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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I thought the same when I was recruited. And yet... [He spreads his hands.] It was perhaps one of the most intensive training regiments I've done in my life.
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Although, thinking back on his own fairly limited experiences with battle ... Maybe it's not that hard to incorporate it? Dance around a skag, perform some magic while you're at it. ]
Huh ...
So how come you decided to go for that?
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I first became acquainted with the troupe when they put on a performance in a city I was passing through, and the mistress called for me to stay once her dancer was done. She noted how intensely I watched, especially when she and her dancer seemed to carry weapons on their person, and offered to take me under her wing during their tour of Eorzea.
[Then he tips the entire contents of his cup into his gullet, and places it down on the ground. He does so to free his hands, as he easily and gracefully spins and twirls in the air, before holding a finishing pose for several seconds, as if he weren't a short, muscle-bound man in leather and long boots who doesn't at all look light enough to be carried by many people here in Asgard.]
Would it not pique your interest, why a troupe of street performers bear weapons and the strong bodies of battle? [Admittedly Ranaa was rather soft and untried at the beginning... but foisting more and more responsibility on her shoulders has certainly fixed that.]
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No, not really. Everyone carries weapons where I'm from.
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[It's almost akin to saying... perhaps Rhys has no culture?!]
Or perhaps you should have been there to see it.
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But also maybe kind of true. ]
Yeah, maybe I should've been.
Anyway, we should probably get out of the cold. Found your new home yet?
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Then he sighs, and nods.]
But aye, I did find it. And already, I want to move out. [Though he'll keep his reasons to himself for now.]
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He huffs with amusement. ]
Yeah, that's how a lot of people tend to feel about it.
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So he lets Rhys think what he wants with a shrug. His mission in life isn't to be understood by every single person he comes across.]
I'll settle for removing myself from a communal home, really. [A subtle probe, seeing if he can actually do that.]
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[Rhus massages his temples, closing his eye. Two of the disciplines he's incapable of performing because he never bothered to learn them. Stone-smothing might not be the right term, when really, it's goldsmithing, but he knows how much of that goes into making a house as well. He's heard the spiel from the guildmaster before that damned malfunctioning clockwork doll chased him out.
He's likely never going to join that guild, either. If he were to return to Eorzea.
Not the time to think about that, though.]
It's at least something I suppose... Gods kn-- who in the bloody hells know where I'd get up to without knowing a bloody thing.
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[ Having a project is kind of a life-saver. If he hadn't decided to learn how to build a vintage computer and a database and start thinking about how to potentially create the internet, he would've gone crazy. ]
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[Perhaps he shouldn't have said that, but Rhus doesn't even notice that he did. He will, eventually.
Maybe.]
But aye, I'll keep that in mind, even if I've no talent in building. Breaking, yes, but not building.
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Even if you won't remember them afterwards. ]
You don't need talent to learn something, do you? I'm sure you could do it.
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[ The cold reminds him of its existence when he suddenly shivers, and he wraps his arms around himself to rub his upper arms. ]
Anyway, if we keep standing out here, the warmth from the coffee is going to run out. Might want to get inside. But I'll see you around?
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If only Rhys knew the significance of the Miqo'te readily drinking something another person has prepared... Ah, well. No one can ever know, anyway.]
Thanks for sharing your coffee-- next time, it will be on me, aye?
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[ Not like it actually costs anything, but, sure, he'll expect to be treated to coffee made by Rhus at some point. ]