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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asgardchrysalis2020-02-16 10:08 pm
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They might be known to the gods, in truth. Would they have reason to hide such a thing? Wrathion doubts it. Perhaps the answers are with this peculiar tree.
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She wondered if that was a common trait of monotheists. She'd encountered quite a few of those. More than she'd ever met back home.
"At any rate, the gods I've met here have all proven rather kind."
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"I suppose it is better that they do not think us unwelcome intruders, since there is little we can do for now."
Especially when so limited. That really does grate, the more he thinks about it.
"How long have you been here?"
How long have they been unable to return those arrived via this quirk of magic?
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Living life more honestly didn't necessarily mean she needed to share every single detail of every single truth.
Or maybe she was sliding back into old habits. Difficult to say, this early into her new resolution.
"My friend Jim helped to create a calendar to help us keep better track of the days."
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No way to keep track of time? How on earth did anyone get anything done without such a thing! Still, Wrathion supposes there there must have been such a time on Azeroth. A time before the days were counted. He finds it difficult to imagine.
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At least, that's what the demi-gods she'd met back in Valeria told her.
More like a cautionary tale. About how life can just slip through your fingers, if you don't feel the need to pay attention to it.
"Some of them, Honir in particular, are absolutely fascinated by mortal things. Eager to try them out."
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He thinks of Kairoz, of the Infinite Dragonflight, and narrows his eyes.
"There are those even where I am from who exist outside time. I can understand why tracking it would become... difficult, in such circumstances."
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But in a second, she stopped worrying about that so much when something else struck her.
Eyes widening, she suddenly dipped into a curtsy. "I'm so sorry, my lord. I feel very ill-mannered. I haven't even asked you your name!"
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"I am known as Wrathion. I suppose I should ask yours, too. A name is a useful thing to have."
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She would have to ask more later.
It was similar to several words in Daruc.
"My name is Ariadne," she said, with a second curtsy. "But most people call me 'Airy.'"