[Today Riley can be found hanging out in the back of Needle in a Haystack. She's sitting on top of a pile of boxes, leaning back on one hand as she smiles at the recording she's making. Today she's feeling pretty good about things. Especially about the thing she wants to ask about.]

Okay so people in the past of my world used to celebrate birthdays a lot. They apparently had parties and all that to go "whoo hoo! I lived to see another year!" Now, where I'm from we've pretty much lost that because, well, reasons.

[She shrugs like "Apocalypse. What are you gonna do?"]

But here's a question for all of you. How do you celebrate your birthdays? Parties? Presents? Food? Nothing? I wanna know because I want to know all that stuff that I've been missing out on all these years because like hell was anyone going to be celebrating the grand existence of me. Even if they totally should have.

[That makes her laugh a little.]

Tell me about your birthday stuff. It's time to share again!

[Riley is sitting in the middle of her room at Loki. She's got a candy bar in one hand and a sheet of paper in the other. Grinning, she takes a bite of the candy then shifts about to lean back against her bed. There's boxes all over it.]

Okay... [Yes, Mags. She's talking with her mouth full again.] Fo. We've ha' fum... [She swallows.] ...shit storms recently. I think it's time to lighten the mood and ask a really fucking serious question.

[She puts on a serious face and points at the paper with her candy.] Would any of these... [She points at the world at large with the candy.] ...work on any of you?

[With that, she clears her throat and looks over the paper before giving everyone her sexiest look.]

Hey, baby. That's a nice shirt. Can I talk you out of it?

[Her lip trembles as she tries not to just bust up laughing.]

If you think you feel good, you should feel me.

[She lets out a snort.]

Hey babe! There's a party in my pants and you're invited!

[Okay no. She's done. Riley busts up laughing because all of these are so bad!] Who the hell uses this shit? It's more likely to get you punched in the face!

[Alastair is sitting on a roof, looking out at the city. He has a couple of blades next to him. It looks like he might have been in the process of sharpening them when he took a break.]

The change of seasons here is pretty dramatic, isn't it? One moment we still have green, the next...

[He nods out to the suddenly awe-inspiring fall colors of the trees.]

Did it happen like this before? I'm ashamed to say I didn't notice if it did, I was... [He wets his lips and ducks his head a moment,] ...preoccupied. [Preoccupied with being corrupted. Oops.

He lifts his head and smiles.]

Regardless, it's lovely, even if it's a bit sudden. Back home... [A distant sort of look comes over his face as he remembers.] Back home it was always very slow. There was never any one day you could say "now is the end of summer," because when things were Balanced, or at least close to it, it was a slow transition from one season to the next. Maybe our seasons were longer, it's hard to tell.

[He sighs deeply and is quiet for a long moment, then smiles again.]

There's beauty in the world, everywhere. Sometimes it's hard to find it, but every now and then you have to stop and look around and remind yourself why you're fighting.

[His grin turns sheepish and he shakes his head.]

It may seem silly, and believe me, I sound a little ridiculous to myself sometimes, but do me a favor and take a moment out of your day to just appreciate the beauty around you, and remember the beauty of home.

[Alastair is pale, and he looks like he's gone through hell. For those who know him, or at least recognize him, he looks several years older than he did only a few days ago. He takes a deep breath and runs a hand through his long hair and looks directly at the camera.]

For any of you who might still be skeptical about what's at stake, you need to hear this.

[He looks away, bracing himself for what he's about to say.]

All of you need to hear this.

[He looks back at the camera again, and there's a new intensity to it, a desperation. His voice cracks slightly with the despair lurking beneath the shock he's still feeling.]

My home is gone. Destroyed. If you have ever had any doubts before, listen to me now. Your homes are in danger. I watched my world crumble and die and there was nothing I could do to stop it. It withered and died because Yggdrasil is withering and dying.

Think what you will about the gods and their methods but this war isn't for nothing. You have something to fight for, and you need to fight for it or it will be gone. Gone in death and destruction and more pain than you can possibly imagine.

[He swallows and looks away again, the pain crossing his face as he tries to compose himself.]

I know because I watched it happen.

[He takes a deep breath and looks back once more.]

If you... if you have any questions, I'm ready to answer them.

[ Well hello! The name on the network says Desmond, but...is it really? She's got the same eyes, the same dopey mouth scar... These curses, man. Let's see how that works out. Judging from the backdrop, she's hanging around A Needle in a Haystack as is her wont, sipping a glass of jallab and looking to be in a questioning mood. ]

Okaaaaay, so. Since this is effectively both the Agony Aunt and Craigslist Asgardia, I figured it'd be relevant to ask here.

I'm looking to move from my welcome house digs, and I'd like some district recommendations. Not that Sigyn isn't the best district, because it is- [ she huffs on her fingernails, pretending to buff them on her tee like an asshole, because what's a little juvenile, friendly rivalry? ] -but I'd like something a little more my own. I'm not looking for anything upscale and pricey, just inexpensive, cost-effective, hopefully free of hipsters and spiders and shady types.

Anyone willing to lend a girl a hand?

[ The morning's fierce thunderstorm may have calmed, but the unnatural silence that has fallen over the city brings little peace. Even the white noise of the rain is constant and heavy enough to fade from Travelers' awareness; it is the sort of quiet that begs one to break it, that drags out each successive moment for longer and longer.

That night, Heimdall addresses the network. He holds himself more formally than usual, shoulders back and chin up, gaze level into the feed as if he's meeting every Traveler's eyes directly. There's an air of authority about him and quiet certainty in his voice when he speaks. It's not strange by any means, but it's different enough that those who have spoken to him prior will know something has happened -- something that will affect them all. ]

Good evening, Travelers. I do hope this reaches you in safety. Certainly, this storm is no mere weather, and its mainspring...

[ Heimdall breathes in and seems to make a decision. He will tell the Travelers more than his King would approve of, in the hopes of ensuring their support. There has been enough conflict recently, arguments and placation, things for which they can no longer spare the time or energy. ]

Odin is gone. Shielding Asgard from Yggdrasil's collapse has taxed our King profoundly, and he has fallen into a sleep from which he cannot be woken. I ask of your patience as we await his recovery, and through any changes his rest may bring. Thor, Prince-Regent and heir, will reign in his father's absence.

I'm certain many of you have questions. While I will endeavor to respond, please realize there is much to be done at the moment. Thank you for your cooperation in this difficult time.

[Alastair's hair is loose, and it is... rather long, actually. Almost down to his shoulders. He runs a hand through it and looks a little sheepish.]

I usually tie my hair back, so I guess I hadn't really grasped how long it's gotten until just now. Does anyone here have some skill cutting hair? It doesn't have to be much, just enough to keep it from getting too unruly, I suppose.

I can pay, if you like.

[ Contary to popular belief, not all of her reminders are sudsy faux pas at raising morale by glossing over the near-imminent end of days with errant chore routines and rehearsed domesticity for the sake of her team, but swapping one apocalypse for another version of the Armageddeon was enough to induce internal hemorrhaging on both accounts (granted, if a certain Assassin hadn't already beat them to the punch). Ascended Fridge Horror was an eternal trope in her line of business.

But Stillman remains composed in her attempt to infuse some vestige of credibility into her message. Professionalism didn't cut slack for even post-mortem workaholics. ]

Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Lucy. I'm a ... researcher. In light of everything that's occurred recently, I believe it's high time that I become acquainted with you all, if only to extend my support in our shared endeavors. I'll do what I can to help.

That being said: would anyone like self-defense lessons? I realize it's not that much to offer, but if anyone needs a sparring partner, I'm capable of handling firearms, blades, blunt weapons, and hand-to-hand combat. I wouldn't be against polishing my technique with your assistance, either. Payment isn't necessary, but I do have a preference for fixed appointments. Let me know if you're interested and we'll hammer out the rest of the details together. [ There's a nearly pedestrian, lilting pause as she invokes the real intent behind using the network system to contact the general public in the first place. ]

I understand that, for better or worse, we were chosen and forcibly brought to Asgard. But the extenuating reasons behind that decision — whether it's by chance or through ulterior motives — are completely beyond me. I take it some people have had quite a long stay here, and others, like myself, have only recently arrived, but it seems we all share an equal opportunity to leave. The thing is? It isn't on our terms. Only random selection at any given time of day.

I'm open to all possible theories you might have concerning any Traveler's sudden departure, however.

And while I'm at it, is there anyone out there who's returned to Asgard from their original world on more than one occassion? If so, I'd like to ask a few general questions about the experiences in each iteration. Nothing major. [ A beat. ]

Thank you for your time. I genuinely appreciate it.

[The recording starts with a soft clearing of her throat.]

I recognize that there are a number of... healers here, but I'd still like to introduce myself: I'm a doctor. Dr. Sung. It might not hold up a candle to some of the interesting things that I've seen so far, however-- I do have skills needed for first aide, when no one with these powers are around. That'll come in handy and I'm willing to teach it. I'd much rather people learn how to properly set breaks or deal with blood loss without magic of any kind just as much as with, for the sake of having all the bases covered.

[Dr. Sung pauses there, for a moment, but only a moment, before her tone softens:] Not just that, either. I'd like to be of help. In any way. That includes with personal things. I'm not sure how many of you are familiar with the term "therapy". I've been working as a psychiatrist as well for many years now. The offer's there, at least. Complete confidentiality. I'm not anyone's enemy.

That said: are there any other doctors here? That seems generic of me to ask, yes, bear with me-- I'd rather get in touch with as many as I can. [But considering she's a new face, she hopes that's understandable.] I'd like to get a better understanding of some other methods that might give me a better edge on keeping people healthy. It'd go a long way for me. Work generally gets my feet back under me.

Thank you, everyone, for your time.

[The video feed sits at an awkward angle when it starts up and focuses, catching Desmond's chest and the bottom half of his face, pallid and blue-lipped as if just in from time spent in a deep freeze. The scar on his mouth is split and oozing again when he talks urgently, shivering, an ugly red stain that's dripped down into his collar, marring the once-clean white of his robes. ]

W-We need help- Thia-Thi- [ It's difficult to speak, his tongue feels heavy and uncooperative, his voice hoarse from screams that had gone unheeded. He sways in the saddle, his vision swimming in a sea of darting red and black shapes, forcing himself to find words as he grits his reddened teeth. ]

Thiazi, she...she let us g-go we're...I think...Utgard, on the road back I-I-

[ We have to make it, have to-

There's a distinct 'whump!' off-camera, and he looks over to his right sharply, crying out painfully, anguished, ]

Shit, no!

[ The feed suddenly shakes with his movement, but things go pear-shaped when the video abruptly spin head over heels, cartwheeling a dizzying view of sky, road and horse, and the camera cuts out with another, closer thump. ]



(( OOC Notes:

Okay so a few things! Altaïr, Connor, Desmond and Ezio are back from getting their asses handed to them by Thiazi. There will be a subthread for their rescuers and 4-6 character limit on those who'd like riding to their aid, just to keep things manageable. Since that's capped, if your character would still like to come by in person to tell them just how incredibly stupid they were trying to sneak around Thiazi, there's also another subthread herein for them while they recover in hospital. \o/ Whew!

There will be a delay in IC bracelet replies because the boys need some game time to heal. Rest assured they'll get to all of them when they're reasonably able! ))

So t'save myself a thousand more questions streaming over th'Network, I'm gonna tell you lot what happened in as simple terms as possible.

[ Because hearing it asked over and over is starting to make her ill. ]

Thiazi happened. Somehow, she got her influence over everyone who stayed behind, givin' us nightmares and twisting our minds. The lot of us had these... fugue states, where bad things happened. Just little things. Property damage, mostly.

But there were a few of us-- they got it worse. Like full blown cancer to our spring fever. People were hurt, people died; natives and travelers.

I'm not givin' any names, so don't ask. Anyone who got it that bad's been cleansed of that Frost B-- ...Thiazi's influence.

And I'd eat the apples. They clear up any lingering effects for th'rest of us.

[Euri isn't in the greatest of moods. It's been several days since she's even been to her and Draco's shop thanks to being sick, and because Draco's been grey that means all the damage from the break-in has just been sitting there, unattended, for far too long.]

This is awful. Just - ugh! So annoying! And not just because so many of us got sick. Some of us have to pay for the damages done to our shops on top of that!

If I haven't made it clear, Asclepius got hit by that damn spy. Draco's - tied up, and I've been sick, so clean up hasn't even started yet. I'm not sure when the shop will be open again, but it's going to be a few more days at least.

[She huffs in annoyance, not at all prepared to deal with this after being sick.]

This is bullshit! None of this would've happened if we had killed the spy right away. The people who voted to imprison him should be paying to fix all the damage he did, including the profit loss any shops are having to deal with from being closed to clean up. It's only fair, after all!

[So… colors will form and overtake the grey if there’s enough social interaction, right? And supposedly, people can also strengthen their abilities…

Keeping that in mind, Gaara activates the bracelet. There’s something he doesn’t understand, anyway. Maybe he can get some answers to satisfy his curiosity.]

Since there is no established judicial system in this world, punishment was exacted by the people that captured him. In this case, killing the perpetrator was the most efficient method for ensuring the safety of the general public. He was a repeat offender, and refused to relent.

Why do so many of you oppose this decision?

Citizens of Asgard. I come bearing only grave news this day. What I believe to be a spy, lurking in our very midst.

[ The camera pans over to a bound and gagged individual that some may in fact recognize from the tail end of the Utgard excursion. ]

He has aroused the suspicions of many with his peculiar behavior. The natives themselves have been able to confirm he is not one of them, as he has tried claiming.

Presently, he can be found in the custody of myself and Sir Gwaine. I wish to seek the council of everyone before we reach the city proper as it is a matter which undeniably concerns the safety of us all.

But as for myself, I would vote for execution to follow his questioning. I have seen firsthand what may happen with prisoners during war. They conspire to escape and wreak further havoc, squandering mercy and endangering good men.

(ooc: edited in-character to clarify.

don't forget about the poll going on. if you've already voted but your character's opinion has been swayed in this post then simply update your vote!)

[ The first thing that one might notice is that the name attached to this video - ARYA STARK - does not belong to face pressed close to the camera. He is not wearing the bracelet, simply holding it with both hands, and seems to be a sturdy-looking man in his mid twenties.

He clears his throat. ]

I found this. In the park, I mean, it was under a tree- I know the gods give them to you, I know they're what keep you- we're supposed to give them to the guards, but if this is faster-

[ He reddens a little, apparently embarrassed; he had a point, didn't he? And that certainly wasn't it. ]

I mean, I'd like to give this back, and I think it belongs to someone named Stark. Also, hello, and - if I'm even using this right, I'm not really sure, this isn't the sort of technology that we- I mean, they use something like it in Utgard, but we've never really-

[ The native goes a little pinker. ]

This is my home, and-- thank you. All of you. Is what I'm trying to say, I guess. And I'm in the park, if someone wants to come retrieve this bracelet for whoever owns it.

[It's the Candle Cavern again, and here's Pyro with a message for you all. But this time, he doesn't look disdainful or angry - in fact, he looks somewhat uneasy, like he's standing on a precipice with toes curled around the edge and only one step away from changing everything.]

I know what you all think of me. I'm used to it.

[The beginning of a challenge? No, his voice softens to match his expression.]

But everyone faces a choice at least once in their lives where there's no other answer but doing the right thing. And yeah, even I can do that.

[And now he stares out earnestly, almost vulnerably.]

Euri... will you marry me?

[More out of character confessions! Is it another curse, or is this one for real? Break out the popcorn, folks. It'll be fun either way.]