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?

❅-❅-❅-❅

((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

That alleyway's been there the whole time, right? The Nexus messes you about sometimes but it feels like Danny's walked past it before. It's hardly inviting, though, even for an alley- a damp and gloomy crack between battered walls, littered with bits of rubbish no-one could be bothered to haul out to the boundary torches. You wouldn't look at it twice. You wouldn't want to.

Unless. Unless you happened to be looking for somewhere a little different. Somewhere beneath the notice and under the noses of the average Nexus resident. Unless you happen to have sharp eyes in your head and a bit of luck in your pocket, as Danny does. That shabby little alley drags on the corner of his vision, luring him close enough to notice the lightly trampled snow beneath those bits of rubbish, how very close the shadows draw when he steps inside.

There's a door back there, when he looks. Easy to miss, with the way the walls angle. Push it open - it's not locked - and there's just enough light from the occasional wall-mounted torch to see the narrow stone stairs leading him down. He'll hear the voices long before reaching the enormous medieval cellar at the bottom. On the vaulted ceiling, the shadows play among the light of lamps burning oil and electricity and magic; among the pillars all manner of shady characters are swaggering, slinking, doing business. They exchange goods, whispers- most of all, hard cash. Many of them choose to keep a polite distance from each other, but the visiting sorcerer would be well-advised to watch his step.

Not least because there's a small trench around the edge of the room, and if he steps into it crossing the threshold he'll learn it's flowing with cold water.

Danny is a very recent arrival in the Nexus. If he's walked past the alley before, it can't have been but so often, so he doesn't feel too bad for not noticing anything out of the ordinary about it before. Some day, he reflects as he peers at slush forming in the shallow pit of the tracks in the snow, he's going to write a travel book about alleys of the multiverse. London. Edinburgh. Bangkok. Manhattan. And now the Nexus!

He's quick to catch on, wandering to the door, looking it over briefly for warning signs, and then nudging it open bravely. Steps downward are actually a mild surprise. Somehow when he was told to try the Underground he didn't think that was meant literally.

It makes sense, though. A lot of sense. How many catacombs did his master walk him through, in how many different cities? Some business is best conducted in the earth, away from prying eyes.

Before he gets all the way to the bottom of the stairs he pauses and just stands still, listening to the voices, trying to quiet his breathing. The words don't carry, but the feel of subtle, dark commerce is easy to pick up. His fingers curl uncertainly as he calls up an illusion--nothing too elaborate, he doesn't want to draw anyone's eye--just enough to turn his ragged jacket into a black hooded shirt and shade his face a little.

There are Morganian corpses in every cemetery and catacomb on the planet, his master told him once. When time comes for the Rising, the very ground will quiver as our undead allies claw their way to us.

He's half looking for them when he steps across the threshold, and he almost trips right into the trench, but manages to escape disaster by flinging his weight forward, stumbling a few steps off-balance, and catching himself on a pillar.

Great way to make an entrance. Good job, they're sure to respect him now.

Those nearby are definitely not walking corpses: heads turn to size him up, some of them masked and some of them grizzled and some plain alien. A few sniggers can be heard above the general murmur of voices in the chamber. Act casual, stay frosty, right?

But everyone looks to be living (for a given value of life), so that's something. Danny's drawn attention to himself, however, and there are sharp eyes aplenty in here. He barely gets to regain his poise before there's a low, purring voice at his ear.

"Marafi has not seen you in the Market before. Is the stranger new here? This one hopes you are not lost."

The speaker, too, is hooded, but that does little to hide the feline cast of his furred features. Nor the tabby striped tail that curls behind him, swaying lazily.

Okay. Okay, there are two ways he can play this. He can put on all the poise he can manage, act the part of the ambitious young Morganian sorcerer and try to deal with these people on the basis of equals. Or he can play dumb.

Given that he just very nearly fell on his face, the latter seems the safer bet, but he doesn't want to look so foolish they throw him out, either. He clears his throat, blushing a little, and brushes imaginary lint off his sleeve, only to start slightly as the stranger murmurs to him. He blinks at the catlike features, and there's probably a flash of delight on his face, because he really likes cats both big and small and he's never seen a cat-person.

Luckily, he's smart enough not to gush or even comment, just gives that brief grin and then collects himself. "New, not lost. Bit clumsy, 's all."

He glances around and adds, "It's a lot warmer down here than it is out there. Smart of you lot. What sort of currency d'you take here? I might need to get mine changed."

His master would have opened with a threat. Danny's pretty sure he doesn't have the clout to succeed at that. Better to go ahead and let himself look like an easy mark, and then be less easy than he seems.

"Yes, yes, much better than walking on bitter snows." If his hearty approval of the warmth is stereotypically feline, this cat doesn't give the smallest damn. His green eyes flick over Danny before he nods, eager to help.

"Do you carry gold? Everybody loves gold. The face it bears is not so important, Marafi finds. Perhaps he can help his friend find some."

Eager to help means either this guy was very bored till Danny showed up, or he's looking to take advantage. Danny can't blame him either way--if he's as catlike in personality as he is in appearance, he's bound to be Looking Out For Number One, and that's sensible. Danny just needs to get over the desire to pet him.

"Well...there's this." He sticks his ring hand in his pocket and pulls out the trick coin, casting an illusion while the gems are hidden. Could get him in trouble, if someone senses the magic, but so could flashing around a gold coin in a place like this. He's gambling, looking for an opportunity.

If it does come down to trading goods, he might be screwed. He's got some American money begged and pickpocketed from various brief encounters before arriving in the Nexus, and he helped himself to a couple trinkets in the process of stealing candles and wine, but gold? Not so much.

When he holds out the coin, it does look gold. A sorcerer would probably pick up on the illusion fast, though. "My master sent me down here, honestly. He's got this friend that wanted so show him something to do with soul gems? They're off drinking wine somewhere and had me come down here to see what I could find. I'm not sure they're not having fun with me, honestly. That's the kind of thing Master Stone would do, like how they send a new worker on a construction site after skyhooks and tartan paint, his first day."

"But if you can help me out, it'd be awful nice of you."

Whatever the details of his subterfuge, Marafi might do better if he learned not to follow the glint of gold with his feline eyes, like a kitten tracking a laser dot.

"Ah, yes. Marafi understands. He too has worked for such men. But fear not, my friend. He knows the trinkets you seek. Near the fountain across the market is a seller with many soul gems. But Marafi does not think he will part with them cheaply."

A pause, as the cat-man eyes Danny's reaction to that slyly.

If Marafi can see through Danny's illusion, he's doing a bang-up job of hiding it. That's good. That means he's not a sorcerer, at least.

Danny glances around warily and pockets the coin again fast, as if he's suddenly realized flashing money all about in a place like this is risky. "Heh, you know, I've got no clue what soul gems sell for?"

He tilts his head at Marafi, studying him. "I like you, though. Sometimes it's really uncomfortable walking into a new place like this; it means a lot to see a friendly face. I'm really enjoying your company, you know? D'you know anything about that vendor? Maybe he's got a weakness for something other than gold."

He's going to have to pay this cat-person something sooner or later, he's sure, for the information. But if he can get him to help him steal soul gems, he's guessing that'd be more economical than trying to actually buy them from the vendor...

Marafi bares a smile that seems to be friendly, though it contains a lot more sharp teeth than Danny may be used to. It doesn't help that his ears are hidden beneath the hood, though his tail remains relaxed as it curls behind him.

"Yes, indeed, friend. He will want more than a few coins for the gems you seek. More than they are worth, truly. Marafi has seen mages buy and sell such things in his homeland. A clever one such as yourself will find it most unfair. Ah, but Marafi likes you too, and so he will tell you that the elf who has them hates this winter bitterly. Marafi has heard how he longs for a potion or a drink to drive away the chill. He would be most interested were a wizard's apprentice to offer him such a thing. Why, he would be distracted even from his wares."

A-ha. Now that information presents some interesting possibilities. Because by Danny's calculations, if he succeeds in getting these gems, Felix is going to owe him no less than four potions, and he distinctly remembers one of the ones he had was for cold resistance. Maybe stealing won't be necessary?

Although, getting a person to part with an item on 'credit' isn't going to be easy, either. Maybe theft is Plan A and negotiation is Plan B.

"Tell you what, focus is so important when you're carrying around valuables," Danny murmurs.

"Funny you should mention potions," he says. "My master's friend had a few he was working on. Let me ask you something, Marafi, does the name Felix Caelus mean anything down here? Just asking in case mentioning it is a bad idea, you know what I mean?"

“Ah, the Imperial. Yes, Marafi has seen him do business here many times. There are many rumors about him. They say he is a conjurer, no? Marafi cannot say what his name is worth, but he does not think it will hurt. Perhaps you should try it with this elf. Who can say? Perhaps he will misplace a few of his trinkets while he is complaining.”

Marafi endeavors to look innocent, such that one could not possibly accuse him of having anything to do with such misfortune.

This will either go smooth as butter, result in Marafi having a lot of gems and extorting whatever Danny's got out of him, or blow up in both their faces spectacularly. Danny gives the other fellow a thoughtful look, then decides to hell with it and grins, offering a handshake.

Nothing ventured, nothing gained, after all. "I can be very distracting, Marafi. Let's do this."

He turns, looking around the area briefly before selecting a circuitous route toward the fountain. He's going to look like a complete naif wandering around before he gets to his target, but he was never going to look all that competent no matter what he did, so he might as well play to his strengths and broadcast 'hello, I'm a wide-eyed tourist'.

Anyone who tries to pickpocket him will find they come away empty handed, though. Or, at best, with a couple playing cards from his trick deck. He knows those tricks.

The hand that grasps his for a second is warm and furless, softer than a human's palm, quick and deft in a way that suggests Marafi may well end up with one or two of those playing cards. In a flash of teeth and the flick of a tail, the hooded feline disappears among the other market-goers.

Danny's left to make his own way around. His route gives him a good sample of the marketplace: here's an alien with a heavy brow ridge driving a hard bargain for looted electronics; there another cat-person measuring grains of something crystalline into a tiny cloth bag for her customers; this man is selling a particularly vicious assortment of weapons; half-hidden by a screen, a disinterested doctor sees to the bloodied leg of a disagreeable-sounding fellow.

The sculpted fountain doesn't draw the eye, though when one turns to look up it seems to dominate the shadows at the end of the room. The water itself is a steady trickle from the base, dark and slow. Above it rises the image of a robed woman, carved in dark blue-grey stone. She's posed as if stepping out of the shadows, her hands outspread, birds that might be long-winged ravens alighting on wrist and shoulder. Her face is hooded, her features inscrutable as she watches quietly over the market.

Below the fountain's edge a sharp-featured man is huddled on a stool. He's sallow of complexion, with cheekbones like knives above his thick jumper and the heavy blanket wrapped over his shoulders. He's scowling at no-one in particular over the trinkets and pouches and crystals laid out on the blanket before him, but his pale eyes latch onto Danny quickly, and he draws a thin, insincere smile as the young man approaches.

"Ah, another new arrival here to sample the market. I hope you have more of a mind to do business than certain other people."

Danny's done plenty of pickpocketing of his own. If he gets the gems he needs for Felix, he won't complain about losing some of his cards. That's not honor among thieves so much as 'I'll overlook you screwing with me because I plan on screwing with you, too'.

He's privately fascinated with all this. There's a 100% chance he'll be coming back here later, as soon as he's a little better-established in the Nexus and knows how to conduct business on his own behalf. It doesn't seem quite as dangerous as he was afraid it was. A little red-light-y, but no one looks like they want to slit his throat.

He pauses by the fountain, struck by the image of the woman. She can't be Morgana, he figures, but she seems like a figure of sorcerous power. Dark or grey magic, maybe? He wants to know so much more, but just in case she's close enough to Lady Morgana to put in a good word for him, he gives the statue a little bow of his head and a soft salute with his ring hand before moving on.

He takes quick stock of the vendor. Marafi said something about him being an elf? Definitely not the Legolas kind, but that's probably for the best. Danny breaks into a smile, trying to look enthusiastic and a little bit dim. "Yeah! I mean, my master and his friend sent me to pick up a couple things. This place is amazing. We don't have any market like this back home. I'm from New York. Have you ever been to New York? Or heard of it? It's huge. Kind of loud."

"This reminds me of the subway, you know? How it's underground and all that. I'd never have known it was here if Mr. Caelus hadn't told me how to find it."

The elf smiles and listens and nods with the patience of a man waiting to see what he can get out of this. When Danny drops the name Caelus he'll see exactly that spark of recognition he was looking for, followed by the vendor taking a moment to reassess him. Wondering all the more what he can get out of this green boy.

"Caelus, hm? I've done business with him before. And you must be an apprentice mage yourself. How... interesting. And what has young Caelus sent you all the way down here for? More potion ingredients? Spare robes?" He seems quite willing to cut some manner of deal; whatever Felix's reputation, it clearly doesn't involve cheating his suppliers.

That's a really good sign. Danny should probably feel a little guilty that this guy is about to get robbed, and that that might make for an awkward exchange later, if Felix has further contact with him. But if he goes around feeling guilty about every little incident of petty theft, he'll never get anything done. Anyway, if kind of is Felix's fault if things get awkward later. He's the one that sent a street urchin to shop for him.

"Sure am!" He smiles, half sheepish, half proud. "My master's name is Stone. Don't know if you'll have heard of him. He doesn't spend much time around the Nexus, and he's never brought me before. Anyway, they were talking about potions--Mr. Caelus says he has one that'll help keep people warm in this weather, and my master was asking about it, and then I started asking, too, and they say I talk too too much."

He wanders over, hands in pockets, to peer excitedly at the stock laid out on the table. "But they said if I can bring back a couple lesser soul stones they'll teach me what goes in the potion so maybe I could make one! Do you have those?"

It looks like the vendor might be getting quite distracted by his talkative customer. Especially when he moves to answer Danny's question, reaching for a few long, roughly oval faceted crystals with a deep purple hue... and then he freezes, and looks up at the boy.

"Soul gems? Caelus wants them?" He frowns, starting to worry there's an angle he's missing, but his suspicion isn't directed at Danny. "But just... lesser gems, correct? Nothing more... potent?"

For a moment there's silent movement in the shadows behind him, a sign that Danny's accomplice is close at hand, watching for an opportunity.

"Well, yeah?" He blinks at the man innocently. "Lesser's what he said. But he said they need to be full. He showed me an empty one; they're right pretty, aren't they? We don't use that kind of thing in the world I come from, but my Master, Drake Stone, he's working on a thesis in cross-dimensional magical synthesis, and he wanted to learn everything he can."

"Why, how potent do they get? I mean, I figured if there's 'lesser' ones there had to be 'greater' ones, too, but is it just the two levels or are there more than that?"

His hands come out of his pockets and he reaches out tentatively to try and touch whatever's on the table nearest him.

The vendor's looking over Danny's shoulder now, pale eyes scouring the shadows as if he expects Danny's master to be watching nearby, no matter what the boy says.

"What? But of course there are more. Petty gems all the way to grand ones, and even... black gems." The elf's attention returns to Danny with a look somewhere between disdain and suspicion- in time to snap, "No touching the goods unless you've coin to lay down, boy. Lesser gems, you said? Well then."

He bestirs himself to reach beneath the table and add a twin to the gem on the table. This time he'll nod curtly if Danny wants to touch them - at least enough to verify what he's saying.

"They're full, all right. Trolls, if I remember right. The most powerful souls those gems can hold. Now, I wouldn't take less than fifty-two gold septims apiece, but Caelus has always been reliable with his coin..."

While he talks, generously explaining how he'll settle for a reduced price that's still unavoidably far in excess of anything Danny can dream of paying... a hooded figure pads silently by and - without a break in stride or so much as a telltale jingle - his tail swipes across the side of the table, batting a couple of expensive-looking and likely magical trinkets into the air. Marafi snatches them out of the air and straight into a pocket, then heads back into the crowd. Better take advantage of the opportunity to cause a scene now...

Wow, he's that nervous? That's real interesting. Felix already gave Danny the impression that he's knowledgeable but potentially dangerous. This just reinforces that impression. But for a sorcerer in Danny's particular line of work, potentially dangerous is a plus.

"Black gems...so the color means somethin', too." His expression is wide-eyed and guileless, but the moves back when told.

And something shifts a little in his face when the vendor mentions the gems contain actual souls. The souls of once-living creatures. Not human, at least, but that's still some very, very hot stuff, by Danny's standards. What happens to those souls, he wonders, after they're emptied from the gem?

Too late to back out now, so he just nods slowly and makes a thoughtful face at the price, as if he's been sent to bargain and actually has an idea what to offer.

Then Marafi makes his move, and Danny's not disappointed. He makes a small sound of surprise but waits just long enough for the crowd to close around his accomplice before pointing. "D-did you see that?? That man had a tail!"

The minute the vendor looks, he palms the gems. "I think he took something, hold on, I'll chase him down for you!"

"Haven't you ever heard of black souls and white ones, boy? Better ask your master the difference - if he doesn't use you as a subject." Something about the way he jokes it is a mite unsettling...

All told Danny's probably relieved to see the man look round - and he's already suspicious of the disappearing Khajiit before Danny cries out his accusation. It's a confusing few moments as the elf goes from dismissal to suspicion to trying to shed his cocoon of furs in a hurry. "What? Filthy Khajiit, I- wait- wait, where are you going?"

But Danny's already out of there, ducking through a crowd that seems supremely uninterested in any shenanigans. He's out of sight before the vendor can stop him-much less glance back and realize that, one way and another, he's been had. Danny, on the other hand, will make it all the way to the far entrance before Marafi grins at him from the shadow of a pillar.

"This one trusts you were not disappointed."

No, he sure hasn't heard of black versus white souls, and he doesn't want to know right now. Especially not if it's something that could be illustrated at his expense. He'll consult his Encantus later, although chances are it won't tell him much about another world's style of spellcasting.

"It's okay, I'm great with cats!" Danny reassures him cheerfully as he makes a dash for it. And he's all too glad to vanish into the crowd.

By the time he makes it to the edge of the market, he's a little shaky with adrenaline. He hasn't pulled off a heist quite so direct before. Pickpocketing and petty shoplifting, sure, but not while looking directly at his target's face. It went quite well, though, and he kind of wants to laugh his head off about it. But not quite yet.

He finds a place against the wall close to where Marafi lurks and gives him a bright, breathless smile. "You're good. No complaints here. Got what I wanted, and you? You came away with something already. You know I don't have much, but..."

He gets out the coin, tweaking the illusion a little. "This isn't actually gold, but it'll look like it for the next four or five hours. Think you can find someone to take it?"

Marafi is smiling like... well, like the cat who got his mark, in fact. It's a smile he doesn't lose when Danny offers him the coin, but his furry brows go up a bit, ears twitching forward beneath his hood and tail curling upward with interest.

"There is always someone willing to take coins from a humble Khajiit." He'll take the coin, feline pupils widening as he studies its flicker and shine in the low light. "Marafi offers you his gratitude for such a profitable partnership. May your road lead to warm sands, friend."

Yes. That's a fair trade as far as Danny's concerned. He makes a mental note to look up 'Khajit' later, if he gets the opportunity. "Right back at you, mate," he says cheerfully. "Maybe we can work together again some time."

Because now that the nerves are wearing off, that was fun.

"I'm out of here," he says. "Before my luck runs out. Stay out of the cold, Marafi."

Never one for sentiment, he pulls up his own hood and heads for the exit posthaste. He's a lot more graceful leaving than he was coming in. It would be great to pretend that's because he was pulling a clever hustle all along, but really, it's just because his eyes have adjusted better to the light and he's a little more focused.

And now, now that the errands are done, it's back to the Plaza to find Felix Caelus.

Felix is at his station and easily found, though clearly he's been busy in his own way. There are fewer potions on the desk than before, and beneath it a dozen or more open-topped clay pots are stacked. Behind them, beside where Felix is sitting, something silver-blue shifts for a moment. Felix is lounging in his seat and watching the crowd, which means Danny is getting a smile flashed his way well before he gets close enough to talk.

"You've been gone a while," Felix notes when he does reach the table. "Dare I hope that bodes well...?"

The Start of the Storm

Danny Gladstone - The Underhanded Underground

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