest of the city! Find a house, find a new monster, or simply scavenge for supplies. Good luck, and enjoy your stay in Hadriel!

► This log covers February 10th-13th.
► Feel free to make your own logs, as well!
► 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

[amos_moses]

Ouch shrapnel. Amos cringes. "Holy Archangel Michael, be with us in this hour," he mutters under his breath, rapidly, and pulls out a few more things for bandaging before he starts examining her cuts and scrapes and bruising. "Can you take a deep breath? Or do your ribs hurt too bad?" he asks, and adds, "Gonna touch ya."

His fingers trace the bruising and the curve of her ribs very gently, feeling for immediate deformities, before he moves in to the shrapnel. She's pale but she's not turning blue or gasping for breath, so she's breathing just fine. The question is, are her ribs broken or bruised? Because broken and moving around might end up with a punctured lung or heart or major blood vessel. Bruised or cracked...painful, but completely survivable with even his minimum of care. As long as none of this shrapnel has gone too deep....

All he has for washing things is a bottle of water and a clean bit of gauze, so that's what he uses, warning her as he goes to touch her skin again.

[mismanagement]

[Maketh keeps her eyes straight ahead, not bothering to hide the flinch. It's starting to hurt again. She feels wrong without her jacket on, uniform just so.] Hurts to breathe.

[A lot. When she first woke up she'd been afraid that she'd undo her jacket and find her ribs jutting out. She hadn't. But there hadn't been anything she could fix on her own, so she'd gone on ignoring it. Work always comes first. She has to be a good soldier, has to be useful, or else something bad will happen.

Maketh blinks at the man. She doesn't know his name. She ought to know his name.] Am I dying?

[She doesn't sound particularly concerned about it one way or another. It would be an inconvenience, she's sure.]

[amos_moses]

"Not right this minute."

Amos pulls out the last piece of shrapnel and searches for any others he can't immediately see, fingers ghosting carefully along her skin. "I don't think so, but there's better healers'n me here. You should go see 'em, ma'am."

He's seen the clinic, even if he's never been in there himself.

Her nonchalant question doesn't bother him. He's gotten a little blase about how he'll die himself: violent lives often have violent ends, he knows.

[mismanagement]

[Oh. That's good. Maketh isn't sure if anything happens after you die - she's never really considered it before - but she's certain it would be terribly inconvenient. Best to be avoided.]

Healers.

[That's an odd way to put it.]

Where?

[She'll go. Eventually.]

[amos_moses]

Amos rattles off directions, based on landmarks, as he tapes a few gauze swatches down, covering the deepest and worst of the shrapnel wounds. When he's finished, he leans back and rinses his hands with the bottled water, before offering up what's left in it to Maketh.

"Here, you've lost blood. You should drink some."

[mismanagement]

[Maketh closes her eyes, repeating the directions back to herself under her breath. In a moment she'll add those to her notes. Everything has to be written down, has to be done right.

She blinks at Amos, then takes the water.] Thank you. Sir.

[She coughs a little as she drinks. Her throat feels bone dry, and it hurts to swallow.]

[amos_moses]

Amos rocks back on his heels and starts gathering up the unused supplies and the trash. "You're welcome, honey. An' be careful. Monsters don't usually come into the city, but with new monsters trying to get out, well. An' some of these buildings ain't steady. They're more habitable 'long that way, near where I told you the clinic is."

He won't force her to go anywhere, but he can give her good advice and try to keep her out of trouble. He's leery of trying to actually handle her: he's been attacked too many times by stunned or dazed teammates to try while neither of them are in mortal danger.

[mismanagement]

I'll remember.

[She will. Even under these circumstances. Maketh is very good with details. But she needs to move now, or that bone deep exhaustion will sink in and that will be the end of it. There's a part of Maketh that's afraid she'll die in her sleep if she stops to close her eyes.

That's not helpful at all. She won't be doing that.

She picks up her coat slowly, pulling it on one arm at a time. It's in tatters, will need to be replaced in due haste. But it's hers for now, and she has work to do.]

[amos_moses]

"Some of the houses an' apartments ain't occupied, if you need a place to rest," Amos tells her, standing up and shouldering his pack again. "An' if you're hungry, I've got some food I could share."

Luring people with food is second nature to Amos, bred into him by his Southern raising. Food answers almost all problems.

[mismanagement]

[Maketh glances at him briefly. Under different circumstances, she'd smile. It's the polite thing. She tries to do that.] I would appreciate that.

[She needs to gather allies here. Amos has proven himself useful, and kind. Maketh could probably use some kindness here.]

[amos_moses]

Amos smiles back at the sad attempt, his own open and easy and friendly. "Alright. I live over this way."

He weaves his way out of the shop, but not before picking up not-bloodstained clothes that look like they might fit Maketh. She might want them in a bit.

"Over this way" is the spiraling tower closest to Hope's temple, and Amos has nabbed the first-floor apartment for himself. Why bother with stairs? It's a three-bedroom apartment, too big for just him, though sometimes Kamina stays. Most of the time the other man is out and about, though, which makes him a less than disruptive roommate.