The Start of the Storm

[shardofwinter]

The god hosted Yule party left the Nexus in the state of beautiful Winter Wonderland. With the snow falling softly and steadily, and the beautiful festive lights twinkling in the darkness, the Nexus is left with a sense of serene nostalgia hanging in the cold air. This peace and joy clings to the streets for several weeks, buoying everyone’s mood as they look back on the past year and forward to ringing in the new one. 

It starts in the Wilds, and the outskirts. The cold air suddenly feels like it freezes everything it touches in an instant. Light doesn’t quite pierce the gloom. Gentle snowfall becomes thick and falls hard. One or two people looking for shelter from their uninhabitable homes isn’t too noticeable. People can still enjoy their pretty Winter, blissfully unaware. Pipes freeze solid, paths become impassable, power cuts out, simple walks become baffling in the poor visibility. Soon it’s not one or two people, it’s many, it’s families. There are people coming in, bloody, bruised and scared, saying they were chased. Eventually the kindness of friends and strangers becomes strained. Spare rooms are packed to the brim and the storm that stays just shy of the bizarre torches somehow seems to have a slow, but unmistakable march closer towards a point where the Plaza, Industrial sector and Downtown meet. On top of that, people are complaining about PINpoints acting up or portals freezing over. 

Streets are becoming packed full of people with far more problems than solutions. Huddling together and whispering about ghosts and monsters moving about in the shadows. In a place with no government, no organisation, no collaborative emergency services, chaos and confusion reigns supreme. And with chaos, comes panic. With confusion, comes frustration and anger. The Nexus is a powder keg waiting to blow.

That’s certainly how one Durant sees it. As a manager, Isidor is keen on organisation and order. Both things that are lacking in the Nexus at the moment. Groups pop up to help, but struggle to communicate effectively, or work together. Some people get free food twice, some people are still waiting for some at all. It’s madness, and Isidor can’t stand it. Particularly because she, her brother and sister-in-law are stuck here. So, when nobody else takes the mantle, Isidor Durant takes it upon herself to inject some order into this scrum.

In her fur hat and long coat, leather gloves and thick boots, Isidor can be seen directing people this way and that. There’s something about a confident person taking charge that means people instinctively defer to them. She becomes the point of contact quite easily, with people soon taking her direction regardless of whether or not they know her. Under her instruction, people are directed to a building that has tables set up, queues in front of them, and volunteers behind them taking names and telling people where to go. It might still be chaos, but at least now it’s organised chaos.

The question is: Where will your character go?

❅-❅-❅-❅

((Below are comments for each desk. Tag any of them, threadhop, or post with your own character. I suggest putting your character’s name in the subject to help keep things clear. Comments marked with a snowflake ( ❅  ) have been coordinated with the mods and I as official event comments. The OOC Post is here! If you have any questions, feel free to message me or one of the mods!))

Threads of Note
Medicine/Illness | Shelter/Heat | Food | Security/Crime | Lost items/people | Misc resources/Donations | Volunteers | Expeditions | Planning Table/The woman in charge | Drulb's Deelz | A Ship in the Outskirts 

Comments

❅ Dia Starfall - A Ship in the Outskirts ❅

[pathfromdarknesstogray]

Being able to keep to one's self to find herself and Figure Shit Out has it advantages. She can do so at her own pace and without annoying or irritating anyone other than herself and her droid.

Dia's days, these days, are largely and surprisingly peaceful for the exiled renounced Sith Apprentice, seeing friends and acquaintences in the Nexus as she enters the main area and shops to acquire food and supplies, then retreating to her ship, landed in a field a couple of kliks out of town.

Doing so with snow on the ground is ... more annoying, and sometimes requires the use of her speeder, but it's doable, even if it requires heavier more layered clothing.

Repairs to her ship have, since been mostly completed, and truthfully, she could probably take off and leave whenever she'd like, but she hasn't really had much of a strong desire to lately.

Thus, her ship's sat there long enough that snow's accumulated on the hull, and it's been fine thus far.

Until the disadvantages of such a lifestyle are becoming much more apparent.

It's subtle, at first, the ice accumulating on the ship's hull and windows, so much so that Dia dismisses it at first until the temperature starts to effect the ship's internal heating. And lighting.

It's when the ship's internal generator dies she's well into getting ready to depart, and she swears in Huttese because the boarding ramp's still closed.

Her droid, is of course, fretting all throughout this, despite her attempts to calm him. Paranoia leads to Dia shoving a blaster in his hands (also dispute his protests).

Forcing the boarding ramp open isn't a difficult task by any measure, especially in the more literal since of raw telekinetic power provided by it, trudging out into the cold earns more swearing, as she has to make her way to the central plaza on foot.

As with the ship's generator dead, her speeder definitely wasn't going to operate in these conditions.

Her droid's left to defend the ship. Poor fellow, he's going to blow a circuit at this rate.

[handsofwinter]

It's wild out there: ice crunching under her feet, snow drifting around her, the wind rising more bitterly the farther she trudges. She can't see very far at all through the white swirl of the storm, or hear over the blustering gales, and lifting her head at all is asking to have snow blow into her face.

And yet, Dia was trained as a Sith assassin.

Perhaps that's why, when her ship is well out of sight behind her, she can pick up on the distinct sense that she's not alone...

[pathfromdarknesstogrey]

One of the first things you're taught, as an assassin? Is how to sense presences. Knowing where everything is in relation to you is Important. As anyone or thing can make a difference between life, death, success, or failure.

Top this off with the natural paranoia a Sith's lifestyle provides in the old Empire, well.

She slows. There's little she can do to mask her presence in this case, hood up, scarf wrapped around the lower half of her face. Flight goggles repurposed to protect her eyes from the snow. Black robes, heavy boots. But she can slow down. Control the situation, rather than give in to fear of the unknown.

The weather, the noise, the wind, and the Nexus in general makes it difficult to tell where whatever it is that's evidently stalking her is. A hand goes to her lightsaber as she continues--not activating it yet, as she's unsure of how well whatever's stalking her can see.

And a bright red glowing blade would do little to hide her presence, not that she's too difficult to spot, what with all black heavy edgelord Sith robes and all.

[handsofwinter]

Surely anything else out here must be having as hard a time as she is, unless they're hidden in the shadows and crevices where abandoned buildings and alleys offer some relief from the wind. How well can anything see out here, let alone move?

Still, the feeling persists. Builds. Nothing leaps out of the snow to attack. But a drift of snow slides from the eaves of a shop across the street, tumbles unheard onto the icy road beneath. Did the wind dislodge that? Is it just the loneliness of these abandoned walls, the darkened storefronts and iced-over windows and dead streetlights that provoke the sense of unwelcome? Is it the Nexus itself that gives her the prickling feeling that she shouldn't be here?

The people from these shops and houses must have gone somewhere. Somewhere ahead is light, and warmth, and the security of numbers.

Better keep moving.

[pathfromdarknesstogrey]

Theoretically, that'd be true. But Dia's been to Hoth. She knows there's things out there that can not only survive in this weather, but thrive in it, to say nothing of the fact that this is the Nexus, a place that tends to defy odds and expectations of what you might thing.

Plus, y'know. It's not paranoia if there's actually something out there threatening to get you.

It's not a long walk to the plaza, where her ship's located, but it takes longer, trudging through the wind and the snow, wearing heavier clothes than she's typically accustomed to. The lack of people is worrisome, as is being out in the open like this, with no cover and no good way to protect herself

The noise catches a glance, and makes her pause, having to assess her surroundings to try and curb her unease.

Delving into ancient Sith temples for her former master, being stalked by things unseen. This sensation is familiar, and Dia does not like it all that much.

[handsofwinter]

The longer she pauses, the more it seems as if that unseen presence is coming from more than one direction. Across the street, behind her... above...

And then there's a crashing sound, further up the street. The wind carries the noises of smashing glass, of squabbling voices. As quickly as it rose, the watching presence recedes into the wail of snow-laden wind.

[pathfromdarknesstogrey]

She doesn't like it. Not at all. It really is like those eerie feelings in those ancient temples. Where rituals and terrible things occurred, horrific Force experiments that did frightening things to the fabric of reality, to say nothing of what other things could be hidden away.

Being stalked is not something Dia is fond of. She's the Assassin, damn it, she's the one who should be doing the stalking!

She holds her position, frowning when that feeling of Being Watched is coming from around her. She pulls the cloak and robe she's wearing tighter, pulling one of the Lightsabers off of her belt, twirling it in her hand to hold it at the ready.

Then there's a crash. Smashing glass and voices.

The smart thing to do would be to not get involved. To avoid whatever trouble there is and try to reach the central plaza, see what's going on. This would be the thing that most Sith would probably do without hesitating.

The problem was: Dia'ndria Starfall was not your typical Sith. She had a heart. She had compassion, which was never fully drilled out of her, just compartmentalized with the rest of her emotions. Dia hesitated for a moment as she mulled over which decision to make.

She sighed. Rolled her eyes expressively behind her goggles, mumbled something about 'Oh, fine' into her scarf, and went towards the commotion.

She rationalized it simply: Where there was commotion, there was people

Where there were people, there happened to be information.

By the Force, whatever it was, it was going to face the wrath of her very long, terrible, and absolutely cold and wet day.

[handsofwinter]

There's more crashing as she makes her way closer. The voices become a little more distinct, although no more comprehensible: unintelligible snarls and harsh vocalizations that might be words- though if so the Nexus isn't translating them. Either way, they're coming from the gaping void where a restaurant window used to be. Through the snow the name can be seen dimly, half obscured by frost: Pi-c-on--'s.

Hopefully the family that runs this pizza parlor has long since fled somewhere safe. Their charming little establishment is currently being ransacked. A prettily-upholstered stool comes tumbling over the window's edge and lands upturned in the snow. Inside are a trio of... looters, that much is clear.

They're humanoid, all average human size, bundled up in scrappy cloth and makeshift armor, with masks that make their actual species hard to determine. They feel like people, albeit Dia's senses might find them a little off. One is tearing the till open, one rifling through a basket of condiments while their third works on the door to the kitchen. It's the one checking out the pepper shakers who'll be first to spot Dia- and at that point the hostile snarls and the knives produced make it clear they're not interested in negotiating.

[pathfromdarknesstogray]

Trudging through the snow, wearing a black cloak, heavy black robes, and heavy boots (rather than no cloak, light robes, and much lighter shoes she generally prefers), Dia's presence isn't exactly hidden as she makes her way towards the sound. Poor visibility on top of that makes approaching from a better vantage point much, much more difficult.

She doesn't have much time to really dwell on the family who might have been, more to the point, it's a quick assessment of the threat she's now dealing with.

She sees two of them immediately, and could swear she hears a third above the wind. Not appearing quite human suits her fine--she is, after all, from a Galaxy Far, Far Away, she's used to aliens. Things that feel different in the Force that bends the universe--and in this case, multiverse.

Still. Being threatened is not a surprise, given they're rooting through everything. Her eyes narrow behind the flight goggles and she activates her Lightsaber, the weapon activating with the characteristic hiss and hum, snow and ice melting on contact as it blows into the plasma blade. "Knives? Please."

That was a Bitch? Please, tone if ever there was one.

[handsofwinter]

The menacing flare of the saber's light and the figure in black give the thieves pause. For a moment. Then- they aren't entirely foolish- the two in view spread out, grab weapons from their sides. They're scrappy too, the outline strange- but when they open fire, they loose rapid streams of blue energy bolts and that is probably all too familiar. One springs onto a table to get a better shot at her.

Either they're brave, or they just have no idea who they're dealing with.

[pathfromdarknesstogray]

Oh. Now this. This was more into Dia's element than it needed to be. Spreading out and away from her? Legitimate tactic. Interesting. That means they aren't feral, and they aren't stupid.

Well.

That stupid.

Shooting at her with energy weapons, instinct immediately reacts, Dia whips up the saber to block and deflect, sorry, Resturant owners, she's aiming to kill that table and deal with that vantage point first with the deflected shot, Dia whips the other saber off her belt, effectively doubling her area to defend with, "You know!" She shouts over the wind, "This isn't bloody polite!"

Not that it matters much. She stepped back in the snow, then Force leapt for the nearest one, kicking off a cloud of snow and ice behind her as she did, leaving a rumble of power in her wake, aiming to cut his blaster apart in his hand, and disarm him that way--the easiest way, really, without killing him outright.

[handsofwinter]

The sprightly shooter goes tumbling down as the table shatters beneath it, managing to turn it into a roll that carries it further out of the way- and into a small table for two.

Dia's already on the second one, slicing that blaster into a pair of sizzling fragments. The thief too reacts on instinct: the shock knife in its off hand whips up, slicing toward her throat. Its startled shout rings in her ear, half snarl, half yowl.

And there's a second problem: looter number three was waiting just inside the window, hiding itself behind the wall. The assassin's speed won her a second of surprise- but now the last one lunges quietly at her back, knife alive with electricity.

[pathfromdarknesstogrey]

Bloody weather and fucking with her senses. She wouldn't have made this mistake otherwise. The knife from the one she's attacking? Parried with a saber hilt to shove aside.

The one hitting her from behind? Fuck. Unaccounted for. Careless. Rookie mistake. Would've gotten her killed--if not for the thick robe and layers of clothing. It shocks her, causing a yelp in pain and instinctive reach for the Force, shoving outwards.

Shoving away. Get distance, control the field. Control the fight. It's a raw, uncontrolled burst of telekinetic power.

Dia's quick to reign in the flood, control the cascade, grabbing the one in front of her with whoosh of displaced air, a grasp forming around its throat as she hauls it into the air, and hurls him into the third with enough force to try and send them tumbling.

Sabers twirl, flashy and bright crimson in the white air, snow and ice melting in their wake, blades humming and hissing as snow melts into water, which evaporates on contact with the superheated plasma. These things don't seem fully sentient, especially from the snarling yowls they're making.

Play on that fear. Use it to your advantage.

❅ Making their way to the Ship

[sweetcandygirl]

After getting her expedition supplies from Katsuya, and getting a brief from Josh, Harley quickly finds Palmer and Furiosa.

Harley herself is still dressed very colorful, even with the weather. She is dressed warmly, with a very bright pink jacket. She is also decked out with many of her weapons, because in this chaos -- best to have a weapon close at hand. She has her weapon belt, which includes her bat, a new dagger, a slingshot, and several weaponized yo-yos. She has a large sword sheath on her back, which houses her fire sword. Her supply pack is situated onto her person in a way that isn't going to be invasive with her other gear.

"Furiosa? Palmer?" She approaches the two. "I'm Harley Quinn. We are going to scout out a downed skip around the outskirts that could have people trapped inside. There might even be all kind of supplies we can use."

"You ready to go?"

[Posting order: Harley/ Furiosa/ Palmer/ NPCs]

[eumenis]

It's honestly a little tricky to tell what weapons Furiosa is carrying, aside from the knife on one of her outer belts and what might be a smaller one in her boot. She's really pretty good with pockets, though, and while she's only drawn it once in the Nexus, she always carries her Taurus PT99AF, with an extra clip or two, and a Glock 17.

Which is great, for as long as the ammo lasts, but she has a feeling she's going to need to think more like Harley in the long term here, unless someone whips up a bullet forge. If she only had her crossbow...

It can't be helped. She'll put something together later.

She's quick to step up to offer Harley an armclasp in greeting. "Well met. Yes, I'm ready. What kind of ship do you mean? Some kind of airship? Any idea who it belongs to?"

[readvondaniken]

Palmer doesn't have weapons with him aside from a small pistol - he would really rather not fight, but he's not naive about the dangers in this environment. The stories of things in the snow have reached his ears. He tags along with Furiosa, who he knows is a leader where she's from. Palmer's a follower by nature.

"A ship, huh? I'm guessin' you mean a spaceship?" Palmer whistles. "It'll be somethin' to see, I think. I'm guessing that whoever the pilot is crashed it." The last time Palmer saw a crashed spaceship, the pilot was not particularly friendly.

He's cautious, but he's sure the people driving this ship weren't Things.

"A rescue mission, huh? Hope they don't mind us using their ship for parts." He's only partly joking. "Howdy, Harley. Guess the yo-yos I fixed up for you are comin' in useful after all. I brought a gun. It's not much, but it's protection."

[sweetcandygirl]

"Josh didn't mention it belonged to anyone. But he gave me this..." Harley places down her photocopied map on the table, with the location of the ship circled in red.

"It will be much more than a hike with the current weather situation outside."

"I will take point, leading us there. Furiosa, I would like you to be our rearguard. Palmer... since you are the mechanic, I want you in the middle." That way, she and Furiosa have a better chance of protecting him.

"I am not sure how guns will work in these cold temperatures. And this might go the same for my yo-yos. Furiosa... are you sword trained?"

[eumenis]

"Well, it's bound to belong to someone," Furiosa points out dryly. "We just don't know whether they're there or not, and whether they're alive or not."

She glances at Harley for her reaction to Palmer's comment about using the ship for parts. The idea of a half-and-half mission to both scavenge materials and potentially save lives is in no way cognitive dissonance to her, so the idea that they may meet violent resistance from anyone on the ship has already crossed her mind.

But that's assuming a lot, and borrowing trouble before it starts is pointless.

"That works for me," she says of Harley's arrangement, nodding, and then grimaces at the observation. "I'd feel a lot better if I had a rifle," she says. "I carry my handguns close to my body to keep the works from getting gummed up, and when I checked them earlier, everything looked functional. But that could change at any moment out there."

She gestures with her metal arm, which is insulated heavily with fabric and paper right now. "Got this, but it's dead weight if the hydraulics freeze. I've never had a cause to use a sword, but I can tear a man a new one with a spanner or a pair of boltcutters."

She's a good improvisational fighter, is what she should say, perhaps, but that wouldn't allow for as much colorful language.

[readvondaniken]

"Well, if it can't be fixed," says Palmer, "I don't see any harm in using it for spare parts. I'd ask the owner's permission. Y'know, if they're alive, and I for one hope they are." He's wearing his goggles from Antarctica to protect his eyes from the snow. He stays between Furiosa and Harley for protection, relying on them for guidance about where to go.

Who is the pilot, anyway? His assumption would be some sort of alien. It is a spacecraft, after all.

He shifts, adjusting his backpack a little bit for comfort. "I'm not a trained fighter, but I can fight back in a pinch. You two sound much better at it, though. Not that I'd fancy my chances against the things I've been hearing about in the snow. They've killed people, apparently." Palmer shivers, and for once it isn't the weather. "I didn't survive Antarctica to die out here, no siree."

Palmer wonders who's carrying out the attacks. He's thinking of carrying out an investigation on his own time, but he's not going to do it alone. He needs a bodyguard or backup or something to ensure he isn't the creatures' next victim.

"I know how to use a gun, but I'm not even that great with firearms. I ain't really the violent kind of guy."

[sweetcandygirl]

"If there are survivors inside the ship... their well-being comes first." Harley notes with a non-nonsense tone. "We can talk about scavenging the ship after we assess the situation."

"And if there are survivors... they ain't going to welcome us with open arms, especially with all these attacks occurring. So we have to approach with caution." Not usually her type of thing. But she can do it, when the situation calls for it.

"Furiosa... here... take my bat." Harley takes the weapon off the weapon belt and offers it to the other woman. "I can use my sword and my dagger."

"Okay. Let's head out. Stay close to each other, for warmth, and for protection." Harley leads them out into the snow. And towards the downed ship.

[eumenis]

"If there are survivors," Furiosa says, "And it's a self-contained spacecraft, I'd love to ask them about water purification methods. Because we're going to need them here lest everyone get cholera or something."

Furiosa's comfort zone is the road and the battlefield, but sometimes her brain leaps ahead to logistics.

Her expression warms at the offer of Harley's bat, and she gives her a nod. Sharing weapons in a survival situation is practical, but it's also a sign of trust, and she won't forget it.

As they head out, she's quiet, her attention focused on the world around them. Never in her life has she seen this much snow. Actually, never in her life has she seen snow at all, but the soft hillocks and drifts remind her of the desert sand; shaped by wind, inhospitable to human feet, uniform and beautiful and potentially deadly.

It's just that it's cold and wet instead of hot and dry. A color-film-negative of the world she comes from.

[readvondaniken]

Palmer's hopeful there are survivors, and is ready to do what he can to offer aid. Hopefully anyone on board will know the three are there to help. He's ready to explain himself iff he has to.

"We'd better be prepared in case there's somebody on that ship," Palmer says, grateful for the protection. Both Harley and Furiosa are expert, hardened fighters. Palmer's just a grease monkey from California, despite his previous experience in polar environments. "For all they know, we'll be there to steal it. We've gotta explain ourselves to 'em so nobody gets hurt."

The mechanic's cautious, being both the most lightly armed and weakest member of the expedition team. He feels a little like a liability. He'd be useless in a fight.

"Medicine's important," he says. "I'm with Furiosa. We gotta make sure everybody back at the shelter's got access to clean food and fresh water. Don't want anyone getting sick."

He keeps careful watch out for the ship and for the creatures he's heard about. It's difficult for him to see in the snow, even wearing goggles.

[sweetcandygirl]

"Josh did note that usually these kind of ships contains supplies that tend to be made to last and be space efficient. So definitely if there is anything that could help with taking care of the sick and injured would be a good idea to salvage." Harley notes with a slight nod.

Trudging through the snow is quite a work-out. Harley is glad that she is wearing good winter boots today, instead of her high-heel boots. She would hate to get stuck in a snow drift.

"And if we see any sign of any other objects of interest, take note of it. We can report back to Captain Kirk once we get back."

[eumenis]

"This place is still so strange to me," Furiosa says. "There's no authority. If there were a vehicle within walking distance of the Citadel, we'd all know about it and who was in it. But there's no one here to manage that, and maybe most of the time there's no need. It'd be nice to know today, though."

Furiosa is silently cursing before they've gone very far. Walking in snow is not like walking on sand. She sinks into it, and then her choices are either to push her leg through it for the next step, or step high to get over it and make stamping, trudging motions. She's going to tire quickly, but no one's going to hear about it. Imperators do not complain.

She laughs softly though, when Harley mentions Captain Kirk. "You know, it's been a long time since I had to listen to anyone else's orders. One of my Mothers must have decided I needed a little humbling."

[readvondaniken]

"Y'know, for me that's a perk," says the lanky mechanic as he strolls with the other two, keeping an eye out for any potential threats. "I mean, there not bein' any kind of higher authority. Frees me up a lot, and I can smoke without fear of bein' arrested over it."

Palmer's personally just fine with the lack of authority - while he will defer to others' leadership in situations that called for it, he still chafes at the idea of doing as he's told. Sometimes it's a necessary evil, though, as in the current situation.

"I'm used to it," he tells Furiosa, looking back to her. "I was a member of a biker gang back in the day, and in Antarctica I served under Childs and Commander Garry above him. So I'm used to taking orders. My dream in life is bein' my own boss one of these days, and running my own business here in the Nexus is an important part of reaching that goal."