[Altaïr is dressed in normal, 'modern' clothes when he appears, making a rare occasion of addressing his fellow Travelers directly. Because he isn't wearing a hood, it's that much easier to see the annoyed and slightly perplexed expression on his face.]

I would like to know what this is doing here.

[At that, the view tilts to show this statue from the mid-chest up.

It's actually a fairly good likeness.]

Is this a joke?

[No one said gifts from home had to be from the time Travelers came from.]

[ The morning of day 505, a message from the gods is broadcast over the network: ]

Greetings, Travelers.

Some of you may know already that there was a breach of the castle barrier. We apprehended an individual using Thiazi's magic to attempt assassination of the Queen, and have confirmed that he is Thiazi's informant inside Asgard. This man has been actively assisting her in making attacks on the city as well as misleading our own intelligence efforts.

[ Heimdall is understandably quite cross at this. He gestures offscreen and the feed shifts from Heimdall to a wider shot of the room, where there is a man being held in place between Thor and Loki, who also look quite cross. ]

His name is Satan and he pleads innocence by corruption -- that all he has done while sabotaging Asgard was Thiazi's influence. While he lives we cannot tell his intent, only that he is indeed the perpetrator.

Since he is one among you, we leave his judgment in your hands. What would you have us do with the traitor?


(( The poll is to be filled out ICly and once per character! This will decide Satan's fate. Please feel free to threadjack at will to discuss the trial! ))

[Haytham sighs as he works on getting used to this new technology. It really is quite baffling, even after having posted with it once or twice before. Really, wouldn't a simple letter on paper suffice? An in person meeting? Alas, it looks like this is the norm so he supposes he will have to just adjust to it and begins to speak in that high class British accent of his.]

Ah. There we are.

[He nods, looking thoroughly pleased with himself, smiling a bit as he lets satisfaction wash over him.]

Now that I have this confounded contraption working for me, I believe that it is time for a proper discussion regarding certain aspects of this apparent war that we are facing. After all, I do believe I am at a bit of a disadvantage with my lack of knowledge which could hardly be considered fair play. I have some details but not nearly enough to satisfy my curiosity.

[Then he frowns just a bit.]

Also, knowledge on where to get a decent cup of tea in this crisis would be most welcome. Assuming no one decided to dump it into the water. [He gives a wry smile at his own joke before finishing off with...]

I'd also be curious to know what my son, Connor, is up to of late. Should you fail to be aware of who he is, one need only look for a man very much like a bear with a baffled or vexed expression fixed to his face. [A little bit of a smirk appears as he continues.] Or you could tell me yourself now that you have had some time since your return from your rather warm mission, Connor. I do believe you have had enough time to recover, yes?

Thank you and have a pleasant day.

[He tips his hat then signs off.]

[ooc: Haytham finally makes his presence known! He's been looking around a bit and arrived during Mission Volcano. So now he thinks it's time to say hi now that things are settled. Best dad or best dad?]

Before you start complaining, [ said with a Look, because he knows some of you probably already have ], let me set things straight.

This is not a punishment. I've been content to let you guys roam about and track mud through my house like misbehaving toddlers since Day One, and I'd be content to continue doing so until our business is done here. But isn't, and we don't have time to dick around anymore.

Thiazi's attack wasn't random. It was desperate and sloppy, which means one thing: she knows we're coming for her.

[ He wants to be viciously pleased with the idea of her panicking, but he is nothing close to amused right now. ]

The only way she could know that is if someone on the inside told her. We don't know who, and we don't know how, but we can't afford that kind of liability. These laws are in place to protect you. We can't fight a war on both sides of the wall.

Be vigilant. Look after each other. It's going to be down to you to keep each other safe.

[ A pause, a blink. The ever eternal silent sigh. ]

You have questions. Ask.

[ OOC NOTES: This is the official kickoff for the new martial law! Ask your IC questions here, and let us know if you want any god in specific, as they'll be hanging around this post. The log for weapons registration, rationing, and Red Scare flavoured shenanigans is over here. Let us know if you have any questions! ]

[There's something different about Hal today. For one thing, he's actually showing his face on the network. For another... well, anyone who's actually met Hal will notice he's markedly disheveled compared to usual. Even stranger, he doesn't seem particularly bothered by it. Instead he almost seems relaxed.]

Would anyone like a pet? Specifically, a dog or an armadillo. Bonus points if you take both.

[ When the video opens up, Jade just pushes a cute if crudely made doll toward the camera. It has a shock of messy black hair and folded bits of white that seem to represent ears. She's grinning from ear to ear (just like the doll is!) as she pulls it back. ]

Did anyone else get a doll at their door? I got this and, um, some flowers and some cards that were really, really cute.

[ It was, apparently, enough to lighten her mood pretty considerably. ]

Anyway! I need to stop hoarding so many guns, because I had a million and then Roxy left me a million, and two million guns is just way too many for one girl to have. If you need a weapon and can promise me that you won't shoot yourself in the face, please let me know!

Alternatively: if you need help figuring out how to not shoot yourself in the face, I am also the girl to see about that.

[PRIVATE to Sophie:]

So, um, hehe. About Osiris.

[The feed shows Castle laying on his bed, looking half-asleep or maybe just bored. He could probably be doing something productive, something that could benefit the war effort in some way, but would rather ask the population at large a question.]

Hey, Asgard - What's your favorite book?

[He's not doing research of any kind, just purely curious. But if anyone asks, this is somehow related to the Welcoming Committee. Don't worry, he'll make it work.]

[Riley’s giggling can be heard even if her face can’t be seen. It seems she’s currently sneaking through Needle in a Haystack to where there are a bunch of voices. With a snort, the giggling stops as she aims the view around the corner to show…

A bunch of shirtless Assassins in various stages of irritation over the fact. It’s so funny to her that she has to share this with the world.]

( [Six Assassins learn they're shirtless below cut] )

They just disappear? Nothing will stay on any of us?

[An Italian accent chimes in, and Ezio turns his head towards the group, back to the camera, and actually trying not to smile. Okay, so in between all of this war, it’s funny to him, despite the irritation he may feel.]

I have only tried once- and as much as I wish to see if it would work, I am not certain I wish to sacrifice more of my clothes if Asgard demands we remain this way.

[A second equally Italian accent chimes in, far less entertained sounding.]

Is this a regular occurrence in this city then? People’s decency revoked for… amusement?

Come now, padre, you make it sound as if we are treated like barbarians. [Ezio can’t really hide the smile he’s wearing. Oops.] I do not mind the attention so much.

Your madre will have me up by my thumbs for parading about in public!

So will my wife. [Altaïr hesitates, as if he’s not really sure.] Most likely.

[ In the midst of the Assassins' kerfuffle, Desmond hurries in from the summer heat, equally shirtless and equally vexed. ]

Does anyone have a spare- oh.

[ If he wasn't bewildered before... ] Really?

[ It seems like Natasha is always last to know these things - but it was really inconvenient, to be honest. She’d been at work at the bar when her shirt had suddenly decided to take a vacation to god-knows-where. Now she’s come to join the cavalcade, hands propped on her hips once she spots the predicament of everyone else. Her bra has decided to stick around for the party, at least so far. ]

I liked that shirt. And I liked the rest of you with shirts, no matter how .. interesting .. the view. [ She sighs slightly, not ashamed of being sans-shirt but definitely very far from pleased. What’s next? Their pants? ]

[Connor wanders by Riley’s hiding spot about that point, utterly unruffled by his current state. He pauses briefly and glances in her direction.] Good morning, Riley. [And moves on with his day. These boxes won’t unload themselves!]

[Immediately everything falls silent as everyone but Connor turns to look at the Novice Assassin with looks that say she had better run.]

You should be impressed I was here this long without you noticing? She does look better than all of the rest of you though.

[That doesn't help the problem and she bursts out laughing as the angle changes to show Riley laughing her ass off as she runs as fast as she can because she is in SO MUCH TROUBLE.]

FUCKING WORTH IT!

[ooc: Welcome to the shirtless curse brought to you by Altaïr, Giovanni, Ezio, Desmond, Natasha, and Connor. It's an Assassin shirtless party! Well, most of the Assassins. Riley, for example, did not get hit and made the most of it.

Network responses very welcome but there will be an open thread for people to visit Needle in a Haystack if they want to see all the shirtless Assassins in person! Enjoy!]

Good morning, Asgard.

[ It's a joke, see? Because he's been asleep for fifty days, just recently woken to dreams of the Mother burning and the whispers of the inevitable end. Odin's a clever one, pale and worn as he looks in his customary sharp suit. ]

It's a relief, if not a surprise, to see most of my city still standing. You've done well beside my son, and for that, you have my gratitude.

[ Such a proud Allpapa. But that's as lighthearted as this address gets. Buckle in, kiddos. ]

But I'm not here to waste time with formalities today. No more beating around the bush. No jokes, no tricks, no clever riddles. No more bullshit.

This is the end. I heard Her whispers while I slept, and I have Seen it as you all did last night. You shouldn't need me to tell you that this is a reality anymore. This is the end.

You have a choice. You weren't brought here to be our soldiers and fight as our army, but we can't afford to keep Asgard half in the battlefield and half behind closed doors for your comfort anymore. Still, we promised that we would never force your hand, so - a choice.

We don't have enough control over the spell that binds you here to pick and choose for this, it's all or nothing. If you want to stay and fight this war, we'll start the process of gearing this kingdom for its true purpose. But if you want to leave, to go home and be with what's left of your homes for whatever time remains, we'll shut the doors and see what the Fates decide for us.

[ A pause, as he considers. ]

I don't have a rousing speech for you. It's not my thing; you can talk to my colleagues if you need a group hug. But - I will say one thing.

We accepted the title of "god" not because we are all-seeing, all-powerful beings. You already know that we aren't. It's just a word given value by those that speak it, as is the nature of language. This is called the "Holy City" because it was created as a refuge for the lost beings that would've been left to die outside our walls. We are called "gods" because our citizens believe in us as their higher power for protection and guidance where otherwise there is none.

We're children of faith. And where Ragnarok has been set in stone since the beginning of time, we've pushed back against it because we have faith. You are the byproduct of that; we did the impossible to fight inevitability, and you are the proof of that. Which is to say -

[ An amused, tired shrug. ]

- who knows what the Hell we can do next?

[ Just before signing off, he'll add one more thing with a ping to Jo Harvelle and The Fourth Doctor in specific. ]

I want to speak with those of you that left the city recently. You know who you are.

[ OOC NOTES: Yay, Odin's awake again! This is the IC conclusion to May's events, and the IC discussion that will bring us into Arc 5. As was already decided in December via player poll, the city will be militarising to amount a counterattack against the Giants. This post is to discuss all that! The OOC rundown of what happens next is over here. Feel free to ask questions and let us know if you'd like a specific god to pop into any of your threads, as we'll all be hanging about! ]

[ Heya, Asgard. Desmond here has been part of the recent disappearances, unaware of the time that has passed between his departure and his return. Judging by his surroundings, he's just been given the boot by the castle maids, his expression tense. Small wonder why. It's a mite chilly for May, and he's clearly without a shirt.

Or much else, though he's not letting the camera drop to display any of that for public consumption. Banding in the stushes seems like a good plan for now, yes. ]

If this is someone's idea of a joke, no offense, but your sense of humor could use some work. If there's anyone up now that could lend a guy some pants, I'd be eternally grateful and in your debt et cetera et cetera.

[What had started out as any ordinary day swiftly becomes anything but for Maria, who upon walking out to get groceries this morning had suddenly felt a peculiar sense of light-headedness that had lasted no longer than a minute.

And just like that, the last five years of her life might as well have never happened as far as she’s concerned.

So after wandering around looking lost and befuddled and feeling thoroughly put out, Maria’s been shown how to use a bracelet and the result?

One scowling lady who appears to be grossly inconvenienced by all of this is now gracing the network. Hi Asgard.]

I know not how this sorcery has gone undetected and unpunished and frankly I do not care. All this nonsense about the end of the world is foolishness. I will pay handsomely any soul who can furnish me with a blade and provide passage to Acre or any other port that sails ships to Cyprus. Time is of the essence, I cannot afford to tarry here.

[And then she plucks at the fabric of her sweater, looking displeased.]

And I want my clothes back. I don’t know how you managed to substitute them for these ludicrous rags but I will be needing my cloak.




[ooc: Maria has been cursed to how she as in 1191. She’s disgraced, been abandoned by the Templar order and is out of favour with the new grand master. As such, she is extremely upset and beginning to feel a little hopeless... and somewhat hostile towards certain hooded sorts. Feel free to answer by video or action!]

[Sam hasn't posted on the network in awhile -- a month and a half, to be precise -- mostly because he's been busy. He's moved, he's working a lot, he's been dealing with his own... particular brand of issues.

But Asgard is having difficulty. Odin is in a coma and while Sam might hate the annoying pretentious prick, that's most definitely not a good sign. And while before Sam couldn't rationalize in his head that the end of this world meant the end of others -- now, it's a possibility, something he can't ignore.

He wants to stay here. He wants to stay, badly.

To do that, Sam needs to reach out and touch base on his resources.]

Hi, Asgard.

[He makes this speech too often, but it's gotten him a lot of good friends out of the deal. Information is pretty priceless, after all.]

I'm Sam Winchester. Some of you might've been given my guide to the gods upon arrival, so -- if you have any questions concerning this world, the powers you've been given, or what's happened here so far, you can ask me.

[He pauses.]

I usually don't ask for things in return, but -- how are the state of your worlds, at home, before you came here? Good, bad? Spectacularly awful? On the brink of collapse or the height of prosperity? I'm just... wondering.

[Another pause.]

-- thanks.

( [Filtered to list Kate Beckett, Jo Harvelle, Dean Winchester, Castiel, Buffy Summers, Merlin, and Morgana Pendragon // Private // Unhackable] )

( [Filtered to Thor // Private // Unhackable] )

[ 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 feed is distorted again, but anyone who has seen Thiazi before will recognize the Queen of the Frost Giants immediately. She is elegantly composed, but makes no attempt to hide the glint of cold satisfaction in her eyes.

She is back to gloat. Again. ]

Again and again, I warn you of the futility of this war. Again and again, I promise agony to those who dare work against me.

[ She leans forward, lip curling up in a cruel sneer. The video flickers, distorts, before righting itself again. ]

The fool Odin has fallen, and his kingdom shall not be long behind it. When I shred your souls to nothing, remember that-

[ And the video distorts again, before flaring with static and a sudden over-saturation of colors. Thiazi stops mid-sentence, simply because she is abruptly unable to make sound, unable to breathe as the impression of fingers appear wrapped around her pale throat. She claws silently at the formless handprints as a shrill, loud feedback tears through the feed, shrill and sharp, borderline painful to anyone who might hear it. ]

Get out. Get out. I'll kill you, get OUT-

[ It is the god Loki's voice that warbles through the distortion of the feed as he fights back against her clumsy intrusion into the magic of his network. It repeats, over and over, layering on itself as it increases in volume and intensity.

Thiazi's mouth opens in a wordless hiss, before she slams her fist down against the bracelet. There is another loud scream of magical feedback coupled with the briefest of sounds of something shattering, before the feed goes completely dead. ]

[ OOC: Thiazi and Loki will not be answering comments in this post, but please feel free to leave reactions here or to tag each other if your characters would be so inclined. ]

[ 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.

[Anonymous Video]

[The feed begins, and there isn't a soul in sight. Rather, it appears to be someone's room, but given that there is a bright pink cloth spread over the bedding that certainly doesn't match up with Freya's House colors, it would be difficult to determine anything from that.

However, the bedspread isn't the real eye catcher; in the middle of this is an ancient journal, and it's on these pages that the camera zooms. Much of the text is blacked out, but certain phrases and words do stand out.]

████████████ series of tall mountains and deep canyon near the kingdom of Svartalfheim.

Unfortunately, the Earth Giants no longer exist within that place - or indeed, anywhere in Yggdrasil. ███████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████ the fall of Laufey █████████████████████████████████ the end of the Earth Giants. What choice did we have? █████████████ was unnatural. ██████████████████████████ wrong.

There was no other option. We had to abandon the survivors. ████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████

[After focusing on this page for a good few minutes - plenty enough time to read through what text is visible - the feed will end only to be followed shortly by...]

[Anonymous Text]

I received something interesting over the holidays. It's a pity that little battle took up so much time, but now that we have done our part, I thought it would be a good time to bring this up.

It seems the gods haven't been entirely transparent with us, now have they? Based on the other books found in the library, this is most likely referring to someplace called Ginnungagap. You can look it up if you want, but good luck. The gods have blacked out anything important. Or at least... most of what was important.

I can't be the only one curious about this, can I?

[There's a video that emerges, early in the morning, before the sun even rises. At first, the feed shows nothing but black, but then there's the sound of something heavy dropping to the ground. It takes a moment, but the ambient light of the surroundings finally catches sight of an anonymous Asgardian, grey, bound, and swiftly pressed down by a boot to the chest.]

... Asgard, no matter what incarnation I find you in, you prove as inconsequential and worthless as ever. [There is no rush to his statement, each word is said with weight and purpose, and to say Malekith speaks with distaste - it would be a severe understatement.]

You drag me from the edges of Hel, and for what farce? Giants? Again you prove yourselves too shortsighted to realize what danger lies at your very door. [He reinforces his stance as his captive gives a struggle, and as Malekith continues, the sneer can almost be heard in his voice. And though he has made no point of turning the camera upon himself, and clearly will not be doing so, the name tag associated to this clip announces him, overriding any title he ascribed to himself in conversation during the previous days. He is not Malekith of Svartalfheim nor Malekith the Sorcerer.]

The darkness has come to fall upon your realm, Asgardians, and you have only yourselves to blame.

[This is Malekith the Accursed, and he is calling out any who would stand against him.]