multiversallogs | How many goodly creatures are there here!

How many goodly creatures are there here! :: GAME OPENER

Welcome to Baedal.

These are the first words newcomers hear when the door opens and they are invited into their new world. Some fuss, some fight, some need time before they have the courage to step outside. Others, shell-shocked or jaded, go quietly along with the proceedings.

They are given brief instructions; a repeat of what's described in the pamphlet and a door key.

Please stay in your room. There will be dinner soon.

It's been almost a day for some. For others, only an hour's wait. The latest newcomer is lead straight from the arrival room to the dining hall where candles and lanterns have been set out to compensate for failing electricity. (Those who have been here longer explain about rolling blackouts.) The food, however, is warm, varied and plentiful. Seating is open, and less conventional chair are available to those who need them.

There are many strange faces around the table, the majority of these recent arrivals. The proprietor of the Valhalla Inn is here, as is some of her staff. The Sheriff of Mog Hill is introduced, his function detailed. The reason for the dinner is explained:

It's a celebration. A new cohort has finally been officiated; CeidaryBlue523. Your cohort. Please. Introduce yourself. Mingle. Get to know your fellows, they will be your brothers and sisters for as long as you live in this city.

((OOC post for discussion and coordination.))

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Hellboy had arrived early in the day, and after reading Finding Baedal a couple of times through, spent the rest of the time stewing in his room. But now he was finally out, and rather than head directly for the food, he decides to stretch his legs and wander around a little. This exploration eventually takes him to the public room, where he starts browsing the bookshelves, making note of titles he might want to check out later.

It wasn't so long ago that he came through the arrival room and Norrington is still a little uncomfortable attending the first night of a new cohort. Not just because it means that more people have been taken from their lives and brought into this city, but because it brings back too many memories of being starched and pressed in a stifling ballroom.

"If they don't have anything to your taste, there is a public library, but they do charge for a membership," he says mildly. Norrington hopes that Hellboy doesn't mind the intrusion, but it is his duty to be here and introduce himself to the locals.

Hellboy glances over at Norrington quickly, just to make sure that he was actually the one being addressed, then resumes looking at the shelves. "Hm. Well, I may get to that eventually, but I seem to be starting off okay here." His eyes narrow and he mutters half to himself, "Tom Swift and his Shining Trapezohedron?! I don't remember that one."

Shaking his head, he pulls himself away and turns to Norrington. "Sorry. I can look at that more later. Name's Hellboy." He extends his left hand for shaking, for presumably obvious reasons.

"Sheriff Norrington," he says with an easy, but earnest, smile and accepts the handshake. He doesn't seem to be even slightly put-off by Hellboy's inhuman appearance. "I don't know it either, but any book that could've ever been written has a chance of arriving here. The central library works to catalogue what they can, but ..."

But there's just so much and it's all so very odd. How do you adapt the Dewey Decimal System to accommodate multiversal novels?

"Ah, the local law, come to check out all the new folks." He grins, then looks briefly back at the shelves as the Sheriff explains the multiversal book sources.

"Interesting. I think the library in the last place I was at had something similar going on, but I hadn't had a whole lot of time to check it out before I got yanked from there and dropped here."

"It's a part of the job," he says with his tone implying that not all the other sheriffs take it quiet as seriously as he does. "A friendly face for most newcomers to talk to and a gentle reminder for those used to lawless territory."

Mog Hill has its share of petty crime, but in comparison to the rest of the city, Norrington has done a good job -- the neighbourhood is clean, welcoming, and relatively safe. "I wish I could properly apologize for the way this place works, but I've yet to understand or influence how human or xenian bleed-through works."

"I appreciate the effort," he says, of both the Sheriff's duty as a greeter and his frustrated desire to apologize. "I'm guessing 'bleed-through' means how we get here, but is 'xenian' a specific race, or just a catch-all term for anyone who isn't entirely human?"

"Other than when new citizens arrive, bleed-through is usually unintentional." And explains why there is often cross-hatching on windows to break up their reflective surface. "And, yes, it covers everyone who is currently non-human and to a lesser extent, anyone who is human-plus, but that's an issue the courts are still on about."

At one point does someone qualify as xenian? A magic-user? A werewolf?

"Is this purely legal definition for its own sake, or is there a social problem going on there, too? The staff here's been pretty pleasant so far, but I hope you can understand why I might be a bit concerned." He gestures with the Right Hand at his face, as much to indicate one as the other.

"As with any division some people feel the need to be blinkered fools, but for the most part, it's not an issue. I know that at least one of the nightstaff here is xenian." He is, in fact, a feathery, fuzzy sort of not-dragon that likes pizza and is vicious at cribbage.

"Legally, it's only the most severe breaches of the peace that I can charge and deal with, but..." But it's not something Norrington will stand for on his watch.

"I suppose I should've expected it'd be something like that," Hellboy says ruefully. He extends his hand again. "Well, thank you for your time, Sheriff. I'll try not to make your burden any heavier."

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hurricane-james.livejournal.com - 2011-05-03 03:53 (UTC) - Expand

"Disgustingly domestic set up for they've got goin' for a gang of kidnappers. Or whatever the hell this is."

Ashley flicked the spine of a random book with one finger and gave a dismissive scoff. She wasn't happy with the current set up by any stretch, but she was willing to bet the normal laws of her world applied here, too. The big, scary looking guy was usually one you wanted to be on decent terms with from the get-go.

"It is pretty efficient, I've got to admit. Last city I got kidnapped into, I showed up in the nearby forest. Had to get all the basic info by calling the party line."

Having completed a tour of the room, he looked over at Ashley and took in her attire. Lacking any other idea of what she could be in that getup, he asks, "You in the lucha biz or something?"

"Christ, you sound like you've made a career out of it. I thought the dimension hoping bullshit was out of style by now."

She places one hand on her hip, still adjusting to the unfamiliar feeling of wearing a damn quiver on her back. Like she was back in the stone ages or something. Hell if she knew why her dad couldn't have picked up sharp shooting like a sane person.

"Which ties in to the get up. Kind of a family tradition, dressing up in costumes and fighting whatever needs fighting. Usually makes me stand out in the crowd, but you're some tough competition."

"Only once before between universes, but yeah, I've gotten jerked around back home often enough to be kind of used to it."

He listens to her explanation, tapping at his chin with this Right Hand. "Oh. So it's a crime-fighting costume, then. We didn't have many of those back home, and the few there were dressed a bit differently."

He'd almost said, like Lobster Johnson, but he didn't really expect she'd get that.

"Something like that. Gives people something to get distracted with."

She walked her fingers along the spine of one book idly, still trying to size the man- thing- whatever up.

"But 'different's' a relative term."

"No spandex in the '30s and '40s. The costumes were more like modified military uniforms. Anyway." He extends his left hand to shake. "I'm Hellboy."

"A time-traveling dimension-hopper. Fuck, why not." She takes the hand with a snorted laugh. "Ashley. Or Spider-Woman, technically. I'm not much for the codenames."

"Nice to meet you, Ashley." He shrugs. "I suspect we're all time travelers, at this point. I don't know what year it was for you, but it was 2009 when I got pulled from my world, and 2011 in the other place, and who the hell knows what the calendar's like here."

"'09? Yeah, talk about behind the times."

She ran a rough hand through her hair. 2009 or '11, either way it was the same. A good forty years before it should be. Maybe it was a good thing tech had essentially stopped evolving when the President took over. At least she might not have a learning curve.

"Not too picky about who they snatch, eh."

Hellboy shrugs again. "Like you said, it's all relative. You say I'm behind the times. I say you're from the future. Here? We may both be right, I don't know."

Sita has been wandering, too. It settles her to get a lay of the land. Not that she was panicking – she dropped that act as soon as she had a room to herself, and what echos of it were real she'll deal with when she has real privacy again. First, she wants to know her exits.

But Hellboy catches her attention. (Can't imagine why.)

"Find anything good?" asks the tiny brunette, leaning a shoulder against the book case.

Hellboy is an entirely unremarkable figure. Uh-huh.

"Oh, a few things I'll get to when there isn't a party on," he says, tapping at his chin with his Right Hand. "There's some that look like they're local, but the Sheriff mentioned that they get stuff from all sorts of different worlds, and from what I've seen, I'm inclined to believe him. Hellboy," he adds as introduction, offering his left hand.

"Alisa." Her handshake is stronger than you'd think, and without hesitation – she's curious, but not uncomfortable with his appearance. (She doesn't have room to judge, really. Just because she looks normal doesn't mean she is.)

Back to the books, she adds, "With the way they're snatching up people, I can imagine. At least we'll have variety, right?"

"Nice to meet you, Alisa." Given his own unusual strength, Hellboy doesn't always notice others' unless it's being directly applied to throwing him around.

"Depending on how long we're here, we may need it. For my part, the books that could have been will be neat, but I figure I'll eventually be more interested in the local stuff. Always a good idea to learn the local culture, after all."

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