Good afternoon, Asgard. This is Minato Arisato of the City Patrol, and of the Emergency Response Team.

Given recent events, from now on, should anyone wish to join the City Patrol, we will require a background check. We'll need to know your history as well as your reasons for why you wish to join us. And to make sure that you're not lying, we'll have Officer Adachi around to double-check. [Because relying on a telepath like him is the best, right?]


That should be all. If you have any further questions, don't hesitate to contact us. Remember to follow the curfew and practice the drills. Have a good day. [His shadow seems to cheerfully wave good-bye as he cuts the video.]

[ 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! ))

[There's a war on. Really there is. It's just, at this particular moment, Quentin and Felix a choosing to ignore this fact. The camera flickers on, focuses on Felix, with him in frame enough that it's obviously deliberate. He is stretched out on the grass, pen and paper in hand.

Quentin, the one doing the filming, speaks for the camera.]

The amazing Felix Dawkins, ladies and gentlemen of Asgard. Draw us another one, Fe.

[There's something light in his voice, laughter on the tip of his tongue. Yes, there's a war on, but sometimes what you need to do is get baked in a public park with a friend and screw around with magical powers.]

Do we have any requests?

[He's too old hat at this to giggle, but man is he close.]

It is dreadfully hard to welcome people when they seem to be disappearing.

( the woman staring at the camera doesn't really appear to be the welcoming sort, anyway. at least irene has managed to look like a ghost of her old self, having procured makeup, some nicer clothing, and a few good nights sleep. not that it matters to anyone here. they don't know her anyway. )

I'm not suited to combat, ( at least, not of any sort that would be helpful in the war ) so welcoming others seemed the logical choice. However, I am at a bit of a loss as to what to say.

( she smirks slightly. )

'Hello, welcome to Asgard, where you'll be forced to fight in a war for your very survival'.. doesn't quite have a nice ring to it, does it?

So with shit getting serious, are we still going to have the same old with dying? We all still come back?

[He's bitter, angry, scared, a glass or two into his cups and generally not fucking having it today. He's on his couch at home, feet propped up, glass of something amber in hand now.]

Who else here has been to the underworld? I have- and I have no intention of joining the souls down there.

Though I guess that bears the question, what's the afterlife like back home for you?

[Roland glances up and around at the buildings and alleyways nearest before frowning into the camera, and continues to glance around every few moments as he speaks. There's no time to waste on niceties like introductions, so he doesn't. If you haven't met him, feel free to save your hellos for some other time.]

If you need an escort out of your district to somewhere safe, leave me your location and I'll be there as soon as I can.

All others, I need your knowledge of Asgard. All ancient cities have their safe rooms, secret places. But I don't know this city well enough to know them. If you've found any places that would withstand this, or seen any maps with those old secret places on them, I'd ask you share it. Children and any who can't defend themselves will need some place to go, should this spread. Until then, Hemidall House is open to any who need a safer bed.

[He looks up, off-camera, then gives a distracted nod at the bracelet and cuts the feed off. Does he care that residents of Hemidall might protest at having their beds volunteered away from them? No, he does not. Needs must. Tough luck, guys.]

[ The feed opens onto the brilliant sun-yellow and cerulean-blue feathers of a macaw parrot. It stares into the feed, bobs its head a couple times, then squawks out: ]

Aye, aye sir! Any port in a storm!

[ Not too far behind the bird sits a certain Captain Jack Sparrow; they're both at a picnic bench, outside somewhere, the sun shining down from behind the clouds overhead. ]

Move, damn you! Shoo! Shoo!

[ Jack waves his hands, trying to scare it off. The bird flaps its wings, shuffles on its feet, but doesn't leave. Instead, it shakes its head and says: ]

Mum's the word!

[ And squawks again. The macaw dodges the pirate's next swipes, galloping a couple inches out of reach atop the table, then tilts its head sideways to stare at him. The pirate huffs at it, then scoots over so that the video is centered more on himself. He leans forward conspiratorially, as if to not include the bird in the conversation, both hands lifted to emphasize. ]

As I see it, and while I do appreciate any sort of well-intended indemnification for this involuntary sabbatical, I can name meself [ -- and well, mid-sentence, Jack will suddenly start to speak exactly like Miss Elizabeth Swann, prim-and-proper girl-voice and all -- ] quite a few things that would be more appropriate than a [ -- OOPS. Jack's eyes flash wide, and the pirate promptly makes this face in utter confusion.

There's a sudden blur of gold and blue and brown, then, and suddenly Jack is hatless as well. He springs up to his feet in the same instant and shouts: ]

HEY!

[ still, of course, entirely in Elizabeth's voice. But the bird has already made its escape up the branch of the nearest tree, Jack's hat in tow. The pirate curls a fist against his mouth, glancing quickly between the bird and the feed, then reaches over to switch off. ]

((OOC: Meet Mr. Cotton's Parrot, the nautical-catch-phrase-speaking parrot! Also, Jack stole stuff he shouldn't have, and so has been cursed with Elizabeth's voice and speech patterns.  Backdated to Day 418 because work and yes.))

[It was only a matter of time before Quentin finally cracked. Initially, his frustration at this place and the frankly fucked up Circumstances had kept him a little too irate and resentful to truly begin looking in to the local magic. He likes the system back home, he's good at it, and the fact that the substance of this place doesn't want to bend under his fingertips says more about it than it does about him, in his not-so-humble opinion.

But stop learning magic?]

So.

[Not an option. His fingers itch idly through the air as he regards the camera, like if he catches the world at just the right moment it will bend for him, the magic will come.]

Who's looked at these runes they have locally? What have we got in terms of comprehensive resources there, if anything? Let's do this.

[Because if there is anything like what he left at home available, he is going to learn it from the ground up.]