[Nexus] Trog's Tavern CCXLIII

[Morty]

Yeah, I was introducin' this blood here to the fine anthill that is the Nexus, him bein' the first Cager I've met here in a long time, Michalson says. And I'm fine for bub too, for now.

[Rebonack]

That's some interesting terminology they're using! Though Zee can get the general gist for it easily enough. They don't need any drinks. Unless it's a drink from the Nine Hells? Weird taste. Though to be fair people drink lots of weird stuff at Trog's.

But then!

"Oooh! You're new here then?" now she sounds exited! "Welcome to the Nexus, then! You must have slipped in while I had my attention elsewhen."

...wait, what?

"Since this is your first visit to Trog's that means your first order is free! What is it that you wanted from the Nine Hells? I could probably twist an arm or two to get some."

Is she serious?

[Jivundus]

The look of incredulity on Nalhriir's face as Zee makes her offer is open. He lowers his voice and mutters to Michalson, "Is this Lemon serious? A trip t' the Whistles jus' fer some bub?"

He addresses Zee again, "Yeah, I was attendin' to me business in the Outer Planes when I fell through a door that weren't supposed t' be there and found meself in 'ere."

"As fer the drink, I'd not have ye risk yerself as fiend-food jus' fer a touch o' me bub o' preference. If ye really insist then I'll 'ave whatever's on the bar that ye suggest."

[Morty]

Michalson nods. Dead serious, cutter. She's not a Lemon either, far from it. A trip t' the Whistles is for her like headin' to a bar down the streets for us.

[Jivundus]

Nalhriir whistles,"Cor, if she can give the fiends the laugh that easy, ye weren't kiddin' when ye said there were more Ivories in this place than portals in Sigil."

[Rebonack]

A Lemon is someone from the Prime Material planes, yes?

That's the impression Zee's getting at least. She gives a little smile and shifts her orientation eeeever so slightly, allowing her three dimensional cross-section in the material world to be viewed from a different angle.

There's something... else there. Something vast and incomprehensible and completely, utterly alien.

It's all only a vague impression. And it lasts for only a moment or two. She usually doesn't go flaunting her natural (if you can even call it that) shape around unless there's a fight to break up. Filling the room with angry eldritch abomination usually causes people to reconsider violence pretty quickly.

"I'm not a native to the universe, I just come here to dream," the chipper (and totally normal!) woman replies. "I'm Zee! Or K'rax-Naggath if you enjoy verbal gymnastics. Friendly Far-Realms tavern maid at your service!"

Friendly and Far-Realms aren't words that are usually included in the same sentence.

"I like the Aboleth Absinthe, but that's just personal preference! And we have all sorts of crazy stuff down in the cellar in case someone orders something that isn't on the menu. So name your poison and I'll see what I can do!"

[Chas the mage]

Interesting. The Warforged had heard of rebellions being able to topple empires, but in its nation's six-hundred year history, such an event had never actually happened. Most threats were external rather than internal.

"What did this man do with the empire once he had taken over? And how did you escape?"

"Well," he replies, pausing to take a drag of his cigarette, "The battles really weren't what ended the empire." He stalls more, drumming his fingers upon the bar in thought. "there was a battle of epic proportions right outside the capital city, which included the majority of our armies and the most of the communist's reverent supporters. Most everyone in that battle is dead, or they were injured or MIA. The empire 'won,' but its armies were massively weakened, and its resources were beginning to dwindle after the gigantic battle, and the capital city was partially destroyed. I was a crippled war veteran, put upon copious amounts of painkilling drugs and put through experimental procedures - I'd lost pieces of all my limbs, and I'd been shot a few times, only to be dragged off the battlefield. I was living off a pension and imperial military benefits due to my rank and prestige at the time, but since their resources were deplete and forces were destroyed, people lost respect for them. I was seen as a monster for fighting and dedicating my life for the Empire, and it eventually fell due to civil unrest in the common people, allowing the communist leader to gain power." he sighs, breathing, drinking.

[Morty]

Michalson doesn't so much as blink when Zee shows her true form for a moment.
You're half-right, cutter, as you just saw. She's not an Ivory.

[Jivundus]

Something in the way the serving woman stood there seemed...off to Nalhriir. It tingled in his mind's eye the same way a portal did when he was near one, almost as if this woman was a door to...something, and that was a something the planar decided he definitely did not want to explore.

"That's sure a break-teeth name ye've got there, Zee, but fer a body what was bred on the tongues of the nethers, it's not so bad.

If ye insist on tryin' fer it, me bub o' choice's called Baatorian Firewater, it fills the guts o' the Beau-nasties themselves, and some Cagers reckon they could fight the Blood War with the stuff."

Michalson doesn't so much as blink when Zee shows her true form for a moment.
You're half-right, cutter, as you just saw. She's not an Ivory.

"Maybe not in the normal sense o' the word, but sure as shakes she seems more one than half the berks what call themselves so."

[Rebonack]

"Hehehe. All just names other people give me. Dunno why everyone assumes we need such silly sounding names!" Zee replies with a laugh. Probably because most of the ancient beings that named then when the stars were still young had really weird languages.

Like Aboleths. Yay for fish-things?

"Okay, Baatorian Firewater. I'll go check!"

And with that she heads off down into the cellar.

May or may not have to fight off the Quiet Beast to get at it.

But that's a story for another time.

Probably be a minute or two before she's back.

[Morty]

Michalson shrugs. Maybe. Lots of Ivories you meet here are really low-profile. Anyway, as I was about to say, I guess an Ivory might've messed with your memory. They do this sort of thing. And who knows what might be sittin' there in the Shadow Plane.

[Jivundus]

"Yer tellin' me." Nalhriir grunts. "But that still leaves me no closer t' solvin' the issue than when I landed in this burg. I mean, this place seems nice enough t' call kip but I can't be tryin' the taps forever and forget about this mess I've wound meself into."

[Rebonack]

True to her word Zee returns shortly with a bottle of firewater, just as Nalhriir had ordered! Turns out they had some down in the cellar after all! Now very nice.

"Here you go, enjoy!" she beams as she clunks the bottle down on the table along with a suitably durable glass that won't get corroded into nothing by the infernal ale. "If you're musing about how to leave the Nexus that's easier than you might expect. It isn't a place so much as it is a bleeding together of a whooooole bunch of different places. Sometimes you can just walk out of the city and end up back where you started! Though make sure you know where you want to go. Because otherwise there's no telling where you might end up!"

Like a plane with acid for air.

Those are always fun.

[Morty]

Aye, that's true. Michalson nods. Well, it's like I said... plenty of bloods here who might 'elp you if you can get them to do it. Lots of spoonbenders, especially. If you're willin' to let them into your brain-box, of course.

[Jivundus]

At the mention of psionicists, Nalhriir snorts in disgust. "I'd sooner walk under the Lady's shadow before I let one of them sodding mindhackers finger his grubby little way through me brain-box."

Then he sighs and takes a long pull from the bottle, completely ignoring the glass Zee put down with it. "Thank ye fer the bub, Zee. Guess I shouldn't draw conclusions 'bout this Nexus of yers so fast.

He sits in silence for a while, occasionally taking swigs of the fire-water, before taking a deep breath. "Ah, what choice does a body have? When yer caught 'tween the Lady and a 'loth, a cutter's gotta take help where he can get it."

[Rebonack]

"If you need anything else just ask!"

Once again Zee simply offers a smile before heading off to wait on other guests. In this case several Mordons that just entered the tavern. Seems there's all sorts of odd beings around here. Considering the nature of the Nexus that probably shouldn't come as much of a surprise.

...

Y'know.

Considering that the bar maid is some sort of crazy (and quite possibly powerful) creature from the Far it sorta begs the question of why she's giving people food and drink in a tavern. Doesn't she have better things to do? Apparently not, since she just pulled a plate of really weird looking sammiches for the Mordons.

[Morty]

Michalson nods. I'm not too fond of spoonbenders either, but sometimes there's just nothin' else a body can do, like you said. The shadowmage rubs his chin. 'Course, I don't know what you've already tried for this problem.

[Jivundus]

"Well," Nalhriir begins, "Seein' as I ain't no mere fingerpainter, I tried me hand at various divinations and the like, but they didn't tell me nothin' new. Only that I'd spent an unhealthy amount of time in the wrong sorts of places."

"So then I decides to try petitionin' t' the higher-ups. I stumbled on a fair bloodbath o' dazzlers in Limbo, though the Lady only knows why they picked there among everywhere else. Now these bloods were willin' to work some real stuff, for the right jink, o' course, so I paid 'em and parked me ears to catch some real dark, but all they could tell me was that 'bout thirty decades ago I did somethin', and that somethin' wasn't pretty."

"Needless t' say, I perked right up then, but these bloods, some of 'em livin' books when it comes to magic, said that whatever I did blocked out all their powers after that, and it's sure as Sigil that that same event is probably what wiped me slates."

"Then one o' the younger ones there piped up and said that 'e could ping me on somethin' called the ordial plane. That's a time mephit if ever I heard tell, and all the greybeards laughed him off, callin' him a daft berk what was tryin' to make the Inner Planes slide fer all his talk o' this ordial plane."

He takes another swig and looks directly at Michalson, now. "So that, long story short is what I've been doin' to plug me memory. I was out tryin' t' find a way t' this ordial plane. It weren't much of a lead, but it's somethin', at any rate. So I fair reckoned I'd found the portal I needed, but fer whatever reason, a door opened into the Nexus instead," he glances up at the rafters, trying to relocate the portal he fell through, "But it seems whatever door I used to get here don't run both ways."

[Morty]

Michalson rubs his chin again. Ordial plane... I've 'eard somethin' about it once or twice. Always seemed like a load of barkle repeated by berks with nothin' else t' do but argue about it. He pauses. Do you know what made that young dazzler think of the ordial plane? Or was it just 'cause all other options were fresh out?

[Jivundus]

"Some as I've heard tell of it make a fair convincin' argument, rule of threes and all, but fer the most par' I agree with ye that it's a load o' berks playin' mimir fer greens." Nalhriir replies, now toying idly with the glass. "As fer this young blood, he reckoned that one of his fancy custom scying spells found me there, despite the fact I was standin' not ten feet from him in Limbo."


"T' be honest with ye, that was the most convincin' evidence fer me. Not only would I become a real blood if I found this ordial plane he was on about, but that some berk was runnin' round with me identity enough that dazzlers found him when they were lookin' fer me."

[Morty]

Michalson nods.
That makes sense, as much as anythin' about the Ordial Plane can make sense. And if it exists, it's probably possible t' get there from the Nexus, if you look 'ard enough.

[Jivundus]

"Aye, that that's a lot of lookin' fer one body." Nalhriir thinks for a moment. "I know yer not a tout, but ye've been mightily helpful to a hipped cutter. Ye wouldn't be able to point me in the direction o' where I might find some jinkbashers willin' to keep their ears t' the ground fer a body?"

[The Bushranger]

p=13612727

"Ah. A Nexus native, perhaps?" Percival smiles at Sharon, meeting her gaze. "I'm surprised you aren't a bunch of lunatics."

Sharon giggles, shaking her head.
"Not a native, actually. Just...been here a very, very long time, that's all."

[Morty]

"Aye, that that's a lot of lookin' fer one body." Nalhriir thinks for a moment. "I know yer not a tout, but ye've been mightily helpful to a hipped cutter. Ye wouldn't be able to point me in the direction o' where I might find some jinkbashers willin' to keep their ears t' the ground fer a body?"

It's no problem helpin' a hipped Cager, Michalson says with a shrug. It's not like it costs him anything. As for jinkbashers... well. There's an organization full of 'em, called NO. They're not terribly good at their job, but maybe they'll 'elp you if they get lucky. Apart from them, though, noone comes to mind. I'm sure there are such bashers, I just don't know of any.

[Reinholdt]

Reinholdt has left sometime between then and now.

Standing over in the dark corner is someone else though. A Mysterious Hooded Figure to be exact.



The MHF stares at you. Yes, even you, despite you being behind a pillar and in another room. MHF is just that good at staring.

[Jivundus]

Nalhriir makes a dismissive gesture. "It's numbers o' bodies I'm lookin' fer, not effectiveness. I can find what I need on me own, I jus' need some bashers t' park their ears all over this burg and gather the chant I can't get t'. Where do this lot call kip?"

[Morty]

Last I checked, they 'ad a base on a mountain, west of here. Cold as Stygia, lots o' snow. Guess they like it that way. Michalson shrugs.

[LOTRfan]

"Well," he replies, pausing to take a drag of his cigarette, "The battles really weren't what ended the empire." He stalls more, drumming his fingers upon the bar in thought. "there was a battle of epic proportions right outside the capital city, which included the majority of our armies and the most of the communist's reverent supporters. Most everyone in that battle is dead, or they were injured or MIA. The empire 'won,' but its armies were massively weakened, and its resources were beginning to dwindle after the gigantic battle, and the capital city was partially destroyed. I was a crippled war veteran, put upon copious amounts of painkilling drugs and put through experimental procedures - I'd lost pieces of all my limbs, and I'd been shot a few times, only to be dragged off the battlefield. I was living off a pension and imperial military benefits due to my rank and prestige at the time, but since their resources were deplete and forces were destroyed, people lost respect for them. I was seen as a monster for fighting and dedicating my life for the Empire, and it eventually fell due to civil unrest in the common people, allowing the communist leader to gain power." he sighs, breathing, drinking.

The Warforged would wince if he was physically able to. He knows what it is like to be viewed as a monster. Of course, being a machine designed for war, that was sort of expected from some people. Humans seem to have a much tougher time coping with that. "Surely not everyone saw you as a monster? You seem to be a very nice man." It's funny, really; people seem to judge and stereotype people based off of the color of a uniform.

((Sorry, I posted in the other thread by mistake))

Ever since- er- um, about 21 days ago. The elf's face is mostly normal, with a noticeable lack of sleep around his eyes. He does not smile.

The Tholian looks rather bored (or, at least she would look bored, if humanoids were good at reading Tholian body-language), and still seems to be motioning for Gran to leave. Gran still seems rather interested, though. "How did you reach the Nexus? And how have things been treating you, here?" Though the electronic screeching doesn't really reveal it, there is a hint of worry about the lack of sleep.

[orb_of_blood]

The Cowboy's Table - sorta

Isla has a quiet fit of giggles at the cowboy-fish staring contest, and considers leaving this increasingly odd tavern fairly soon in search of somewhere less bizarre. But it is safe(ish), warm, and the thick smells of dirt and ale only remind her of the servant's quarters at home.

Instead, she creeps up behind the cowboy. "Er, Ben? Jamin? C-could I buy you a drink? You did, after all, try to save us from the rays. I hope." As terrified as she was of the gun-waving, she could at least recognize it was a defensive reaction. She hopes.

"I-if you want anything too, Madame. Or a bucket of water or something so your fish doesn't die." It's one thing to have a hand that's temporarily a fish. It's another, much less pleasant thing to have a hand that's temporarily a suffocated, dead fish.

Of course, Isla has no money, but it's easy for her to overcome that small problem when luck is on her side.

[5a Violista]

The Cowboy's Table

"Sure, you..." Benjamin starts sayin', still staring into the eyes of the fish, who obviously didn't blink or smile because fish usually can't do that.
"Darn it!" he exclaims as he blinks, and loses. He blinked because Isla surprised him, a little.

"Well, yes. That was what I had in mind," says the cowboy. Saving two young ladies from an evil fish-ray monster. "Regrettably, I failed, as her arm turned into a nonblinking fish, and all the food fell on the ground. "Besides, I was a little too late to actually do anything."

Benjamin wishes that he had more luck.