Anders (
circlejerked) wrote in
entrancelogs2017-07-17 09:34 pm
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Entry tags:
OPEN | you think i'm dead but
Who: Anders (
circlejerked) and anyone!
Where: Alexandria.
When: Backdated to July 15-16th.
Rating: PG-13 for ourunwelcomed guests, the zombies.
Summary: No Starbucks, but you get a mage with a big stick. A late edition to the zombie event, but I mean, it's zombies. Gotta love zombies.
The Story:
I. Day 2
[Don't look now, but there's a man in a housecoat beating on a zombie at the front gate... sort of?
There is a man and he is in robes, but up close they decidedly fall closer to the armored battle wear variety, and the weapon in his hand is less a bludgeon in the act of mindless beating and more a long, hefty fighting staff in the middle of poking. The zombie straining against the bars seems little more than harmlessly irate, swaying back a step at each push of the staff only to push forward again to repeat the process.
What you see before you is a mage studying the undead. A little poke to see its pain response there, a little prod to see how it reacts there... The experiment continues on with magic from that point: telekinetic blasts, tongues of fire, small currents of electricity that leap from his fingers, testing the bare minimum of forced needed to make the dead permanently dead.
Something can be said for these pitiful creatures: at least they're not carrying fungal spores, or the taint, or invisible to the naked eye.]
... just ugly.
II. Day 3
[Survival is, fortunately enough, something a successful apostate can do in his sleep--mostly since there's not a lot of time or opportunity to sleep when every templar in creation is out for your hide. Joining the Wardens had only continued to teach the joys of fighting hordes of invading monsters. Occupational hazards.
What that means for whomever happened to run into this house with him to shake pursuing off pursuing zombies is that Anders had been quite content to play sentry at the window, a practiced hand at watching out for the nearest thing intending to kill him. Deprived of prey, most of the zombies had lost interest milling around and slowly waddled off back onto the street in search of bigger and better pursuits, but one stubbornly curious zombie continues to claw at the door. It's starting to draw attention, Anders notes with an exasperated grimace.
Well, shooing won't work, so...
Looking to his latest survival partner, he eases a knife from the sheath at his belt and nods at the door. Open it.
Although beaning it with his heavy staff could be fun and cathartic, a more subtle shushing might be best for this loner that won't just take a hint.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Where: Alexandria.
When: Backdated to July 15-16th.
Rating: PG-13 for our
Summary: No Starbucks, but you get a mage with a big stick. A late edition to the zombie event, but I mean, it's zombies. Gotta love zombies.
The Story:
I. Day 2
[Don't look now, but there's a man in a housecoat beating on a zombie at the front gate... sort of?
There is a man and he is in robes, but up close they decidedly fall closer to the armored battle wear variety, and the weapon in his hand is less a bludgeon in the act of mindless beating and more a long, hefty fighting staff in the middle of poking. The zombie straining against the bars seems little more than harmlessly irate, swaying back a step at each push of the staff only to push forward again to repeat the process.
What you see before you is a mage studying the undead. A little poke to see its pain response there, a little prod to see how it reacts there... The experiment continues on with magic from that point: telekinetic blasts, tongues of fire, small currents of electricity that leap from his fingers, testing the bare minimum of forced needed to make the dead permanently dead.
Something can be said for these pitiful creatures: at least they're not carrying fungal spores, or the taint, or invisible to the naked eye.]
... just ugly.
II. Day 3
[Survival is, fortunately enough, something a successful apostate can do in his sleep--mostly since there's not a lot of time or opportunity to sleep when every templar in creation is out for your hide. Joining the Wardens had only continued to teach the joys of fighting hordes of invading monsters. Occupational hazards.
What that means for whomever happened to run into this house with him to shake pursuing off pursuing zombies is that Anders had been quite content to play sentry at the window, a practiced hand at watching out for the nearest thing intending to kill him. Deprived of prey, most of the zombies had lost interest milling around and slowly waddled off back onto the street in search of bigger and better pursuits, but one stubbornly curious zombie continues to claw at the door. It's starting to draw attention, Anders notes with an exasperated grimace.
Well, shooing won't work, so...
Looking to his latest survival partner, he eases a knife from the sheath at his belt and nods at the door. Open it.
Although beaning it with his heavy staff could be fun and cathartic, a more subtle shushing might be best for this loner that won't just take a hint.]
no subject
Lucky you.
[He's not bitter. Okay, maybe he's a little bitter. Why don't they ever get attacked by creatures that like to chew metal or suck on demonic essence? It's unfair, really. This is flesh and blood oppression.]
You mean did I pick up the skill along the way? Ha, it'd be something if that were the case. No, I'm too old of a dog for that kind of new trick--a mage born and raised, how do you do.
[On the other hand, one glance at this fellow is all it takes to make a person wonder: has Mettaton... always been like... this?]
no subject
Don't worry Anders, one day another event will come along that kills all tech and Mettaton will be dragging around a hunk of metal for a body for a week again and you shall be vindicated.]
A mage, born and raised!
[He says it with a certain amount of delight at the thought.]
In my world, there haven't been humans with magic in a very long time.
[Granted, as a monster, he should have more mixed emotions about the idea of humans with magic buuuuut he's a human-aboo and therefore kind of a mess.]
no subject
That's right.
[You seem really chipper about the news, Mettaton. That's a change from the usual state of affairs in Thedas, and it never fails to put him on slightly surprised footing. Surprised, but not unpleasantly so. Only in Wonderland could he talk cheerfully about magic with a sentient metal being that looks as coiffed as an Orlesian courtier's favorite mistress.]
Oho, that so? Your version of the Maker must had a change of heart about gifting humanity with magic. Still better if you have magic at all. The world this memory comes from... I'm not so sure they have any beyond stage magic. It's really no wonder they have a problem with the undead.
no subject
Perhaps, though I don't know who this Maker it is you are talking about.
[He might mean some sort of god if the context clues are right.]
Humans in my world used to have a lot more magic but there is a prevailing theory that after their 7 most powerful mages sealed us Monsters into the Underground, the magic of the world above slowly leaked away and now magic is a distant memory for them.
[He looks around a bit and nods in agreement.]
Oh yes. This world certainly would have benefited greatly from any amount of magic at all against those beasts.
no subject
You know-- [He waves a hand, this time one without emitting sparks or flames. By now he's come to learn the multiverse is full of creator gods that go by hundreds of names.] A cosmic maker who makes anything worth making in the universe. People. Magic. Dessert.
[Including a virus that holds the living hostage and induces a plague of undead, too, perhaps. But he doesn't say that. He doesn't think he has to, when the neglect of Michonne and Clementine's world is apparent all around them.
Their Maker must be of a particularly cruel nature.]
Wha-- Wait, the mages in your world are responsible for sealing you away? [Mettaton's admission is sufficient to distract from the troubles of the world they currently reside in.] You must know Alphys.
[Speaking of monsters connected to magic who live underground...]
no subject
Oh! That makes sense, yes. I don't particularly believe in that myself, though I do know a number of humans do.
[His spiritual views are kind of funky and honestly he'd be a very pious person if he ever turned his worship of himself onto a greater being.
He snaps to attention at Anders's words, a small look of delight blooming on his face.]
I do! She's the one who built me. Do you know her?
no subject
Hold up.]
Are we talking about the same Alphys? Small, scaly? Likes anime? Are you saying she's your creator?
[Oh my god, Alphys is the robot Maker, that's... Actually, that's not all that surprising for her. Mettaton already seems a magnitude of order more well-behaved than those stab-happy box tentacles.]
no subject
Yes!! She is my creator. I'm her greatest creation.
[There is a grand measure of pride in his words as he says that.]
no subject
So she's like your Maker.
[Interesting. Also possibly blasphemous, but hey, they're already standing in a godforsaken world. The Andrastian Maker's probably not listening.]
What does that make you, some kind of metal golem?
no subject
[He winks at Anders when he says that. Is he serious? Of course not, he can't be serious... right?]
A golem! I am no golem, I assure you.
[He shudders. Alphys's little pet golem still gives him the creeps sometimes.]
I have no control rod. I am a being of free will.
[He stops.]
...You wouldn't happen to know Cullen, would you?
no subject
[Honestly, the only part of Mettaton's answer that makes sense to Anders is control rod, and his eyebrows lift in recognition. Now that's a term you don't hear bandied about every day.]
More like Cullen knows me. [There's never a bad time to throw some shade on the one and only Cullen Rutherford, it's a philosophy Anders lives by.] Why, did he ask the same thing? Drat. I'm going to need to get some new material if that's the case.
no subject
[Mettaton laughs at Anders's wording.]
He did in fact! He wasn't as fond of my response to his question however.
[It was an amazing one, in his opinion.]
Are you two from the same world or have you just hit it off rather badly here in Wonderland?