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."