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

[chaotically]

[ This is their home. As much as it's changed, some things never have. Taming the desert is a task not yet surmounted by even the most capable hands. Not so easily destroyed as the trees to the north and the south. Their temples have been revered for the feat of strong backs and cold hearts, or otherwise preserved by the wasteland. Without the lore of them living on, though, it will not be much of a living. Even if worship was so thin, if nonexistent in the way of their names, recognition was important.

They could leave if they wanted. Set would be able to draw power off of the panic and disarray, if not the nightfall, just as Thoth could take shelter in any library, but it was a watered-down thing compared to being here. ]

I wouldn't depend on the generosity of others.

[ He stirs, though, climbing from the throne to stand and approach the scribe once more. ]

Let's begin.

[threetimesgreat]

[ There is another pause, and Thoth looks at the other god -- really looks at him -- before smiling, taking a step forward to (quickly) embrace Set. ]

Let's.

[ He draws back then, pulling out his phone before crouching down, beckoning at Set to crouch with him. The moonlight continues to filter in, casting shadows from Thoth onto the walls -- ibis-headed, baboon-headed, and man. The phone will be how they see, as water and mirrors have been other times in other places. ]

There are four places, to my understanding. The Mogao Caves, Damascus, Rome, and Jerusalem.

[chaotically]

[ There is much to see there, at least in ratio of body to power. A frenetic and dark energy, folded a countless number of times into a relatively small vessel, clawing and sparking with potential. Not as great as it could have been, but considerable, and delicately contained. When Thoth wraps his arms around it, there is a stiffening and stillness. Set was no stranger to physical touch, but affection was a foreign concept to him, something baffling and disconcerting. His response is a soft grunt, definitely not any sort of whimper. Luckily, he doesn't have to examine it long, because Thoth lets him go and drops to the floor. If Set stood a moment longer, nevermind.

He sinks onto his haunches, bowing his head over the device with a resolute focus. The long, sloping snout of his shadow crosses over the shade of a beak, squared ears barely touching the brow of the baboon. ]

Damascus or Jerusalem would be where I'd place my bet. Most personal, most... popular.

[ He is briefly amused with himself, thinking of the rage that have worked over those areas, particularly Jerusalem. Some of the history of the Hebrews was here as well, though none so consequential as that Holy Land.

Set's hands hovered just outside of the phone, calling strength from the shadows and the sand twisting outside on the cold wind and letting it clot in the air around him like a small swarm. ]

[threetimesgreat]

[ There are many who fear Set, but Thoth is not one of them. Chaos has its place in this world, and he knows it. It is his duty to know it, to keep it in the world and keep it from overwhelming order. Perhaps the embrace was his own contribution, a little bit of chaos inflicted on the god of chaos -- but it's far, far more likely that he meant it, even though he has never been the most physically affectionate of the gods. ]

We know the other two are targets. Damascus is likely, Jerusalem a hunch based on a hunch -- but I agree.

[ Brown eyes flicker over to the shadows cast on the wall. It's enough to make him smile for a moment, at least until he looks back at the phone and brings his hands closer, fingertips nearly touching those of the other god. ]

Let us begin.

[ There is history here, words that he has written as the true Author. The moon is his as well, and perhaps the fact that its light is what is casting the shadows Set draws from will make this work even better than they could have hoped. When he closes his eyes, he can feel the minders left behind in his library, working, believing in him. Magical energy curls around him like a pair of wings, and he speaks the Old words, trusting Set to push his own magic into it, to speak with him.

The phone crackles to life, and on the screen are Lucifer and his minders and the grigori that were waiting for him. ] That is Damascus. It seems Morningstar has company. [ But grigori are not what he's concerned with. Jerusalem next, more words to be spoken, and Thoth lets out a soft, breathy 'ah' of satisfaction. ] There he is. It seems we would be a crowd.

[chaotically]

[ Set does not look away from the device, though his dark lashes may have lowered just a fraction. His minders were outside, checking the placements of the sentinels, making certain there was enough firepower to keep an intruder at least at bay for the moment it would take to alert the gods. Ready to fight and to die, the only thing Set had ever demanded of them.

He does speak with Thoth, and his voice is the wind that wraps around those who travel long into the night across a land so vast it makes a man know his true place in the world, helping to turn those pages. It is not the beast who crept at the edge, the exile and the ugliness of men, but the one who brandished the blade to cut the head off that which would devour the Sun, the one who raised the ladder and ushered wayward souls to their rightful place. The Old tongue is an old robe and he does not falter, lilting in some places, growling in others. He gives this to Thoth, this bit of order in trade for his chaos. It is the balance.

His eyes scan the screen hungrily, taking in the battle which was soon to come. Grigori? Nothing. Belial didn't look like much on the screen either, but there were three gods on his tail and he was shaking them admirably. He restrains a snort, seeing the corpses of old souls pooling out of Jerusalem, echoing the cadre of pharaohs in the museum. ]

Our lives, left in the hands of the Greeks and the Hebrews, Thoth. Are you content with that? Overkill may be better than no kill.

[ Says the arms dealer, the one who not only dismembered his brother, but scattered the pieces of him as far as they could be flung. ]

[threetimesgreat]

I believe we're supposed to call them Judeo-Christians now.

[ It's said almost absentmindedly. Is he content with it? No. But there is more to do than to fight with Belial, and something tells him that it is not his part to play. He has played many parts in this so far.

He's almost weary of it, save for the legendary hidden temper that makes him want to put an end to it all. ]

Overkill would hardly be any fun.