"I should expect you do not actually believe you are in hell nor its surrounding planes." The most immediate indication that this isn't Kansas Eureka anymore are the sudden myriad of non-humans mingling about. Sure, the majority of the population looks human enough but everywhere the sheriff turns there's a bipedal avian mother ushering her chicks along beside her in their knit jumpers. Or a skeleton man dressed in robes selling morbidly decorated scarfs on a street corner. Best not to ask what kind of Lovecraftian deity has been carved into the stone fixture atop a currently nonfunctional fountain.

It's cold here, the plaza of the Nexus caught in the throes of winter, although perhaps milder than one might expect if they're used to bitterly severe seasons in either extreme. The woman who speaks is clad from head to toe in thick robes. It would look almost fantastical were it not for the combat boots and armor plating clearly visible in their design. The environmental seals keep her warm despite the weather.

"If this is your first time in the Plaza I suggest you not wander far from whatever door you stumbled through." Of course, not everyone is so lucky to have a stable entry and exit to this place...