Inside 61

[Morty]

[Grey Zone Back Street]

"No much o' one, no," Michalson says, shaking his head. "I'm a spell-slinger. So they nicked this from you?"

[Lost_Deep]

Grey Zone Back Street

"No, no, I was in the area and decided to be be the hero and/or sate my curiosity. Want to see if this thing comes with instructions?" The woman asks, reaching down to pick up the device.

[Morty]

[Grey Zone Back Street]

Michalson nods.

"Sure, why not. If someone thought it was worth nickin', I'd like t' see what it does."

[Lost_Deep]

Grey Zone Back Street

The woman takes the thing out of the box, and starts messing with it.

"I... think this is a prototype. There's no internal documentation, and the UI is pretty bare-bones. This could be worth a whole lot more to who it was stolen from than anyone on the black market." She looks down at the case. "Shot in the dark here; this might be nanotech. Are you a kind of adventurey type?"

[Morty]

[Grey Zone Back Street]

"On occasion," Michalson says, blowing a long trail of smoke from his pipe. "I'm more of a henchman type, though."

[Lost_Deep]

Grey Zone Back Street

"Well, I'm just thinking that prototype tech like this might be worth lot if we can get it back to the maker. And I can take on three guys, yes, but any more and I might have some trouble. So, if you think you can pull your weight, we might be able to tag-team and split the money," the woman offers, placing the device back in the box.

[Morty]

[Grey Zone Back Street]

Michalson puffs a cloud of smoke from his pipe thoughtfully.

"Sure, why not. I could use some jink."

[Murkus]

[Main Street]

There is madness, and then there is Main Street. From here, a great deal of the Nexus's greatest city moves between the wilderness and the city walls, streaming out onto the road toward Outside or disappearing into the jumble of Streets that make up Inside. Beginning in a huge courtyard just beyond Inside's North gate, engulfed with a mad ramble of incomers and outgoers, Main Street is ever the essence of variance. The term North is unfortunately both relative to Inside's position and it's ever-changing geography, thus rendering a compass mostly unhelpful...

But some folk can predict and even follow just how the Nexus changes. Some come from even more violent, tremulous worlds, worlds that threaten to come tumbling apart, and the survivors of such places walk the streets of Inside with an easy confidence every day. Such is not true of Cornelia Walsh - she walks with a tired pride, say true, but the boots of her father (now her own) have not treaded the strange stone paving Inside for a very long time. No, they are licked with the hungry sands of the Trackless Wastes, one of the lost-between places that can take a person to the darkest corners of the All-world, the Multiverse, the Everything-that-is.

No more of that scorching sun, no more of the sand, no more come the beasts and the brigands and the lost lonely people with the deadest eyes Cornelia's ever seen. Well, no more of the latter-most things. Cornelia is still quite hot. She walks through the somewhat clear courtyard, evacuated of its usual bustle by the midday heat, leading a huge grey-blue horse by the nose as it drags a little wagon behind with careless ease. It contains all Cornelia owns in the world - save a few things kept safe in the Wastes. Bundled high on the ruddy little two-wheel cart are an assortment of clothes, supplies, camping gear, sundry survival items, and a long, gleaming black lever action rifle, lying jilted across the top with a strap around it's oily belly.

The lady walks a few feet ahead, leading her old colt Cobalt with a gentleness born of exhaustion. Her ghost-white, silken hair hangs in thin, flat curtains to shade the gun-shot, hand-torn ruin that is Cornelia's once lovely face. Hazel eyes flicker and fall to half-shutter, scarcely staying open. To keep cool, she's stripped down to a small and slightly revealing rag of a shirt she wears 'round the forge, held over her shoulders by two frayed straps. Her long, strong arms are bare, as are her shoulders, and part of what looks like a rose tattoo can be made out on her chest. A short-topped, broad-brimmed hat situates itself on her shapely head.

Her legs are bound up in her pappy's ancient boots and a pair of lady's riding pants, dusty with the trail's exhalations and well faded with use. These legs carry her forward, ever forward, until finally a bench by a little water trough appears out've the thin but shifting crowd. Rather than tying up Cobalt she sits down, and as the big horse dips his head to have a drink, she lowers her own, doffing her hat in favor of scratching her scalp with a sigh of exhaustion. Her hair hangs loose around her sweat-streaked face.

Cornelia glances at the water-trough, eyes wide and touched with madness. They flick left. They flick right. Cobalt gives her what can be nothing other than a skeptical look. Well, the water looks freshly put, by all the gods...

"Whoops," Cornelia says blandly, toppling sideways into the little trough with wonderful showmanship. There's a decent splash, and a delighted sigh. She lies with much of her torso submerged, a look of utter relief on her gnarled features. "Whoops, I say, ye daft thing," she says, shoving away Cobalt's thirsty mouth. The horse chuffs at her, scolding. She whispers, "Go 'way so e'can look like I fainted, ye ken? Jus' a little break..." A couple days on the road with scarcely a drop of water can do things to you. And who's gonna pull the clearly mad homeless woman out of the trough? Nobody, that's who. Humph. Free bath for Cornelia, says she.

[Artemis97]

Main Street

A startled cry in a strange tongue echoes through the court from right next to the water trough. Cornelia's splash into the water, though artfully executed, had caught a male drow dressed in blue and gold robes. He leaned on an adamantine staff and shivered, now that he was drenched from the waist down. His white hair threw off golden highlights as it shook, coming loose from the gold and sapphire circlet on his head. Lips pursed, his amber eyes narrowed, Sornnolu Xar'Cha inhaled deeply through his nose and sighed before asking "Why am I all wet?"

[Murkus]

[Main Street]

"Ah... uh. Hm?" Cornelia perks her head up, eyes wide and bright in the deepest, most untouched part of her face. Who is that elfin looking man, and why is he... all wet. Oops. Oops! Huge oops! There's a ridiculous splashing as Cornelia extracts herself from the trough, getting even poor Cobalt's sheeny coat wet, drawing another snuffle of disapproval from the large animal.

She sloshes over to Sornnolu, apologizing the whole way. "Oh lords, sorry, m'sorry!" She holds her hands up, nervous, as though she can wave this accident away with magic. Wait... Towel. Ah. Something. Got to get the very pretty fellow with the very strange complexion something to dry off with. She clomps over to Cobalt's hitched cart and digs out something for Sornnolu. A wrinkled if still clean and useful towel. "Here. Hol' still, sirrah. I did nae mean to... I mean. Twas' all but an accident. Clumsy ol' lady that I is." Cornelia actually squats down a bit to try and dry Sornnolu off herself. Wouldn't want to harm the obvious noble's delicate sensibilities.

My, he is a pretty one. And dressed in such finery. She peers at his robes as she starts to pad them, taking to the work as casually and readily as she might put in chores on the farm. However, she has no thought for his propriety, or just where it is she pads. At least he'll be a bit drier!

[Artemis97]

[Main Street]

Sornnolu sighs again and suffers through being patted dry. Even when Cornelia goes over more indelicate bits, he says nothing. Perhaps he was used to such treatment from women, or worse, and so made no complaints.

"That's really not necessary. An accident is understandable." The drow does say, after a moment, however. "It is only water. It's not like the spidersilk will dissolve." He adds with a small chuckle. It sets him thinking too. Such a substance would earn him a fortune. A pleased look crosses his face.

[DoomITP]

Red Zone

Zero and Valaira should appear outside the portal on a semi busy street in the Red Zone, probably one of the slightly less dangerous sections, though considering the two they wouldn't be any real danger anyway.

If I remember right, there is a place a block or two down this way.

[The Alexandrian]

[Red Zone]

Muggers beware! Valaira and Zero are on patrol (but not really)!

"Okay."

Valaira will follow Zero, but she will not quietly follow Zero!

"On a scale of 1 to 10, how muddy are my tails? There's only mud on them, right? No tar or anything else? Right?"

Right?

"And before it gets too late or I forget, do we have someplace to sleep tonight? If we don't, I could 'persuade' someone to comp us a room for the night, if you wouldn't mind if I did that."

[DoomITP]

Red Zone

Zero ponders the question for a moment.

Since I seem relatively restored, there's a chance I can get us back to my home. I imagine that since the last time we were at GLoG we caused massive property damage they might be... Wary to have us back.

As the pair continue to walk Zero looks back to *cough* inspect Valaira's tail. I'm so sorry that was too easy.

Looks like you just have a little mud. I wouldn't worry about it too much.

[Lost_Deep]

[Grey Zone Back Street]

Michalson puffs a cloud of smoke from his pipe thoughtfully.

"Sure, why not. I could use some jink."

Copi shuts the case. "Sounds good. I know where they're going, but it isn't going to be easy. These guys are more than thugs, they're Paragon City thugs. And you can bet that where they're holed up has some kind of commander, and they may have some small amount of superpowers."

[Morty]

[Grey Zone Back Street]

"Been there, done that," Michalson says, shrugging. "Since you know the dark of the whole situation, you take the lead. I'll follow."

[Lost_Deep]

Grey Zone Back Street

"How fast can you follow? Because I can lead very fast," Copi says nonchalantly. "Specifically, can you fly?"

[The Alexandrian]

[Red Zone]

*Blink!* *Blink!*

"Whaaa?"

Valaira is confused! Valaira hurt herself in her confusion!

"Whatever it was, I didn't do it!"

Valaira used Deny All Responsibility For Everything! Valaira's Special Defense sharply rose! Valaira's Defense sharply rose! Whatever Zero is referring to, Valaira isn't culpable for it! If he's insinuating that she is culpable for it, he's sinning 'cause it's a sin to tell a lie!

"If the leadership had a scintilla of business acumen between them, they could've rented out the room to mages and made a killing!"

[Morty]

[Grey Zone Back Street]

"I can move from shadow t' shadow," Michalson says. "Keepin' up won't be a problem."

[Lost_Deep]

Grey Zone Back Street

"Okay then!" six translucent, insect-like wings come into existence on this woman's back, and she flies off in the general direction that the thugs ran. While not a super-fast flier, she is fairly fast.

[Morty]

[Grey Zone Back Street]

Michalson follows suit, jumping from shadow to shadow to keep up with Copi. He's surprisingly quick this way.

[Slii Arhem]

High Over Delmah Phor

The sun distorts the air, mirages rippling off the rooftops and stretching across the sky with no end to the heatwave in sight. Even the nights have been swelteringly hot, the ground drinking greedily of the rays and belching it forth steadily as the moon rises overhead.

But a brief, gloomy shadow darts across the sun, a faint cloud indistinguishable by its height and the blinding radiation about its form. It glides irregularly, following no wind and circling back on itself, trailing a long tail of vanishing vapors that bely its unnatural nature.

And then, with at first a tinkling and then a juddering, sudden cacophony it begins to hail. Tumbling, glinting irregular shapes crash into the cobblestones, denting but not shattering on impact. As the cloud dissolves, more silvery streaks pour out and add to the noise, chipping rooftops and cobbles alike until finally, the supernatural hailstorm comes to an immediate halt, every last disc of silver hitting the earth at once in a huge thump that ends with a rolling beat of the coins settling after their swift impacts.

Only moments after the last coin has rolled to a stop, a thunderbolt strikes. Pure gold in colour and lancing out of the cloud, the lance of gold hammers into a gap between the cobbles and buries itself into the earth. When its shuddering ceases a long scroll of the soft, lustrous metal, hammered out so thin a babe's hands could shear it, unfurls from around its shaft. The words upon it are carved out in relief and shining brightly under the now unblocked sun as the cloud travels onwards, south.

[Lost_Deep]

High Over Delmah Phor

As the first coins begin to fall, someone streaks from the sky and hides under a overhang he can find. A woman in a pale green lab coat-like dress and with rich green hair looks out at the coin hail, and elects to stay grounded for a bit. Copi has been caught mid-air by hail before, it's something she isn't eager to re-visit.

Copi sits down on a small chair of translucent green and takes a minute to enjoy the spectacle. She's actually a little sad when the hail stops, but that's quickly dispelled by the bolt of scroll. Copi gets up and walks out a bit, looking at it, but before approaching it looks around to see if anyone else is there.

[Artemis97]

[Delmah Phor]

When the hail of coin begins, the people of the drow enclave are intrigued and move to collect the shining objects, praising their luck on this overly warm day. However, it soon turns dangerous as the downfall increases and many run for shelter, only briefly daring to scrabble up coins that fall near cover. A few, be they brave, foolish, or simply well armored, remain out to collect the coins as they fall heavier and heavier. They dive for cover with the rest, though, when the giant bolt of lightning cracks down from the nearly clear sky.

One of those foolish enough to remain out in the downpour is a drow guard in ceremonial blue and gold armor. Though the enamelled steel would protect him, he'd taken off his helmet to use as a collection bucket. An unlucky coin strikes his uncovered head, drawing blood and sending him, sprawling, to the ground. From cover nearby a woman shrieks in alarm. She is one of the few unconcerned with the coins, having taken shelter as soon as they began falling. At first glance, she appears to be drow, unmistakable as a full blooded member of House Xar'Cha. She was dressed in loose fitting clothes of deep blue and gold, though the usual spider and web motif was absent. Her skin, too, was the deep blue-black indicative of the family, however, it was also marked with patches of deep red scales. Small horns lined the end of her long, wavey white hair, like a crown. Though drow, there was something draconic about Aly'ithra Xar'Cha's nature.

When the strange storm was over, Aly'ithra stepped out into the street and dragged the man who had been guarding her into a sitting position against a pillar. She gathers up the coins spilled from his helmet and turns to the shopkeeper who's storefront they occupied, dumping the whole mess onto a table. "It's all yours, just keep him safe until he wakes up. If he complains, tell him I said so." The shopkeep wasn't going to argue with money, or a member of the ruling house, and so, Aly'ithra slipped away from her guard and down the street, pausing about ten feet from the scroll that had fallen from the heavens to contemplate it. Why had it come here of all places? What was it?

* * *

In the palace gardens, Raril Xar'Cha lounged on the soft lichen that covered the lawn, picking out chords on a guitar. Two guards in heavy ceremonial armor flanked him. He pretended they weren't there. They pretended the heat of the sun was not entirely oppressive and that Raril surely wasn't keeping them, and whatever other hidden guards might be watching him, out in the sun just to torture them. The crack of thunder made them all look towards the source of the sound, but no strange silver hail fell here, and no alarms were raised. Raril sighed sadly. Probably not a rescue attempt or an attack he could use as a distraction to slip away. Idly he wondered if anyone still cared about him. No, of course they did. They had to. But what was keeping them? Did they know he was here? Or had his family taken care of them already. The thought caused him to miss a chord, which put a scowl on his face. Damn his sisters. Damn them all.

[DoomITP]

Red Zone

Zero spreads his hands in a placating gesture, deciding to sidestep that entire thought process entirely and take Valaira's hand.

I wouldn't worry about it. Anyway, we're here.

He steps into the side alley and knocks on a brick wall.

I'm calling it in.

[Murkus]

[Main Street]

Sornnolu sighs again and suffers through being patted dry. Even when Cornelia goes over more indelicate bits, he says nothing. Perhaps he was used to such treatment from women, or worse, and so made no complaints.

"That's really not necessary. An accident is understandable." The drow does say, after a moment, however. "It is only water. It's not like the spidersilk will dissolve." He adds with a small chuckle. It sets him thinking too. Such a substance would earn him a fortune. A pleased look crosses his face.

Cornelia sees that pleased look and makes assumptions. "Enjoyin' ourselves, is we?" She asks. Should he glance down she'll find the rather heavily scarred lady looking up at him with a crooked smirk.

The half-elf straightens, tucking her hair back behind her ears - one of which is pointed and pierced with a ruddy gold ring, the other of which is raggedly torn off about three quarters up. She wrings out her thin white locks, flashing him a surprisingly well-kept and fierce grin. "Ye aren't goin' t'dissolve, are ya? 'Eard some of the times elves and fair folken an' witches do that. Wit water on em', tha' is."

[Artemis97]

[Main Street]

"I know better than to stop a woman when she sets her mind to do something." Sornnolu replies with a slight frown. "And we drow are more sturdy than our surface kin. Also, I am a wizard, not a witch." He points out.

[Murkus]

[Main Street]

Cornelia opens her mouth slightly and... can't seem to wrap one of her drawling words around that one. Her dried out lips clap together again before she manages to say, "Thas about the smartest thing I e'er heard someone say." She can't help herself smiling, even if it is a bit fatigued. "Wizard, ye say? Well tha' explains it." She forks out a hand that's missing it's middle finger. "Whasyer name?"

[Artemis97]

[Main Street]

That draws a smile out of the drow. It was a friendly, honest grin, much like his father's. "I am Sornnolu Xar'Cha of House Xabaresh Chaeron. However, you may just call me Sorn if you like." There was only the slightest hesitation before he took her hand and bowed over it. He soon straightens and gives her a curious look. "And what does my being a wizard explain?"

[Slii Arhem]

Delmah Phor

The scroll's words glimmer invitingly, as if daring any who gaze upon it to read its words and find the secret of its sudden appearance within. Some stand out, carved larger than the others and visible even from a distance, as the scroll was made large and the writing painstakingly carved to be flowing yet easily legible.

Among them, the first one to catch anyone's eye, as it flashes with a polished gleam, is "Tokens."