FEBRUARY INTRO LOG( FEB 16TH & 17TH )
february 16 ↴ INTRO: NEW WANDERERS' ARRIVAL! Our batch of new Wanderers wake this morning, as all new Wanderers have before, on a plush bed with a mild but lingering sense of recent disorientation. Frigg greets them as per normal, though rather than outright escorting Wanderers to the front doors this time, she and Sigyn allow the Wanderers time and space to leave their bed, meet the pantheon, and even depart the palace at their own pace - but not without a warning. All Wanderers must choose a deity to tether to before dawn the next day, or else one of the gods will choose them. This is of grave importance, as that's precisely how long the magic giving them form is able to last untethered before the Mother's own magic overwhelms it.
(Though the gods are more than willing to allow Wanderers to leave, it's worth noting that many a castle servant - natives, born in this land - might see fit to intercede and insist on the choosing of a god before Wanderers step off the Gladsheim Palace grounds.)
Stepping outside, you're greeted by an almost bright and sunny day... Undermined thoroughly by a sharp, biting wind that permeates any small gap in your clothing. I bet the gods might give you a sweater, if you ask. It probably won't even look that absurd, depending on which one you ask. A trail of what seems like stringless balloons float at eye level from just outside the palace door, guiding Wanderers down the path to a notice board just outside the palace grounds. On this notice board, Wanderers find a brief handwritten guide to accessing the city map on their cuffs, specifically denoting the little colored house icons ( ⌂ ) to help Wanderers make their way to each god's housing.
Also on this board appear to be a variety of job listings, for those who want to get more involved in Asgard as a whole. But let's not get ahead of ourselves, shall we? There's more than enough time for that once you've chosen a god to tether to in the first place. february 17 ↴ GOD CURSE: CHARACTER-BUILDING WITH SKADI. The storm brewing within Skadi is hardly a secret. She was impatient during the gods' supposedly unanimous address, and in the days to follow, Sigyn (with all her desperately good intentions) tried to balm the irritation but only abraded the goddess further still. She attended the Wanderers' arrival purely by the letter of her duty and swept back out the doors as soon as that duty released her, and since then she's been holed up in her temple, her pointy-faced statues positioned just outside as sentinels meant to intimidate mortals away.
They dared to tell her that she does nothing. Nothing for the Wanderers, that is. Nothing to help them grow and self-actualize, as if these 'Wanderers' are so much more important than Asgard itself, which weakens by the day as her fellow gods fling their magic about to overprotect the Wanderers, or even to satisfy their whims. The consensus to draw back some of that wasteful protection would have pleased her, if she weren't so thoroughly fixated on the slight that preceded it.
They want her to help the Wanderers self-actualize? So be it. There's no better way, truly, than to confront and overcome the ways in which you're flawed.
So the morning after arrival day, many Wanderers wake up with a stinging, itching spot somewhere on their body. Maybe their arm, maybe their back, maybe their throat. In that spot, as it turns out, is a set of words in a deep ruddy brown (almost like old blood) under their skin as if tattooed in place. But these aren't just any words - they prey directly into the Wanderer's fears, their regrets, their insecurities, and their mistakes. They're facing down some of the worst things they've ever thought or feared about themselves.
The other gods, of course, are eager and willing to try to relieve the poor Wanderers of these cursed marks... but they find that it's not quite so easy. Wanderers who seek a god's removal of the words find that not only do the words remain, but a new set appears: Flees the truth.
But that's fine = For most Wanderers, these words disappear on their own in a day or two. A handful of unlucky souls find that their marks linger indefinitely, or seem to disappear but return at truly inopportune occasions down the line.
MOD NOTES This is the February intro log and Skadi's curse, our mini-event for this month! Skadi's curse is is entirely opt-in - not all Wanderers are affected - and is detailed more fully in the 'This Month's Events' section of the February Bulletin, and you're welcome to direct any follow-up questions to the Bulletin's mod questions top-level. You've also likely noticed that god jobs are now live! The listings themselves can be found here (same link as within the 'arrival' prompt), with a brief FAQ featured over here. |
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b.
What brought him to the markets was much the same, however. A better means of concealment. Half so his dominant arm would not be stifled by tight bandaging and half to protect against the cold. It was seeing the fluffy tail lashing to and fro that caught his interest beyond that. Ever did he cling to what scraps of familiarity he could find, including the mannerisms of an agitated Miqo'te, thus did he approach Rhus from behind despite knowing better than this.]
Are you alright?
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Pulls his arm back.
Snaps it forward, letting his fist fly.
Rhus doesn't care where his hand lands, as long as he hits something.]
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In that instant of every bone in him screaming danger, his arm wrapped in bandage snapped upwards to catch the Miqo'te's fist in his hand before it had the chance to make contact. Perhaps due to his own frustration he chose to ignore, but he pushed back at the fist in hand, giving it a tight squeeze and shades of movement from his arm indicated he was ready to twist it to one side.
It wasn't until the initial sensation of feeling threatened subsided that he relaxed his grip slightly.]
... I didn't intend to startle you.
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There's a saving about good intentions and the road to one of the seven hells. [Rhus forcibly wrenches his arm back, because he knows if they continue on this slight show of violence, his arm could be an unfortunate casualty-- and he needs that arm to write, damn it.]
What do you want?
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It was only after that that he noticed the writing, blinking slowly before continuing to ignore them.]
I've yet to encounter others from Eorzea, but you appeared to be unwell. I only wished to see if you were alright. [He shook his head.] I realize I should have announced myself more appropriately. Pray forgive my rudeness.
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But Rhus takes a deep breath to keep a lid on his temper, pinching the bridge of his nose as he closes his eyes. He's been on edge since he arrived, a far cry from being so tired before he came here. It feels like having whiplash.]
I think you'd be out of sorts as well, if you'd lost your magicks.
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Though I am not mage, thus I've little magicks to lose. [Save for latent aether within every living being and what was apparently within his sight, but he has yet to fully process the latter.
And he refused to acknowledge the fatigue or the stress of his now lacking sense. He had no right to, as the words hidden under his clothing reminded him.]
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Lucky, lucky you, then. [A grunt, before another grumble releases itself from Rhus' throat.] I'll not waste my breath on that then.
So what else do you have to say for yourself?
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Still, he folded giving a small bow of his head and trying to sound more genuine.]
My apologies for approaching you as I did, ser.
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Now what do you want from me, aside from a reminder of home?
[And still, he's not pleased about that-- perhaps a bit of Fray leaking into his voice as well. There's always something needed from him... And from such a stranger, too.]
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I require nothing from you. As stated before, I recognized you as Eorzean and only wished to see if you were alright.
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If he were in a better mood, he would have told himself to be kinder. But he is not.]
Now you've seen me. [And he is certainly not "all right".] I think it best we do not speak more today.
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He was still on edge.] Might I at least ask your name?
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I'll tell you later, when I'm in a better mood.
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Takame is mine. [He'll not forget to give that, though the Miqo'te didn't ask. But with it and a dip of his head he turned on his heel to take his leave. What an... unpleasant man.]