IC: EVENT

[bossman]

A TERRIBLE THING IS HAPPENING

reference books detailing myths and legends stolen from libraries...
wikipedia pages wiped clean from the face of the internet...
ancient stained glass windows smashed and destroyed...
historical research centers burnt to the ground...

Someone out there is trying very, very hard to erase all of the possible sources of power and belief of the ancient gods and goddesses. And it hurts. Whilst the powers of the minders are unharmed by the attacks, the gods and goddesses will be certainly feeling the toll: it's now painfully clear that even the simplest of miracles are now becoming almost impossible to perform.

deities, you had better have gifted your minders with some decent blessings! Because now you're going to rely on them more than ever. Someone is out to get you.

Comments

EMAIL sent to all greco-roman deities & minders

[bossman]

TO: [group: family]
CC: [group: masters] [group; minders]

SUBJECT: briefing

All,

According to reports there's just a fucking huge pile of ashes and not much else in the 292 area of the British Library - the Greek & Roman mythology section, for the idiots amongst us. I haven't heard about any other myths sections but it's pretty damn worrying for obvious reasons (someone get in contact with those Norse bastards and tell Odin if this is a trick from one of his boys I'll have his other eye). The first to figure out why it happened and who did it gets first whack at punishing the culprit. Can't say fairer than that.

Z.

[epicenter]

TO: [group: family]
CC: [group: masters] [group: minders]

SUBJECT: re: briefing

What the fuck

RAIDS to archives, churches, and all storage facilities of judeo-christian materials

[exinferis]

Comment Posted Successfully
(for all demons, angels, minders & apprentices)

After the fires in the British Library the police force was deployed to contain the scene. Of course, there were people inside the police force - inside the special forces - who went out of the way to preserve the popular religions. The ones with a large base of worship.

Eden was heading an archival seize of assets. All the books; hymnals, scriptures, stories and even paintings were being taken into police custody. Something about suspecting a large gang using the bible as a code of some sort for communication.

As a result, many churches and cathedrals were being monitored by police. But they could only be spread so thin before people would start to suspect something was wrong. Or that they couldn't take care of crimes against mortals.

Unfortunately, the glass-work and tapestries couldn't be taken. Necessary losses but Eden swore if she even saw someone who looked suspicious she'd light them up like a damn firework.

As she walks the shelves of their latest archive raid, she mutters a prayer for her angel.

"Oh holy Saint Uriel, intercede for us that our hearts may burn with the fire of the Sacred Heart of Jesus.
Assist us in co-operating with the graces of our confirmation that the gifts of the Holy Spirit may bear much fruit in our souls.
Obtain for us the grace to use the sword of truth to pare away all that is not in conformity to the most adorable
Will of God in our lives, that we may fully participate in the army of the Church
Amen"

[apreparescuer]

Uriel isn't that far, as head of the team sent to investigate the worst hit sites for signatures. As one with enough field experience overseas tracking terrorist cells and the 'prints' they left in the wake of organised destruction, Uriel--Arthur Lucus--was the first of the SFO's pulled on duty.

Religious terrorism is such an easily used term that it's easy for the police to latch on to and feed to their superiors and they to theirs. The unsettling part of it, the wracking pain of it is the truth behind such euphemistic words. To name something gives it power, and whatever power has done this is as terrible as it is forsaking.

Despite his temperature dropping rapidly and the colour nearly gone from his face, Uriel is there with his team, following the calls of his fellow officers as he hears them. He shudders as he leans against a still-standing archival shelf. Just two feet to his left is three aisles of once packed religious and mythological and metaphysical and new-age research books turned to ash. Pages and bindings crumble when he reaches to touch them, though other books remain blackened yet salvageable. Picking up an old testament licked by flames is excruciating, speeding the spread of the chill through his body.

There is a breath of warmth from that whisper, and it warms his lungs enough. The air is stifling hot from the flames, heat radiating into the building even with all the fires doused. Uriel's pale face, however, runs with cold sweat. The light is seeping out.

Dear Father in heaven...

"Ignacia."

He needs her close. A cold sweat isn't much, but even without his blessed premonitions, he still prudently assumes this is only the beginning. They have to prepare for the worst, and he's useless to the CO19 and his brothers if he falters.

[vanagandr]

[ The howl of a wolf in pain is not one that's often found in the city, but it's one that's echoing tonight. Fenrir had been walking along, minding his own fucking business, when he collapsed onto his knees and changed back to a wolf against his will. First instinct had been to call for his pack, and so he did, picking a place in an alley to wait until they arrive. ]

[molted]

[Maybe if he'd been inside, he still would've heard that howl, part of the whole minder gig, but he can't help but feel lucky he was outside for it - heard it through the night air and knew it was Fenrir. His first instinct is to change to wolf himself, but he contains it, knows it might be faster but one wolf inexplicably running around the city streets was enough.

He's been with Fenrir long enough to be fast enough on human feet, following the source of the howl until he was at the alley, skidding to a stop and not bothering to catch his breath before he started looking and trying to see where the doomwolf was hurt.]

Fen? What's wrong?

NEWS BROADCAST, CHICAGO

[contagious]

[On the news, on the radio, various voices and faces of broadcasters chime in on the news. One such voice and face, an average looking man in an average looking suit, is just in front of a neighborhood, a medical team and an ambulance bustling behind him.]

--Hey-- Good morning, Jim, and good morning Chicago. I'm here in Belmont Heights, where there's been an outbreak--a series of outbreaks of rare, deadly diseases. Because of the nature of these illnesses, medical and police officials are beginning to suspect terrorist activity. There is talk of quarantining the area, and we've been told to inform everyone to stay as far away from the area as they can, and to call this hotline if any symptoms of severe illness show up elsewhere. The number is--

[In one of those townhouses in Belmont Heights, Pestilence has shut himself up in his room. He's sweating, chilled, and throwing up blood into a bowl, gripping Charles' arm hard enough to bruise.]

[ text ]

[apreparescuer]

TO: [ pestilence ]

do you mind, for an afternoon, controlling your plague?

MESSAGE sent to judeo-christian demons, fallen angels, minders, et. al.

[oppose]

TO: [ group: family ] [ group: masters ] [ group: minders ]

location and status
in case this has somehow escaped your notice, this is not a drill

[befallen]

TO: [ lu ] [ francis ]

Meaning?

( TEXTS )

[ex_furtum_568]

TO: RAZ, CARY

I just saw the news. Is everything alright? Should I come back straight away?

—

TO: L

Hi.

[factual]

TO: [ anna maria ]

It might be best if you come back. Things seem to be getting a little heavy. You alright, then?

[TEXT]

[miscreantics]

To: [Fam: Apollo] [Fam: Dite] [Fam: Artemis] [Fam: Eros] [Fam: Dionysus] [Muse: Terps] [Iris] [Fabbaby][Charon] [Norse: Fenrir] [Persephone] [Styx] [Americano: Coyote] [Afrique: Oxumare] ##(numbers found and by Renee, of their minders]

talk to me. Whats up? How are you? What's going on?

[TEXT]

[iridescentone]

To: [Hermes]

scared. i've shut myself in my room, hoping i can at least paint a rainbow... hasn't happened yet.

sent OH SO HELPFULLY to all judeo-christian folk: the fallen, angels, minders

[vultured]

TO: [ group: family ] [ group: masters ] [ group: minders ]

will whoever stole dorothy kindly surrender her back asap
this is going to put a crimp in my weekend plans.

[ text ]

[apreparescuer]

TO: [ azazel ]

:not in kansas, are you?

OPEN

[threetimesgreat]

[ All that has been written has a copy in Thoth's personal library, and he is there now. One arm is on his desk, supporting his head, while his other hand is curled around a cup of rapidly cooling tea. Some of the more important manuscripts are in front of him, just in case. There are other Egyptian deities staying with him, scattered amidst the shelves on couches and pillows. If anyone tries to break into his libraries, they will make them regret it. He also has his phone and computer out, should anyone who will not or cannot come to him attempt to make contact. ]

[glossolalia]

[ in all her years serving thoth, amisi has never seen this house so full. miesha has been dispatched to the market, because how can the scant holdings of their kitchen provide enough for a slew of gods and minders?

and in between all her fretting--for it is so much easier to fret about making their guests welcome than it is about what is happening to her diety--she ventures into the library with fresh cups of tea. the cooled cup is removed from his hands, a hot one slipped into place. it is a flawlessly excuted manuever, one that she has perfected in her years as apprentice. it shouldn't disturb.

except... ]

Is there anything more I can do?

[ her tone is fervant, fraught with worry. she knows all of these tomes by heart, courtesy of the gift he'd seen fit to give her. but still, there must be more for her. if there is something left unread, then she should be doing that, shouldn't she? ]

OPEN

[miscreantics]

[Hermes doesn't call in sick. First off it's usually a ploy to get out of something that daddy dearest can see right through, and secondly he quite loves his job. He loves being in control of how anyone gets any news, loves being important, loves being the one people come to when they have no idea what they're doing. This though, this whole mess is more than enough for Hermes to do exactly that.

He had fainted first, falling flat on his face when Renee came by to wake him up. He had gotten up too quickly, not feeling the affect of what had happened until the morning. Now though, melting into his sofa and being waited on, he feels it all too well. Even the wings, on his shoes on the other side of the room, rustle as feebly as he does. This? This sucks. He hates being this useless.]

[ideas]

[ Cam doesn't do slow well. Even before Hermes had gifted her with super speed, she was always full of energy, bouncing back and forth and all around. Now, though, now she feels like she's running in place, even though Hermes has had her racing around and checking up on all sorts of people. She's texted every status to Renee so that Hermes doesn't have to wait for her to return.

So far, no one's dead. That's good, at least. But she may not have had this job for long, but she knows Hermes isn't supposed to be like this. She's almost relieved to keep being sent out so that she doesn't have to see it, but that just makes her upset with herself, so she grabs two bottles of Gatorade and brings them over. ]

OPEN

[colubri]

[Astaroth had been spending some downtime in Sin City itself, far and away the easiest place for him to tempt a few souls into corruption outside of casting calls in Los Angeles, having flattered and misled his way into a comped penthouse suite for himself and his precious minders. Actually, to be more specific, he had been down in the hotel bar with a Black Russian, chatting his way into bringing about the further moral bankruptcy of yet another ill-fortuned tourist who hadn't yet blown through the last of his retirement fund. Then the pain began.

Now he's in that penthouse suite, having holed himself away — well, after he'd wailed out his agony in one hell of a tantrum, at least. Either way, though he's kept his phone on him, he's barred himself into his makeshift cloister and he has no intention of leaving or letting anyone in. Except for his minders, of course. And perhaps any insistent superhuman entities who happen to find him.]

[ecclesiastes]

[ He doesn't like his charge, but that doesn't mean he won't do his job to the best of his ability (save for all his attempts at thwarting). Either way, it may be better to have a great deal of poisonous snakes charmed into coming into the penthouse to help soothe the save beast, as it were, than to let them sit outside and possibly bite hikers or the pets of small children. Right? Sure.

Either way, Daniel has an armful of rattlesnakes, each one docile in his arms and is approaching Astaroth on the bed before setting them down. ] Here. [ Maybe, if he's lucky, Astaroth will stop being immune to their poison -- but he's never been that lucky. ]

[TEXT]

[demi_mort]

TO: [Fen] [Jor] [Yves] [Jacob] [Sigyn]

fallen down in kitchen, cant move/feel legs. starting to feel v. v. sick. please help

( action )

[ex_nekrosis_599]

[ Yves' life is more or less whatever Hel makes it to be. He works in her shop, he lives in her apartment and he doesn't mind that — not in the least. As soon as he gets her text, he's flipping the 'OPEN' sign on the shop door and bounding up the back stairs two at a time. When he gets into the apartment the smell is rank (worse than it usually is; worse than he's ever smelled before). Hel's there in the kitchen, right where she said she was and Yves kneels down beside her, his hands not hesitating to touch her to help her sit up if she wants to or to help make her more comfortable if she'd rather stay down.

Even now, slightly panicked, nothing in his expression or voice lifts from its usual, unaffected mein. ]

Hel. What happened?

OPEN: text/email

[seikyou]

TO: anyone in his address book or contacts list.

Which of you bickering fucks is responsible for this mess?

[miscreantics]

To: [Easties: Inari]

Not us, not the norse, not the christians. We're working on it

open;

[cannonade]

[ humans speculated a great deal upon what it was like to fall. for ramiel, it had been effortless, and he'd lost nothing but the favor of his father and his siblings. nothing is, of course, always subjective depending upon who he speaks, but for his purposes, it was nothing.

but this, this sudden loss, this wrenching, ripping, screaming loss of all that made him an archangel, that had made him holy, it is pure agony. it is the pain he never felt when he landed upon the earth, come centuries too late. he'd barred his doors and writhed and screamed until it had stopped, and left him weak as the mortals he'd spent so long dwelling among.

it's left him in a foul mood, and he is sitting upon the balcony of his apartment, chainsmoking and fiddling with his phone. disturb him at your own risk. ]

TEXT.

[rapturous]

TO: d, a

neither one of your dumb asses better be passed the fuck out, cause cali's not picking you up.

[ cali's not good at showing concern, especially considering his upbringing, but for those that know him, it's obvious he's worried about dionysus and adrian, hunched over his cellphone at the back of the bar with his thumbnail between his teeth. ]

open;

[blemishes]

[ for the first time in all of creation, hephaestus' forge has gone cold. he does not work, he has lain down his hammer and tongs, for he no longer has the strength to lift them. his leg aches and moving is an agony. he forces himself to walk, leaning heavily on his cane as he stares into his darkened workroom.

what does he do with himself if he can no longer work? useless, that is what he will be. useless and cast aside, cast out like his father had tried to do so many times. and no, he does not crave his place at his father's side, but he would not see himself denied it.

his phone has been abandoned; he has no desire to speak with anyone. he is silent and stone-faced, consumed by the pain of being stripped of his power and what little purpose he had left. it did not encourage conversation. ]

( text )

[discorded]

TO: [ christopher ]

on a scale of one to ten, how do you feel right now in terms of ability to fight?

[ she feels like a .5 even with the blame she can feel between everyone and even with whatever is ruining their existence. it doesn't make sense, but she doesn't know what to do for once. ]

( text )

[altercations]

TO: [ eris ]

ten.

[ of course, christopher would say "ten" even if he felt zero. but just her asking is worrying him. he's been hearing some less than appealing rumors. ]

EMAIL | sent to all demons, infernals, and their minders

[armories]

TO: [ hell in a handbasket ]

don't know what the plan is, don't really care.
anybody needs kit, let me know.

[ Once upon a time, Azazel's master minder fashioned swords tempered by hellfire for the infernal armies. These days, it's more like firearms. Still, the offer stands. ]

EMAIL | sent to all demons, infernals, and their minders

[vultured]

TO: [ the best minder ]
CC: [ all other denizens of down under. ]

be a dear and charge them out the nose for the privilege.

EMAIL | sent to all demons, infernals, and their minders

[befallen]

TO: [ H-E-double-hockey-stick ]

So which of you are actually good at finding things out?
As opposed to, I don't know, setting fire to shit with your mind.

[vultured]

TO: [ esther ]

don't let it get out and ruin my good name
but i've got a few ears to the ground.

TEXT; sent out to all minders.

[glossolalia]

TO: [ group: minders ]

If there is something you need transcriped please feel free to send it. I would be happy to add it to our list.

TO: [ miesha ]

I have a task for you, if you would be so kind.

TEXT;

[catkin]

TO: [ amisi ]

Anything.



[They're ungoing a tea surplus at the moment, cups of it everywhere, mostly untouched. But Miesha, unwilling to feel like he isn't doing anything, keeps making more. He leaps at the chance of a real task.]

TEXT | sent to the phonoi

[rashly]

TO: [ group: phonoi ]

is it just me or does it feel like recess

TEXT | her minders.

[opening]

TO: [ di, alex ]

Things are happening.
Close up ranks, children, before I'm sick up on my shoes.

[ This rarely happens. Take a picture, it'll last longer. ]

[sapped]

[ Promptly: ]

TO: [ belly ] [ alex ]

Where do you need us?

TEXT | to le demon/infernal corps

[wealthy]

TO: [ way down under ]

On a more cheerful note, have we yet discussed what we intend to do once the culprit/s has/have been apprehended?

I imagine it's going to be a jolly good time.

[contagious]

TO: [Mammon]

if we dont get to them first, child.

text;

[altercations]

TO: [ elizabeth ]

how is she holding up?

text;

[blazing]

TO: [ christopher ]

like you would expect.
mad at everything but too tired to do much about it.

you're coming back soon, right?
i can handle it for now but you know how she gets.

TEXT;

[supplicant]

TO: [ megaera ]

is there a plan?

TEXT;

[invidious]

TO: [ thana ]

we hunt, of course.
it's open season, dear one. my sisters and i have our green light.

[ the affectionate pet names only come out when megaera is feeling particularly cheerful. ...which means someone's going to get stabbed soon. ]