alright asgard. long time, no see. hear you've been a bit down lately. no problem. i've got something to lift your spirits.

unfortunately i've a bit of a shopping list i've gotta take care of before it can. if you've got any of this stuff, i'm willing to cough up the cash. in the end, considering you're of age, it'll benefit me and you both.

-corn or corn meal
-yeast
-sugar
-copper tubing

[ You're not subtle, Ash. ]

[ Private to Jo ]
i'm gonna need some money.

[ 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! ))

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! ]

Hate to be that guy who goes and adds to the list, but... Well. There's no one left to say it but me, is there?

[ he sighs, a dog can be heard barking in the background. ] ...It's Buffy. She's-- you know. [ helpless shrugging, face-scrubbing. he doesn't know what to do now, but it's clear on the feed that he's been crying. ]

Jo Harvelle? She, uh. There's a letter here. So--

I guess that's it.

[ --zoop. then about an hour later the feed comes back. ]

Buff--she. She used to do some training, down at the Arena? Figure, um. I figure I could make myself bloody useful for once and fill that slot.

So if anyone's interested... yeah.

[ and gone. ]

[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] )

[This isn't going to be long, as Castiel is distracted, but...]

I believe this may be an opportune time to mention that I have potions available which eliminate hangover symptoms.

[That's how he's up and running around after how much he drank the night before, after all.]

[[ooc: I am finally getting Cas' shop up and going! An open log is up here, but feel free to reply or offline on this post if you want. c: The shop's page is also mostly finished!]]

It would seem that a majority of you have no idea how to properly address a King. I'm not sure if you were all raised in the wilds or if you're just willfully ignorant, but the correct way to refer to me is as Your Grace.

[He's still wearing his crown, even if almost no one here has actually cared about it so far. He's not going to stop dressing like a king just because people aren't treating him like one.]

Now that that's out of the way, I have a request: Could anyone tell me where I could obtain a sword? And a...'gun', it was called. I'm afraid I won't be of much help in the war effort without them.

[As if that's his primary reason for requesting these, but he'll pretend it is.]

Any aid provided will be rewarded in time. I don't forget my allies.

[This month has been a steaming sack of shit for Sam Winchester and it's beginning to show -- he's pale, has bags underneath his eyes, and looks like he hasn't slept in days. His home is intact, but he knows some other buildings in Asgard aren't, and Sam is beginning to develop a powerful migraine right in the base of his skull that he wants to attempt removing with a hacksaw.

Normally, Sam has a lot of patience for this kind of stuff -- panic and disarray is kind of the Winchesters' deal. But right now all Sam wants to do is lock his door and ignore everyone plus their mother, because right now, the closest people to him have done nothing but lie to his face about how everything is fine and dandy when in reality, Sam is falling apart at the seams.

Still, Sam has a point to prove -- and when he speaks, it's careful and calm, though a far cry from the normal gentle tone he carries when speaking to the panicked population of Asgard during times like these. He's overtired to the point of blind exhaustion and certainly doesn't have the strength to go around saving babies from burning buildings, but even though his entire life has crumbled to pieces, he's still a hunter.

People still need saving.]

Everyone who's injured needs to head the hospital -- and the able-bodied need to rally together and try to get to the people trapped in the collapsed buildings. The Citadel is a good place to get together, I think -- how about anyone willing to help out meet there? Bring water. The healers don't need to deal with heat stroke on top of everything else.

[Sam pauses for a few moments before drawing in a steady breath, releasing it slowly.]

Stay safe.

( [Filtered to Team Merlinatural // Private // Unhackable] )

[ The feed opens up as video, to begin with. Of course, neither Buffy nor Giles can actually speak. The whole city is affected by this. But, luckily for the city, this is something these two Sunnydale natives have seen, dealt with, and destroyed before. Buffy already has an incredibly impatient and exasperated sort of worry written all over her face, lines therefrom aging her far beyond what her actual age is.

Giles is focused, all business-- he’s fumbling with a pen and paper, frowning, eyes away from the camera. When he looks up, he’s scrawled a message with a poorly-drawn monster very seriously drawn in beside it.

THESE MONSTERS ARE CALLED THE GENTLEMEN

Buffy’s shoulders rise and fall similar to a sigh, and she taps Giles on the shoulder before yoinking the pen away from him and scribbling something else.

AND THEY WANT TO MAKE YOU VERY, VERY DEAD

She’s not sorry for interrupting though she expects she’ll be scolded for it later.

Giles just watches as she writes, impatient behind the glasses, and takes up his paper again: THEY NEED SEVEN HEARTS -- complete with little Valentine’s-cute hearts jotted below the words, to make it really clear.

THEY COME AT NIGHT -- Giles taps these words for emphasis, raising his eyebrows at the camera like he’s trying to hold someone’s attention. This is a warning: nightfall isn’t safe. If his words didn’t make it obvious enough, the emphatic gestures Buffy makes in the background, like pretending to knock on a door, then opening it, then making an ‘x’ over her chest followed by what appears to be the ripping out of her own heart, ought to help.

Giles taps his throat, now, as he holds up the next line: A HUMAN SCREAM CAN KILL THEM Buffy snatches the paper away and scribbles ONLY in front of "a human scream".


THEY STEAL VOICES -- Giles is drawing again, another wonky Gentleman-doodle with a small cube in its hands -- AND LOCK THEM IN A BOX

Buffy, again, impatiently takes the paper and scritches a doodle of a wooden box that looks like what an older music box casing might look like. Or a jewelry box. It’s small, rectangular, and simple. Something not indicative of evil.

FIND IT AND DESTROY IT

Buffy makes a fist and smashes it into the flat of her other palm. Then she takes the paper and pen again and scrawls one last message.]

DO NOT ANSWER THE DOOR FOR ANYONE
DO NOT GO OUT AFTER DARK
DO NOT ATTEMPT TO FIGHT THEM
ONLY LOOK FOR THE BOX IN THE DAYTIME
AND STAY ALIVE.

[ Then the feed ends. ]

Hey, so I got this from home a while ago.

[ Outside in Freya's district, Scott shows a shot of his bike using the bracelet's camera. ]

I got it back when those apples were everywhere. I'm calling it Kermit. [ Because it has to have a name and it's really green. ] You know, like the frog? [ It's cute, okay? Shut up. ]

Anyway, because it's from my future, I don't know how to ride it. [ Yet. ] And my best friend is worried I'm gonna break a load of bones teaching myself, so I'd really appreciate if someone with motorcycle experience could help me out? Give me some pointers? [ Teach him how to not crash and burn, basically. ]

Does anyone else have a motorcycle here? Maybe we could start our own club. [ Scott McCall's motorcycle club. That would be hilarious. ]

[Hello Asgard, there is a familiar--to some--face on the network, which hasn’t been seen in awhile. Castiel is back from being grey, and he’s never taking off his bracelet again.

Okay, he totally will, but not without good reason.

Being grey hadn’t been bad, really, as he didn’t remember much of it, but that itself isn’t pleasant, and so he’s a bit displeased with life. Not to mention he’s been gone for a few weeks, and he’s certain that a great deal has happened in his absence.]

It seems we have been gone for some time.

[At least his voice is back, though it’s quiet and serious as he speaks.]

I am certain we have missed something of import. Is everyone accounted for? What happened?

[Where are their friends; are they still here, or have they gone?

Both of which are good questions, save for the fact that when Daphne appears on the screen, it doesn’t look like she was a willing active participant in the making of this film. Her hair is slightly messy and she looks sleepy, dressed in an overlarge shirt that hangs off of her shoulders a little. She hears Castiel speaking more than notices the recording and promptly drapes herself over his shoulders, kissing his jaw lazily.]

You should come back to bed.

[It’s said in a rather informative, but sleepy tone, and she rests against his back with her arms still loosely curled around his neck.

Castiel frowns back at her, not because he dislikes the attention but because he is doing something important. Also because he doesn’t like being affectionate in public.]

Daphne, this is not the time.

You’re the one who turned on the camera, not me. Now let’s see…

[She reaches out with a hand to adjust Castiel’s bracelet, smiling peacefully at the recorder from her position on her husband’s shoulder.]

Hello, Asgard. As you can see, we’re back -- and if you need emergency healing, please go to the Sigyn hospital. If the hospital needs us, then we’ll be called. Sam, Dean, and Jo can come by to visit in an hour, along with Arthur and Morgana and the rest -- but until then, we’re unavailable.

[And Daphne presses her lips against Castiel’s neck before inching her fingers toward the bracelet.]

Satisfied?

[And the feed clicks off as soon as Daphne finds the button on her husband’s bracelet.]

[ I'm sorry, Asgard. I know you're in the middle of something incredibly serious right now, but Ash has only just woken up from his week-long nap. He has no idea what's going on. In fact, he doesn't even seem to realize that his communicator is on and filming him as he stirs from the pool table in the Roadhouse and cracks his back with a grunt.

Let's take a look at our sleeping beauty: His glorious mullet has been dyed rainbow colors, a Freddie Merrcury 'stache has been drawn in sharpie on his lip, and someone's put some very stylish aviators on him. The vision of loveliness. As he sits up and grabs for his communicator, he finally sees himself. ]

Oh, man. Talk about the rockstar look. [ Flashing a quick, exhausted sign of the horns 4 u all right here. ] Must've been out of it. Pretty cool look, though. Might keep it for awhile.

So, catch me up, Asgard. Give me deaths, invasions, arrivals, who won the Super Bowl. Anything you've got, Dr. Badass is here to listen.

[There's a face that might be familiar to some people appearing onscreen. It looks a little less perky than it usually does and seems to be needing a moment before actually speaking.]

Hey. I don't know what happened, but I could swear I'd gone home for a while. But I'm back here again and... yeah.

I guess a few people missed me, judging by the messages waiting for me. I'll get to those in a bit, but I thought I'd let everyone know I'm back. Scott... I guess I'll see you when you've got some time. I hope things have been quiet and I have no idea how long I've been gone, so any heads up on that would be appreciated.

[So the practical jokes are all in good fun, and Sam is a fan of laughing. But Sam is not really a fan of gods playing tricks on other people, because you know what?

Gabriel is a fucking asshole, that's what.

So instead of taking part, Sam is stoutly refusing to be affected through being a stubborn asshole and is instead being a do-good spoilsport, because that is what Sam does best.]

You know, the last time I was on the receiving end of a practical joke, I was put into daytime television hell where I was forced to be in a sitcom, a Japanese gameshow, a hospital drama, and a genital herpes commercial.

[There is a slight pause.]

Anyone who tries to do anything to me, harmless or otherwise, should remember that I have guns and I know how to use them.

[Don't touch his shit, losers. :') But on a more serious note:]

I collected data on the spirits that attacked recently -- but I'd appreciate anyone else's experiences to add to what I saw personally.

[And the feed ends.]

[The video feeds starts up, showing a girl with electric blue eyes, freckles across her nose and black hair. She's muttering something, as if not aware that the bracelet is now on.]

As if I don’t have enough to do… I still need to talk with Annabeth and let her know what has happened, and rendezvous with Jason… Nor can I reach any of the Hunters…

[So…

But her eyes flicker down, and her brow furrows. She appears determined and annoyed as she gives what can only be described as an evil glare to the thing she is holding, and when she finally speaks, her voice holds her impatience.]

What now? Is this your idea of a joke, Hera? Some sort of revenge? [Mumbling.] You really are a loose cannon. But all this stuff about Norse Gods...

[Her eyes narrow. Then again, it doesn’t really seem like something Hera would do. Doesn’t mean Thalia is going to sing the goddess any praises or even like her any more so than usual- which was zilch.]

Listen. I’m not sure if this is some joke, or if something has happened again… But I need to know where I am and what’s going on. The real story. And for any listening, this is Thalia. Can any other Hunters hear me? I need you to check in as soon as possible.