nexus_crossings | Into a Rising Wind

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event

Into a Rising Wind

Winter holds the Nexus in its jaws, and its teeth sink ever deeper.

A month into the storm, the snow has yet to stop falling. The number of mouths to be fed has stopped dwindling, almost. Occasionally people go missing, and those who notice hope they’ve found a way back through their portals. It’s not enough to change the maths on their food supplies - all their supplies. Nobody is getting a full meal at a time, not any more. Isidor and Lyall have begun to enforce the rationing with iron hands. Both ignore the look that crosses Captain Kirk’s face when they upbraid a volunteer cook for being too generous – the look that lingers on Runa’s face if she’s close enough to hear. They’re doing what they must. They need a tight hold on their supplies if they want to get people through this. They need supplies even to send expeditions after more.

And expeditions are a difficult prospect now. Those who ventured into the storm and returned have brought stories that spread faster than Isidor hoped. The Crossroads Cafe has become a semi-official hub for those travelling outside or keeping watch on the bounds, a safe resting place kept warm by the combined power of Pokemon and Persona. In the long dark nights, people sit around the tables and share what they've seen, what they've heard from this scout or that refugee. Whispered tales of the creatures out there hunting in packs, hounding people from rooftops, even tearing open walls to reach them…

No-one goes out alone, now. Those brave enough to take the risk go in groups and arm themselves with the best weapons they can find. Sometimes they’re a risk to themselves. Not everyone knows how to handle that black market plasma pistol they picked up two days past. Not all of their team-mates keep their nerve when a figure looms out of the snows beside them. Sometimes it’s hard to tell who’s run afoul of monsters, and who of their own folly. Safer, but little less brave, are the people recruited to keep watch on that shifting line of torches. Just a precaution. The creatures don’t come past it, everyone says. But quietly, everyone doubts.

There've been bright moments, too. A strange alchemist comforting a lost child. An expedition team fighting their way home, back to back. Families brought safely through the snow by soldiers and wizards, by heroes young and old and sometimes surprising. A volunteer cook stepping up to prepare, if not quite a hundred thousand meals, then something that feels close. A young man saving the life of a stranger who'd threatened him. The past weeks have seen people who may never have known one another before come together to offer a blanket, or guiding words, or a helping hand in a search. Small moments, glowing reminders of how much good the people of the Nexus have on their side. But the Winter goes on, and the winds never get less bitter, and the smiles get more strained with every day.

Slowly the line of torches close on the Plaza, a noose no-one can afford to flee. Sheltered space is at a premium. Most of those who remain are settled as close to the centre as they can be. Whether in the big public bunker or the Cafe, people find themselves crammed all together, and tempers regularly fray among residents not too cold and exhausted for fighting. The more responsible Nexus-goers find themselves trying to duck out of (or break up) fights, or spending hours stuffing drafty accommodation with any insulation they can find. There’s snow to be shoveled from doors, pipes to be defrosted, bandages to be changed. Anything’s better than dealing with the problem of working bathrooms.

At one end of the Plaza headquarters, a makeshift screen has been dragged into place to give a semblance of privacy to Isidor’s desk. It’s painfully early in the morning, though the nights are so long and the days so dim beneath the storm clouds there’s little sense of time any more. There’s no-one around yet to wonder about the meeting going on. The only people present are Isidor, Lyall and a handful of senior volunteers – those who remain. Blaze-37 crouches by a makeshift fireplace, stacking the salvaged wood just right before she punches it lightly, setting it alight with the flames that ripple over her fist. The other robot, Ghost, is hovering over the desk playing flashlight for them, shining a pale beam over the maps and reports laid out there. Light, too, is a precious resource, as batteries die and outlets are lost to encroaching Winter. It’s the only reason those here have gotten sleep. They work until they have no light to work by.

“Shouldn’t we wait for Suou?” the Guardian asks when Isidor says they can begin.

“Officer Suou won’t be coming.”

That’s part of why they’re here, Isidor explains. The torches’ march has taken them past the Grand Library. The Crossroads Café is now on the very edge of the safe zone, along with all the people sheltering there. Katsuya’s magic is the only thing that will protect it. He can’t leave. It’s a turning point that only drives home the larger problem: they’re running out of time. They’re running out of everything. Most refugees are in some kind of shelter by now; what they lack is food to keep them alive and fuel to keep them warm. Isidor’s volunteers have counted heads and counted tins and counted everything backwards and forwards and the numbers never get better. Either they do something now, while they have the strength, or the meals will run dry in two weeks. Less, if anything goes wrong.

She lets that sink in. Nobody looks surprised: she’s confirming their worst suspicions and that gets a few flinches, but they understand. They talk, instead. By the time there’s a hint of daylight outside and someone knocks on the door for the first shot at rations, they have a plan. They need an expedition, bigger than any before. They need enough arms to discourage attack, the skills to get them to any buried supplies and the numbers to haul them back in quantity. Each of them walks away from the table with a mission in mind and an air of grim determination.

They have a job to do, and they’re going to need help.

((As before, so below: the main missions/subquests for the expedition prep are listed below. 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. The OOC Post can be found here! If you have any questions, feel free to message me or one of the mods!))

Threads of Note

Scouting the Expedition | A Fistful of Torches | Scrapyard Sweep | The Home Front | Medical Attention | Isidor's Expedition Call | Main Expedition: The Raid

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Furiosa is alert to her surroundings--less so than the scouts, perhaps, but enough to note the scorch-marks and strange symbols. She is reminded of road gangs like the Buzzards once again, marking their territory. Maybe the writing means something more to Blaze, but she can't ask right now.

There's a lot she doesn't know. She doesn't precisely feel that secrets are being kept from her deliberately, though. Not at this point. More like they're all so focused on survival and the end goal of this mission that there hasn't been a chance to share intel that may or may not be relevant. Furiosa sure as hell has questions. But that's okay; determination to get the answers is just one more factor that will keep her alive.

The snowmobile runs shockingly quiet, and she loves that. It's nice to have a roaring double-V8 Rig under her, but for this kind of work, subtle is better. The steering is nowhere near as responsive as a Rig, though, especially considering the smaller size of this thing compared to her usual. It's the trailer, she thinks. That, and the texture of the snow. It's powdery right where she doesn't want it to be, and full of ice chunks.

She's stowed a couple extra weapons in the cab with her, because that's how she functions. She's even got a rifle, although trying to fire with it while driving is unlikely to result in any notable success. At the moment, though, most of her attention is on the vehicle, learning it fast, testing the way it handles, accelerates, and brakes. On the snow a few yards to her right she can see Kinner fighting his way through the drifts. She glances over and gives a nod, but with the both of them in scarves and goggles it's hard to exchange any kind of expression.

When the order comes to douse the lights, she obeys quietly and without question, letting the speed of the vehicle drop to compensate.

Flying just behind Furiosa is Natalie, once again mounting her Pokemon, Volcarona. It's easier to travel this way, instead of being left on the ground and susceptible to fire. However, her flight plan keep her hovering just slightly above the caravan, so if needed, she can jump back to the ground.

The mission itself is worrying, lots of questions running through her head about the Fallen and who they obey. The winter is their time: the days are dark and cold, so this party is clearly going into enemy territory with a disadvantage. But what more can they do? Sit and die? Yes, some of the people at the camp have already embraced their mortality and are willing to accept death, but she's not going to do that yet. There's so much more to live for...

The sun will rise and things will be alright. Like the others, she flies quietly and without saying a word, being mindful of their surroundings.

It's not the first time she's done so, but driving a two-wheeled motorcycle was something Delia had done before.

Looks like she owed Strix an apology at some point, given the bike in question was one of her (ridiculously many) side projects she'd acquired from an Earth antique barge.

Taking a moment to acquaint herself where everything was, it wasn't long before she was pealing off after Josh, having secured her scarf, goggles, and at some point or another cleaned off her hat.

It's light, responsive, and fast, all things that she as a pilot can likely take advantage of, even with gravity acting as her harsh mistress at the moment.

Remembering where they were? Difficult, but not impossible, particularly once they pass familiar landmarks.

Impossible to miss, this quiet mobilization of the Nexus' remaining strength. Loki has been watching, from a safe distance. He's helped a little, in his limited way. Sent food and furs to the shelter with his alternates, followed and observed some of the scouts, made enough ominous noise to chase a few strays back into safety. He could have done more, perhaps, but he's had his own problems to work with. That, and some submerged instinct tells him this is not his time and not his fight. This is, by and large, between the mortal residents here, and Reynard, and the shadow creatures.

He can't ignore this, though. For one thing, it promises tremendous drama. For another, he can sense that Harley is here, and one or two others he has some personal interest in or fondness for.

Riding the wind, he circles invisible over the expedition a few times, but when lights begin to appear in the distance, headed for the expedition, he settles, resting on the trailer behind the snowmobile, light as a leaf, unseen even by its driver.

He's certainly not seen by Azwel, whose eyes are all over the buildings and alleys, straining to peer into the distance. The markings on the buildings mean nothing to him--unless the beings who made them are lurking nearby to defend their territory it's academic.

He shifts his feet in the snow a bit nervously when they're told to kill the lights. They're plunged into darkness and he can see the approaching lights from far-off even better, but not well enough to tell what they are.

Too much to hope for another civilian expedition from some other part of the Nexus, looking for survivors or food. Immediately his mind spins in anther direction, pondering the possibility of this Winter covering a potentially infinite space and the kind of vertiginous cosmic fear that comes of thinking about infinitude. He takes a deep breath. Focus. He can let his too-fertile imagination play with the ideas later, if he survives.

He looks round at the others, then peers into the darkness, watching Blaze.

Although it's obvious that several of those in the party are anxious, Sif only finds the situation... nostalgic? The familiarity of their circumstance--scuttling along through the snow in the dark--isn't really important at the moment, merely another piece of her personal puzzle to be filed away later and sorted through in less life-threatening setting.

That doesn't mean she isn't on high alert. She extends her senses as far as they will go, peering into the dark. Now that she's not soaked and floundering, the cold doesn't bite so savagely, but the wind makes it hard to hear the things that might be lurking in the dark.

As a precautionary measure, Sif positions herself at the perimeter of the group, sword in hand. She'll act as a shield for now. Anything that comes at them will have to get through her before it can reach those closer to the center.

With their own lights down and the wind covering their engines the convoy tries to creep into the woodlands unseen. The lights far off through the trees are strange – they don’t look like vehicle headlights or torches. They’re pale, flickering like icy will o’ wisps as they glide between distant trees, and the wind now and then bears the echo of distorted voices. Blaze’s attention swivels round and she stops to watch them carefully, letting the expedition move on past her for a bit. She says something to the vanguard about- servers? It’s hard to hear over the wind. Hard to tell whether she’s worried or just fighting the desire to go chase those distant lights.

But they don’t seem to be heading for the expedition-goers, fortunately. It's a pack of shanks, floating robots about a foot across, who spot the tail of the convoy trailing through the snow. They come out of the darkness with little yellow optics aglow, five of them, sounding high electronic trills as they spot their prey and fan out with shock blasters ready to fire. Blaze is going to be annoyed she was away at the front, but she is far from the only warrior itching for something to hit on this trip...

Trying to avoid any further notice, they lead the convoy on a detour into rougher terrain. It’s hillier and rockier, but the snow has smoothed over much of their path for them. And as they move into the hilly outskirts of the wood, they find places sheltered from the worst of the storm, where the winds drop and the snow falls gentler. They cut through an orchard, and the trees lining the path bear ghostly pears and apples sculpted in glassy ice; the leaves glitter with silver frost as the gale lifts them. It’s almost quiet here, but for the engines thrumming over the soft winds. The hills around them are lined with copses of barren trees, tall and jagged, stark shadows against the grey sky. If someone looks up at the wrong time, they may glimpse one of those trees move, become a dark, hunched figure slouching out of view into the woods. That doesn’t look like any Fallen…

Another turn, and they find the Escher falls frozen in their strange interlocking courses, bound by ice where gravity has always failed. There’s a glimpse of color to their right, where the snow clouds take on a rainbow tinge and the snow seems to be falling red and purple and gold; someone mentions the origami fields. Now and then black feathers rustle in the shadowed branches, sharp eyes watching them over sharp beaks. The scouts are quick to lead them back onto the approved path, however. They don’t want to risk surprises, and even with the deeper snow this route is quicker. As the gloomy dawn finally takes hold, they’re drawing near to the enemy camp. Blaze calls back the warning to get ready. Everyone knows their own job – watch the flanks, get in and load the trailer, secure the ropes, get their cargo the hell out of there. Or draw the guards off. Blaze is heading in with the vanguard, but the scouts are circling in first. They’re going to lure the Fallen’s attention-

And it they who are first to find the ugly surprise. The camp is empty. Looted clean, but for a few grafittied shipping containers, pieces of scrap... and the hints of a trail.

Kinner tries not to look at the strange birds or hunched figures. They've got enough to worry about with the Fallen on the loose. They have to stay focused, not get lost in details, or they might get lost themselves. He pulls his coat a little closer and goes where the scouts tell him to, briefly wondering at the frozen falls. If the situation wasn't so desperate, it would almost be beautiful.

The wrecked camp, on the other hand, is not beautiful. It's disappointing.

"Well, looks like somebody was here first." Ever frank, Kinner points out the obvious. He wonders if the Fallen knew they were going to try and take the food. "Should've guessed those things wouldn't make it easy for us. Looks like we've got to follow their trail if we're going to get that food supply."

"Selfish curs, taking more food than they can eat while people are starving outside," he spits, "and, what's more, making sure we can't have any." He surveys the empty camp, visibly frustrated. The creatures are up to something, but whether there's some kind of strategy to the Fallen's antics or plain old meanness he can't tell. Either way, they're going to have to give chase. There's a trail, so they can pursue the Fallen elsewhere. They can't give up just yet.

He doesn't know why the Fallen are taking food, but obviously they have no intention of letting the starving Nexus-dwellers have any. "They must really want to stop us from eating. Are they tryin' to starve us out? 'Cause that's what it's starting to look like. We're going to have to follow them."

"Ya'know… it is likely that is a false trail." Harley notes from where she stands, surveying the situation. "If I were going to take something to somewhere else... and I was worried about people following me... I would make a false trail. A red herring. A run-around."

She is not going to add her commentary on the 'selfish curs' remark he made. There is a reason why the food is not here. And Harley believes that they are not going to find those answers by making assumptions.

"Doesn't really matter if it's a trap or not. The only way to go is forward."

They've already committed what little supplies and food the camp has left betting on this outing. They either find their quarry or something else or the lot of them may as well not come back at all. Even if they did all that would be left was a camp of starving people. Times are as desperate as they are.

The extra food all of the people here have been provided came at the cost of feeding others. A fact Natasha can't ignore knowing just how many people are back there waiting. Counting on them.

"Let's get moving."

Furiosa stands up in the snowmobile cab, craning her neck briefly to look at the scene of the abandoned camp. Her heart is suddenly racing. The planning of this mission didn't leave enough to chance for there to be a mistake. She doesn't know, but guesses, that the last time this place was checked can't have been more than 24 hours ago, because it would make sense for a last reconnaissance mission to go before the big expedition. This camp was broken fast, and everything moved far too cleanly for it to be coincidence.

The scouts said the Fallen were just throwing the food away like it was worthless to them. They'd only take it with them out of spite, or to lay a trap.

"Eyes on," she says quietly, on the off-chance anyone's close enough to hear her. Part of her anticipates a trap to snap closed at any second.

She, in her turn, hears Natasha speak, though, and nods to herself. Failure isn't an option here. "Better fang it, but we need to keep in mind how much fuel we're using. Don't want to play games any longer than we have to, or we'll be walking back to the shelters."

"Always provided there's a shelter to return to," Azwel mutters, staring down at the remains of the camp. "If they know we're coming they could have brought in any manner of reinforcements. We're well inside the trap, now, and may have been ever since we left."

There's nothing for it, now, though, and try as he might, he simply cannot think of any other option than to follow the trail, even though every tactical sense he's developed over the years tells him that's exactly where the enemy want them to go.

Had they shown their hand too soon? Do the enemy know how to fight them, now? He shivers, but it has nothing to do with the cold.

Azwel brings up an even more unsettling point. They've thrown their all into this expedition, and while there are some defenses left behind, the bulk of their strength is right here. She's been on the other end of that, charging through three War Parties to get back to a fortified city and take it before they could get there to defend it.

What will they do if they find their target and bring back food, and no one's left alive to eat it?

She feels cold inside, sinking back to sit in her seat. But there's still nothing for it. Even assuming the worst, there's no point in turning back and playing it cautious now. She looks over at Azwel, green eyes wide in the low light, calm rage behind them. "Better not speculate too much. There's a dozen different ways we could die out here, and if we die, so does everyone else. But we knew that when we set out. This changes nothing."

Blaze nods, agreeing with those behind her. She’s not privy to all the conversations going on, but it sounds like they’re of much the same mind as she is. The Guardian turns back and lifts her left palm, letting Ghost materialize above it. The little bot floats up to her shoulder, and she waves the vanguard around her closer so she can raise her voice to address them.

“You’re right. This stinks like the inside of a Cabal helmet. But we don’t have a good alternative. The Fallen never came beyond the torch line, so maybe that magic is holding them out along with the storm. We haven’t picked up any distress calls yet. Either way, we’re going to have to trust the others will hold the walls back there.” Have to. There's a deep and unfamiliar fear waiting for her, if she dwells on what might be happening beyond her watch. She gives a snort. “Trust that we’re the bigger targets, I should say. We’ve got at least one thing they want too. Let’s chase them down fast and bust open whatever they’ve got waiting for us. And spread the word down the line – everyone watch their backs. We’re getting ambushed somewhere along this trail.

To Ghost, scanning their surroundings watchfully, she adds, “Radio the scouts. Tell them to follow the trail ahead and get back to us the second they find anything. We need to know what we’re walking into.”

If only they had a Hunter here. She misses Kaolin right now. Any of her brethren. She’s gone weeks without seeing another Guardian at times, but she’s never felt truly cut off from them before. No matter how remote the wilds, no matter how hostile the planet, no matter what eldritch caverns out of time they explored, the Traveler and her kin were always somewhere there behind her. Now… she closes her fist, and the heat spills over it for a moment. A hint of solar fury just beyond her touch. A comforting reminder: the Light is with her, even here.

Still. A Hunter… if they had Kaolin, he’d already be a mile ahead, reporting their enemy’s positions. If he was here, the only thing she’d have to worry about would be him hogging all the good kills. It’s something to make her chuckle, as they resume their march.

The trail isn’t terribly hard to follow, at that (which is not reassuring to many). It leads them further up into the hills and the trees. Objectively, it probably isn’t that much farther out. But every minute brings them palpably further from safety and shelter. Eventually, the scouts will find a wide open clearing in the forest ahead. To the left, it backs onto a sheer cliffside that curves around half the open space. The only sign of their enemy are some alien crates with Fallen markings on them; a metal pole driven into the ground which bears a long vertical banner flapping in the high wind: a sigil that branches downward thin and white, like icicles, on a deep blue field. And behind it... the food is piled high, roughly sorted into different mounds: cans and jars and bags and bottles, all of it frosted with a thin layer of snow where the wind hasn’t swept it away.

Blaze starts calling out orders, though they all know their parts. Scouts to watch their perimeter, escorts to take their positions. Furiosa to move the snowmobile into position; transport crew to load it up. Ghost nudges her to stride in and summon him, so the little bot can verify there aren't any buried explosives within the stockpile.

It’s show time.

Edited 2019-03-17 01:44 (UTC)

Show time indeed.

Seeing the food all piled up is too good to be true and screams to Natalie that a trap awaits. The question is what kind? The food could have explosives nearby or the Fallen could easily be waiting until the group converges on the target for an ambush. Either way, Natalie lowers herself and Volcarona to the ground, waiting patiently for the next move. Sure she wants to set stuff on fire, but they must approach with due diligence.

"I don't doubt for a second that they're hiding close by, but we have to flush them out first. Or find a way to conceal ourselves." Her words aren't directed at anyone in particular, but whoever can come up with the best plan. She has her own ideas, but this is a team effort that requires synchronization. "I can offer up a distraction. Pretty sure the Fallen wouldn't like to be exposed to harsh rain or debilitating sleep spores." Heck, she even brought the earth down on the Fallen via rocks. Pokemon are nothing new at generating elemental calamities.

She's quiet, watching Ghost carefully, hoping for a weak-point to be revealed. No need to be afraid of any plans sounding stupid here, since anything and everything has to be considered as an option.

"A distraction ain't a bad idea. I can be very distracting. I could go with..." Harley realizes she doesn't know the young woman, so she just smiles. "The young Pokémon Trainer."

"We can be distracting on one side..."

"While an stealth retrieval team gets closer to the food. And see if there is anything that can be claimed for the greater good."

"And! If you have Poison Pokémon... you could use them around me!"

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