nexus_crossings | The Start of the Storm

Entry tags:

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?

❅-❅-❅-❅

((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

"Hoth, huh?" Harley nods slightly. He seems to have confidence in his Mistress. And since it seems that Furiosa knows of the other woman, Harley reflects on her reaction to determine if they should be trying to find Dia'ndria.

By her very nature, Harley has been checking out the interior of the ship during the conversation. At least with the airlocks frozen closed, the only way in or out of the ship... without special powers or abilities... is through the front door.

She is about to organize a little scavenger hunt of the other areas of the ship, when she hears the thud on the hull. She pulls out her sword, igniting it again.

"2V-R8 and Palmer get behind me and Furiosa. 2V-R8... since you have no shooting experience, give your gun to Palmer." It does sound like they have company. And Harley braces herself. "Keep alert!"

"Yeah," Furiosa says in a dull grumble, "I'm experienced dealing with sandstorms, but I could still easily die in one. Storms don't give a damn how clever you are."

Suffice to say, she's worried about Dia, and the fact that the metal person hasn't answered how long ago she left isn't helping. Either he's not really listening to their questions or he's ignoring them. She wouldn't blame him, ultimately; he has only their word that they're not after his Mistress. Still, it leaves her irritable, and in a bad frame of mind to react when the noise rings out on top of the hull.

She shifts, aiming upward at once, alert and with adrenaline flowing almost visibly through her. She's not so jumpy she's going to shoot at the ceiling, though, luckily, and when Harley gives her order, Furiosa moves at once. It's a suggestion very much to her liking; she heads to guard the doorway, keeping out of immediate arm's reach of the door and ramp themselves and trying to listen further.

Unfortunately, at this moment she's reminded of dangers other than approaching thugs or monsters. Storms. Fury storms. How much snow is on the roof of this thing? Could it conceivably slide down and block the entrance? How stable is the covering of snow on the ground, or on the hills around them? If it comes down on them like a Fury storm, the chances of them being rolled and trapped in this thing are high.

She's been there, hunched in the cab of the War Rig and waiting to be buried in dust. Turned turtle in a pit trap and slowly tearing and cutting her own body to get free.

Thinking like that isn't helping anyone, though, and while she can feel her own heart pounding hard in her chest, she's otherwise still as stone, eyes fixed on the doorway.

"There were no tracks but ours and Dia's outside," she says very quietly. "If there's a living thing out there, it can't have been there long."

"If your, uh, Mistress is out there, I hope she's ready for a fight. You know people have been attacked?"

Palmer's not a trained soldier, and he dislikes violence, but he has had basic firearms training. He has a hand on his gun, and almost jumps when he hears something moving around outside. He doesn't know what it is, but between his history with the Thing and what he knows about people being attacked the mechanic is being extremely cautious.

"So it isn't just me?" He looks behind them, hoping whatever's outside doesn't try to follow them in. "Is...is it one of the creatures?" He can't stop himself from shivering. He's good and scared.

In a flash he draws his own handgun, ready to shoot if the creature tries to come in. He won't shoot until he gets a good look at what the creatures are so he doesn't make a mistake. He doesn't want to hit an innocent party by mistake, and he knows shooting before thinking can end badly. Palmer isn't Garry. He isn't a leader and he isn't an expert marksman.

"Who goes there?" He leers, trying his best to look threatening with limited success. Palmer, even with a gun in hand, isn't a threatening man. However, he can try, and his threat display might give potential attackers pause if they know he's ready to defend himself if necessary - it's more likely, though, Furiosa and Harley would end up defending him. He's willing to put up a fight, anyway.

It's a long, tense moment as the expeditionary team stands ready, weapons held high. Beyond the fallen ramp the snow whirls wildly past, a storm from which something could emerge at any moment. They aren't alone. The sureness of it prickles at the back of their necks.

But the seconds drag into minutes, and there's no answer to Palmer's challenge but the raw whistle of wind tugging at their nerves. No sight but the white expanse of field outside stretching into the haze. Maybe- maybe there's nothing there? Or maybe, if there was, it's gone now. Maybe their ready challenge dissuaded it. Maybe it was just an animal out there.

Maybe...

"She's always armed," 2V responds to Palmer quickly, knowing that Dia is rarely without her lightsabers in arm's reach, even when she's asleep, or even showering (on a counter close by). That said, his fear is great, even if he lacks the true instincts that his human companions.

Still, it's tense. Quiet as he steps up, waiting. ".. as.. for how long it's been," he says, after a few moments of waiting, "She's been gone for at least an hour or so."

Maker, he wasn't programmed for this, not at all.

There is good news, though: The ship's hull is so thick, the snow won't be caving in through it, and whatever's out there has to come through the boarding ramp entrance to attack them, if it does so at all.

Harley frowns. There is a prickle on her neck, that made her cautious and ready for a fight. But whatever made that noise sure as hell was not making an appearance.

She moves a little closer to the doorway, glancing over her shoulder to make sure that she isn't blocking Furiosa's aim. And she reaches into her pocket, bringing out one of her more sparkly yo-yos. It is sparkly enough to be reflective, which means she might be able to take a look outside... without actually going outside.

Harley gives a few practice twirls of the yo-yo... before she aims a long throw so the weapon twirls outside for a moment. Will it attract an enemy? Will she be able to see what is out there?

"We should've passed her on the way, then," Furiosa says, without taking her eyes off the doorway. "But then the visibility out there is shit. She could have passed us thirty yards away and we wouldn't have seen her."

"How resistant to cold are you, 2V?" she asks quietly as Harley moves a step closer to the entrance. "In case we have to evacuate."

She'd rather not. Even at the risk of getting trapped, inside this structure is a stronger position of defense than out in the open. But if there's a chance they all will have to leave and he's going to be vulnerable, they'd better get him prepared somehow.

In the meantime, she's not sure what to make of the yo-yo, but then she's seen people all but beheaded with a boomerang, so at least she's not assuming Harley's just playing games. Maybe it'll lure whatever's out there a little bit closer in.

"I didn't see anybody," says Palmer, not letting go of his gun as he watches out for whatever's outside. For all he knows the creature's still out there, whatever it is, though he hopes his threat display drove it off. "But that's just me."

He knows Harley well enough to know that those yo-yos aren't just yo-yos, since he helped create some of them himself. He's not sure if the one she's using now is on of the yo-yos he fixed up for her.

"Which yo-yo is that?" he asks, curious. He's never seen weaponized yo-yos before he met Harley. "Is it the poison gas one or the exploding one?"

Whichever one it is, he hopes it'll be enough to fend off the creature - assuming it doesn't bring friends. But Palmer doesn't even like thinking about that possibility. His gun only has so many bullets, assuming the creatures can even be hurt by firearms. Not everything can.

Harley's yo-yo whips out like a fishing lure, flickering bright for a moment in the twilight of the storm. But nothing goes for the bait, nor is there anything to be seen just beyond the door. Nothing seems to be lying in wait there.

Not there.

The next sound comes from behind them, beyond one of those solidly frozen airlocks. It's one Palmer, perhaps, knows better than the others. The slow grind and creak of cracking ice, crunching as it gives way. Then an impact that rings through the hull.

And then it's metal that begins to groan, to shudder, to squeal as it's wrenched apart...

Knock, knock.

"I can withstand the cold ...relatively fine, but I am not designed for travel through it, which is why I remained be-" And then there's the wrenching of metal, the sound of hinges being torn and pressurized air (between the set of airlock doors) wooshing briefly. The creature, monster, whathaveyou, has the inner door to contend with now.

But after ripping the outer door off, and with no power to maglock it in place, it shouldn't be much of an issue for the monster to push its way through.

That said, the ripping metal interrupts 2V's explanation, when he yelps out loud and steps back in surprise, away from the noise. "Oh. Dear. She's going to be Displeased about this..."

Looks like both Mistress and Droid are going to have a bad day. Especially as it'll inevitably rip its way into the ship. Poorly lit and nearly impossible to see in without power.

"I ain't going to use my exploding one in such a tight space, Palmer. Nor would I use the poison one, so close to allies." Harley explains, after her yo-yo doesn't lead to any clues.

Then the sounds come from behind them, she turns and frowns again. And quickly, she signals to the others. "Likely this is a trap... try to scare us out of the ship, where others are waiting to attack."

"So let's stay together. Backs against backs. So we can protect each other." She has fought in a situation like this before. Some weird creature of the unknown. And hopefully she can keep everyone safe.

"I want to see one explode," Furiosa says of the weaponized yo-yo, but she doesn't take her eyes from the door despite the chatter.

"If you have any kind of outdoor cl--" She begins to advise the droid, but the crack and grind of ice stops her short. She, too, starts to turn, but then seeing Harley's checking it out, she locks her gaze back on the open doorway again.

"A trap or a distraction," she says through gritted teeth. "I'm on the open doorway; someone else get eyes on the others."

The sound of metal being wrenched open has her on edge, breath rapid, but she's perfectly steady, eyes and gun muzzle trained on the boarding ramp.

Palmer jumps as he hears the metal being wrenched open. It's a sound he's familiar with, and one where he knows what it means. Of course the creature outside wouldn't give up that easily.

He looks for the general direction of the scraping sound, handgun drawn, ready to shoot when he sees something. He's pretty sure at this point that their visitor isn't friendly.

"Any idea what's out there?" Palmer can't see what's going on himself, but he can guess that the creature is the same kind as the creatures behind the recent attacks. And he'd wanted to see them.

He's well aware that he's the least physically capable of the party, and saw the least combat. Nevertheless, he wants to make himself useful to Furiosa and Harley.

Getting caught in an ambush is certainly no-one's idea of a good day. Then again, getting cornered by something that can rip frozen airlocks off their hinges might not be better, exactly. Especially if there really is more than one.

Still nothing rears an ugly maw over the boarding ramp. The group stands clustered in the middle of the room, framed in the grey light that filters through the open rampway. Nothing stirs but the snow... while somewhere in the gloom of the ship, doors creak as they're forced open.

And you'd think, perhaps, daylight would glimmer through the open airlock.

Instead the shadows flood in.

Movement flickers around and above as something scatters into the darkness of the ship. Among the support pillars. Skirts that dim and lonely pool of light. Claws echo from metal; shadows leap in the corner of the eye. Whatever is in the ship now, they are many and fast and it feels that the expedition is about to be surrounded. They have seconds to react.

Claws against metal, doors being forced open and the ship being damaged. Oh. Dear. Mistress was going to be so displeased at the state of the vessel when she returned. No, she wouldn't blame him (considering what she's up against in the alternate thread), but this was a fine mess.

A fine mess he was so very not programmed for. Oh, dear. Why couldn't he have been a battle droid?

He never did drop the blaster--mostly because it was a request at someone other than his Mistress, who wasn't authorized to tell him to do so. He aims it in the dark, but, perhaps wisely, doesn't follow through with firing. "It's.. in the ship, oh. Maker, I am not programmed for this."

He's trying to follow the noise, but the way it echoes through the ship makes it difficult to follow, and he doesn't have a fancy targeting suite like a battle droid, or any advanced vision modes like the same.

Harley doesn't like this situation. It feels like they are being surrounded... but she can't see the creatures.

"Might be time for one to explode. Palmer and Furiosa... head for the boarding ramp. Let me give us some cover..." She pulls out another yo-yo, one that is weaponized. She will have to wait until Palmer and Furiosa have distanced themselves from her before throwing the yo-yo with poison gas at the darkness.

"You coming with us?" She asks the droid.

Furiosa doesn't need orders to react to an imminent threat. The airlock being forced open with no attack coming from the open ramp would seem to confirm Harley's fears about their attackers wanting to force them into the open, and Furiosa swivels slightly when it becomes clear the ship is breached, a few steps away from the others but still within the circle of light. She turns toward the attack, because she and Harley are the fighters here and there is no choice but to respond to a threat, but she tries to keep the ramp in her peripheral vision as well.

There is nothing to be seen in the surge of shadow coming toward them, but the sounds tell her many, fast, sharp, and above. Her mind's eye constructs something fancifully like tremendous scorpions, all blackness and claws. It hardly matters how accurate that image is in reality. Envisioning something threatening yet familiar makes this situation somewhat less overwhelming.

Even before the droid speaks or Harley gives her orders, Furiosa has aimed her pistol and pulled the trigger twice. She can't afford to waste ammunition if it has no effect, but shooting at the shadowy mass while it's down the hall from them is the only time she can use a ranged weapon without fear of hitting the people around her.

Once the two rounds fly, though, their attackers are too close and Harley is telling them she'll cover them, so Furiosa reaches out with her metal hand and drags Palmer a little closer, heading for the ramp obediently. "Head down! They're on the ceiling!"

Okay, she's only guessing it's a 'they' and they're on the ceiling based on sound, but the last thing she wants is to watch something reach down and grab one of them by the neck.

"How many of 'em do you think there are? I can't see, but I'm guessing there's more than one." Palmer doesn't dare shoot, for fear of hitting someone on his side. He has a hard time tracking the creatures.

Palmer instinctively freezes. The creatures are coming after them, and his one small gun won't be enough to hold them all at bay. There's more than one, for sure, he's having trouble following their movements, and he's probably the most vulnerable member of the team in terms of physical capabilities. All in all, Palmer isn't feeling particularly optimistic.

However, Furiosa dragging him closer snaps the mechanic out of it, and he scampers toward the ramp, joining her. He wants to be out of the way when Harley brings out heavier weaponry, as well as out of the creatures' grasp if he can help it. His mind's conjuring up creatures from movies and real life - scuttling xenomorphs, the snarling Dog-Thing, monsters of every shape and size. He hasn't gotten a good look at the creatures, letting his imagination run away with him. The fact that the danger is very real doesn't help.

He ducks, imagining a twining tail or a tendril reaching down to snag him by the throat and haul him up, like a monster out of a movie he remembered seeing before Antarctica. Except there isn't just one monster, there's a whole pack of them. They're outnumbered and surrounded. Not good.

"Why are these things after us, anyway?"

The darkness of the ship masks so much- numbers, size, shapes- but the shadows scatter, something squeals harsh and inhuman and falters when Furiosa's gun barks. Suddenly it does feel that the enemy is many. Many, and everywhere. Something snarls and hisses from above as the group falls back. Something slashes at Palmer's clothes as he strays too close. Shadowed forms around them coil back as if to leap- and that's when Harley lets her yo-yo fly.

Behind the group it explodes into a cloud that stains the air, almost luminous in the thin light. The creatures recoil from the billowing gas, bounding backward into shadow. Hesitation buys the expeditionary trio time. Time to grab their team and go.

Before they're quite out of there, the hull shudders again. The airlock frame creaks with stress. So little noise, but the creatures behind quieten. If anyone looks back before they run, they'll glimpse something back in the darkness. Something coming through the airlock, unfolding itself from the rent-open doorway, huge in the confined space of the deck.

Whatever waits out in the snow, at least it's not that.

Without the ship's engine making noise, sounds echo through the inside easily enough, the floors, walls, and everything's made of metal. 2V steps back with a little bit of a panicked sound of his own at the sudden swarm and arrival of so many of these things.

He really, really wished that Dia had stayed behind. She's so much better suited for this sort of thing than he is.

"I... don't know what their after, and self preservation overrides my orders," through, ironically enough, earlier orders from Dia, given how much she values his presence and (some of) his opinions. "We need to leave, now."

It's not cowardice when it's the right thing to do, he won't stand a chance with these things, not alone with a blaster that he's a lousy shot with. He'd rather take his chances with Dia'ndria, rather than whatever these monsters are.

"How heavy are you? If you are not equipped to walk in the snow I might be able to carry ya..." Harley makes sure he is heading out of the ship, with Furiosa and Parker. She stays behind them, between the rest of her group and whatever is coming into the ship right now.

She has her exploding yo-yo left... and she has it in her hand, ready to throw. She needs to make sure it is the right decision first... and is not burying herself or the others inside the ship with the creature.

"Keep alert outside! We don't know what we are being forced to face..." She warns the others. Yo-yo in one hand, she pulls her ice dagger into her other hand, to defend herself from any attacks from the shadows.

Right. Furiosa isn't scared of much. She's faced down cyclones with steely silence, spat in the face of men that would see her strung up and sun-dried, and driven a straight course with lances and gunfire lighting up the desert all around her. But the way the hull of the ship keens and shudders goes right down the center of her spine, and while she doesn't dare stop to look back, she can almost feel the pressure that must be unfolding back there. A living thing, or a thing that's not dead.

No, there's no doubt in her mind now that they need to be out of the ship, even at the risk of taking to open ground. Something wants the salvage, and it's bigger than them, and maybe they can turn and face it but not from where they were standing.

She wastes none of her breath in words, metal arm coming around Palmer's back to shelter him--he's the only Blackthumb she's got, ok?--and hustling him down the boarding ramp, then around and behind one of the landing struts. She points toward the snowy landscape beyond as if commanding him to watch that direction, then positions herself, gun ready, in case something other than Harley or the droid comes down the ramp after them.

Palmer, on the other hand, is terrified. Before his arrival in the Nexus, he was almost killed by a creature that pretended to be a dog and tricked the mechanic into letting it in his room. Next thing he knew, the dog exploded into a mess of grasping, wriggling tendrils, Palmer desperately hiding in the closet to stop the monster from catching him. Only talking to Kinner gave him the slightest idea of what would have happened to him if he'd been caught, and he's very glad he wasn't.

He knows there's something on the ship, something large, aggressive, and very, very dangerous. He doesn't know why the mystery beast wants the ship, but as far as he's concerned the creature can have it. Palmer isn't in the mood to be eaten today, no sir. While he doesn't see himself as a coward, he also knews when to cut his losses and not to pick fights he can't win.

Trying not to seem too scared, the mechanic obeys Furiosa's orders, drawing his gun as he keeps watch in the direction she pointed.

Now is a very good time to retreat. The billow of toxic gas has bought them precious seconds, twisting and dissipating out in the draft from the storm outside. The deck shakes and the ramp rattles dully as the great shadow at the end of the room drops to the floor. Its presence seems to spur the others on. A handful at the front brave the edges of the gas to lunge forward through it. The two first and boldest spring toward Harley, and into the light...

And they're human-sized, these creatures. Roughly human shaped, too, though their heads are too narrow, their limbs angled strangely as they bound forward to slash at Harley. Everything else is hidden beneath the ragged cloth and scraps of metal bundling them against the cold- or the light. The glitter of the dagger each carries, however? That's all too clear.

As far as 2V's concerned, now is definitely a great time to retreat, "I.. suppose I weigh a bit more than the average human my size--Oh! Dear."

There's a brief uptick of panic in his voice at the gas being released from Harley's weapons, to say nothing of these things coming into view.

What are they?

2V has no idea.

All he knows is that at this point? They need to get the hell away from these horrific things. At this point he suspects it doesn't want the ship, so much as its various occupants.

Adding to the sounds of these things moving across the metal deck plates, is the ship's occasional creaking at the snow on the outer hull, and ice forming further on it.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject