nexus_crossings | The Start of the Storm

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event

The Start of the Storm

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?

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((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

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"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?"

"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.

"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."

"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.

"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.

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.

"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."

"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."

"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."

Arriving at the "downed ship", it can be understandable why Josh might have thought it had crashed: Snow's starting to pile up on the top of the hull of the vessel, and around the sides.

First of all, it's fairly large, and if it wasn't covered in snow, Josh's inner Star Wars nerd would probably have noticed a few familiar things about its design profile, as it's a Sith ship. A Sith Imperial Fury Class interceptor, roughly the same size as a certain much more famous Corellian Freighter, although with all the snow surrounding it and covering the hull, it might be hard to really judge

From the direction of the forward facing struts and cockpit, it's facing the general direction of the plaza, from astern (that's behind, if you don't speak Ship), and below the engines a boarding ramp is extended downwards, although the two hydraulic struts have been forced open--even if exactly how is difficult to tell. One of them, was, at one time, leaking, judging from some of the ice surrounding it.

Although with all the snow and ice everywhere, it might be hard to tell.

Harsh winds have mostly hidden the trail through the snow leaving the ship, heading in the general direction of the Nexus Plaza.

Up the boarding ramp, the doors at the top of it are open. The ship's inside is dark. There's no running lights on outside either, no ramp lights, nothing.

For all appearances, while intact, the ship appears to be dead.

Edited (figures, I pre-write this, and there's STILL A GRAMMAR ERROR. ffs.) 2019-01-07 08:59 (UTC)

Harley has no idea what a Star Wars ship would look like if she came upon one covered in snow. So she just stares at the large vessel with a curious look. She gestures to Palmer and Furiosa to get down low, just in case (which is also a little ridiculous considering she is wearing bright pink and still very visible).

With the boarding ramp down... Harley doubts there would be anyone still inside. After all, who could survive being blasted by the cold winds?

"Okay... I am going to go first. Palmer and Furiosa stay here. Furiosa give me cover fire if anything happens."

She pulls her sword from the sheath on her back. And with a brief moment of concentration, the fire sword comes alive with flames licking the metal. This should give her plenty of light as she approaches the opening of the ship.

Furiosa has almost no frame of reference from which to interpret the shape of a space vessel. That it's not an old world airplane or any kind of ground vehicle she can tell at a glance, and the other two seem convinced it's a space ship, and that's enough for her at the moment. The snow and ice seem to be heavily laden on it. That's interesting. So much technology and still not enough to resist this weather?

She's already scanning the area around the ship visually when Harley starts to approach the ramp. If it's down, the occupants of this craft must have opened it. Maybe they left to seek better shelter, or maybe they laid a trap.

She moves to a better position from which to watch Harley's back with a small, anxious growl, beckoning Palmer with her, and draws the Glock obediently. "Eyes on for traps," she advises, ostensibly to both of them, although she's more concerned about what Harley might be walking into.

Of course, she wasn't expecting the sword she carries to be made of fire, and for a moment she blinks at the light and makes a quietly impressed face. Could be stealthier, maybe, but that's a nice way to make an entrance.

"Haven't seen a ship like this before," says Palmer as he watches Harley approach. Harley's braver than Palmer is, that's for sure, and the mechanic can't help but worry just a little.

Palmer has seen a grand total of one spaceship, and he's putting that experience to use here, although he can tell whatever used this ship was a very different kind of being than the Thing. Still, he feels a slight sense of deja vu.

This is a different kind of model from the one the Thing had used. The Thing came to Earth in a flying saucer, and this ship looked like...Palmer doesn't know how to describe it, although he's curious about all kinds of things. The general design of the spacecraft, where it was made, what kind of beings developed and operated it, how it had crashed...

"Careful," he says, keeping his voice low as he watches out for traps. "We don't know who - or what - is in here. Could be dangerous." Palmer tags along with Furiosa, trusting her judgement and her skill with weapons. "The Thing came to Earth in a ship not totally unlike this one."

Upon closer inspection, ice has started to accumulate on much of the hull, the metal under at least a few inches of it. The ship occasionally creaks metallic-ally as the ice and snow settle on it.

Otherwise, nothing stops Harley's approach, but without any light aside from her flaming sword, the ship's dark interior has poor lighting. It's difficult to see, particularly with the gunmetal colored walls, and anything that isn't colored gray is black.

The first area is a common area, with at leas two immediate paths visible, one directly forward from the door, and one to Harley's right. She's also standing directly across from the set couch and table both attached to the floor. There's still parts and equipment scattered across the floor from the ship's owner apparently doing repairs, as the large central console in the middle of the room has obviously been damaged somehow--judging from damage to the floor, it looks like it was somehow ripped from the floor at one point. What Force could possibly do that?

Without any internal heating, the ship's just as cold outside as it is inside, ice has already started to spread out from the door, much of it on the floor.

That said, a Furiosa's line of thinking was correct: A flaming sword does not make for excellent stealth, having made Harley's presence rather obvious in the dark ship.

There's a panicked, robotic-voiced yell, and then a series a rapid zapping as blaster is fired from the darkness to the left of the boarding ramp entrance our intrepid explorers are using.

Of course, the shots are wide and miss Harley's obvious presence entirely, but it's the thought that counts, right? BE THREATENING.

"You are intruding on private property!" The voice says, it's robotic, male, and absolutely fucking terrified, "Leave this vessel at once, or I will be forced to fire again!"

After receiving the warning about possible traps, Harley approached the ship carefully. And after gesturing to Palmer and Furiosa to hold the line outside... she cautiously entered the ship.

The large common area is nice and open enough. She notes the parts and equipment scattered across the floor. And the damage to the large central console. She is not sure who or what could have ripped the console from the floor, so it makes her even more cautious.

She dives for cover as the rapid zapping of the blaster is fired. She has been in plenty of shoot-outs before that she notes how wide the shots are. And she smirks slightly. Hopefully this means the shooter is a bad aim.

"Hold back from entering the ship! I am under fire!" She yells outside, to Palmer and Furiosa. Even if the shooter is a bad aim, she doesn't want her comrades to be hit accidentally. She can heal a bullet wound quickly.

"We were sent here by Captain Jim Kirk!" Harley yells out to the darkness. "We are here on a rescue mission. And do not intend any harm. Put down your weapon!"

"Look..." She cancels the fire effect on her sword. And sheaths it. "I put away my weapon. How about you do the same?"

Oh, Furiosa does not like this. Trap or not, they're already a small group and letting any one of them get out of the line of sight does not sit well with her. Still, Harley's better equipped than her or Palmer, so if anyone's going to take the risk, she supposes she's the best choice. She's restless, though, and makes a low anxious sound, almost a growl, as the woman heads into darkness.

The flaming sword does have an advantage, though. Even if Harley passes from their field of vision, from the outside of the ship they can see the way the light bounces off the glossy metal walls.

When the sounds of shooting start up, her body jerks as if her instinct is to run toward the commotion, but she manages to control herself in time. Instead, she repositions in the snow and plants a hand on Palmer's shoulder, keeping him partway behind her. "Eyes up," she tells him, half a request, half a command. "Watch the left-hand end of the ship in case there's more coming."

She's not sure there will be, is the thing. She didn't catch what the stranger's voice said, but the terrified inflection was pretty obvious.

Keeping herself between Palmer and the obvious gunfire, she moves toward the doorway, but slowly and quietly. The light of the flaming sword goes out before she reaches the ship, and she goes still, barely breathing, listening for any sounds of conversation that follows, and she hears as Harley makes the attempt at a cease-fire.

When Palmer agreed to go on the expedition, he knew there would be danger. He didn't expect their team getting fired on, though it's not too surprising with the creatures lurking around. He's heard rumors of people being attacked, so it's a fair bet the creatures aren't there to make friends. Palmer's not in the mood for a repeat of the Thing.

Palmer almost jumps at the sound of shots. Sure, whoever's firing at them is a terrible shot, but that isn't very comforting. He obeys Furiosa's order, keeping an eye out for more attackers from the left side of the ship. It looks like somebody's on board after all. The bad news is that they don't seem to be very friendly at the moment.

Thankfully, the person or creature on board knows English, which will make things much easier to explain once things have calmed down. He knows that the language barrier and tensions on both sides can make things break down fast. He's learned from what happened to the Norwegians and wants to prevent a repeat.

"We come in peace!" Palmer shouts, hoping the stranger can hear him. He stays behind Furiosa, trying to avoid coming off as a target. "We're here on a rescue mission! Don't shoot!"

As Harley's eyes adjust to the dark, she'll be able to at least... kind of see the outline of her attacker. They're humanoid shaped, a bit taller than average or so, with two distinct, faintly glowing red eyes that look artificial in origin. Whoever or whatever they are, they're keeping their distance.

The voice continues after Harley speaks, "Kirk? Captain Kirk? A rescue team? Did my Mistress make it to the plaza already?" He sounds... somewhere between concerned and confused, "Her skills are impressive, but the weather makes it... unlikely."

Well, the good news is, he's not shooting wildly anymore, at least so long as no hostile action is occurring. Although he hasn't put down the blaster yet. For one, he doesn't have the holster, and for another, there's still his orders. But he's not holding it in aggressive posture. Or what he thinks is an aggressive posture. He's only held this thing a handful of times, and that was usually to put it away in a storage locker.

He's not designed for this, but his loyalty to his aforementioned 'Mistress' is absolute. As is his programming.

"A lot of people have been seeking shelter at the plaza. Your Mistress could be one of them." Harley replies. "But if she hasn't... then it is important that we talk peacefully, so if she is still out there in the storm, my friends and I can help find her. Make sure she gets to safety."

"My name is Harley Quinn. My friends are Furiosa and Palmer." Harley tentatively stands up. "Can they board your ship? So we can talk?"

Furiosa has an ear to the conversation that echoes from within the ship, but she's also looking around, keeping an eye on the ship and its surroundings. There's only a single set of tracks, other than their own. The snow on top of the ship itself doesn't seem disturbed, and the ice creeping over the hull looks too slippery to tread on, so the chances of an attack from above seem minimal.

The boarding ramp, she thinks, looks a little bit bent, as well as icy. She nudges Palmer with an elbow and murmurs, "Hey, Blackthumb." Because that's what you call a mechanic where she's from. "That look broken to you?"

Because if so, the scene all adds up nicely to a downed ship and a frightened passenger, and not a trap. That would be good. She's not quite ready to relax, but the more she sees and hears, the more she thinks the storm is the only danger here, not the ship.

She calls out so the stranger can hear: "How long ago did your Mistress leave? We didn't pass anyone." Hopefully that doesn't mean there's a lone person wandering in the snow lost now...

Edited (minor typo) 2019-01-10 18:49 (UTC)

Palmer looks up, guessing that Furiosa means him when she's referring to a Blackthumb. He knows there's slang where she's from and that's likely a local term for "mechanic". Not a bad one, either.

This is his area of expertise. If he can get a decent survey of the ship, he can see how badly damaged it is and if any repairs would be possible. It doesn't seem like it's a trap, since the speaker seemed more frightened than anything.

That's a pretty big relief. Palmer doesn't want to deal with a trap - they will have enough issues in just surveying a downed ship and looking for survivors. He wonders if there's anyone else on board - there was at least one other passenger, the "Mistress".

"Yeah," he says, stooping to examine the ramp. He looks up to give his results to Furiosa. "It sure looks busted. I can fix it, I think, but it would be tricky in this weather. It could just break again, not even thinking about the ice damage. That looks pretty damn bad. Doing repairs outside ain't a problem, though - I've done it before for my team back home. In similar conditions, too."

Surveying the ship--as much as one can through the ice and snow, reveals that it's intact. It's probably at least skyworthy, if not completely spaceworthy, despite the damaged boarding ramp. There's a couple of visible scorch marks from laser blasts on the hull here and there, but they're old, months to years old.

And some spots could probably use a fresh coat of (fittingly, black) paint, but the ship's otherwise in decent shape, and likely landed in this location intentionally by the aforementioned 'Mistress' that the droid is referring to.

The boarding ramp was clearly forced open from the inside, although how it was done is still immediately unclear, as judging from the hydraulics damage, however it was done, it was done with extremely excessive Force, which, alas, was necessary, without power and the door having been frozen closed.

Of course, now there's the opposite problem: It's damaged, and now frozen open, thanks to the leaking hydraulic fluid having frozen over.

"Being out in this weather is terribly unwise," The droid's voice agrees with Harley as he mulls it over. His Mistress wasn't a typical Sith, and it's likely she would give these individuals shelter from the storm, "You may enter, however, I cannot offer much in the way of hospitality, the ship's power generator no longer works due to the weather, and I'm afraid my Mistress took much in the way of supplies on her way to the plaza."

He steps forward, to be more in the light, he's still holding the blaster pistol, but he's merely holding it in one hand (even with proper trigger discipline!), not aiming it at these strangers having come here.

"I am known as 2V-R8," He's a silver, humanoid droid, with some red accents and red eyes that are faintly lit in the dark. He's. to borrow some terms from Furiosa's homeworld, shiny and chrome, although he could probably use a buff and wax, since he's not as shiny and chrome as he could be. "I am this ship's maintenance and service droid. My Mistress is Dia'ndria Starfall."

"You guys can come on in... no weapons needed." Harley calls out to Furiosa and Palmer.

"One of the people with us is a mechanic. Maybe he can take a look at your power generator?" She glances at the way he is holding that weapon and sighs. "And you better set that down, before you accidentally hurt someone."

"Tell me about your Mistress. You said she took most of your supplies?" That makes this less of a reclaim mission. "Which way did she go? How long ago?"

"Well, if the hydraulics are frozen it might be more trouble to work on than it's worth until it warms up," Furiosa murmurs her opinion to Palmer, but trails off when the droid and Harley speak again.

She takes one last look around the outside of the ship and then nods, gesturing for Palmer to enter ahead of her so she can watch his back.

Once inside, she glances around the interior, double-checking for weapons, exits, or hidden dangers, and positions herself in a good spot to watch over both Harley and Palmer. And then, at last, she gives herself a chance to focus on the conversation, blinking at the droid. "...You belong to Dia? I know her. I...haven't seen her in a while, but--"

But she's kind of a friend, at least as far as Furiosa is concerned. "She's headed for the Plaza alone?"

How bad is that, she wonders? Because from what she knows of Dia, she can handle herself, but this weather makes it hard to navigate on foot.

"Looks like this ship's grounded until winter ends, then. Hope the owner's all right. I wouldn't want to be caught in this weather."

Palmer's aware that repairs are going to be more difficult as long as the winter continues, but he would still like to carry out an initial assessment of the damage. The ship is intact, at least, so he tentatively guesses that it can be repaired once the weather clears up. However long that'll take, he notes to himself.

He walks in front of Furiosa, looking out for traps, though he doesn't think there'll be any. It seems like the droid didn't expect visitors.

"Weather's real bad," he says, though he knows how obvious the statement is. "I wouldn't go out alone as long as it's like this. It's easy to lose your way out here, and there are things out there in the snow. No, I haven't see any and I don't plan to."

Edited 2019-01-11 09:47 (UTC)

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A wild NPC journal appears!

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