Nexus. A city of fortunes, gateway to the Threshold. A survivor of the horrific, yet failed, Reclamation. The city of Nexus has rebuilt, a symbol of perseverance and the spirit of the River Province. Commerce continues, the Council of Entities makes sure that the city prospers.

Yet the ten years since what was witnessed and survived have not been without consequences. The Shadowland of Thorns may be gone, but the Mask of Winters survives, and he still presses his presence within the Confederation of Rivers, though no one knows to what ends. Typhon is lost, his Exaltation moved on to a new incarnation, who continues to serve as their master's voice within the Council.

Nexus has survived, the damages rebuilt. But scars remain, and there may be things within the ancient tombs of old Hollow, below the city, that were supposed to never have been found again…

The Reclamation changed much...

The past decade had been a very active one for Weaver, their duties as the Prophet of Progress had taken up almost all of their time, flitting back and forth across creation to The Brotherhood's various cells. Small Temples had been erected in most major cities, places of learning and mutual aid, catering to those who suffered most from the catastrophe, the better to cultivate a larger following. There was a lot to do, and only so much time to do it.
Unfortunately, Nexus was less than ideal for Brotherhood operations, it was locked down harder than an adamant vice, but it was ideal for amassing funds and information. The faithful could only gather so many secrets, external information sources were always welcome, and their operations often needed supplementation.

A shrouded figure sat in the back of Nexus' Brotherhood shrine, ruminating, there was a lot of paperwork. Reports on investments, costs and profits, and even a few missives from contacts. The partial transition from secret organization to semi-legitimate brought with it a lot of less than interesting changes, putting it all on the subordinates when they weren't otherwise occupied would be rude though.
Glancing up, they'd see the priest tending to their latest visitor, a local worker interested in training, many such had been dealt with in the past, nothing requiring their attention.

The Reveler of Night’s Glamor had never visited Nexus.  She had of course heard of it, but something or someplace more important always seemed to crop up.  Perhaps the city of slums and greed failed to interest her?  This time however, she had no other pressing engagements and despite stopping (ie procrastinating) at every small town along the way, her road finally terminated here.

How... hideous.  If a shadowland formed over this place, would anybody notice?

To be charitable, there were some districts that looked reasonable.  The obligatory district of the wealthy, a crowded district of commerce, and most importantly to the Reveler...a cultural themed district (Cinnabar).  Nighthammer and Firewander however remained the eyesores that they were.  The Reveler found it incomprehensible that one of the richest cities in Creation had not cleaned up Firewander.  A glance at one of the many posted ‘Dogma’ notices served only to sour her view of the Nexus Council.  If she kept out of their way, then maybe that was for the best.

I cannot believe that Weaver stays here.  But he is pretty inscrutable...

FINALLY the Reveler was permitted entry (after being taxed, of course) and she wasted no time in seeking out a tavern within Cinnabar.  It was not a drink that she craved, it was an audience.  Nearly ten years of performing had given her contacts within taverns dotted all over Creation.  Maybe she might even find a few familiar proprietors/staff in Nexus as well.  If one wanted to make a fortune, moving to Nexus was certainly a smart move.  At any rate, a tavern performance would prove a fun diversion and the chance to recoup the many expenses that Nexus would try to bleed from her.  As for Weaver, well he (or she, if that was the current form) would find the Reveler long before she could find the enigmatic Lunar.  Weaver had his brotherhood of watchers and the Reveler had to trust that her entry to the city had been noted.

It had been some time since Righteous Palm had spent much time around people. The first few years after the fall, she had done her best to save as many people as she could, but the demons, even scattered as they were, seemed endless. Eventually, she had returned to the temple in which she'd trained, hoping against hope to find that something had survived. It lay in ruins. The devastation, however, had revealed a path that had been hidden to her before. Beyond the temple lay a manse, a bright stone all to familiar resting at its center, and it was there that Righteous Palm had sequestered herself, training and honing her essence.

Now, Righteous Palm had returned, a calm focus in her every step. She slipped through the gate, another humble traveler, the few relics she carried hidden beneath a simple shawl. She was searching for dojos, schools where she discuss her plans with masters she hoped could be peacably swayed to her line of thinking. Nexus was one of the great focal points of humanity remaining in the threshold. If anywhere in the threshold still held such masters, it would. Perhaps she would even be so fortunate to find members of the immaculate order in residence here. The Realm had lost much of its power, but she'd heard rumors that the local temple still had a few monks in residence . . .

"Finally, we would like you to extend an invitation to this 'Kanaria', the Brotherhood has been to her lands, we should attempt to initiate more formal relations. As always, keep an eye out for exalts, we need as much information on them as possible."

The six-winged entity would depart in a flash of motion, yet another messenger sent to a far flung part of creation. The figure would sigh and look up to see one of The Hand approaching with purpose.

"Magnar, what need you?"
"Kane, some notable visitors have come to the city, you requested that we keep eye out for exalts and specific individuals. Two meeting descriptions that you've provided were seen, one more familiar, the other having been encountered 10 years ago."
"That is certainly interesting, we suppose that we ought don the same face as before, no need to reveal our true nature just yet, please extend an invitation to both. Let them know that Kane has interest in speaking, and they may be found within the Brotherhood temple during standard business hours at the Switchback Street corner due west of the Immaculate Shrine. It isn't an urgent matter though, they should get a chance to enjoy all the... pleasures this cesspool of a city has to offer."
"Of course, Prophet. If I may ask, who are they?"
"You may always ask, Hand, one is an... acquaintance, and the other is one whom we assisted some time ago. Also, Magnar, when you are done, make sure to take a break."

Nexus was far from an ideal place for some R&R, but it seemed that both R and R had arrived. The figure would stand, and the sound of crackling bone could be heard as the shape beneath the cloak grew taller and thinner.

"Testing testing, ah yes, we should get to cleaning this mess."

And with that, papers would begin shuffling as drawers were filled and coin clattered into jars.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:10, Sat 03 Oct 2020.

There were certain questions inherent in the act of rulership.  "Where are we going?"  and "What are we doing?" and "How exactly are we going to pay for all of this nonsense?"

Important questions one and all!

Which isn't to say that they were questions without answer of course!  She'd been answering those questions aggressively in the ten years since returning home!  Rebuilding her homeland as a sanctuary against the chaotic creatures of the world at large!  Strong walls, embedded with treated materials to allow them to bar the passage of the immaterial!  Sophisticated watch rotations and sentry posts that permitted no unwelcome intrusion!  A guard well suited for combat in a world gone mad!

None of which she could actually bring with her to this place, here and now.

She sighed theatrically--and hoisted up the great device slung to her back.  Thin black iron plate covered her from the neck down, filigreed with abstract golden designs, at her back was slung a heavy sword of red jade, through which a great ampoule filled with some churning, magmatic substance decorated it.  The blade and fashion sense didn't quite seem to go together well on the soft looking scholar--and yet she successfully managed to move without undue difficultly.

No, what was problematic were the customs, the damage inflicted to the Omphalos in the Battle of Meru had devalued much of the silver that once served as the competition to the jade-standard.  Which meant everyone was forced to the old standard--but with much of the banks that backed it collapsing by way of being ground zero.

So she had money--a good amount of it even!  But none of it were coin that were circulating in the past--but red jade dredged from the mines of Mount Earthfire carved into a reasonable facsimile of the old jade coinage.

Which meant explaining to everyone.

Which meant headaches upon headaches.

She just wanted to be in town to set up some trade routes with other parts of the world!  To network!  All of this...  Thisness was just a gigantic hassle that she didn't need.

The tavern that Reveler decided to patronize was the Workers Fare, a moderate sized establishment that lacked the flair of other nearby taverns and restaurants.   It seemed a simple place for simple people.  Plain bold lettering, minimal coloring, and no outdoor furniture.  One might almost term it dull.  Well, the Reveler intended to turn things around and have some fun.  Heading inside, the lovely Abyssal turned heads with just her looks.  She sought out and found the proprietor, a gruff looking man with a dozen battle-scars (earned mostly in the kitchen).  His craggy features looked like he hadn't smiled in years and If his hair was any greyer, it would probably rain.  This man was perfect for her needs...

"Hello Tavern-keeper.  I'm a traveling performer and I need a place to practice.  Would you mind terribly if I borrowed a table and entertained your patrons?  No cost to yourself."

"Little lady, these boys just want to eat their lunch.  And I don't let in buskers, no matter how pretty they might be."

"Me, a busker?  I'm... hurt.  Come on, take a chance.  These boys can always grumble about their working days after I'm done.  That IS what they mostly do, correct?"

"... Fine, its your funeral.  Don't make a mess."

The Reveler took her bag over to a table and lightly whistled an aimless tune, gently flipping it onto its side and using the piece of furniture as an impromptu privacy screen.  She shrugged out out for her buff jacket, put a brush through her hair, and slipped into a lovely black gown with embroidered symbols of the underworld.  Righting the table back onto its feet, the Reveler stepped onto its surface and closed her eyes to conjure up some Underworld organ music.  Workers around the room began to mutter among themselves, wondering what was about to transpire.  The Reveler had powers to ensure their attention and co-operation, but among a crowd of this sort... she doubted that such would be necessary.

Slowly, she began to sway... clawing at the air and drawing it back to her mouth in slow, methodical movements... like a woman drowning.  Breathing out wisps of heart shaped shadows, the Reveler feigned surprise and then twirled on one foot like a ballerina in slow motion, illustrating the rising of the ghostly form.  Impossibly she kept spinning, skirting dangerously close to the edge (itself an allergy to Lethe)... before a sideways jump placed her on an adjacent table.  Ruffling the hair of a startled man, the Reveler urged her ghostly music to change tack... into something frantic, something exciting.  For the next minute, she was a whirling dervish that circled the room (what she liked to call her Hungry Ghost routine).  Teasing the patrons to keep pace with her, the feral dancer slid under tables or vaulted over seated patrons.  Moving by the windows, the Reveler beckoned at outside pedestrians... ensnaring their curiosity and coaxing them into the Worker's Fare.  Returning to her original table, the Abyssal dancer turned the pace back down... to a haunting pantomime that celebrated the female form and the Higher soul.  All in all, the Reveler thought it a fine warm up routine and the ensuring applause and whistles brought a grin.

"Thank you... such a kind audience.  Who would like a song?"

The blue sky, the yellow sun, the conspicuous absence of any sound save that of the wind blowing... All this should be familiar to Bob, but his time in Hell has changed him in more ways than one. For a moment, he understands how a summoned demon feels about being pulled into a world where the sun and sky are the wrong colors, with the ever-present dread of the Silent Wind's advance that is implied by the lack of cacophony.

"No wonder they've got a bad rep," he shakes his head. "Coming here must screw with their heads."

"You'll get used to it, Boss," the reedy little voice says from inside his belly. "I mean, I did. And at least there won't be people lining up to hunt you down and kill you here, right?"

Bob considers the words of the sesselja dwelling in his stomach, and then he looks into a nearby puddle of water. He sees his face staring back at him, and then he lifts his hood to reveal the golden sunburst of the Dawn on his brow.

"Well, I wouldn't quite say that," he sighs. "Anyway, that's Nexus up ahead. I've only been there once or twice, but from what little I saw, it's a wretched hive of arrogant elites ruling over a downtrodden undercaste, where everyone's out for themselves and you have to be ruthless and cutthroat to survive. It's also noisy and smelly and filled with too many annoying people you have to rub shoulders with."

"Sounds just like home, Boss. Why'd you leave?"

"Well, I was working with Master back then. Plus I didn't really care much for the city life. It's pretty miserable if you don't have money, and we didn't have much bacl then."

"Then maybe you should make some, Boss."

Bob pauses to consider the suggestion, and then he nods.

"Maybe I should."

And with that, he heads on to the main gate of Nexus...

"Well then, interesting people just keep coming, fate conspires or some nonsense like that. Better to figure them out."

Yet another report of unusual/suspicious individuals arriving in the city, one matching a description of the Northbow individual and another that just didn't seem to belong.

"Ester, please make contact with the unknown, we will see about bringing in the Northbow if possible."
"Anything in particular to be said?"
"Tell them simply that they're cordially invited to discuss the state of the world and opportunity."
"Will do."
"Olav, make sure that any guests that arrive before we return are given all the hospitality we have to offer, we will return as soon as possible."
-----
[Private to Kanaria Northbow: A cloaked figure would approach Kanaria and speak with a deep but female voice, "We are called 'Kane', and we are the founder and administrator of The Brotherhood. We are sure you know of us already, our representatives have already visited your nation once. It is fortunate that you came here. We would like to discuss more formal relations between our factions. Care to return to our temple with us, the only eyes and ears there are of the Brotherhood. We need to return, please follow along if you're interested." The figure would then begin weaving their way through the crowd.]
[Private to Bob Zadkal: Bob would be visited shortly by a woman-at-arms who looked to be from the north, "You there meet the description I got, The Prophet told me to 'Tell them simply that they're cordially invited to discuss the state of the world and opportunity', this is nonsense speak for 'Hey, we think that the other shoe is about to drop and want to be ready, and we want to talk to you and see what you're about'. We've got a temple, and that's where they want to meet up, I can lead you there.", A gloved hand would be presented.]
[Private to Righteous Palm: The monk would be approached by a masked man-at-arms who would speak with a thick northern accent, "I am Magnar, and I have a message for you, 'Kane would like to speak with you at the Brotherhood temple on the corner of Switchback road due west of the immaculate shrine', the matter isn't pressing, we don't wish to impose. I have another message to deliver elsewhere, please forgive my leaving you so soon." And with that, he would nod and begin running off.]
[Private to The Reveler of Night's Glamor: Reveler would hear clapping followed by the sound of a man clearing his throat, "A splendid performance, Reveler, I have been directed to invite you to speak with Kane at the Brotherhood Temple on the corner of the Switchback road due west of the Immaculate Shrine. Mind, I was also told that the matter isn't urgent and that you should get every chance to 'enjoy the... pleasures that this cesspool of a city has to offer' if you so choose." The Northerner would then give a nod and turn to leave, his job done.]
This message was last edited by the player at 19:35, Sat 10 Oct 2020.

After receiving the invitation and thanking the messenger, Reveler decided to cut her practice short. Usually she would plant seeds to raise the profile of necromancy or the benefits of having ghostly contacts.  Instead it was this gathering of workers who had inspired her (but those ideas were something to be explored later on).  Of course one final song would be forthcoming... something perhaps that would ensure an eager crowd for next time.  A workers ballad seemed appropriate.

♫ “Have you heard about the man with the missing thumbs” ♫
♫ “Works hard, drinks hard, til the morning comes” ♫

The Reveler took a cheeky, merry tone for this little tavern song.  Various versions of the song had been heard throughout the Scavenger Lands, making it a popular drinking tune.  Often singers would substitute verses of their own choosing and the Reveler chose ‘worker’ verses.  Despite her versatile Haunting Appirition Trick, the Reveler lacked the background music of a proper band to do it full justice.  Instead she performed it akin to an acoustic rendition, drawing out a gentle Underworld tune.

♫ “Have you heard about the girl with the missing ring” ♫
♫ “Works hard, in a yard, she’ll be there til Spring” ♫

Having sucked the crowd into the song, the Reveler sang with more gusto and flair.  She emoted humor with some well placed expressions, drawing chuckles and laughter.

♫ “Have you heard about the man with the missing eye” ♫
♫ “Works hard, as a guard, makes the looters cry” ♫

Her final verse was accompanied by a few vocal tricks at a slower pace, allowing the Reveler to pleasantly parse certain words.  As she ended the song to wide applause, she blew a few kisses and slid off her table to once again use it as a privacy screen.  Despite a few patrons trying to see around it, the Reveler slipped out of her gown and donned her well tailored buff jacket again.

“You’ve been a great crowd, thank you.  If you want to show appreciation, consider a second (or third) drink from the bar.  Until then, this Reveler bids you farewell.”

Perhaps in the future thie Worker’s Fare would host more performances.  The Reveler was certain the profits and goodwill might change the mind of its prickly propieter.  That was perhaps the most pleasure she took from the... day?

What is the time anyway?  Well, whatever it is... the Weaver awaits.  I wonder what form it’s taken this time.

Huh.

She wasn't expecting to be approached quite so soon.

What was with that anyway?  She just got here!  She didn't even tell everyone she was going here!  Did that mean it was magic talk?

She could do that magic talk too so that wasn't too unreasonable.

Still, it's not like she had any pressing concerns for day one (That happened later on!)  A diversion to see what Mister Kane wanted couldn't hurt, right?

No it couldn't, nothing could go wrong with this idea.  So she followed of course.

The Reveler finally left the Worker’s Fare (after mingling with the audience to soak up acclaim).

 As Weaver’s messenger had said, the pleasures of this cesspool city were hers to enjoy, but she’d rather meet her old... friend?  There was something between she and Weaver that still needed to be defined.  The Silver Prince had never encouraged the introspection of past lives, in fact he had probably tried to purge them... knowing him.  Irritatingly, Reveler’s visions never came on demand.  The most recent one had come when she was tired and wounded.  That was something she wouldn’t be looking to repeat.

Were we an item?  I can charm the socks off many a man... but it feels awkward.  Oh god, were we married?!

Arriving at her destination, the Reveler took in the Brotherhood’s HQ with an appraising eye.  To the monks and workers she encountered, the Reveler was nothing but pleasant and polite.  But any attempts to seek other activities were declined.  She was here to see Weaver and was prepared to wait, if necessary.  When that happened, the Reveler courtsied to Weaver and moved to wherever he wanted his guest to sit/stand/wander.

“Hello Weaver, it’s been a while.  You seem to be doing pretty well for yourself.  I didn’t get the chance to thank you on our last meeting.. the backup was very much appreciated .”

"A pleasure as always, Reveler, and the thanks is unnecessary, friends are generally better than no friends. By the way, we currently go by 'Kane'. The Last Decade has been a very... productive one for us, we've gone semi-legitimate and have been stuck with mountains of paperwork."

They would let out a sigh of exasperation to punctuate that last sentence, hyperbole it may be but it really was a lot of paperwork. They would then gesture to armoured lass besides them, and began introductions,

"Reveler, this is Kanaria Northbow, Northbow, this is The Reveler of Night's Glamor. We sent invitations to a Righteous Palm and an interesting unknown as well. This should be an excellent opportunity for networking, and building mutually beneficial proffessional relationships. Feel free to ask any and all questions, we shall answer honestly, though admittedly some answers may be 'we will not answer that', we do need to keep some secrets afteral."

Stepping into the office in the back of the temple, 'Kane' would gesture at the bookshelves and back out at the clergy within the temple.

"Our sect specializes in knowledge, we can provide training in nearly all forms of craftsmanship, literacy, limited arcane education, wilderness survival, and even self-defense. As honoured guests, we would be more than willing to provide our services at reduced cost. Mind, this isn't the reason we invited you here, big things are happening in the world, and we feel that there is strength in numbers."

Their currently amber eyes would linger on the abyssal guest for a few moments, calculating, investigating. They had only one they could consider an actual friend, subordinates didn't count no matter how cordial/familiar, but that friend was downright bizarre when one thought too long about it.
They'd need to send a cherubim to the representatives off in Northbow's corner of creation, no need for them to get in contact anymore.
This message was last edited by the player at 07:37, Sat 10 Oct 2020.

There was a small difficulty at the city gates.

You see, Bob was flush with money, filthy lucre won from the futile sacrifices of countless cultists who never realized that their blood and souls were far more attractive to the denizens of Hell than the so-called precious metals they offered. As such, this currency eventually piled up, and an enterprising Bob had helped himself to it, reasoning that having more money was better than the reverse, and that their previous owners probably wouldn't mind their wealth being actually put to use.

Oh, how foolish he had been. During his long exile in the Demon Realm, silver had largely lost its value, but Bob had not gotten the message. As such, his attempts to slip the guards the usual bribes had proven... less than effective. As a matter of fact, things might have even gotten rough, if not for the arrival of a woman-at-arms who looked to be from the north.

"You there meet the description I got, The Prophet told me to 'Tell them simply that they're cordially incited to discuss the state of the world and opportunity.' We've got a temple, and that's where they want to meet up, I can lead you there."

And then she paid off the gate guards and offered him a gloved hand, one which he had absolutely no reason to refuse.

Now, Bob is following this strange woman to her employer's temple...

The Dojo of Humble Prospect rang with the sound of training. Grunts as people suffered hits, the thunk of wooden training weapons hitting training dummies, softly murmured words as a trainer corrected a trainee. Shouts as another was screamed at for a potentially fatal mistake.

In this mass of training, Malcrus - recent emigree to Nexus and God-Blood was training with the more advanced student Crimson Thrush. A woman of more then a few secrets. A with a grunt and a stumbling back step Malcrus took a heavy blow to the stomach and fell to the ground. As she closed ground to finish the match, Malcrus kicked out and she was forced to jump back slightly. By the time she was ready to move in again he was up and bowing to her in respect. "You have defeated me, Thrush. That was nicely done. I am sure that you will be moving on to a more advanced class soon."  Glancing around at the others sparring he rubs his chest, "Could we get some water, while I recover? We can also discuss your recent change." With a pained wince he leans forward while rubbing his chest. Lowering his voice to a near whisper, "Your recent blessing, I mean. I am sure you are very excited to be so blessed by the Dragons and I think I can help you make the most of such an event." With another bow, Malcrus moved off the sparring floor and towards the water.

Righteous Palm received the message quietly, her face a mask of indifference. Her fist met palm before her chest and she bowed her head in ascent. "I will see your master, then . . . when the time is right." For a moment, she watched the masked warrior leave, following his head before it disappeared into the crowd, but with that moment's distraction done, she had other business to attend to.

The martial artist flowed through the streets as she did through her kata, effortlessly streaming between pedestrians who may have otherwise collided with her. Her presence was gentle, but firm, and she made good time despite taking the opportunity. She kept walking until she saw it . . . the dojo rising just above the other buildings, its wide courtyard full of students training. Watching them train, she admired their enthusiasm, even if her critical eye noted each fault in their stance, each frailty in their guard. Breaking from this brief dalliance, she scanned the yard for their sifu, intent on wasting no more time.

Striding into the midst of sparring students, Righteous Palm approached a pair whose match had just finished. With a polite bow, she locked eyes and declared, "I am Master Righteous Palm . . . and I am here to find your teacher. Take me to them."

A message was delivered to the desk of "Kane". No one saw the messenger, nor how the scroll was delivered. It was just there.

To the one who would call themselves 'Kane'

The Council of Entities has come into a dilemma which concerns the prosperity of the city and the welfare of those who live within the walls of Nexus. As this would also concern such 'enlightened' individuals such as yourself and others you associate, it would be in your interests to be present this night at the crossroads of the Tombs of Night and Ice in Nighthammer. Bring your associates, and do not keep the Emissary waiting.

"Well, it is a good thing we hadn't discussed anything the council may have taken offense to, we seem to have been overly confident in the privacy of our locale. Nevermind that, we received a direct request. We will wait here for Ester to return with or without the unknown, she is an associate afterall, but we will not expect you two to do likewise and risk annoying the Emissary."

This letter was a great annoyance to Weaver, just more proof that Nexus is possibly the worst place to operate for the Brotherhood save for the fact that it's the best place to do business. If they were confident in their ability to do so, they would've attempted to... modify the city's leadership, but it seemed nigh impossible. Letting out a sigh, they'd massage the bridge of their nose.

"If you are listening, Nexus, you will understand the slight delay, afterall it is to better comply with the directive. Sod it all, Nighthammer is our least favorite part of this dump."

When Weaver read the letter, Reveler gave them some privacy.  Whatever was written upon the parchment seemed to irk her friend.  But until Weaver shared the contents, she could only speculate at what the matter was about.  A tax audit... or maybe one of these edicts?

“Perhaps calling Nexus a cesspool garnered you some special attention.  Are ‘they’ asking something arduous  of you?  Whatever this Nighthammer thing is, you can count on my aid.”

Malcrus glanced at Thrush and sighed softly in disappointment before bowing his head, "Of course. She will be quite honored to meet you." With a glance at Thrush, Malcrus leads Righteous Palm through the dojo glancing left and right as they moved. "May I ask what brings you to see her?"

Righteous Palm merely nodded in assent before following the student. As they walked, her eyes took in the sites of the dojo, though her features remained unmoved. "I wish to speak to the masters of Nexus," she said without turning to face him. "The world is crumbling. The old order is gone. It should be rebuilt . . . or replaced with something better." Pausing in her stride, Righteous Palm turned to face the student, taking in his measure. She had missed his bout, so had not yet read his stance. "How long have you studied under your sifu?"

Malcrus waves at the dojo around them, "Not long, I just arrived in Nexus not that long ago and sought out what I was told was the most knowledgeable of sifus in this city." Malcrus frowns and slows thoughtfully at Palm, "And do you have a plan for either rebuilding the old or something better to replace it?"

Righteous Palm's eyes closed slowly, a slight smile gracing her lips. "Then perhaps I have come to the right place after all . . . After a deep breath, she turned to set her gaze on the young man. "What do you know of the Immaculate Order?"

Malcrus pauses and stares quite closely at the woman, "More them some, less then most. They did not have a good reputation where I came from." Malcrus tilts his head to one side and frowns before straightening his head and nodding, "Then again most things associated with the Realm didn't."

"So...is this the temple in question?" Bob wonders out loud. Surely the person who called him here must be waiting!

As such, he decides to traipse aimlessly through the place.

The Southern Battlemaiden would glance up from the letter in their hand to see Ester and the Unknown enter the building, some relief showing at the timely arrival.

"Excellent, Ester, apologies but we need to leave as soon as possible, The Emissary desires to meet in Nighthammer, and by 'we' we mean everyone here but the local temple staff. Pardon the rudeness, sir, you may call us 'Kane', and we suppose that you actually have a choice in whether to join our posse or not since you technically aren't yet associated with us."

They would bring their cloak up and around them again and tie a cloth around their face in preparation for the filthy air of Nighthammer. Offering a similar cloth to the others, they'd continue on.

"We lead The Brotherhood, and have been seeking to forge professional relationships with other individuals of interest, a network of contacts and compatriots one could say, mutual aid and trading of favours. Unfortunately, the Council is in the way at the moment."

When Weaver’s group met Bob and Ester, the Reveler nodded politely to the man.  He seemed an interesting sort, given the weird things he carried.  She very much got a Scavenger Lord vibe about the man.

“Hello, call me Reveler.  It seems an important meeting, so I do hope you’ll come.”

As for Kanaria, the Reveler had respected her silence.  If and when she spoke, the two of them could get better acquainted.

Bob nods, accepting the cloth and tying it around his face.

"Greetings, 'Kane'. My name is Bob. First, please accept my thanks at helping me out of a sticky situation; it seems things in Creation have been drastically different since I was last here. Secondly, it would appear I have been enlisted into a faction, one way or another; I have been seen going to you, so outsiders will assume I am aligned to you and frankly speaking, I see no reason not to be. So I will go with you to Nighthammer... I believe that is the forge district? Yes. WOuld you mind filling me  in on the recent state of events as we walk?"

In reply to Gyrvin Malcrus (msg # 24):

Glancing around the dojo once more, Righteous Palms crossed her arms behind her back. With a sigh, she replied, "Your people were not wrong." She took in the sparring of the students, watching their movements and losing herself in the rhythm of their strikes and blocks. "At its heart, the Order was a righteous cause . . . bringing order to creation by insuring all those in the celestial hierarchy fulfilled their purpose. Too often, though, it was corrupted, becoming a tool of pride and tyranny." Casting her gaze skyward, she imagined the ruined heavens, the sun that still hung broken above them. "But this is a dark time. The world is out of balance. Dark spirits creep into our world through the cracks, and even those holy divinities abuse their stations and extort prayer from the vulnerable people. The Immaculate order has been crippled, and with no monks, there is no justice."

Righteous Palm returned her focus to the students of the dojo, her lips painted with a somber smile. "But in schools like this, there is hope. Through discipline and training, the people might rise up. The folly of the order was in the way they placed themselves above the common people, but the lotus's roots lie in the muck. Without that muddy water, the flower withers."
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:51, Mon 12 Oct 2020.

"Huh"  Kanaria chimed in.  "That does put me in a bit of a spot I guess...  But it would be nice talking to the higher ups I think if we're looking at this kind of arrangement."

She tapped her chin.  "Still, would have liked to know this kind of meeting was happening before an invitation was sent out, it's just being neighbourly, you know?"

Malcrus sighs softly, "A noble purpose though one that it seems would be destined to fail. The Immaculate Order used force and fear to coerce compliance. Now you would seek the same in more desparate times, but use a weaker tool. Still, I can see where you might be able to bring about change and foster hope in Creation. Humble Prospect is perhaps the most knowledgeable if not the most powerful sifu in Nexus. If she agrees to help, that would make for a good beginning. She could help train many in a variety of styles best suited to each."

Malcrus finishes leading Palm to Humble Prospect - a woman with long black hair threaded through with white strands that are tied back in a severe braid. Her form is long and lean as she stands intently watching two of her students spar. Her skin is a dark brown from both heritage and being out in the sun and she wears a simple sparring outfit in brown and black.
Before Malcrus can gain her attention she turns her head to stare at the two - her gaze is  golden brown with pupils that are vertical slits as she studies Malcrus and then Palm. "Malcrus you bring a newcomer to me, yes? Not a pupil I think, no."

"Apologies, Ms. Northbow, we are just a surprised at this as you are. This was supposed to be a simple exchange of words to set the foundation for future collaboration. We have no allegiance to the Council of Entities, but they hold absolute dominion over this city, so we must deal with certain... inconveniences in order to continue operations. Disobeying a direct order whilst within their walls is not conducive to one's health."

"As for you, Mr. Bob, you haven't been conscripted, we run a religious organization not a mafia/military. Recent events really depend on the meaning of 'recent', but things in general have been rough and gradually improving, we have assisted in reconstruction/reeducation efforts since the Battle of Meru and subsequent demonic incursions. The opportunity to guide communities in the desired direction is quite nice to be perfectly honest."

The council had better have a damn good reason to be interfering with this meetup, the first impressions here had likely been soured. If they couldn't take advantage of the city's economic infrastructure and constant traffic for opportunity sifting, they'd likely be better off looking elsewhere. Things had been going well, but with additional attention directed their way, the pros had been drastically reduced.

"You, like many, underestimate the strength of a gentle hand that guides. Given the chance, people can be shown a better path."

Righteous Palm tread lightly, as if her feat barely touched the ground. Her studied eyes took Humble Prospect in, plumbing the depths of her hidden skills. She was a master, certainly, but her unassuming demeanor likely hid untold depths. "No, but perhaps a student. I seek your wisdom . . ." Righteous Palm offered her warrior's salute. "The world is broken, Master Humber Prospect. I would have your school aid me in rectifying that."

Humble Prospect bowed slightly to Palm in return gaze flicking to Malcrus who bowed to her and took a step back and away forming a rough triangle between the three, "The world has been broken for a very long time, yes. Still, it is more so then it once was." Her gaze drifts across the dojo for a moment before stopping and then swinging back to Palm, "What form would this aid take?"

"I want your school." There was no hint of humor or jest in Righteous Palm's face or voice. Her gaze was level and unflinching. "I have come to seeking three things. I want the lost techniques of the fractured Immaculate Order. I want students ready to learn to defend themselves and their people, to learn virtue, patience, and compassion. Last, I seek a style to train them in . . . one that is well suited to those just learning to harness their essence. I believe you can help me with the last two."

Closing her eyes, Righteous Palm turns, stepping away as she inhales deeply. "I know the gravity of what I ask, but I also know how necessary it is. For all its faults, the Immaculate Order maintained a fragile balance. The gods of creation could no longer be trusted to fulfill their duties, and dark spirits crept into our world. Now, with the empire splitting at the seems, either the old order must reformed, or something new and better must be built in its place. I will stop at nothing to accomplish this task."

For a moment, the light of the sun gleamed in Righteous Palm's eyes, the room almost growing dimmer beyond her radiant stare. In a blink, however, the effect was gone. "I have heard stories of the sagacious masters of Nexus . . . and I have heard stories of their schools as well. Some, such as yours, have history and wisdom to guide them. Others are built on brutality. All might be useful, given the proper instruction." Stepping closer once more, Palm looked down at the Humble Prospect. "All fingers are useful to the closed fist or the intercepting palm."

Humble Prospect's eyes go blank and her long fingered hands twitch - or perhaps flow through a dozen complex patterns before her eyes sharpen again. "The school is not mine to give, no. It belongs to the Humble Prospects that came before this one, and to all who come after, yes. Should you simply seek my help with your goals though.....we have sought out the Roots for centuries, yes. Over the centuries Humble Prospects have learned from masters throughout Creation. If a style is what you seek then that I can provide, yes. Many of my students are already what you desire and if asked might provide what you desire." Tilting her head to one side, "Few Humble Prospects climb above the Root. Fewer still would have been acceptable to learn what else you seek. Still, we seek to learn all we can and so I take tea with one you would seek out, yes."

On the way to the Nighthammer district, the Reveler popped her Underworld senses as soon as she crossed into the area.  The chances of her finding anything untoward was slim, but she felt it prudent and the Essence requirement was pretty minimal.  She'd rather know if there were ghosts, grave goods, or other Deathknights around.

And upon reflection (and the odor), she took the offered cloth from Weaver to wear as a face mask.

How do people live and work here?

The Reveler didn't fear treachery on the Emissary's part, but under the Silver Prince she had seen her share of dirty tricks.  If someone wanted to attack the Emissary, who better to pin it on than some exalts (especially when there was a Deathknight among them).  She peered down every alley and street they passed.

"Kane...Can we take the scenic route to the tomb?  I'd like to rest easy knowing that we aren't being watched by other parties and potential gatecrashers."

[Private to GM: Just in case the Reveler happens to pass within range of that serial killer basement, she can sense Shadowlands for 1m out to 300yards, in addition to other necrotic creatures/objects.  Since the location isn't heavily detailed, its your call whether she stumbles upon it yet :)]

"We should do our best to make sure the perimeter is secure, yes?"

The prophet would lead the group on a circuitous route around the meeting site, making sure to glance at every hiding spot they remembered from their initial explorations of the city.

"In case we are forced to completely discard our meeting, we shall offer to arrange a future one if you all still retain interest. We are sure that some business can be had, varied talents and mutual aid are always nice for shoring up weaknesses."

The place ascribed as the meeting location was quiet and barren as the appointed time approached. To one side, those present could see the wafting frost from the Tomb of Ice, the shattered remains of those who had been foolish enough to attempt circumventing the curses and spells of the anathamic mausoleum scattered about as evidence of the folly. Across from it, at a prodigious distance, was a squat building constructed of smoked black jade, surrounded by spots of deepest black shadows that did not wane to surrounding light, and oddly preserved corpses littering the entrance of the building.


[Private to The Reveler of Night's Glamor: Sadly, no basement Shadowland for you at the moment...but that black jade building is...not something that seems right. It *feels* almost like a Shadowland...but not quite...]

Nothing sinister seemed to materialize, but the Reveler was glad to have some peace of mind.  When the group arrived at the tombs, she looked on with mild interest.  This was her first visit.  The Tomb of Ice was majestic, but clearly not well disposed to having guests.  The black Jade structure... it set off the Reveler's senses immediately.  Since Weaver had been in Nexus for a while, he was the one she asked about it.

"Kane.  That black building... what is it?  It feels very similar to a Shadowlands, but there's a fine distinction I cannot quite determine.  At any rate, this is an interesting place for a meeting..."

The Reveler made sure to keep a healthy distance from the two structures.

"That is the Tomb of Endless Night, don't step beyond the event horizon, nothing, not even light, escapes once it's gone all the way through."

Glancing over to it though, Weaver would do a double-take, why hadn't the scouts mentioned anything?... Nighthammer was even worse than the rest of the city though, so they couldn't exactly blame them for avoiding the area unless specifically directed to check it.

"That shouldn't be there, perhaps it is the reason for our summoning, we doubt that's all though. Recommend staying away, out of the perimeter of dark splotches, regardless."
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 00:46, Sat 17 Oct 2020.

"Point taken," Bob nods. "Avoid the black bits or you will be forever lost in whatever's beyond it. And it's a tomb, you say? What about that icy-looking building there, is it a tomb too?"

There was an odd shift of the air, where no one was looking. And then footsteps.

"The dilemma is in fact the state of these Tombs that were meant to never be entered."

The robbed and masked figure stepped forward from the shadows, waiting for all those present to give them their undivided attention. After patiently waiting, the Emissary nodded to the gathered figures. "The Tomb of Night exposed itself two nights ago. The Night that is supposed to forevermore seal it away has been pulling away, until we are at this point. As yet, no other tomb in Nexus has opened itself to entry, but this concerns the Council if this is but the first of the six tombs to reveal a way forward."

In reply to Gyrvin Malcrus (msg # 36):

A soft smile touched Righteous Palm's lips and she nodded, a slow blink of satisfaction closing her eyes. "I am honored, Humble Prospects. I would meet your fellow and, when I am ready, I would seek your tutelage. In kind and in payment, I would help you teach. I am sure that, with my help, your students might master their lessons even more quickly, and grow in ways they had not expected." She bowed again, slightly, fist pressed to open palm.

Humble Prospect nods her head, "I will write a note of introduction to Nijara, yes. She might hear you out. Though....you might wish to have more then simply Humble Prospect's word, yes. She guards many secrets and to share many of them she will need much convincing. So, to you I shall send a messenger to go with the message. Young Malcrus will go. Tell the others what Humble Prospect has agreed to. So none may say you give false testimony, no." Her gaze had switched to Malcrus as she spoke.

The younger man glanced around the room and then bowed to his sifu deeply enough his expression was hidden for a few moments, "As you wish, sifu. I will gladly undertake this task."

With but a mote of Peripheral essence, the Reveler's caste mark came forth as a faint brand.  Knowledge of every expected pleasantry and customer also came with it.  And the fact that the Reveler demonstrated a charm that she could have otherwise hid... was a sign of courtesy to the Emissary.

"And you fear the city's lodgings will not be enough for the deluge of Scavenger Lords who will flock to this tomb?"

She smiled in a humorous manner.  It was an icebreaker joke... designed to put everyone at ease.

"Putting jokes aside, Emissary... I admire your decisiveness in quickly seeing this problem and wanting it solved.  I assume you have already attempted some remedies yourself?  Despite the obvious irony, tombs are not my specialty.  However in the interest of good relations, I could consult some sources... if it is information you seek."

Her ties to the Underworld could bear fruit as could her Necromancy, given that there were corpses present (and maybe ghosts too).  Of course the Reveler suspected the Emissary was really looking for action... presumably from the assembled Exalts.  He had yet to specifically request it though.

Bob is mildly surprised to see the Solar Caste Mark on Reveler's forehead, but not THAT surprised - plenty of demons have told him about the terrible golden marks on the heads of the Exalted who cast down their titanic masters in an age long past. He briefly considers showing off his own Caste Mark but decides not to. If this Emissary fellow really is that amazing, he'll probably find out himself, and if he isn't, no need to help him out just yet.

"I don't know much about the dead, beyond the fact that salt works on them (usually). But I have some confidence in my skill with the sword and I can be discreet. Also, would you mind if I took a look around the place after this?"

"If you wish for us to investigate the tombs, we would expect just compensation for the inherent risks, afterall until now even getting near them was a guaranteed death sentence, and it's entirely possible that it still is within."

Weaver would refrain from a display, this was the city of business, lies, and they'd gain nothing from revealing exactly what they were if the involved parties did not already know.

"We do business here because it is convenient and relatively low-risk for us and our plans. Please understand, whilst our schedule is relatively open, we have appointments and plans in the future that we'd rather not miss due to being dead."

They were rather curious, but they would've started initially with some expendable assets, and they didn't quite like the prospect of being among those.

The masked figure turned their head as they waited for those present to speak. Each in turn, until the last of them spoke. "The Council is willing to present substantial compensation for this task, especially for those who are recognizably above the norm."

With a piercing gaze as they tilted their head to one side, the Emissary would gesture to the exposed Tomb of Night. "Assisting the city benefits all who live here, the least of whom are yourselves. Before you enter, be aware that  there was a group of odd individuals witnessed entering the Tomb just last night. No one recognized them,  as they were wearing some kind of face covering and were using eye covers as well."

A moment as the Emissary was silent. They stepped away from the Tomb now, expecting the gathered figures to make a decision quickly. "In addition to the Council's pay," they added, as they paused in mid strid, "you are entitled to keep any treasures you can claim and retain from inside."

The fact that others had already tried to enter the tomb was interesting.  Maybe they had something to do with the waning defenses?  The Reveler could only guess at this stage.  Tomb raiding was not of great interest to herself, but stabilizing the tomb was a worthy endeavor.  She was somewhat curious about the shadowlands type atmosphere, but only so long as it didn't kill her.

The Reveler began to examine the freshly preserved corpses that lay outside the Tomb's deadly shadows.  She wanted one that looked fancy (like a scavenger lord or 'exceptional being'), but also needed a body that was somewhat 'modern'.  Once she had a suitable body (or maybe two), the Reveler could call forth their ghosts and interview them about the tomb.  Of course, she would need an hour for the necromantic summoning spell and be required to enter the Underworld first (something she could do with another of her spells).  Naturally the Reveler planned to share her intentions with Weaver and the others, before she acted.

Maybe they could use the time I need to prepare or research other things.  Assuming everyone is on board with this exploration...

[Private to GM: OOC: so how many preserved corpses fit Reveler's characteristics and what do said candidates (briefly) look like?]

Bob thinks, and then shrugs. It was a living; why not go for it?

"Well, I don't mind," he says, and then he approaches the tombs, though only enough to examine them. He focuses on the surroundings of the Tomb of Night, and then suddenly the events of the past begin washing over him. Here a desperate, fleeing man rushes into the Tomb's perimeter, there a pack of armed men cautiously approach the entrance. Phantom images of the visitors to the Tomb overlap, hundreds, if not thousands of eyars' worth of phantoms, and he struggles to focus on what is most important as he negotiates the tide of information.

OOC: Using Crafty Observation Method + 2nd Investigation Excellency (10m) to study the Tomb surroundings. Total of 15m out of Personal, refunding 4m from a 2d stunt.

Per 5 + Inv 5 + Spec 3 + Stunt 2

14:36, Today: Bob Zadkal rolled 6 successes using 15d10 with the White Wolf Exalted system with a target of 7 ((3,8,8,1,1,10,6,6,7,4,2,2,4,6,7)).

+5 successes from the second Excellency, total of 11 sux.

In reply to Gyrvin Malcrus (msg # 45):

Righteous Palm bowed in return. "You have chosen well. Thank you for your assistance in this." If she noticed any reticence in the sifu's student, she showed no sign of it. Instead, she turned to him, offering the same martial salute. "Shall we," she posed with a brief tilt of the head. Her expression was impassive, though her eyes shone in the light of the dojo.

"We shall return after taking care of some business."

The Prophet would return to the temple, there were weapons to retrieve and contingencies to set up.

They'd return shortly thereafter, carrying their favoured equipment with a silver cloud in tow.

"We fully expect there to be hostilities of some sort within, the Nimbus here shall provide emergency transport for any incapacitated individuals in order for us to remain unburdened by casualties."

[Private to The Teller of Tales and Legend: The contingencies in question are mostly just extensions of standing orders, and messages to be sent to far flung cells either by courier or Brotherhood sorcerererer.]

The bodies were not recent, based upon attire fashion and many other clues revealing that the bodies were from a variety of centuries. These were those who had wandered into the Night of the Tomb over the centuries, not those who had come since the protections here had waned.

The inquisitive Solar, as he would channel his magics to inspect what he was seeing, could almost hear works being whispered. He could recognize the root language, a dialect of Old Realm, but it wasn't the same he was familiar with. A few words though, stood out. "Eight Seals", "Ot", and something about a "Devourer." The men who he could see entering were styles of clothing that were not at all familiar, their faces and head covered by breathing masks and some kind of goggles.

The Tomb, regardless, awaited them and any others daring enough to brave entry.




[Private to The Reveler of Night's Glamor: Many of the bodies you find match what one expected some two to four centuries ago. The bodies are preserved, though some of them even now appear as if time is rapidly catching up. None that fit the image of a Scavanger Lord, however.  ]

Malcrus nods his head though his eyes stay locked on Palm's face as though studying her for the first time, "Of course. Do you have a destination in mind? Perhaps another dojo you wish to visit before visiting Mistress Nijara's?"

The Reveler finished her (safely from a distance) inspection of the bodies... and shared her findings.

"I could try to raise some of these poor unfortunates and have them scout ahead for danger, especially given the traps that might await us within.  At any rate, all bodies should be relocated to a funeral parlor and ringed with salt... until they can be properly laid to rest or preserved according to the wishes of their owners.  Hungry ghosts and angry spirits are a possibility, if they are left here."

She paused.  It was quite possible she could recruit a ghost (or more) from among the tomb's victims.  Such a thing would advance her Nexus plans.  But that was something to consider for later...

"I could also attempt to summon their ghosts, but that might be a time consuming process... an hour for each.  If they perished where they fell, there might not be any 'inside information'... only what they knew before they entered.  What do you think, Weaver?"

[Private to GM: Given the strange Tomb of Night's vibe, would IT count as a shadowland for purposes of necromancy, abyssal charms & abilities?]
This message was last edited by the player at 11:36, Mon 26 Oct 2020.

Bob adds what he discovered from his examination of the scene.

"I agree about burying the dead. Are goggles and breathing masks standard issue here, in Nexus?"

Bob is reminded of the insects mortals used to survive the miasma of Hell; perhaps the denizens of Nexus used something similar?

"We do not encourage the usage of undead, it is risky and not our area of expertise, but do what you think ought be done. As for the masks and goggles, no we haven't ever seen that here but it's actually a very good idea and we should probably begin attempts to create our own version for distribution."

The strangers seemed to be the more than just regular tomb-raiders, they'd need to see what these new folks were about and who they work for.

"We recommend taking them alive if at all possible, this could be an excellent opportunity to extract information."

The Reveler picked three ancient corpses, guessing that their ghosts had enter Lethe (or Oblivion) long ago.  Conjuring a black ball of essence in her palm, she waved it before the trio of decaying corpses... willing them into service.  Some of her expended essence was invisible to the naked eye, other portions of it manifested as black light and a bleeding castemark on her forehead.  The Reveler did not wish to create a 'large' lightshow and spook the populace.

The undead servitors shambled towards her and then stood at attention, awaiting orders from their new mistress.  But before she gave them orders, the Reveler addressed Weaver.

"Kane, if we are going to acquire masks... can you also arrange a wagon and a small barrel of salt?  I'll have these boys load corpses into the wagon.  I'd like to interview their ghosts afterwards and then see about reuniting them with family... except for any who would choose my company instead."

The Reveler then went about directing her minions to gather bodies and potentially trigger any outside defenses from a safe distance.

"The masks were to be a project, we cannot make some on such short notice, we can direct some of our people to bring a wagon and salt though."

The Lunar couldn't do much while the others did their thing, they specialized in the living. The request was made in short order, it'd likely take several hours for it to actually arrive though, and it'd likely be best for them to deal with the inside of the tomb sooner rather than later.

"We think that the exploration should begin soon. Delaying further only gives any potential enemies more time to acquire dangerous items and/or prepare for the arival of hostiles."
This message was last edited by the player at 02:39, Sat 31 Oct 2020.

Bob nods.

"Well, I can go right away. Not like I've got any luggage to unpack or anything. Who's coming with us?"

He asks for a slate, and quickly sketches the mask and goggle set he saw.

"Might want to ask around and see if the guards or the savants find these guys familiar. They make my significance sense tingle."

There would be a faint rumble, like a quake tremor, that could be felt centering from within the squat black Jade building. Two more would follow before the earth seemed to calm.

And then came the voice from inside the tomb, a bare,y audible echo.

"That... could be ominous.  Should we perhaps move forward to exploration?"

The Reveler called her zombies off their body collection task and sent one of them inside to trigger any tomb traps or ambushers.  The other zombies formed up as walking shields for the exalts.  In death they could still benefit the living.

Bob does a double take at Reveler's undead entourage, and then he says a quiet prayer for their souls. The living dead are abominations, he knows... but now is not the time to start a fight.

That said, he does turn to the Abyssal and indicates her zombies.

"They're just meat, right? Nothing more?"

“Correct.  If their souls still linger elsewhere, I will thank them later.  Ordinarily I would not bother but these tomb traps could prove deadly.”

"Well, it's a sensible use of a corpse," Bob shrugs. Principles were a thing, and so was practicality, and he wasn't nearly hardheaded enough to insist that an ally not help just because of unsavory methods. Part of him still wants them to be properly buried, but truth to be told, he just can't be bothered.

Besides, he's supposed to be a soul-sucking liar demon parasite who had ANOTHER flesh-swimming demon swimming around inside him, so it's not like he has much moral high ground of which to speak.