Dancing Fox In XII: Dance If You Want To

[Recaiden]

"So what's forward for you?"
The fox-person moves a hand up and examines her ears - are they really the same? Yes, yes they are, it's just having fur on the rest of her head that's strange.

"Think forward...going back home eventually. Lots of work to do, as always. But it should be fun. I feel like I could do so much!"

[Deathkeeper]

"Forward for me? Just running the Inn. Visiting Leah. Being with family. It's a quiet life, here. And that does sound fine. Good luck with it." he answers her, genuine.

[Recaiden]

"Mhm. Quiet sounds nice...for a little while. I should see if I can catch up with them."
"Thanks!"
And she rises up carefully and waves in Mist's general direction.

[Deathkeeper]

Mist waves back to her.
"Catching up can be hard, but I'm sure you'll be fine. Have a nice day."

[Beans]

The smell of warpfire and cinamon rolls wafts out of the men's restroom. There's a confused yelp, a startled squeak, and a woman stumbles out.
"OH HECK I'M SORRY IT'S CHAOS'S FAULT."
The pale-haired young lady, clad in black-and-red armor, looks around the building she's arrived in.
She sees many, many kinds of creatures, many she's never even heard of before.
"... I'm not in the Imperium any more, am I?"

[Ionbound]

An olive-skinned, dark-haired young lady blinks as the other woman stumbles out of the bathroom, and waves her over, saying, "Hey there! Over here! Come sit here!" She's wearing a pink sweater, emblazoned with a symbol the other woman may or may not recognize, but she's smiling happily and looks very nice and inviting, as well as likely more familiar than the other beings in the inn.

[Rebonack]

There is a pony here. Relaxing. Or at least trying to relax. She's still wearing her Team Nightmære barding, but her helm is laying on the table next to her. Icy blue coat, a mane the color of fresh snow, and those creepy gloom-socket eyes that all of her kind are known for. It's her day off, yes. She shouldn't need her armor right now. Especially not at the Dancing Fox. But Stern Sleet has learned the hard way that letting down your guard in the Nexus rarely ends well.

The sound clomping power armor immediatly causes Stern Sleet's ears to pop upright. It's a sound you'll never forget. Especially when it comes with a full orchestra of weapon's fire and hollering orks.

Throne... how many years ago was it now? Twelve at least. Losing her legs in service to the Emporium. The ship she was on getting lost in a warp storm. Landing in this... insane place. Eaten by a wight. Turned into a wight.

...and then freed by the Princess. Now she's part of a fighting force again, protecting something important. Doing battle in a cause she can get behind. And with a few more limbs than before as a bonus.

At least there was something positive that came out of the whole mess.

"Nah, not in the Imperium anymore. This is the Nexus it's... sort of an in-between place? It's pretty fething confusing. Beats getting stranded in the Warp, though," Stern speaks up, waving one hoof in a 'go figure' sort of fashion. "EVERYTHING here is heresy and xenos. Nice seeing another honest to Throne, Emperor fearing human, though."

A beat.

"Feel free to ignore the 'tiny blue horse' mutation. Isn't Chaos-related."

Then she scowls at cultists.

"She is, though. Fething daemon worshipers."

[Beans]

She listens to the... blue... horse lady.
The blue horse lady.
"Nice to meet you too, uh, miss---wait, Emperor? Don't you mean Empress? Definitely an Empress last time I checked."

And suddenly, she sees the heretic. Wearing quite a lot of clothing for an apparent devotee of Excess, but still very clearly one of them.
"Oh, I know how to deal with those." Pointing accusingly at the Slaaneshi cultist, she reaches for her greatest weapon.
Not her chainsword, nor her boltpistol and hand-flamer.
Her belt-mounted pamphlet-printer.
It starts making FURIOUS printer noises.
"Give it a minute."

[Rebonack]

Yes.

Blue horse lady.

Spooky tiny blue horse lady.

"Empress? What are you talking about?" Stern asks, incredulously. That sounds distinctly like heresy to here. And here she was hoping that she was getting the chance to meet a normal person from her home universe. No such luck, apparently.

Wearing armor that looks like it's made out of solid darkness and plates of ivory.

"What is that Throne-awful racket?" Stern laments when the printer begins belting out its horrible, horrible noise. Her ears fold back reflexively, doing their best to block out the sound.

The pain that thing inflicts...

The battle-bass of a Noise Marine would be a mercy by contrast.

[Ionbound]

The cultist blinks as she finds not a bolt through the skull, but instead printer-y noises and sighs, muttering, "Oh Slaan, this one's even crazier than usual." But she puts on her warm smile again, saying "Calm down, sweetie. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm not into some of the really kinky stuff some of my friends get up to. I just like to go around making everyone's day better. An excess of joy, if you will."

[Beans]

Sister Asphodel looks from the horse lady to the Slaaneshi and frowns.
"Tiny hooved people who claim it's 'The Emperor' and 'The Throne' and not, y'know, the Empress and the Bier? And Slaaneshi cultists who wear actual clothes and don't survive on a diet of smut and cocaine? What kind of Warp nonsense is this? Next you'll be saying there's giant space-bugs eating everything." She turns to Stern, tilting her head. "Also---you're blue and you have hooves. I'm sorry, but the only other blue hooved people I know of are the commie Tau."
Her pamphlet finishes printing, and she tosses it onto the Slaaneshi's table. It unfolds perfectly, shouting the glories of THE EMPRESS and the IMPERIUM and how THE CHAOS GODS ARE NOT REALLY THAT GREAT IF YOU'LL CONSIDER THESE POINTS.

[Ionbound]

The Slaaneshi woman laughs a deep, rich, mirthful laugh as she briefly examines the pamphlet, then says to the woman, "I mean, those are fun, but generally speaking, I've found it works out better to be nice. Speaking of, you look like you need a hug. Want one? Sweaters make for the best of warm, fuzzy hugs."

[Beans]

Sister Asphodel folds her arms. "I am already hugged, continually, by the Empress's grace and glory! I need no daemon-sweater nonsense!"

[Ionbound]

The woman gives her a mom-look, a look that says 'I know you want a hug, it's okay to admit it,' and says, "Really now? Hmm. What's your name, at least? I'm Claudia."

[Rebonack]

"I told you, it's a mutation," Stern retorts, smacking one of her hooves again the table top. "A really... thorough mutation..."

Yes.

A very, VERY thorough mutation.

The sort that completely alters your species and endows you with magic wholly unrelated to the immaterium. That certainly makes sense. But Stern will justify her situation as she does. Understanding things in terms you can grasp is comforting, even if it isn't wholly accurate.

Regardless!

Stern ponders this situation!

"You know, I ran into some space marines once who were literally wearing refrigerators," Stern observes. Actually, the were Spehs Mureens, but close enough. "It has something to do with... different universes? I think? That's why everything seems so different when me or you talk about the Empire. Tensor Transformation was rambling about it the other day when we were on patrol. I don't understand a fething thing she says most of the time."

[Beans]

The Order Convertant have nearly weapon-grade sighs. The Sister unleashes one on Claudia now, throwing in a hairflip for good measure.
"If you insist on knowing, I am Sister Asphodel."

She listens to the... guardspony... and thinks. "That... sounds... possibly right. I mean, we seem to be coming from slightly different perspectives, you and I---and she, well, she's not like any Slaaneshi I've seen. Not sweater fans. Now, the Sweaterpaws of Helheim---" She shivers. "Those girls like sweaters well enough. And fire, to an unhealthy degree. But... yeah, this is all weird. I blame the Warp, because the Warp is stupid and heretical."

[Ionbound]

Claudia chuckles and says, "I didn't ask for your designation. What's your name? Who's the actual person inside that suit of power armor?" She shakes her head at the description of the warp, continuing, "I mean, it's not stupid. But don't knock heresy until you've tried it. It's a heckuva lot of fun!"

[Rebonack]

"No, the Warp is completely stupid. And heretical," Stern insists. She's very adamant on this point. "There's a reason why the Emperor-" she spares a sidelong glance at Asphodel. "-or Empress, or whatever, made a career of kicking Chaos around. They would destroy everything given half a chance. It's bad enough that the galaxy is full of green brutes and insane death robots and space bugs that eat planets. Filling the Warp with things that want to peel your skin off and wear it like a hat just makes everything so... grimdark," she says, wrinkling her nose at the word as if it tasted bitter.

Stupid grimdarkness.

Good thing the Nexus isn't like that.

"This place though? It's pretty nice. Psykers can use their powers here without having to worry about their heads exploding into Warp rifts and vomiting out daemons everywhere. Throne, I'm pretty sure I count as a psyker now. Every single person in Team Nightære does. All that power used freely and not one single fething daemon. I've seen daemon worshipers skulking about-"

She glowers at Claudia again.

Glaaaaaaaares at her.

"-but no daemons. They probably know better than fething around with people here."

[Beans]

Asphodel rolls her eyes at the heretic. "Asphodel is my name."

She looks at Stern and tilts her head. "Jeez, sounds like you had it worse than me... our big green brutes were kinda okay, and the robots weren't that bad either. Space bugs, didn't have those---and the daemons, I don't think they peeled anybody's skin off..."

[Ionbound]

Claudia smiles and says, "Well, Asphodel...What makes you happy? I don't peel skins off. I just want to make people happy. What makes you happy? You too, for that matter," She turns her head to address Stern.

[Rebonack]

Stern, for her part, is just going to sit there and glare at the daemon worshiper.

Because she doesn't even NEED to answer questions like that. Any sort of happiness given out by a daemon worshiper is heresy.

The end.

[Recaiden]

A letter is delivered to Fredrick's door inviting him to the Wizards' Tower for tea and an adventure.

[Fenric]

Frederick gets the letter and looks it over

Another Cleo adventure, hm? Sounds like fun.

And he starts to pack his things.

[Ionbound]

Sleepy Explorations

Alicia makes her way back to her room with a bellyful of Ice Cream and yawns as she sits down on the bed, stretching out then lying down as she asks Nobu, "So...Anything special I should do? Other than just normal lucid dreaming stuff?"

[Fenric]

Nobu shakes his head

Nope! Just lie down and go to sleep: I'll meet you in your dream and prod you along to lucidity. Normally that takes a while to figure out, but I'm a spirit-fox already!

A rather overconfident three-tailed spirit-fox, but oh well.

Oh: I almost forgot! Hold the ball while you sleep, it'll make things easier.

[Ionbound]

[Sleepy Explorations]

Alicia nods and slides her hand in her pocket again, grabbing the ball as she lets herself nod off to sleep.

[Fenric]

As Alicia drifts off to sleep, her watchful stowaway frisks off after her to the Dreamlands!

[Ionbound]

Sleepy Fallout

Alicia takes a deep breath, then fishes into her pocket, pulling out the ball and smiling as she feels Nobu, or at least what's left of Nobu, and takes a deep breath, getting out of bed and making her way to the Temple of Inari.

[Recaiden]

Did you know some people would consider the door of the DFI to be inconveniently narrow?
Most of those people would not attempt to fix this by trying to transmute the door and a bit of the front wall into a palatial archway decorated with fox-filled frescoes and opening inward like a blossoming flower on dozens of hinges.

Most people are not Rashka the Thousandfold, Master Sorcerer. He can always put it back later if anyone objects.
And if it doesn't work somehow he can just squeeze through; it's not that bad. If anything it would just improve his majestic arachnid-ness.

Rashka is not a scorrow, because he doesn't have the pointy elf ears. But he does have the lower body of a giant black-shelled scorpion. He's wearing a pink sash and a big shoulder-collar thing that looks like the sun, but no shirt in between, because that would deprive the world of his glorious abs. his head is shaved and covered in floral tattoos, and his sharp face boasts a diamond piercing through his nose and a slight smile.

[Nova_Eclipse]

And some have been finding the buildings in the Nexus in general a bit hard to access. Like the creature currently trying to figure out how to fit its 11-foot tall self through a door, that, thanks to Raksha, may now be wide enough to accommodate its bulk, but is nowhere near tall enough. Physically, the creature resembles a miniaturized mech suit, painted in two shades of green, with orange trim, but closer inspection gives one the sense of the "metal" composing its frame being...off in an odd way that's hard to categorize. The way it moves its head and limbs is also much more natural and life-like than any mech suit, as evidenced by the various poses the thing keeps making as it tries to figure out a way to enter the bar.

After a few moments of various contortions, the creature still stands outside, and gives a sigh. Even if it manages to get inside, it's going to be mighty uncomfortable, especially since most of the chairs in the place probably aren't meant for a creature of its size. And to think, all this trouble, just because it wanted a quiet drink.