nexus_sages | Jul. 14th, 2015

There's a distinct smell of ozone gathering several feet in the air over the Nexus forum. When a low rumbling starts, that smell grows sharper, more electric. Something grinding, tearing, burning...

A sudden, massive white flash appears, along with it an unnerving and immediate lack of sound. Where one would normally expect something a little more thunderous- a bang, a pop, possibly a crack -there is just white noise that leaves anyone for several yards around with ringing ears. (Assuming they are in possession of ears, of course.) And as immediate as it had been there, the flash it gone, snapping shut like a hastily done-up zipper.

Left suspended in the air by this event is a bizarre, bearded gargoyle-like figure who is now left to gravity's devices. He plummets, clearly startled, but gathers his wits quick enough to avoid an undignified landing. There is a cold swirl of wind, his cape snaps outward into the distinct shape of bat wings, and allows him to settle gently onto his feet.

The man (person? creature?) jerkily looks about, taking brief stock of his surroundings; upon finding them unfamiliar, he wastes no time pointing his gem-tipped staff menacingly at any general gathering nearby, sharp teeth gritted.

"Who is the master of this realm? Speak, fools!" He looks around again, increasingly agitated, adjusting his grip on his staff, before shaking it again and additionally snapping, "Where is the Doctor? The Quickster!? Why did he contain all of YOU to this realm as well as me?! SPEAK!!"

Ixis Naugus has arrived and he demands to speak to a manager.

There was a woman in the Nexus. It wasn't a particularly strange event, but she'd seen the signs and observed quietly for some time. Black robes, a hood over her head hiding her eyes. There was a long handle of a weapon strapped to her hip. The robes reached the ground, obscuring her feet from view.

Her arms were behind her, and she stood with a confident, shoulder-width stance.

The woman clears her throat to gather attention, and when she speaks, she speaks with an accent. The closest earth equivalent is generically British-English, more than anything else. "Would you rather be on the run from your former government, the devil you know; or their enemy, the devil that is the greater unknown?"

She brings her arms forward, crossing them low against her torso. "If that's not a good one or applies to you," The woman had a thoughtful look beneath the hood for a moment before speaking again, "And what is hatred to you? Blinding, uncontrolled rage? Or a weapon to be honed?"

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