In Nomine: Los Angeles (IC)

[Erulasto]

Pre-Campaign Lore and Notes

The Vlog of Thachael, Servant of Litheroy

<A screen flickers on, showing a comfortable looking coffee shop late into the evening. Few patrons are visible in the background, and the glow of a crackling fire is seen in the periphery as a non-descript man of middling years settles onto a plush leather chair and adjusts the broad-rimmed black glasses upon the bridge of his nose.>>
“Hey. Yeah, hi. Good evening!” He says with exaggerated charm.
“This is Thachael. My friends call me Thatch.” Thatch smiles, and scratches the two-day salt and pepper stubble upon his chin. “Humans have such fascinating creations. ‘Vlogging’, I believe they call this one. It’s a good way of revealing things so no one else has the ability to censor it without some difficulty. Litheroy certainly approves!”
Thatch takes a tall foam cup and sips the steaming coffee within, before idly gesturing to the cup with his free hand. ”Another one of humanities greatest inventions. Coffee! Oh, Holy Holy Holy! I wonder sometimes if this is what Dionysis used to call Ambrosia? I wish I could have asked him when I had time.” He sighs, and sets the cup aside.
His expression turns serious, as deep and rather intense brown eyes fixate on the blinking red light next to the webcam he’s recording from.
“Okay. Enough of the pleasantries. We’ve got some pretty deep **** coming our way. Revelatory in the sort of manner that could shake the foundations of our efforts in the War.”
Thatch smiles grimly, and steeples his fingertips together.
“A couple of weeks ago a few friends of mine doing Blandine’s work in the Marches started to put two and two together, and realized that there was a growing pattern to some of the content that the Dreamers in Los Angeles were having. I love a good mystery, so they asked me to take a look into it. I found some rather disturbing things. First off, according to a friend of mine who helps Yves maintain the Library, each of the Dreamers having this dream seem to be on the list of potential Prophets. For those of you whose Superiors haven’t clued them in yet? This means their dreams can be frighteningly accurate.”
Thatch takes another small sip of his coffee, before heaving a heavy sigh.
“These dreams-slash-prophecies all point towards a shift in the celestial political landscape, and possibly a shift in the power balance between Heaven and Hell. That’s the good news. The bad news is that we don’t know much beyond the fact that there are five mortals who are at the crux of it.”
<<A sweet-sounding voice greets Thatch from off-screen, and he grins widely as his attention turns to the newcomer, and his hand raises to close the lid on his laptop, ending the recording abruptly.>>



<<The video begins, though little is able to be made out as the webcam is shifted about in what appears to be a bedroom, while the sound of Thatch huffing in exertion sounds through the built-in microphone. After a few moments, the camera settles and shows Thatch’s face close to the camera, almost taking up the full screen. Behind him, tangled in silk sheets, is revealed to be an attractive young lady, though her face is hidden in the pillows while a soft snoring is heard from her.>>
“Sorry for that.” He glances behind him with a small smile. “The corporeal world certainly has its share of pleasures.” His voice is soft, almost whispered, and a bit harder to hear in the silence of what appears to be a hotel room. “Where was I? Right. Right. So, we’ve got five mortals who somehow will shake the foundation of the War. How absurd does that sound? Mortals, precious as they are, affecting Heaven and Hell on such a predicted scale? Well, I’m not one to put a lot of faith into whispered chicaenery without some sort of proof. I realize how that sounds, coming from me, but Revelations aren’t really Revelations if they’re not true. They’re just lies. So I did some digging and guess what I found?”
He smiles a bit, and turns to rummage around somewhere next to him. A moment or two later, he returns his gaze to the screen and holds up an incredibly old compass of tarnished brass. It could easily be hundreds of years old, from when great sailors sought out new routes to India and beyond. He turns it over and shows the brass back, whereon a quartet of stylized musical notes are displayed roughly correlating to the four cardinal directions and a fifth is displayed in the center.
“This is, if you can believe it, the personal compass of Martin Luther, circa 1515. It’s also a relic that is, according to my friend in the Library, supposedly attuned to a particular prophecy. I asked him to make some inquiries and try and find a copy of this prophecy for me. In the meantime, the one recurring theme in these prophetic dreams is a rather….sad….individual. Cassiel. A Word-bound Cherub who has had a few patrons over the years. She started as a servant of Andrealphus back when his Word was Love and he hadn’t fallen. When he fell, her heart broke for she truly loved him. Raphael picked her up, as they were friends in the early days and nursed her broken heart. Eventually, Cassiel was again abandoned by her Superior when Raphael sacrificed herself. She took up service with Eli but by this point, Cassiel wasn’t much for doing anything beyond singing her lamentations and dwelling in her own misery. ”
Thatch sighs, and pinches the bridge of his nose before rubbing his eyes in weariness.
“She’s a great singer. One of the best of the Angels. You can imagine what sort of praise that is, considering what we are. She was even offered a position as a Trisagonist, but she turned it down. The Seraphim Council, along with the support of Eli, Novalis, Gabriel and a few others who wanted to see her recover from her losses with renewed purpose gave her the Word of Tears and charged her with helping others heal their own sorrows. She’s got a purpose now, and she’s great at it. Warm smiles, friendly shoulders to cry on, everything a human would need to cope with their own losses and sorrows. You can still see her own sadness and grief deep in her eyes if you look hard enough. Cassiel being involved in some sort of grand prophecy makes me and some of my associates nervous.”
“I’ll let you know more when I get some more answers."
<<Thatch glances at the young woman behind him with a soft expression, and then reaches over and clicks off the recording, turning the screen black.>>



<<When the video recording flickers to life, Thatch is revealed to be sitting in an old, creaky wooden rocking chair in what appears to be a log cabin of sorts. He’s sporting a black eye, and a split lip that he’s tenderly applying some ice.>>
“So, things are getting complicated. I figured out how the compass works. Give it some essence and it will lead you to one of the mortals. I found one. His name is Malcolm Price. He’s a band student at Hollywood Arts High School in Los Angeles. I wasn’t able to approach him – wasn’t sure I even wanted to. Just kept an eye on him for a couple days. Turns out, I wasn’t the only one watching him. I really don’t know how, but the Demons are in on this as well. I don’t know how much they’re aware of, but they know at least enough to be watching this Price kid. I got jumped by a couple of their goons. They roughed me up, scared me off. But they didn’t get the compass.”
He sets the ice pack aside, and takes a large swig from a frosty can of beer sitting next to him.
“I haven’t heard anything from my friend in the Library. His silence is a bit concerning. I’m going to put in a call to the local militant arm. I get the feeling things are going to get a bit more dangerous soon enough.”
<<He reaches over, takes another swig of beer and shuts down the video feed.>>



<<The webcam clicks on without fanfare, revealing what appears to be a rather barren warehouse. A thunderously loud foghorn in the distance perhaps indicating its location near the harbor. The camera is focused on a three of figures sitting around a large wooden spool of cables tipped on its side, using it as a makeshift table. The compass sits in the center, surrounded by a few beer cans and a take-out carafe of coffee. One of the men sitting on a small wooden box near the makeshift table is Thatch. One is a tall man with broad shoulders and a buzz-cut wearing a stained wife-beater and a pair of stone-washed blue jeans. The third is a lean man with a rich, olive complexion in a green wool trench coat covered in patches of brown and grey leather where it was hastily mended. His hair is long and wavy black, tied in a haphazard ponytail.>>
“You can’t be serious!” The bald man thunders. “If you’re right and you can’t ascend while you’ve been feedin’ that damn compass essence, you’re a sittin’ duck! At least come to the Hostel so my boys can keep an eye on ya.”
The dark haired man in the green jacket shakes his head slowly, drumming dark fingertips on the side of a can of beer held lightly in held. When he speaks, his voice is thick with a rich accent. “If Thachael is walking around with a bunch of your boys it will do naught but draw extra attention to him. Unless YOU are willing to take the compass yourself?” There is a hint of mirthful teasing in his inquiry, to which the bald man scowls and looks away, shoving his meaty hands into his pockets.
“Gentlemen, please. Now is not the time for divisiveness. We know the first of the mortals, and that the compass will help us find the others. We need everyone to be on board with this. By God! Bethrezen is here, and if HE has taken an interest in this little endeavor of ours then I, for one, am willing to put aside any petty squabbles – yes, even with Morgannin and Adewale – and try and have this resolved as fast as po…..”
<<Thachael’s tirade is cut short, as a thunderous explosion rips through the far wall of the warehouse, sending smoke and debris scattering across the room. From the dusty cloud that has begun to fill the room, flashes of muzzle fire can be seen while the harsh popping of firearms discharge raise in cacophony. Thatch snatches the compass from the top of the make-shift table moments before the large, bald man grabs it and heaves it across the room into the cloud of smoke with as much ease as throwing a paper airplane. A couple voices rise in pain at the clattering crash of the spool slamming into something.>>
“Thatch! Go now! Keep it safe and get it to the others.” The bald man growls, as he draws a hefty aluminum baseball bat from the floor next to him. The green-coated man clasps his hands together and murmurs a beautiful incantation as the smoke of the explosion begins to swirl up from its uncontrolled spill and begins to take shape into a dome in the center of the room before pulling an ancient looking scimitar from beneath his jacket and turning to face the handful of mean looking bikers and gangland soldiers that had begun to swarm in.
<<Thatch turns with the compass held tightly to his chest and sprints towards the laptop and attached webcam. A hand grips it and slams it shut moments after a monstrously tall figure clad in black-lacquered, baroque plate armor steps through the growing throng of soldiers and thugs, and raises a great two-handed flanged Morningstar in salute to the bald man and the green-coated man.>>



<<The webcam blinks to life, flickering with the occasional burst of static. It reveals a singularly nasty spider-webbed crack on the bottom corner, revealing some damage. Thatch leans back with a pained groan, his face battered and bloody – fresh blood still seeping from a slowly healing gash above his left eye. A dark stain on his blue button-down shirt slowly spreads while a bloody hand presses against it.>>
“Ahhh….damn. This isn’t good. Look, I stashed the compass somewhere safe. I couldn’t ascend while I was actively using it and they’ve been hot on my heels for days. There are some things you need to know and I’m running out of time.”
He signs softly, before continuing. “First off….There are five mortals involved. The compass will help you find them, but be careful, the Demons want them to. We still haven’t figured out what’s really going on, but we know enough to make this a high priority situation.”
“Second, we know one of the mortals. Malcolm Price. Music student at Hollywood Arts. He’s under Infernal watch, and I’ve asked Morgannin to keep an eye on him as well. She’s so touchy, but her birds are everywhere. We don’t know the others.”
“Third. If you’re the poor sods who are getting this message dumped in your lap, I’ve got a piece of advice. Turns out, there’s a rogue servant of Kronos in town somewhere. His name is Jathiriel. The last message I got from my friend in the Library was that maybe Jathiriel is a bit more in-the-know on this situation. Even if he doesn’t realize it yet. Make sure Asmodeus’ dogs don’t get him first…and by God, make sure Adewale keeps his distance. Water-boarding may be effective, but it’s not going to encourage a renegade to keep being…all….you know….rebellious.”
Thatch coughs violently, a dribble of blood leaking from the corner of his lips. A loud crash is heard from somewhere outside the slum apartment he seems to be hiding in.
“Damn it! They’re here already.” Thatch begins to type furiously, sparing the occasional glance towards the front door of the suite as loud footsteps thunder down the hall, closer and closer.
“All shining and silver,
With a beautiful face,
You look into me,
And find this place.” He chuckles darkly, and cringes as he utters such a dissonant reveal.
“We can’t let them find it first. It’s in my favorite coffee shop. The one where I met…her. My Lady in Red. She can tell you what street it’s on.” He smiles sadly for a moment, glancing down to a small, fragile looking necklace in his bloody hand – a one-winged ruby heart on a thin gold chain. “And…please. Tell her….tell her I’m sorry I won’t be meeting her in Bora Bora this time.” His corporeal vessel begins to slough off, unravelling like a hundred thousand ribbons untying at once.
<<The front door splinters open, as a swirling cloud of angry, gnashing black surges into the room past the heavily armored figure from the warehouse. The cloud screeches, and the lens cracks again as it swarms over the manifesting celestial form of Thachael and a cry like the pealing of a perfect bell sounds out, before the video screen flickers with static, and freezes…..>>

[Erulasto]

Player

Character

Choir/Band
Superior

Status



Anyr

Sarah (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?553583-In-Nomine-Los-Angeles&p=22919632&viewfull=1#post22919632)

Bright Lilim

Marc

Active



seatyger

Malchiel (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?553583-In-Nomine-Los-Angeles&p=22920565&viewfull=1#post22920565)

Elohite

Eli

Deceased



EarthenRite

Sopholael (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?553583-In-Nomine-Los-Angeles&p=22921362&viewfull=1#post22921362)

Elohite

Yves

Deceased



Failed Phantasm

Jathiriel (https://docs.google.com/document/d/1iHiPMGMzaZJuV7ilyISV1Enq_g6_21VhWu1h5Q4dVjw/edit)

Balseraph

Kronos

NPC



JeenLeen

Haralambos (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=22939778&postcount=4)

Seraph

Michael

Active



XIII

Khalil Dhali (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=22942091&postcount=7)

Malakite

Gabriel

Active



Siegemonkeys

Ramiel

Cherub

Michael

NPC



RossN

Katriel (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=23084228&postcount=318)

Mercurian

Janus

Active



BradWhite

Emblem (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=23149993&postcount=424)

Elohim

Jean

NPC



Xetheral

Nephel (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=23163520&postcount=460)

Kyriotate

Yves (Eli)

NPC




Captain Edmund van Graff: A Malakim of David, Captain Edmund van Graff - also known as Gaspariel - spends his time coordinating with Jerichael at the Howitzer, and other militant servants on the front line of The War, and ensuring the LAPD does its best to keep the gang violence of Los Angeles contained.

Mercy: The Seneschal of a small Tether to Flowers, Mercy is a Mercurian who has been in the service of Novalis since the Fall. She was one of the angels charged with tending the gardens of Eden during the Great Experiment. Now, she tends the flowers for her shop – a task she greatly enjoys, and offers succor and a meal to any Angel who comes calling. At one point, she was in the running for the Word of Charity, but she stepped aside when she was offered the chance to maintain this small Tether in Los Angeles after a short conversation with Yves.

Jeremiah Howser (Jerichael): With a friendly smile and a quick wit, the Seneschal of the Tether to the Sword in Los Angeles is a Cherub in the service of Laurence. Heavily distinguished, he requested this posting as a personal favor from Laurence after centuries of service. He passes his time between tending the bar and coordinating local Angelic efforts in The War.

Adam Waller (Adewale): Head of the local Triad of Judgement, Adewale is a Seraphim that has come to town recently to replace the last Seraphim of the Triad - Osmorael - who was recalled to Heaven as part of a promotion, under the pseudonym Adam Waller, an up and coming lawyer for the District Attorney’s office in Los Angeles. Adewale is far, far less tolerant than his predecessor - who could actually be reasoned with some of the time - and is of the mind that the Divine Inquisition trumps most other mundane life-tasks. When Adewale comes calling, he expects you to drop everything for him and his inflated sense of purpose. It was recently implied that Adam has had dealings, along with the rest of the Triad, with a renegade Demon calling itself Famine.

Adele Henshaw (Ysieriel): A bike courier by day, this Ofanim of Wind prides herself on both her ability to get through rush hour traffick on a bike, or by foot. She acts as a divine messenger as well, running errands and missives between the Angels of Los Angeles, or any businesses that hire her services. Adele is presently taking sanctuary with Inanna in the Babylon Club to help stymie the efforts of the Lilim Evexiel after they inflicted her with a Geas to stay put and thus earning her dissonance.

Selena Carter (Seleniah): A well-known high-class escort that caters to the upper echelons of Los Angeles society, and is frequently the eye-candy for celebrities and visiting dignitaries. She is embroiled in all sorts of sordid affairs of the rich and powerful, though she doesn’t seem to care for much more than enjoying herself and keeping herself entertained. Blackwater CEO Maxwell Strauss has offered her several times the leading role in one of his movies, but thus so far she has declined. Selena has been revealed to be an Impudite of Lust who is gaining a fair share of Dissonance for falling in love with her now-deceased lover - the Angel Thachael. She has offered to help Sarah save Bethany Caulfield from Blackwater Studios. The most recent turn of events for Selena is that she is now an unaligned Mercurian following her Redemption by Marc as facilitated by Sarah.

Solomon: A Cherub of Faith, Solomon is an old Angel in Khalid's service. He participated in the Crusades on the side of the Saracens, to stymie Laurence and Dominic's militant advancement of Christianity at Khalid's behest. Now, he lives a quiet life encouraging people on the street corner to small acts of charity and compassion. He looks rather homeless in his dress, with a long green wool overcoat that has been patched and hemmed many times, but is a handsome man with a dark olive complexion, and long wavy black hair. Khalil Dhali recently discovered that Solomon was somewhat dissonant, and may be having a crisis of Faith.

Morgannin: An Ofanim in the service of Jordi, Archangel of Animals, and holder of the distinction 'Friend of Beasts'. She spends much of her time in the form of a raven, and counts most ravens and crows as her friends. While she actively dislikes interacting much with the other Angels of the city, she does lend the aid of her feathered friends to act as scouts when the need arises. In the rare event she takes a human vessel, she is a short, pale girl with unkempt black hair and black eyes. Morgannin tried to get Haralambos to slay a renegade Demon named Famine who was tormenting her and her birds. After Harry spared the renegade, Morgannin threatened that if Famine went back to hunting her birds, she would hold Harry personally responsible.

Rezzael: A Malakim of Judgement, he is the executioner of the Divine Triad of Judgement in Los Angeles. He doesn't spend much time mingling with the rest of the Celestials and generally only comes calling when the Triad needed to assemble for something. He is a short, wiry man of Asiatic descent with dark eyes and a shaved head. His small frame is usually clad in what appeares to be a traditional kimono, though his wrists are wrapped in copious strings of oddly-colored prayer beads. He spends a lot of time in a small Shinto temple out near San Bernardino. He doesn't look like much, but he has a bit of a reputation as a solid warrior – he is a Malakim, after all.

Beatrice Forte (Fortisima): A short, matronly woman, and Cherubim of Judgement. She wears a pastel blue button up blouse and a casual blue-jean dress and a frilly apron covered in flour with the words I’m the Archangel of Cookies! written in scrawling cursive embroidery. Fortisima has rosy cheeks and a wide, friendly smile that make her soft eyes pinch with impressive crow’s feet. She is quick to offer freshly baked cookies to any who comes to her small bakery near Laguna Beach.

Lophiryne: A Cherub of Dreams, who appears in his vessel as an older gentleman with a kindly grandfather-type look. He wears an old tweed suit, with a lily on his jacket lapel and carries a briefcase in red leather with bright yellow polka dots. His mustache is a full, bushy thing that wiggles when he speaks and he's wearing circular spectacles. Provided Ramiel with a copy of the dream-prophecies he and others like him have been collecting in the Marches.

Best Buy: A Mercurian of Lightning.

Tyne: A Mercurian of Destiny who was in contact with Sopholael regarding the prophecy, and was directed to be involved by someone he called Grandfather. He has recently reached out to Emblem in order to help facilitate the ongoing crisis in Los Angeles.




Castigen: An ancient servant of Saminga, Demon Prince of Death, Castigen is the Seneschal of the Phobos Station Tether. While he was once substantially more active in bringing ruin to the corporeal world at his Superiors behest, now Castigen ruminates in the dark, flooded depths of the Tether and troubles the corporeal realm little unless the trouble is brought to him. Garezar views the inhuman Castigen as a sort of mentor, and often makes his way to Phobos Station to converse with the ancient, inscrutable Calabim. Officially, Castigens last act of destruction was to cause the ruin of Phobos Station that created the Tether in the first place.

Garezar: The Shedim of Death known only as Garezar has a history of committing unspeakable acts of violence and corruption, and of all the Diabolicals in Los Angeles, a hint of its presence is enough to mobilize an Angelic response. It is particularly cunning and insidious, and often hides behind the activity of other Demons. In the last year, there have been three sightings, though each time Garezar has slipped away with a cackling laugh and escaped the Malakim sent to hunt him. Garezar is presently suspected of inhabiting the body of Kaitlin Mayweather.

Bethrezen: Eschewing anything so mundane as a mortal role, the Balseraph of War known as Bethrezen is a valued member of Baal's infernal hierarchy. He is, ostensibly, the most significant of the Demons in the front-line of the War in Los Angeles. If Bethrezen has taken a direct hand, or notice of something occurring in the city, it is something that is invariably of some significance to him. Bethrezen has recently called in a trio of Angel-Killers from Baal to help fight back against the assaults by Harry and Khalil that have cost the Demons the vessels for both Zhangarmal, Lee and Justinia. Bethrezen's war-form was destroyed by a combined kill-team of Angels, including Harry, Khalil, and Selena. His current whereabouts are unknown, but it seems to have shaken up the Demonic community greatly.

Madison Rourke (Madrizel): Madrizel is an old servant of Lust, with an unusually close friendship with Fleurty the Demon Prince of Drugs, despite the general tensions between Andrealphus and Fleurty. In her role as Madison Rourke, a glitz-and-glamour socialite from an incredibly old money family, she recently took an interest in the night-life of Los Angeles and opened her own club - the Rhapsody in Red - near Long Beach. What is suspected by many of the Angels in the city, though so far unable to be proven, is that Madrizel is the hidden patron behind the sudden increase in power and influence of the drug trade in the city, and her followers specialize in providing high-quality LSD and Ecstasy at a fraction of the normal street value. Business is booming. Madison has met Sarah, and though she doesn't seem to realize that Sarah is an Angel, the Demoness of Lust seems to be developing an obsessive infatuation with the Bright Lilim.

Haroon Sadat (Hastephrat): A Calabim of Death who holds a position of power in one of Compton's most bloody and violent gangs - the Bloodhounds. The sociopath known as Haroon Sadat is a torturer extraordinaire, and the members of the LAPD or other enemies of the gang who fall into his hands often suffer brutally for days before finally being made an example of.

Mr. Lee: A Djinn of Gluttony who works as a line cook and owner of an all-you-can-eat Chinese restaurant near the industrial regions of the city. He's pretty minor in the grand scheme of Infernal influence, and doesn't leave his restaurant much besides to buy more supplies for the grotesque amounts of food made daily. Lee was destroyed by Haralambos, sending his soul back to Hell where it is suspected he is enduring Trauma and the torment of his Superior. His role was ruined when the Police discovered his body.

Cao Shen (Zhangarmal): The mercenary who hires his violent services to anyone who can afford his prices is a former member of the People's Liberation Army Special Operations Division - or the Chinese Special Forces. A Calabim of Fire, Cao Shen is a consumate professional, though he seems to take a sick glee in putting down the enemies his employers ask him to. He has a fondness for rocket propelled grenades, and incendiary bombs of all sorts. Fortunately, he is not an uncontrolled dynamo of destruction, but when he's been in an area, he leaves piles of burned bodies. The LAPD would love to have a few words with Cao Shen. Zhangarmal was blown to pieces when a dead-man's switch he was wearing was set off after a battle with Haralambos and Khalil Dhali. His vessel was annihilated, and he was sent back to Hell - though there was no damage to his Role.

Baraghur: A Habbalah of Fate posing as a LAPD Detective (Detective Sawyer). Has been tormenting the Dancourt family - especially Hanna Pierse - with emotional manipulation. His reason for being present in Los Angeles is presently unknown. Wounded by Haralambos - something he will not forget. It was recently revealed that Baraghur had a second vessel with the role of Louis Dancourt's defense attourney.

Justinia: A Demon with a female vessel that was destroyed by Khalil Dhali by burning its face off with divine fire. Present status is unknown. Whatever role she had was ruined when police found the body. Name discovered by Sarah when overheard by Bethrezen discussing Demons having been slain by local Angels at the Babylon Club.

Evexiel: A Lilim that has ensnared Adele in a Geas and ordered her to stay put and not leave Los Angeles, forcing the Ofanim into dissonant behaviour. Whereabouts unknown. Responsible for Katriel's last bit of trouble on the Corporeal Realm. Presently suspected of being in a vessel named Everett. He is handsome in a very exotic way. His hair is long and black as night, with a complexion better suited to somewhere in the Mediterranean. Wide eyed, and wearing a checkered black and grey t-shirt under a black blazer and pair of slacks. Inanna told Katriel and Sarah that Evexiel was masquerading as a motivational speaker at local high schools.

Kashtiel and Kuschiel: Suspected servants of Malphas, Prince of Factions. Kashtiel appears as a young teen girl and was dressed in fashionable clothes, chewing on some bubblegum rather noisily. She had blonde hair and the carried herself with an air of authority. She was the kind of girl who screamed bully and prom queen. Kuschiel is a darker skinned young man with cornrows and a pair of thick-framed black glasses. He wore a colourful shirt depicting a nude anime girl and a dragon coiled about her to hide all the naughty bits.

Adaniphel: Suspected servant of Kobal, Prince of Dark Humor.

Ikorial: Known servant of Vapula, Demon Prince of Technology, though he keeps a remarkably low profile. Ikorial's vessel - now discovered by Sarah - is a gangly man with a pink and black polka-dot bowtie and white dress shirt who has a strong affection for strawberries.

Shax: Balseraph of War and head of the Angel hunter-killer team brought in by Bethrezen. His vessel, along with the vessels of his two allies - a Djinn and a Calabim - were destroyed in a large battle against Haralambos, Khalil Dhali and Ramiel. The fall-out of this action will have far reaching consequences.

Famine: A Renegade Demon, formerly in service to Magog. Famine has been hiding in the junkyard, spawning undead children. He was accosting Morgannin and the birds under her care, so she asked Harry to deal with it for her. Instead of slaying Famine, he seems to have recruited the renegade.




Club Babylon: A neutral grounds of sorts in Santa Monica, this three-story nightclub is owned by a powerful Ethereal suspected to be the former pagan goddess Inanna. A potent artifact housed within the building prevents the use of Songs, or the manifesting of Celestial forms within. Conflict between Angels and Demons is strictly prohibited and both sides use this club to meet and exchange information while others use it to meet up with old friends and lovers separated by the Fall.

Oblivion: A popular rave-club in Compton that is a known haven for drug dealers and gangs, and is the primary source of Ecstasy and LSD these days in LA. While not a Tether, is is frequented by servants of Lust, Creation and Flowers. It makes for some strange bedfellows. Most of the interior is illuminated by black lights, save the back rooms guarded by two large, beefy guards who stand out quite a bit from the usual clientele with their dark suits and ear-pieces.

Brighton House: Located in Lakewood, Brighton House is a well-tended estate and private school for gifted children. Many Angels and some Demons keep an eye on the youth here to see any shining Destinies or dark Fates that may be forming. Servants of Yves and Kronos are notorious for frequenting this locale. After a terrorist attack from Cao Shen designed to eliminate Sopholael caused the library to explode and the building to catch fire, it has been temporarily closed by the police while they investigate.

Mercy's Flower Shop: A small, run-down looking flower shop with fenced off garden and greenhouse in the back located near Laguna Beach, it is a Tether of Flowers and run by its Seneschal Mercy, a sprightly young woman who dresses in a hemp blouse and floral skirt. Visitors are assaulted by a heady combination of scents - herbs and flowers in small terra cotta pots sit upon every horizontal surface and the shop is warmed by large picture windows.

The Howitzer: A rough-looking bar near Long Beach, it is frequented by bikers, army vets and Angels of War. A hand painted sign above the door of a tank firing it's canon has the bars name written in the muzzle flash. It is an Angelic Tether of War, run by Jeremiah Howser, also known as Jerichael who acts as the Seneschal and bartender for this location.

Phobos Station: This sinister Tether is located in East L.A. and exists in the bowels of an abandoned subway tunnel. A horrific accident two years ago caused a massive cave-in and flooded a couple miles worth of subway. This horrific event spurred the creation of a new Tether, that shifted the political landscape of LA yet again. The three trains that were caught there still have the bodies from this catastrophe within, as rescue workers have been unable to navigate the flooded tunnels effectively. Officially a Tether of Death, Saminga allows the servants of Baal, Demon Prince of War to muster his forces here when necessary. Castigen, the Seneschal is an ancient Calabim of Saminga who has been involved in many atrocities across the years, but rarely leaves his hideaway in the newly created Tether.

The Gravel Pit: Deep in the run down slums of Gangland LA is a warehouse and abandoned construction yard. This is the Gravel Pit; one part underground fight club, one part party stop and one part gambling den. Here, people come to try and make fortunes or glory in the bare-knuckle street fights that take place nightly.

East Alondra Precinct Station: Located between Compton and Long Beach, this police station and Tether to Stone is on the front lines of a vicious gang-war that was kindled a few months ago and continues to flare up despite the attention of the LAPD. Captain Edmund van Graff is the Seneschal, and a solid pillar of the community.

Blackwater Studios: This bright and modern building houses both the corporate office and the movie studio itself on the lower levels, and insider information has indicated that there may even be some basement levels used for the more graphic videos they produce.

Lebedev Manor: Situated on a hill overlooking Santa Monica, this upscale mansion is the home for the Lebedev Twins. It has a lot of on-site security, from a high gated fence to motion-sensor CCTV and spot-light systems. The terraced and well-groomed grounds are constantly patrolled by dark-suited men with serious expressions. Visitors come and go at any time of day, and every couple weeks the Lebedev Twins host opulent and extravagant parties with an open invitation. Since security seems even more rigid at this time, it’s a fool’s errand to try and disrupt the festivities.

Never Lose a Moment: A quaint little one-story shop set into a quiet suburban neighborhood in Pasadena, this non-descript building is the business for a clock-maker and his children. This is actually a weak Tether to Kronos, though the Seneschal has taken the form of the small, vicious tabby cat that is the family pet of the Kasparov family.

The Rhapsody in Red: A popular club near Long Beach, the night life is positively booming here and many starlets and actors and musicians make appearances here to 'be seen'. Boasting live music every night, the Rhapsody does not allow simple DJ's to play here. If you have no talent, you wont get to perform. Every Friday night is a talent night, however, and anyone who wants to try their hand at performing can get a chance to show what they have. Talent agents, and scouts of all kind cloister themselves here on those nights seeking the next big thing among the throngs of starry-eyed hopefuls.

Hollywood Arts High School: A high school in the Hollywood region of Los Angeles, famous for two things: talented, artistic students, and inordinate amounts of bullying and student hazing. The press claims that if a student has talent - musical, artistic or any form thereof - and can successfully survive the mad-house that is Hollywood Arts, they are destined to become internationally famous. The school has many, many significant alumni, such as Brock Valtouille, Loretta MacKlennan, Samantha O'Harrison and all the members of the hit band, Half-Minute to Mars.




Svetlana ‘Sveta’ Lebedev: Svetlana is the younger of the two Twins, but shares her sisters beauty. She tends to dress a little more casually, and while Anya shows her darkness with a cold, calculating mind and ruthless disposition, Sveta is more wanton. She enjoys the flesh, both the pleasures of it, and the ruining of it. Her technique of interrogation makes even hardened Vory soldiers blanche. Sveta has offered Harry a part-time job as an enforcer for the Vory. To deliver messages for her.

Anya Lebedev: Of the two Lebedev Twins, Anya was born only a minute or two earlier than her sister. Like Sveta, she is beautiful and maintains a high-fashion wardrobe. She holds much more business savvy than her sister, and spends her time orchestrating the organization she and her sister control. Anya has offered Madman Harry employment as a Vory enforcer after watching him fight at the Gravel Pit.

Mayor Alphonso Castille: Serving his second consecutive term in office, this mayor was elected on a platform of ending the rising crime-rate in LA that has been steadily blossoming for the last decade or so. His first term saw a marked improvement as the LAPD received increased funding and an influx of recruits. However, around six months into his second term in office, organized crime and gang related activities spiked sharply with the revelation of a new drug kingpin in town and the Russian Vory solidifying under new management. His PR representatives are frantically trying to contain the wave of discontentment that is rising among his constituents as news is broken time and again of open conflict on the streets between the LAPD and the criminal elements. Emblem has discovered that Mayor Castille is also a major shareholder in Blackwater Studios.

Isabella Woodridge, Chief of Police: With a distinguished background in the United States Armed Forces, Isabella spent six years post-discharge assisting the DEA and FBI before being appointed as the Chief of Police when Mayor Castille took office. They have worked hand-in-hand quite successfully, but she is now feeling the heat of the increased crime war that is sparking in the city.

Maxwell Strauss: CEO of Blackwater Studios, a popular media studio that specializes in adult content – from erotic to explicit. It has even dabbled in some rather taboo subjects that aren’t strictly legal in the United States. The studio gained notoriety for a few break-through titles such as Nocturnal Delights with Delilah, Sorority Shenanigans and the black market release of The Breaking of Jessica. Maxwell Strauss has been officially invited to host the AVN Awards next year. The Angels in LA keep a close eye on this company, as the rumors of influence by Servants of Andrealphus and Nybbas are to significant to ignore.

Collin Boone: While gangs have become a commonly identifiable threat, one in particular seems to be trying to repair what damages others have wrought. Known as the Pillars of the Temple – or more commonly Pillars, or even Templars – this gang has strong community connections, and while it most certainly operates many illegal ventures, it is not uncommon to see members helping to carry groceries for single mothers or old ladies, helping rebuild damaged properties or doing general hand-work in their neighborhoods, and standing guard on street corners to keep the peace. Their leader is a charismatic man of African descent with a shaved head, broad shoulders and friendly smile named Collin Boone. He is adept at rallying the people of a community to a noble cause. He is a Solider of Heaven, as are several in his inner circle and his association with Captain Edmund of the East Alonso Precinct is one of the reasons the LAPD hasn’t cracked down on this gangs criminal activities with more than a token resistance.

Bruno Wolf: Aside from Liam Ellington, Bruno is the last remaining partner in the Ellington and Wolf law firm. He has become cynical, especially after the third founding partner, Adriano Lazari was indicted on espionage and corruption charges. The law firm took a bit of a PR hit, but still does its best to bring an egalitarian edge to the corporate legal boards.

Liam Ellington: One of the partners for Ellington and Wolf, LLP, a smaller firm specializing in corporate and copyright law. He is in his early fifties, and unlike his partner, he still seems to have a desire to facilitate fair trade between corporate interests.

Adriano Lazari: The third founding member of Ellington and Wolf, LLP (formerly Ellington, Lazari and Wolf, LLP) he was investigated and charged with corporate espionage and corruption after his under-the-table dealings were brought to light. His trial concluded last month, and as he was being shipped to prison, the transport he was riding in was ambushed by a highly-skilled team of mercenaries that sprung him and disappeared, leaving no witnesses alive on the transport or its escorts. This incident caused a ripple of noise through the Symphony, alerting many to the presence of Angelic or Diabolical influence on the event.

Malcolm Price: Seventeen year old musical prodigy, Malcolm attends Hollywood Arts High School in his senior year. He is incredibly gifted in both the playing of the guitar and the writing of song lyrics. He's a friendly sort, with few friends, but so far he has managed to keep a profile low enough to avoid the drama of the various cliques in the school. Malcolm assisted Harry, Khalil Dhali and Ramiel in destroying Shax and his demon brethren recently during a large battle by - somehow - channeling divine energy and performing a Song that drained him entirely and left him unconscious.

Agatha Klassen: On the cusp of her eighteenth birthday, Agatha is the epitome of the Mean Girl persona. A talented dancer, beautiful, from a family wealthy enough to afford her trendy, fashionable clothes, manicured nails and a trip to the salon every week. She is the acknowledged Queen of Hollywood Arts popular clique, alongside her boyfriend Kirsch - a drummer and soccer player of noticeable skill. It is strongly suspected that Agatha is the host for one of the Demons of Factions in Los Angeles.

Brody Kirsch: A handsome eighteen year old athletic youth with sandy blonde hair blue eyes and tanned skin from spending so much time outdoors at the beach with his girlfriend, Agatha. Kirsch is a skilled drummer, and star forward on the Hollywood Heralds soccer team. Incredibly popular, he is a bit of a bully when he's around his girlfriend and her clique, but is generally a lot nicer if encountered outside of a public social gathering.

Kaitlin Mayweather: A young junior in Hollywood Arts High School, with a sweet voice and passable pianist. She was an honor student, on the road to scholarships and prestige. Her absentee parents left her and her older brother Justin to raise themselves in a lot of ways, though money was never an issue for them. Recently, Kaitlin has begun to act out in a disturbingly uncharacteristic manner - including drug use, vandalism, theft, and more gruesome displays. Kaitlin was recently revealed to be one of the hosts for Garezar. Khalil and Solomon have recently rescued Kaitlin from a drugged stupor in some twisted recording studio in the basement of the Rhaposdy in Red.

Louis Dancourt: A convicted mass-murderer and serial killer who is presently attempting an appeal based on claims of evidence tampering by the LAPD and the District Attorney's Office. Has an older sister named Elizabeth. According to Elizabeth, Louis was a family man with a wife whose life began to spiral after he met some woman who was interested in his work. Harry recently broke Louis Dancourt out of prison and stashed him, for the moment, with Mercy.

Bethany Caulfield: A young aspiring starlet who was pressured into signing a morally questionable contract by a Blackwater Studio scout without the input of her talent agent. Bethany and the agency are asking Ellington and Wolf, LLP to help re-negotiate the contract, or help her break it, to prevent her from being subjected to the kind of soul-crushing films she's slated to be in - despite the considerable wealth they're offering. Presently being represented by Sarah.

Hanna Pierse: Adopted daughter of Elizabeth Dancourt. Her parents were killed by Louis Dancourt, and he has attempted to kill her on more than one occasion. Hanna is strongly suspected to be one of the Five, as her surname matches that of the Pierse Bloodline. It has been revealed she was being tormented by Baraghur the Habbalah of Fate for unknown reasons.

Zahrah Brar: A small, waifish Middle-eastern girl with a wispy pixie-cut, and exotic eyes. Talented singer and girlfriend to Simeon Juarez.

Felix Brar: Brother to Zahrah and friend of Bethany Caulfield.

Simeon Juarez: A handsome Hispanic man with an unruly mop of black hair, and a very talented pianist. Boyfriend to Zahrah Brar.

Roman: A Soldier of God, in service to Jerichael. He's a tall, mountain of muscle and works as a bouncer for the Howitzer to better facilitate his usefulness to Jerichael. He's incredibly imposing but overall quite friendly. The hunting knife he carries with him has an ivory handle carved to resemble an angel and is a blessed weapon. Roman was present during the fight against Bethrezen, handling himself with skill and diligence.

The Remnant: Appearing as a middle-aged black man with a felt top-hat and a ukulele. Speaks with a heavy accent, and a bright and sunny attitude. Spends a lot of time around Thachael's Loft.

Ryan Prodoruti: A Soldier of Heaven in the LAPD. Brother of Elizabeth Dancourt and foster-uncle of Hanna Pierse.

Isaac: A good-looking bartender at the Rhapsody in Red. Dresses like a stereotype from a Prohibition-era New York speak-easy.

Bhabha: A Lyft driver who chauffered Emblem around when he arrived in town.

Donald Yates: A Texan who now drives a taxi in Los Angeles. Has two teenage children with his wife, an immigrant from Tijuana, Mexico.

Professor Barton: Kat O'Brien's journalism professor and editor-in-chief of the UCLA newpaper.

Lucian Morgenstern, Elliot Statham, Grant Mayweather and Robert "La Roy" Desjardin: Other named individuals who are major shareholders in Blackwater Studios. Some of them are reported to be Demons who live out-of-state.




Inanna: Thought to be the ancient Pagan Goddess of Babylonian myth, she is quick of wit, brilliant of mind, and gorgeous beyond the ken of mortality. She spends most, if not all her time at Club Babylon where she holds a sort of court for the Celestial and Ethereal visitors to Los Angeles. She is a bit of an information broker, and often trades favors and deals with those who seek her out. She maintains a strict policy of neutrality in The War, and swiftly shuts down anyone who tries to draw her into the political battlefield between Angels and Demons. Inanna seems to be altering her stance of non-interference by actively sheltering and helping the Ofanim Adele while she tries to find a way to break a Geas inflicted on her by Evexiel the Lilim.

Duke (Marduk): An incredibly handsome man with an impressive physique and a jovial demeanor, it is possible that the doorman at Babylon named Duke is - in reality - Marduk of the ancient Sumerian Faith. Duke was recently roughed up in a brawl with a number of soldiers of Hell who tried to strong-arm him and Inanna at Babylon.

Hobus: An unknown being known to craft all manner of relics and artifacts. Hiding in the Marches. Supposedly the only one who can provide an item that will help Adele break the Geas upon her. Known to have suffered greatly during the Purity Crusade.

[Erulasto]

Custom Labelled Map of Los Angeles (Work-in-Progress)

https://drive.google.com/open?id=1qG_2I9bL_LJNX-AIhTKJkfpf4UQTxDaA&usp=sharing


Please suspend your knowledge of Los Angeles. I'm Canadian. Hehehe

Official OOC Thread:

http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?554233-In-Nomine-Los-Angeles-(OOC)&p=22939348#post22939348

[Erulasto]

"And the people bowed and prayed, To the neon god they made
And the sign flashed out its warning
In the words that it was forming
And the sign said, the words of the prophets are written on the subway walls
And tenement halls
And whispered in the sounds of silence" - Simon and Garfunkel, Sounds of Silence

_________________________________________

"Good evening, ladies and gentleman. This is Jan Stevens with the KNX 1070 evening news. Our first story tonight is one of outrage and horror. As we reported a few days ago, the California Supreme Court has agreed to a hearing to discuss the appeal requests for convicted murderer Louis Dancourt. His lawyers have released a statement declaring their intent to have Louis' sentence overturned by claiming that the Los Angeles Police Department manufactured evidence. In response the district attorney has reconvened to review the evidence while a board of inquiry has begun to investigate the possibility of evidence tampering.
Meanwhile, the family and friends of Mr. Dancourt's victims have joined together in protest outside of the courthouse.
In other news......."

September 25th, 2018
7:45 pm

The summer months had began to wane, bringing with it a lot of rain from the Pacific due to a low pressure system that had settled over Los Angeles for close to a week. Rain had been pelting the city and surrounding in the early hours of the morning, but the clouds had cleared recently, allowing the first warm rays of the setting sun to bathe the puddle-slicked streets with bands of gold and red.

The Symphony had been oddly passive for a while, considering the high population of Celestials in Los Angeles. This strange reprieve had been in effect since the roaring cacophony that announced the Infernal ambush on a travelling Angel of Revelation, Thachael. The last two Angels to see him were Solomon - Angel of Faith, and Jerichael, a Servant of the Sword. Both managed to make it to the Tether of Stone, bloodied and bruised, with a tale of unprecedented Diabolical violence. The sort if violence not commonly seen in the cold war-esque stalemate in Los Angeles.

No one had seen or heard from Thatch since that fateful day, and a brief visit to Heaven by Ysieriel on behalf of the Angel community yielded no answers that Ysieriel was willing to share - only giving a somber glare in askance.

* * * * *
Sarah

Paperwork was the name of the game for Sarah for two days now. When she received a late-night phone call from Liam, he proceeded to ruin her beauty sleep by ranting for almost two hours about how they had a new, potentially high-profile case involving a talent agency, their client and none other than Blackwater Studios. As he tells it, young wishful actress - Bethany Caulfield - was pressured into signing a rather impressively sketchy contract by a Blackwater scout while she was out at a club, without consulting her agent first. The talent agency has filed a motion to either amend the contract to more amiable terms, or claim the contract was signed under duress.

Since that call, Sarah has spent her time - at Liam's request - going through both the contract for Miss Caulfield, and a host of prior class action suits against Blackwater with a fine toothed comb.

When she caught the blinding glare of the setting sun finally piercing the cloudy sky, so low in the horizon, Sarah realized that officially her working day had ended two hours ago.

Before she could make a move, however, there was a light tapping on on her door. Standing with the typical slouch is a young woman, barely out of her teens in an overlarge University of California hoodie and a pair of black leggings and fuzzy ugg-boots. Long, unkempt strawberry blonde hair poked out from around the hood and she wore a crooked grin, the end of a lolipop jutting out from the corner of her mouth.

"Hey, Sarah." Blastedly chipper, at all hours of the day, the Ofanim of Wind tilted her head. "You done for the day? I've been asked to fetch you for a lil' pow-wow. Something big has the soldiers showing off the starch in their britches a bit more than usual."


* * * * *

Jathiriel

"Jason?" The sweet-voiced Mercurian of Flowers inquired, a smile practically audible in her words. "Would you please lock the front door? We're done for tonight. I don't think anyone else is coming in. Once you're done, you can go if you want....or....well, my offer still stands?"
Mercy rambled nervously, as if afraid of pressuring or nagging the Balseraph too much.
She had asked him several times - or more, suggested hopefully - that he join her for a beer at a local watering hole so Mercy could introduce him to some of her other friends. A bigger circle of trust. More watchful eyes to ensure he didn't fall off the wagon. More hugs if he needed support.

Like a Ten Step Program.
Which made a certain kind of sense, knowing Mercy. She was loathe to use the term Renegade, and with a strangely cute conviction, she had crossed her arms indignantly and claimed there were no renegade demons. Instead, they were all recovering. Like an addict. Maybe they were.

"Come on, Jason. Pleeeeaaaaase?" Leave it to an Angel of Flowers to whine.


* * * * *

Sopholael

The school had closed for the night, and most of the staff had left with the students. The Library at Brighton had settled into a strange serenity, with the light of the setting sun amplifying the stillness, the weight of knowledge and ancient learning, and the tables now uncluttered by the mess the students had left behind. Sopholael had long since completed his corporeal obligation to his duty as the librarian for Brighton House. But he had been troubled lately. The destinies of many students had become....muddled. Indistinct.

It wasn't until he heard the sirens race by outside that the time truly dawned on him. As the local expert on Destiny, Adewale and Jerichael had called him earlier and asked him to come to the Howitzer tonight to have a conference. It was implied that the majority of the Angels in Los Angeles were going to be in attendance.

And now, be was running a touch late.

But then, the old rotary phone on his desk began to ring. The phone hadn't worked in as long as Sopholael had worked for Brighton House.

* * * * * *

Malchiel

Copernicus' Carafe off of 34th street was as hoity-toity a coffee bar as Mel had ever seen. It had the requisite hipster presence; an abundance of beards, vaping, and skinny jeans filled his field of view.
Including on the two youths sitting near his booth, notebooks open as they engaged in a furiously whispered discussion about whether or not the original version of Skinny Love was better than the cover done by Birdy.
It wasn't such mundane things that brought Mel out today. No, instead, it was the small, folded piece of paper that he found laying on the nightstand of the hotel he'd taken a room in after a shower. There was no damage, or signs of forced entry. No, just the window cracked ever so slightly, allowing a gentle - but cool - breeze in to stir the gauzy curtains. The note itself, folded and folded until it was little larger than a credit card, had very little on it:

Copernicus' Carafe.
7:30. Don't be late!
And bring the sunflower seeds!
.
..
....
.....
Please.

It was written in what appeared to be simple, black wax crayon. Almost juvenile, but the cursive was just a touch too eloquent. It carried the weight of years, but the rust of misuse. Of course, there weren't many Angels in Los Angeles that would ask for sunflower seeds. It had to be Morgannin. What the strange, unfriendly Ofanim wanted with Mel, was a mystery however.

And that is how Mel found himself sitting at the coffee shop, watching from the corner of his eye as a sprightly young girl with rainbow-dyed hair and an overly bright yellow cardigan took to the small corner stage with her acoustic guitar. Based on the first few strums on the slightly out-of-tune guitar, she was going for a rather out of character rendition of the Rolling Stones Sympathy for the Devil.

Just as she began, there was a tapping - almost frantic - on the glass of the window next to Mel's seat. Outside, was a rather large crow. Just, sitting on the window sill and cawing loudly while continuing to peck at the glass. A few stray passerby's even glanced curiously at the obviously flustered bird.

* * * * *

Haralambos

The weight of the two-by-four felt good in his hands. Solid. Reliable. It certainly did the trick today! Haralambos hefted the two-by-four again, and saw the splattered blood on the - rather splintered - end. The fat imp had dragged its corpulent, bloated body towards the back door, but when you take a solid piece of pine to the jaw with enough force to splinter the wood on your face, your capacity for locomotion is distinctly impeded. Haagenti had sent another two of these little bags of rot into the city. They seemed to be hanging around a lot of all-you-can-eat restaurants, handing out advertisements, or just there to gorge on cheap, greasy Italian or Chinese.

Haralambos had managed to catch the first one in an alley when it went to find a snack in the nearest dumpster, but he'd ended up needing to tail the second one back to the flop house it had been staying at. The house was also conspicuously empty of other people - which, given the neighborhood, struck Haralambos as a bit odd. He may not have been the sharpest blade in Michael's employ, but he had a pretty good track record with intuition when it came to Demons and their ilk.

The imp was warbling, and whimpering and obviously trying to speak, though its shattered jaw and copious missing teeth prevented Haralambos from needing to listed to much more than its pathetic mewling.

He heard a few sirens down the street around the same moment that the imp grasped the handle of the back door, and lurched through it before landing in a heap on the shallow deck beyond. That's when the smell hit him. He'd smelt enough burning meat to know that it wasn't chicken or beef on the barbeque in the back. Especially not when the chef is doing the butchering themselves, if the gore slicked apron over the patio table was any indication.

He'd stepped in it now. Cannibal imps of Haagenti. Just another day in the office.

The cops would be there in no time, and the fat imp in his borrowed body wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

* * * * *

Khalil Dhali

The young man was nervous as he sat across the old wooden desk from Khalil, if the constant wringing of his hands, tapping of his foot and abnormal level of perspiration was any indication. He had found Khalil on a random web-search, and approached with a wad of cash - well over $400 in twenties and fifties.

"I know my sister, sir. She...she was a good kid. She didn't start getting into trouble until she started hanging around Agatha and Victoria and their circle of friends. She used to be an honors student, for ****'s sake!" He seems a little surprised at his own outburst, before rubbing his eyes in frustration. "Now...now Mr. Wilcox doesn't even care she hasn't been to school all week. Out smoking the reefer." His impression of the middle-aged principal seems like it would be a good one.

"I just...I just don't know what to do. Mom and Dad are out of town all the time and couldn't care less what we do so long as we don't embarrass them. But I swear, something's wrong with her! I got all the cash I could spare. Please! You need to find her and figure out what's wrong with her! Kaitlin doesn't know what she's doing and these new friends of here are just going to make her waste her potential!"

This young man, Justin, set the wad of bills down on the desk in front of Khalil. When he had shown up looking for the man, with a tale of a wayward little sister throwing her life away, it seemed like a story as old as time. But the more Justin spoke of his sister and her rather....abruptly changing priorities in life, the Angel felt a little twig in the back of his mind that maybe...just maybe...there was something more significant going on here. Experimenting with drugs was one thing a high school student would do, for sure. Maybe vandalism and truancy. But carving and scarring their flesh as a new fashion trend? Khalil certainly didn't understand why the adults involved weren't taking this substantially more seriously.

Justin sat there with pleading eyes, when the cell phone Khalil had been using to record the boys story began to ring with an unknown number.

* * * * *

Ramiel

He found him in the music room, just like he had been every day for the last week. It was hours since class was let out, and while the teachers at Hollywood Arts were more than happy to accommodate a passionate student, Malcolm had been spending far more time in here, staring intently at a steadily dwindling stack of plain, white paper in front of him.

He would stare at the paper, thick brows furrowed in deep thought, before humming a few notes to himself. Malcolm would then strum those notes out on the old, beat up acoustic guitar in his lap before furiously scribbling them down on the paper before him. This would go one for ten, fifteen minutes, and Malcolm would get a quarter - maybe halfway - through the page before groaning in growing frustration and crumple it up to be tossed to join the large pile of other crumpled paper in a nearby blue recycling container.

Malcolm muttered to himself, and took a small sip of the water bottle next to him. Then, he placed red and raw fingertips back on the worn strings, and tried another sequence of notes.

Even as Ramiel stood in the doorway as Samuel Sheperd, Malcolm didn't seem to notice - far to engrossed in his own work. That's when he heard it, a soft laugh coming from the other entrance to the music room - the one that led to the backstage area of the school auditorium. Malcolm glanced up at the sound, and the look of defeat on his face grew exponentially as he realized it was Agatha Klassen. She was the quintessential mean girl. Trendy clothes. Make up. Perfectly styled hair. Unfortunately, she also came with the nastiest attitude in the school. Her and her boyfriend Kirsch were the effectively the King and Queen of Hollywood Arts - and, yes, they were quite talented as well. Kirsch was a drummer, and could keep a wicked beat. Agatha was a dancer extraordinaire. It was often she was overheard bragging about how she had been performing ballet since she was five.

"Whatcha doing, Price? How many tree's have you killed today? God! After this? Not even Mother Nature is gonna love you." She snidely claimed as she jerked a thumb towards the pile of crumpled papers.

Ramiel could see Malcolm's shoulders slump just a bit further at her words, but he was doing his best to ignore her.

[Anyr]

Sarah was strongly motivated by cases like this. Contracts had the power to foster cooperation and trust. The best of them were clear, comprehensive blueprints of a partnership. Contracts laid out each party's expectations of one another, so that there'd be no misunderstandings. Sadly, some people thought of contracts more like snares. They used hidden loopholes, small print and smooth talk to lure victims into a trap. A big part of Sarah's job involved cutting such victims loose. And even if it weren't her job, both her Choir and Word would push her to do it anyway. Lilim of Trade existed to help people like Bethany Caulfield.

A knock on the door put an end to Sarah's plans to pull an all-nighter. Looking up from the giant stack of paperwork, a smile crept onto her face. Adele! Sarah got along well with Adele. She wished that the two of them got more chances to hang out. But good luck getting an Ofanite of Wind to stay put for long. Speaking of which, Sarah immediately stood up. She ignored her impulse to check her hair, or brush her clothes before departing. She instead picked up her jacket from the back of her chair, and made straight for the door. Each Choir had their own dos and don'ts for a smooth relationship. Rule number one of working with an Ofanite: Don't keep them waiting.

"Are we talking actual big? Or Adam's 'everything I ask is the most important thing ever' kind of big?"

[Siegemonkeys]

Having been absent the previous day, 'Sam' walks around the school with a notebook in hand, looking for Malcolm. Seemed like he missed a lot in class while he was absent, all thanks to Adewale and his stupid interview. Thankfully, it gave him an excuse to interact with Malcolm, so it wasn't a -total- waste at least. The notebook in his hands was Malcolm's, filled with notes from what he missed yesterday; Sam asked if he could borrow them, and now he planned on using it to get closer to his charge. They were on friendly terms, but not really close friends yet. And in his experience, becoming friends was the best way to keep an eye on someone.

Opening the music room door, he finds Malcom exactly where he expected to see him; Practicing with his guitar again. They'd only met a week ago, but Sam discovered that Malcolm spent a lot of time here practicing. He kind of admired the kid's dedication. Smiling, he crosses his arms and leans against the doorframe, not wanting to interrupt yet. Then the other door opens, and Sam clicks his tongue in annoyance; Agatha was here to cause trouble. Even with just a week's experience under his belt, Sam knew she was a real irritating person to deal with. Noticing her insults getting to Malcolm, he decides to intervene.

"Yo, Malcolm!" He calls out to him, walking over and taking a seat next to him. He pays no mind to Agatha, in fact he blatantly ignores her and pretends she's not there for now. People like her feed off of attention, the best insult was to just ignore them. If he was lucky, she'd just leave now that Malcolm wasn't a lone target. "Thanks for letting me copy your notes, you're a lifesaver." He sets the notebook down next to Malcolm's papers, then looks at the stack curiously. "Whatcha working on there, man? New song?" He asks with genuine interest. His head was turned away from Agatha, his attention focused on Malcolm. It wasn't hard to see that he was ignoring her on purpose.

[JeenLeen]

I'm a little confused about the scenario.

It sounds like I am at 1) a random house, 2) smellling human meat being cooked, and 3) police are on the way. Also, the imp is in a human body but really beat up. Is all that correct? I also gather imps cannot easily turn celestial and escape.
If not, I'll revise this.

EDIT: upon thinking about it, what is 'standard operating procedure' when dealing with Imps, Soldiers of Hell, undead, etc., at least for Michael & other militant angels? Is it considered best to kill them while you can, or sometimes to let them be taken in for questioning?
Do imps really die when killed, or just go back to Hell?
If you kill a celestial (or imp), do the vessel's bodies remain or sorta evaporate?
If it'd be more normal, or considered better policy, for Harry to kill the imp, he does so assuming no bigger threats are nearby. Regardless, I guess he'll punch it in the face to try to KO it (again, assuming no bigger threats.)

Regardless, attunes resonance in case someone speaks, to try detect lies.
@ TN 8
edit: I guess I accidentally put 1d6 instead of 2d6. Here's another d6 for you[roll]1d6
[roll0] CHECK

edit2: gah. I know the rules about edits & dice rolls are funky. Could you roll the 2nd d6 for me. Or, if you're feeling generous, count my successful check roll as a d6 for a sum of 6 (success!) and you roll the check digit :smallbiggrin:


Annoyed at the sirens, Haralambos follows the imp in, ready to fight in case it had any friends inside. He'd let it survive to be taken prisoner by the cops. Let the smarter angels in the LAPD tease out some leads out of the mangled imp. He readies the wooden plank should he need it. No longsword, but it'll do.

Wearing a trenchcoat and scarf, he raises the latter to cover his face, then looks around for anything else that might need a beating, or -- a deep hope in his heart -- someone on the menu he might save.

He also eyes the building for any windows he could move through, if he needed to run. Questions weren't from cops wasn't great, even if a fellow militant was high up in the police. Worst-case, he'd turn pigeon and fly out. Best-case, he'd scamper out a window.

[XIII]

The office of Sentinel Investigations belonged in a different time. The furniture, architecture, and décor were straight out of an old private eye black and white film. Khalil had seen such movies, but never experienced that time period as most of his peers had. He was only 6 years old, after all.

Khalil shuffled over to the radio and turned it down, the Dancourt case was yet another thing he filed in his mental "to do" list. If he could get around to it, that is. In truth, Khalil was hoping against hope to stumble onto anything to shed light on the Thachael case. Khalil sat down slowly, holding on to the arms of the tattered office chair, he rubbed his knee. His mustache spread across his face with his smile, "Alright young man, what brings you in today?"

Minutes later...

"Well, I can see why you're worried. You're a good brother, you know? I'm glad you came in. Tell you what," Khalil grabbed the wads of bills and began to organize and smooth them out. "I'll be more than happy to-

The phone rings

"Excuse me a moment, Justin." Khalil fumbled with the phone for a moment, allowing the record function to continue, he answered the call while stepping right outside the office.

"Hello?"

[Erulasto]

Sarah

Adele was already fidgeting by the time Sarah had made it to the door, and had just popped the lollipop out of her mouth when Sarah asked her question. In close proximity, Sarah could smell the aroma of strawberries on her breath.

”I dunno all the details, Sarah. But it wasn’t just Adam who wanted this meeting. Jeremiah and Gaspariel are heading this one up. In fact, Adam was positively foaming at the mouth when they decided to have a meet up without consulting him first.”

Adele shrugged a bit, while rocking to and fro on the balls of her feet. ”It’s got to be something significant if the two most senior commanders in the city have need of ALL of us.” The implication that if even some rather solitary angels like Morgannin were coming, it must be at least somewhat significant. Not to mention the Seneschals coming from their Tethers. That alone was worth taking note.

As they made their way through the offices of Ellington and Wolf, LLP, the few other stragglers nodded their farewells to Sarah, as they went about their usual end-of-day routine. A couple of them gave the young woman next to Sarah a second glance, not used to seeing leggings and ugg boots in such a professional environment. Adele didn’t seem to notice, as she is too busy skipping down the hall, sometimes in front, sometimes beside.

Suddenly, as they approach the elevator, Adele stops abruptly between the doors and Sarah.

”So…..” Adele smiled a bit sheepishly, glancing at the Lilim out of the corner of her eye. ”Did um…did you drive to work today?”

* * * * *

Ramiel

Malcolm seemed startled by Sam’s arrival, sitting up straighter, and turning wide eyes towards the newcomer. The moment his gaze landed on Sam, Malcolm seemed to deflate a bit, the tension running off him in waves. A small smile was offered to his newest acquaintance.

”It’s no biggie, man. Mrs. Tomko drones on so much it’s impossible to remember everything she says.” Malcolm idly put his notebook back into the worn canvas messenger bag at his feet, studiously avoiding eye contact with Agatha as she tried her best to loom over the table he was sitting at. She kept flickering her narrowed, spiteful eyes towards Sam with a scowl.

She opened her mouth to unload a torrent of vitriol, when the door cracked open again and the star forward of the Hollywood Heralds soccer club – and conveniently, Agatha’s boyfriend – poked his head in with a lop-sided grin.

”Hey Sam. Hey Malcolm.” said Brody Kirsch. He always was a lot friendlier than his witch of a girlfriend. At the greeting, Agatha turned red as a beet and, huffing indignantly, turned and stomped off towards Kirsch – looking more and more like a charging bull with each angry step. She shoved the soccer player hard, pushing him out into the hall, and letting the door slam shut behind them. Her beautiful singing voice morphed into an angry, bitter keening as the tirade on not associating with losers was heard, slowly fading down the hall.

Malcolm sighed a bit as what little hostility in the room seemed to dissipate entirely with Agatha’s departure, and he glanced up at Sam with a small shrug.

”I dunno, man. Maybe? I’ve got this tune stuck in my head. I’ve been dreaming about it every night. Like it just wants to get written, you know? But I can’t get it right.” Malcolm gestured to the pile of crumpled papers.

”And uh….y’know…thanks for that.” Malcolm nods his head to the closed door that Agatha had just vacated.

* * * * *

Haralambos



I apologize if it wasn’t particularly clear-cut. Some context, would have helped a bit, I think. Hehe

Harry is doing one of the things he does best. Kill Demons. In this case, it was a target of opportunity. A couple lowly imps (like….6 or 7 Forces at most). You got the first one in the alley, but followed the second back to the flop house in case it led you to more targets.

As it turns out, it would appear that the rest of the residents of the flop house were dinner for the imps, and maybe a full demon too. Haagenti would love this.

The cops are on their way, not that you’d know why, and there is human flesh on the BBQ. The flop house is in a low-income neighborhood. Likely the kind of place addicts go to crash while they’re high, or just go to pass out for a bit.

As far as the opening scene goes, I’m not going to worry about making you roll just yet. So count the Resonance as a success with a check of 4. Does that work for you?



The inside of the flop-house is conspicuously bare. Most of the furniture that actually exists in this rancid place – a grease-stained futon, a couple bean bags and random sleeping bags in various states of disarray – is filthy. There aren’t even a lot of lightbulbs in the fixtures.

It seems like the sort of place a brutal Demon would hang out. Not the self-respecting king like a Balseraph or an Impudite.

The Imp has managed to make it out the back door entirely now, but sags down in defeat on the patio next to the BBQ. It whimpers again, a fat stubby finger poking at the ruins of his lips and jaw, slowly picking a three inch pine splinter from his gums.

The sirens were much closer when Haralambos heard a sudden sound from the pocket of the groaning imps jeans. Though muffled, it was distinctly clear, and the call caused the Imp to widen beady eyes in a sudden panic.

How come you're always such a fussy young man,
Don't want no Cap'n Crunch, don't want no Raisin Bran
Well don't you know that other kids are starvin' in Japan
So eat it! Just eat it!

The Imp begins to rummage weakly through his pocket, attempting to get the cell phone and silence it before it undoubtedly draws the Seraphs attention.

* * * * *

Khalil Dhali

Justin sits, perhaps slouches is more accurate, in his old chair and let's his eyes wander around the room while Khalil steps away to take the call.

Once he has some privacy, and accepts, there is a momentary pause while a rich baritone voice, thick with a Middle-Eastern accent speaks to someone on the other side of the phone.

"Salam Khalil. It's Solomon. I'm not interrupting anything important, am I?"

Solomon, Cherub of Faith. Loyal servant of Khalid, is an honorable Angel, as far as they go, and entirely devoted to not only the Word of Faith, but the ideals held by Khalid as well. A warrior of some skill, Solomon is known for fighting against Demons and Angels, in equal measure - for he participated in the Crusades alongside his Saracen brothers and fought against Legion many years before that.

[Failed Phantasm]

The first words were barely out of Mercy’s mouth when the scrape of a stool and the jingle of keys answered her; one would be forgiven for thinking he had been indulging in the very human behavior of watching the clock until closing, were there any clocks in the flower shop to be watched. Instead, he’d spent the last hour or so since sundown staring at his vessel’s reflection in the storefront windows, alone with the silence and the snapdragons. ‘I think I almost prefer Limbo,’ he thought as he walked down haphazard rows of flowers whose (English) names he wouldn’t remember but for the sprightly tags hand-drawn in colored marker. ‘There isn’t anything there to break.’ Having made it without accidentally brushing against anything, he dutifully flipped the wooden sign from sunflower-framed “OPEN” to nightshade-ringed “CLOSED” and locked the door.

He hesitated to close the aluminum shutter, his vessel’s mildly apprehensive expression looking back at him while the invitation hung in the air like it had the Friday before. He was no newly-fledged celestial with the naïveté to expect the same blithely-accepting welcome from anyone less than the Angel of Forgiveness, and that was rather the problem. He glanced over his shoulder towards the back room. ‘How can she and I be nearly the same age?’ He shook his head in resignation and finished rolling the shutter closed. ‘You can’t avoid meeting them forever,’ said the part of him that was either the bitter cynic or the starry-eyed optimist — he either hadn’t decided or couldn’t tell which. As he trudged into the back room a minute later, he dangled her keyring from an outstretched index finger and looked her in the eye, saying only, “Who, exactly, is going to be there tonight?”


CONDITION
Health 96 / 96, Essence 10 / 10

➜ Body 12 / 12
➜ Mind 24 / 24
➜ Soul 60 / 60

ACTIVE EFFECTS

Truthfulness/6: Roll (Will – Truthfulness) whenever you attempt to lie or use the Balseraph resonance. Failure obligates you to tell the truth instead.

[XIII]

His paranoia satisfied, Khalil deactivated the record function. "And unto you, peace, Solomon. Good to hear from you. I am with a client, but can spare a minute for you. How have you been?" Khalid liked Solomon, respected him even. He imagined what it must have been like to fight in the crusades as he did, and against Legion before that. Sometimes Khalil was self-conscious of his inexperience, it made him eager to prove himself, which he tried to be wary of.

[Siegemonkeys]

Sam doesn't even dignify Agatha's scowl with a glance in her direction, doing a very good (and quite irritating) job of pretending she doesn't exist. At the sound of the door opening and Brody saying hello though, Sam lifts his head up and smiles, giving him a casual hand wave and a quick "How's it going?" before Agatha drags him off. The door closes behind them, and he turns his attention back to Malcolm.

"Song from a dream, huh? Sounds interesting, hm...You try keeping a journal next to your bed or something? Might remember it better right after you wake up, might be able to piece it together if you get the bits you remember down one night at a time." He suggests. The same song every night though? Maybe it was important, if it kept showing up in his dreamscape. Maybe he'd try looking into Malcolm's dreamscape later that night, do a jam session later and 'by chance' drop him some of the bits he couldn't remember.

"Thanks? For what, saving you from Agatha? Nah, don't worry about it. Consider us even now for lending me your notebook." Sam jokes, giving him a friendly jab in the arm. "Don't let her get you down, she's just trying to get attention. Like one of those small dogs that won't stop yapping at everybody that walks by. Kind of feel bad for Brody though, dude's not that bad a guy from what I've been seeing. That girl's poison to him, I swear."


Since they've known each other for a week, I dunno if you want to say Ramiel's probably already attuned to Malcolm or not. Just in case though, I'll use this opportunity from jabbing him in the arm to try and do that unless you want to just say he's already attuned to him.

[roll0] Versus Perception 6
[roll1] Check Digit. Plus 2 for physical contact with the subject, if the modifiers on page 57 factor in here.

[Anyr]

Sarah was glad to know that this meeting really was important. Being called away from Bethany's case for something trivial would have been annoying. Each goodbye from a co-worker received some attention from Sarah. She smiled at friends, and nodded to acquaintances. Little things like this that kept you connected to people. The reactions to Adele's outfit were amusing. Truth be told, Sarah envied the courier for her free fashion. Almost every weekday, Sarah came to work in variations of the same business suit. Her vast, varied wardrobe at home went mostly to waste. Such was the price of professional life.

Suddenly, Adele's meandering stopped. Sarah almost ran straight into her. From such close quarters, she had a good view of the Ofanite's sheepish expression. The question that followed did a terrible job of concealing its ulterior motive. Adele's angle here was so obvious. Sarah replied playfully, with feigned ignorance.

"Yes, I did; In my very nice, very fast car. Why do you ask?"

[JeenLeen]

Madman Harry smiles. Demon hunting was his real job, after all. With an unnatural speed and grace for his bulky form, he hurtles across the room, skidding across furniture and fixtures -- such as the loathesome room bore -- to land squarely in front of the imp.

His 2x4 smashes the imp's face in shortly afterwards.
He listens at the ringing phone, then picks up the Imp's body and pulls it back inside. Still listening for police and ready to shift forms if they look ready to come inside, he opens the phone and listens for whoever might be calling.

He'd been thinking he should get a reason to go to Mr. Lee's restaurant and send that guy to Hell. Maybe this would let him get a reason to ask the other fighting angels for an OK on that.

[EarthenRite]

With a raised eyebrow, he reached out and lifted the receiver,’feeling the comfortable weight of the tried and true in his hand. He put the receiver to his ear and spoke,’already somewhat bothered that he had let himself become late. It mattered less that the phone had previously been inoperative. Destiny had a way.

“Good evening; Brighton House Library. This is Victor. Can I help you?”

[Erulasto]

Sarah

Adele didn’t lose the sheepish smile, but the mischievous twinkle in her eye grew. The Ofanim was positively thrumming and vibrating with nervous energy.

”Can I drive?! Pretty please?!” Adele was like a kid in a candy shop, but she wasn’t ignorant or dull-witted. Her sheepish smile morphed to have a knowing, sly edge. ”I’ll owe you one?” She knew Sarah would be hard pressed to say no to an offer like that, and Adele REALLY liked her car, so it would be more than worth it to owe the Lilim a favor. Maybe Sarah would even let her take it for a cruise up to Vegas for a weekend? Oh, the wishful thinking of an Ofanim.

While waiting for Sarah’s response, Adele began to idly tap the down button on the elevator somewhat impatiently. She side-eyed the stairwell door, before taking a quick, cursory glance at Sarah’s professional attire with a small sigh.

”What’re you working on these days? Tell me you’re not working all the time still. A girl has to get out and live a little!”

The last time Adele had said those words to Sarah, she had tried to convince her to go try drag racing in the salt flats.

* * * * *


Ramiel

Malcolm stares glumly at the remaining stack of papers for a moment, and answers Sam’s inquiry about the notepad on the bedside with a distracted yeah, maybe. Sam got a chance then to really look at Malcolm as he stared, somewhat trance-like at the half-written musical notes across the page. The boy looked exhausted – dark circles under his eyes and a slightly sallow complexion that was beginning to replace the usual flush of his skin. His eyes almost looked haunted. There was definitely something going on.

When Sam broke the reverie by dismissing his thanks for dealing with Agatha, Malcolm actually grinned meaningfully – and the comparison to a yappy dog was enough to earn a heartfelt laugh.

”Like a Chihuahua! Someone should copy and paste her head on one of those little purse-dog’s bodies. You know, the ones that the big socialites like to carry around like some freakish accessory?” Malcolm at least seemed a bit more lively at this.

”Brody is a good guy, yeah. I don’t think even Agatha could really change him too much, but I suppose stranger things have happened. Brody used to be the drummer for a local garage band last year, but he gave it up to spend more time with her. I wonder what he sees in her? She’s so….fake.”

Malcolm pauses for a moment, glancing back at the stack of papers before him. ”Do, uh…do you play?”


Sure, that works just fine that he’s attuned. Malcolm is, after all, Ramiel’s reason for being here.


* * * * *


Khalil Dhali

”I have been as well as can be, Khalil. Jerichael and I were with Thachael before he went missing, and we were ambushed at the waterfront by some Demons and a handful of Soldiers. We fended them off just long enough for Thachael to run – he was investigating a prophecy he’d stumbled upon – but hadn’t been able to get us all the information, but we’ve come upon a rather helpful lead. I can’t go into it all right now, but would you mind coming to the Howitzer when you’re done with your client? We’re having a big get together with all the rest of the Angels in the city. There is something big coming.”

Solomon was a kind Angel, and he never seemed to begrudge Khalil his age or supposed inexperience. In his eyes, any servant of Gabriel was deserving of his respect until they did something to lose it.

Meanwhile, Justin had turned his gradually darkening expression to his cell phone, as it chimed six times in rapid sequence as a flood of text messages were received.

* * * * *


Jathiriel

Mercy hummed thoughtfully, arching a feathery eyebrow at the speed of which Jason locked up the shop. She seemed to sense the hesitancy in Jason – she was strangely empathetic that way, and took the offered keys from him with a warm smile. Setting the keys aside, she shifted about and settled directly in front of him. Gently, she laid one hand over his heart. Mercy tried to capture his gaze with her own – infinitely deep, and warm, and – for perhaps no reason comprehensible to Jason – compassion.

”If what I heard was correct, Jason, it will be most, if not all, of them.” The smile never wavers. “Something important is happening in the city. It’s bringing lots of attention to Los Angeles – and not all of it good. They’ve requested all hands on deck.”

With that, Mercy turns to step around the desk again and grabs a bead-ridden canvas satchel with sunflower embroidery on the flap from a cupboard.

”I know it’s a lot to ask, Jason. But consider the analogy humans have about ripping off a band-aid. Sometimes it’s better to just get it over and done with in one go. Besides, no one will raise a hand to you while you’re under my protection.” For a Mercurian of Flowers, Mercy says that with such distinct finality and intensity that Jason may actually believe it.

* * * * *

Haralambos

The 2x4 ends the corporeal existence of the imp with no fanfare but a satisfyingly wet crunch. The cellphone is an old Nokia, battered and a bit greasy – there are even traces of hot sauce on the edge – from unwashed hands touching it. It even carries the slight scene of old onion rings. With a beep, the call connects and a pig-like voice warbles through the receiver.

”You fool! You nincompoop! You ignoramus!” The voice blusters. “You were told to be at the shop with the food hours ago! The Great Hungerer will not answer my summons unless I have enough food for his gloriously insatiable appetite – and I do not wish for him to take a bite of me again! We must be done by tomorrow evening if we want to take the glory of the find before that wretchedly pretty witch! Time is of the essence!” There is a dark chuckle that sounds…..fat.

The sirens finally stop their approach, and from the sound of it, they are not directly outside – but a few houses down the street.

* * * * *


Sopholael

The voice that crackles through the old rotary phone is wizened, and friendly – and it bears the weight of ages and, perhaps, a hint of grandfatherly pride.

”Hello?” The voice crackles through the line. It’s old, and wizened with the burden of years, and maybe holds just the tiniest hint of confusion. ”Is this thing on? Hello?” A second voice sounds close by the first. Soothing and much more youthful. There is a clattering for a moment, and the second voice comes over the line more clearly now – having wrested it from the initial called.

”Victor, yes? Please excuse Grandfather. He has far too much on his mind these days. My friends call me Tyne. Grandfather was doing some digging in his books for his friend Thatch, but we haven’t been able to reach him. This number was left in the last message we got from Thatch, so we thought we’d try here.”

[Anyr]

'I'll owe you one'. Those were the magic words. Sarah's Resonance couldn't actually sense the Need that Adele talked about. But real friends didn't require such tricks. Adele had promised a favour. That was good enough for Sarah. Reaching into her jacket pocket, she handed Adele a set of jangling keys.

"All right, all right! I can never resist your pretty pleases. Just try not to get me any tickets!"

Then Adele struck a sore spot. As Sarah felt the gaze run down her boring suit, she winced. Her life of late hadn't exactly been full of thrills. Much as she enjoyed making a positive difference to people's lives, the office routine did sometimes chafe. When she next spoke, Sarah made an (obviously fake) show of lecturing her lackadaisical friend.

"I'll have you know that my work is very important! I'm a valued, responsible professional. Unlike some people, I can't just go zooming off whenever I feel like it."

There was a hint of envy in those words. Ofanim and Lilim (whether Bright or Dark) shared a deep love of freedom. Sarah dearly wished she could accept one of Adele's crazy offers. The two of them could speed off to Vegas, dance the night away, and bring good vibes to a ton of random humans. But that was just a dream. Each of the would-be duo had their own place in the Symphony. Adele had to keep moving; And Sarah had to stay put. Their paths crossed all too briefly. Sarah always tried to make the most of their limited time together.

"That said, even responsible professionals need to unwind sometimes. If you were to ambush me at the right moment, I might be 'forced' to let you drag me somewhere fun..."

[XIII]

Khalil had been hoping for a lead, this was good news. Something in his gut told him bad things were coming, "I understand, I'll be down as soon as I can. Please forgive me if I'm a bit late, I have a feeling things may get... complicated on my end. Salam, Solomon."

With the call completed, Khalil walked back into his office. "I'm terribly sorry, Justin. As I was saying," Khalil took the now-organized bills Justin had brought with him and placed them back in front of the boy, minus $150. "That's all I need for now, call it a first-timer discount. I'm gonna need all the information you can give me on your sister... Is everything alright, Justin?" Khalil wondered what the rapid texts were, and if they were related to this new case.

[seatyger]

Mel vaguely remembered the song; there was some controversy over it around the time he had returned to earth in the early 70s, though he couldn't recall what that controversy was. He did think it was a rather accurate summation of Satan's blatant execution of his side of the War, and well done for the harsh rings and whines of the electric era of instrumentation.

A quirky half-smile flashed briefly across his face as he stood and pocketed the canvas bag filled with sunflower seeds. Leaving the cafe, Mel turned and walked past the crow, calling for it to follow with a flick of the wrist. He found a bench along the sidewalk and took a seat and opened the seed bag, pulling a few out to pay off his feathered...contact?

"To what do I owe the pleasure, Friend of Beasts?" he asked.

[JeenLeen]

Haralambos starts walking out of the flophouse, leaving the phone on to see if Lee (?) says anything else. He leaves the doors open. Someone will come by eventually and call the cops.

When it seems like no useful information will be said, or when he gets to his moped (never did pass that driving exam), he hangs up and starts to drive towards Lee's shop. He gets his phone out of the locked storage case in the moped and calls up Jerichael. (If he can't reach him, he tries van Graff.)

"Hey, this is Harry. I just fought a couple minions of the hungry demon, and I think Lee called one of them talking about calling his superior. Wanting to do it for some reason before tomorrow night, maybe to try to find someone. It wasn't real clear. But he said a pretty witch was also trying to do it. He wanted to do it first.
I got one of their cell phones. Would you like it, or should I toss it?
Would it be okay if I went to that demon's store and sent it to Hell? Um, also, anything you can tell me about his Songs?"

With the hour of day, would Lee's shop still be open?
Also, do I know if this sounds like Lee? I'm assuming his vessel is a somewhat cliche Chinese buffet owner, so does it sound Asian? (Trying not to sound racist asking that, but I hope you know what I mean.)

I figured, since my Driving skill is 0 or negative, getting a driver's license would be out of the question. If I have to roll to drive a moped through easy traffic, though, he has a bike instead.

EDIT: I reckon plot will draw me to the meeting instead of attacking Lee, but just case I'll note that Harry plans to swing by home to grab his sword (kept in a guitar case while on the road, or cello case if guitar is too small). Also would stop a couple miles (or whatever is safe for most song echoing, to not tip off Lee that he's coming) to cast Numinous Corpus: Tail with a five minute casting for +3 TN (so TN 9).
Can Harry keep a longsword at the Howlitzer, so it's there in case he's called there on short notice & sent out?

[EarthenRite]

Sopholael

The voice that crackles through the old rotary phone is wizened, and friendly – and it bears the weight of ages and, perhaps, a hint of grandfatherly pride.

”Hello?” The voice crackles through the line. It’s old, and wizened with the burden of years, and maybe holds just the tiniest hint of confusion. ”Is this thing on? Hello?” A second voice sounds close by the first. Soothing and much more youthful. There is a clattering for a moment, and the second voice comes over the line more clearly now – having wrested it from the initial called.

”Victor, yes? Please excuse Grandfather. He has far too much on his mind these days. My friends call me Tyne. Grandfather was doing some digging in his books for his friend Thatch, but we haven’t been able to reach him. This number was left in the last message we got from Thatch, so we thought we’d try here.”

Sopholael frowned. He was concerned greatly about Thatch as well.

“I understand. Thank you for helping your grandfather reach out to me, Tyne. If you were friends of Thatch, you are friends of mine. What information was your grandfather looking for on his behalf, if you don’t mind me asking?”

[Erulasto]

Sarah

The Ofanim snatched the offered keys with a gleeful grin, and as the elevator slowly descended to the parking garage, the happy dance she was doing was infectious.

Adele – like many Ofanim – don’t have the same empathy for others that some Choirs so, and so – while she didn’t really mean any offense to Sarah – she also didn’t really clue in to the sour feelings the comment may have created.
Instead, she simply pinched her eyes closed and stuck out her tongue at Sarah and blew a raspberry.

The floors ticked past slowly, and as they approached the parking garage in the basement, Adele seemed to perk up for a moment as if Sarah’s talk of running off together reminded her of something, and shoved a hand into her hoodie pocket, before thrusting a pair of slips of paper out in front of her – an offering to Sarah – with a wide, almost manic smile.

”You’re right! A kidnapping sounds like an AMAZING idea. Maybe when you’re done working on your case you can take a short vacation?”

The tickets – and they were indeed tickets – were for a couple months from now. They depicted the registration information for two reserved VIP passes to see a triple-header weekend of Tiesto, Britney Spears and Beyonce concerts, plus access to the after-parties.

”Umm…I know it’s not drag racing, or snorkeling in the Caribbean, but I know you like to dance and I thought…maybe….y’know…..you’d like to come with me?”

They arrived in the parking garage, and with a tap of the car-starter on the keys, the lights flashed, illuminating the car in its reserved parking stall, while sort of sheepishly awaiting Sarah’s answer.

* * * * *

Khalil Dhali

”Just make it when you can, Khalil. If you miss anything, we can fill you in when you arrive. I share your concern – I believe things may get complicated for ALL of us.” A moment later, the line went dead and left Khalil with that rather disturbing feeling in his gut.

Inside, Justin looked up with a start at Khalil’s return. When Khalil placed the money back on the table, Justin picked up the neat pile and blinked for a moment in surprise, wide-eyed.

”T…thank you! I really appreciate it!” But then his expression darkened a bit, and he sighed in resignation. ”No, not really. That was my friend Gregory. He said he saw Kaitlin going to a club she shouldn’t be going to. Oblivion? It’s a rave club. Big on drugs and ****. For Christ’s sake, it’s in Compton! The gangs that hang around down there would eat her for breakfast. She’s not even of age yet!”

He groans, and slumps forward in his chair, burying his face in his hands in frustration. From beneath them, he speaks again – voice muffled a bit. ”I’ll email you her class schedule, and all the usual people she hangs around with now. I’ll grab you their phone numbers too, if I can track them down.”

* * * * *

Malchiel

The Crow does indeed follow Mel to the park, and seems to happily hop around, snapping up a few of the seeds before gazing up at the Elohim with black, glossy eyes.

The crow let out a shrieking caw, to the ears of any passerby’s, but to Mel the words come through distinctly clearer.

”Son of Eli, you are needed. You must go to the Howitzer. Meet the others. There is a storm growing in the sky. The beasts are restless. The Demons are crawling from their dens and hunting.” When it came to Morgannin, visits were – often – not for pleasure. She gained her fulfillment soaring through the sky, tending to the feathered things of the city and surrounding areas…and collecting shiny things, of course.

Morgannin fluttered her wings, seemingly perturbed, and snatched a few more sunflower seeds in her beak.

”The Angel of Litheroy is gone. The Shadow of Death and the Bloody Hand of Baal made sure of this! I heard his essence ripped apart. But he was crafty, yes. He left us secrets that must be revealed.”


Haralambos

Jerichael answers on the first ring, his voice lacking the strange combination of gruffness and friendliness that he usually has.

”Harry. Good job on putting them down.” He didn’t ask if Harry had offed the imps. He knew better. If Haralambos caught a servant of Hell, Jerichael would bet essence that it was Harry who walked away.

”I’m glad you called, regardless of the minions of Haagenti. You may have to hold off on putting that fat demon filth out of his greasy misery for a little bit. We need you at the Howitzer. Solomon and I are calling a meeting. Everyone is coming….” Jerichael let the implication there hang for a moment.

”We can deal with Lee when we’re done, if you’d like. I am concerned why he’d be trying to summon Haagenti now, though. Do you think it can wait a couple hours?” The summoning of a Demon Prince would rock the Symphony to the point that the Angels would all feel it, but each summoning required specific – ingredients – if you will, and it certainly sounded like Lee wanted large quantities of fast food to be delivered by the Imp. Which certainly won’t be happening now.

Outside, Harry see’s the police car with the lights still flashing – though the sirens have since been silenced. One police officer sits in the driver seat, while the other is talking to a middle-aged woman in jeans and a casual blouse. Her image twigs Harry’s memory, and thought it takes him a moment, it eventually comes to him. Her name was Elizabeth Dancourt – older sister of convicted mass murderer Louis Dancourt.

* * * * *

Sopholael

”It’s our pleasure of be of assistance. My grandfather has known Thatch for a very long time. Thatch had become…concerned…..recently. You see, a number of mortals in the Marches had begun dreaming of the same dream – a recurring scene, that was revealed to be part of a prophecy. Thatch had asked my grandfather to look in the Library to see whether he could find a copy of the prophecy”.

Tyne sighs a bit over the line, before continuing. ”What we’ve found isn’t very good. A long time ago a Servant of Eli crafted an artifact – a brass compass with the blood of five faithful Soldiers of Heaven. It was supposed to track down their bloodlines through the years. Always would it be there to find them. The compass was made at the request of Yves himself, though the reasons were rather vague at the time. Thatch found the compass, and the descendant of one of the Soldier’s bloodline. We haven’t found all the details yet, but my Grandfather is distinctly concerned that the Prophecy involved these five bloodlines and the Word-bound Angel of Tears. I don’t believe I need to tell you why a Word-bound being involved in any Prophecy is a bad thing.”

[EarthenRite]

Sopholael

”It’s our pleasure of be of assistance. My grandfather has known Thatch for a very long time. Thatch had become…concerned…..recently. You see, a number of mortals in the Marches had begun dreaming of the same dream – a recurring scene, that was revealed to be part of a prophecy. Thatch had asked my grandfather to look in the Library to see whether he could find a copy of the prophecy”.

Tyne sighs a bit over the line, before continuing. ”What we’ve found isn’t very good. A long time ago a Servant of Eli crafted an artifact – a brass compass with the blood of five faithful Soldiers of Heaven. It was supposed to track down their bloodlines through the years. Always would it be there to find them. The compass was made at the request of Yves himself, though the reasons were rather vague at the time. Thatch found the compass, and the descendant of one of the Soldier’s bloodline. We haven’t found all the details yet, but my Grandfather is distinctly concerned that the Prophecy involved these five bloodlines and the Word-bound Angel of Tears. I don’t believe I need to tell you why a Word-bound being involved in any Prophecy is a bad thing.”

He hastily pulled a moleskine notebook from his desk drawer as Tyne spoke. He copied down all of the words as diligently as possible, nodding as he did so.

“Were you and your grandfather able to find the names of any other people of interest connected to the compass? Or the prophecy? Did Thatch provide you with any information on procedures if he were to drop out of contact? A failsafe, perhaps?”

He looked at the clock on the wall. He would be late, but this was critical information.

[JeenLeen]

"Lee said he had until tomorrow night. I imagine it can wait, since his imps aren't around anymore. I'd still like to head there tonight, if I can. Better when no customers or staff are nearby, anyway.

I'll head to the Howlitzer. You still got my spare sword there, right, in case I gotta go somewhere quick after?"

As the experienced angel speaks, Harry's mind clicks on the woman he sees. He adds, "The sister of that murderer is talking to some cops here. Dancourt? My gut's telling me I should listen in. I might be a bird when I show up."

Harry skirts into an alley, then, after checking nobody is looking, shifts to his pigeon form. Spending essence might be unwise with work tonight, but a bird draws less attention from cops than an eavesdropping, muscular man. Harry's not concerned about any nearby demons feeling his essence use; the imps would let them know sooner or later something happened.

A few seconds later, a gray pigeon lands near the woman and officer, listening on. And listening for lies.

[XIII]

Khalil's heart sank when Justin mentioned the rave-club, Oblivion. That poor girl had potentially gotten mixed up with the ruinous powers, and now he'd have to plunge into the seedy den after her. Khalil straightened up and took a serious tone, "Watch your language, young man. And leave the Lord's name out of your mouth if you're going to blaspheme." He relaxed slightly, placing a hand on the young man's shoulder, "I'll bring Kaitlin home."

After receiving all the information he can about Kaitlin and sending Justin on his way, Khalil sent a text to Solomon. [Heading to Oblivion. Child involved, cannot wait. Forgive me, pray for her.]

By the flame, I'm gonna get in trouble, aren't I?

Khalil started towards Oblivion as quickly as he could.

Does Khalil have a car or is he grabbing a taxi/train/bus?

[Anyr]

The happy dance! Sarah had missed the happy dance; Along with dancing in general. She had to restrain her own feet from joining in. Adele was like an energising gust of fresh air. Sarah just had to avoid being swept away by it. Luckily, her ironclad sense of duty was immune to any temptawait. Were those VIP tickets?! With way too much eagerness, Sarah grasped the offered slips of paper. These things were dangerous. She could already feel her resistance crumbling.

"Augh! This is only a step below handcuffing me to your wrist! You're really pulling out all the stops, aren't you?"

Sarah was still staring at the tickets when she left the elevator. Adele's endearing earnestness added even more pressure. The Ofanite really, really seemed to want this. Sarah was flattered. If it had been up to her, she'd have already said yes. But it wasn't up to her. She was an employee, with specific responsibilities. She couldn't even make a careless promise: Because Angels of Trade gained dissonance for breaking their word. Wait, maybe she could use that to placate Marc! "Sorry boss, I accidentally promised to go on a trip with Adele. If you stop me from going, I'll become dissonant!". That might work...

...No no no! Bad Sarah! You're an Angel now. Follow the spirit of the law, rather than just the letter. She needed to be straight with Marc; And with Adele. She needed to gaze into those wide, hopeful eyes, and lay out the real odds.

"You already know what I want to say. We'd be so great together. But my boss isn't like yours. He sends me to specific places. If he wants me fighting legal battles in L.A, then that's where I have to be.

Look, I'll try to find an opening. Maybe my schedule will be clear in two months. Maybe there's some useful job near the concerts that I can volunteer for. Just...don't get your hopes up."

Sarah lived to satisfy good people's Needs. Having to probably disappoint one felt terrible. That's why, instead of moping, she immediately walked over to her car. She wasn't going to let her friend descend into melancholy. One way or another, the two of them were going to enjoy themselves.

"But please, don't allow a possible future to ruin the present. Whether or not we'll be together in two months, we are together right now. Let's make the most of the time we have. There's a fast, beautiful car here with your name on it. Come and take it for a spin."

And as they drove, Sarah would find new ways to make Adele happy. There had to be some Needs she could satisfy. No Geases would be gained; No favours exchanged. The smile on her friend's face would be reward enough.

[Failed Phantasm]

Jason’s eyebrow arched slightly at Mercy’s not-at-all reassuring answer of “all of them”, which, for a celestial of his emotional ineptitude self-control, was tantamount to his jaw dropping through the floor. Perhaps equally telling, he did not immediately recoil from her touch, simply because her words were the greater shock. He was only dimly able to process the rest of the conversation, since the best response his mind could muster for a solid minute was a disbelievingly dumbstruck ‘All of them?!’ It was hard to consider the possibility that she was lying to him: she had shown herself to be atrociously bad at deception both in principle and in practice, unless she were lying to him about that too. Failing that, she honestly expected him to be in the same room as at least one Servitor of Stone, one of the Sword, and no fewer than three Servitors of Judgement — one of whom was trying entirely too hard to live up to his predecessor’s reputation and Superior’s trust, and failing to understand why being a hardass of Asmodeus’ caliber wasn’t the way to do it.

Recovering as smoothly as he could from his shock, he said, “I appreciate your effort, but I don’t think you understand the cause of my concern. This vessel” – he indicated with a sweep of its arm from chest height down – “suffering injury or death is the least of my concerns, Mercy. At least I know how to deal with that!” He crossed his arms and continued, “But you can’t honestly expect to have two Malakim and a Balseraph in the same place without issue, even if said Virtues never draw a weapon.” With a slight note of desperate helplessness in his voice, he added, “And do they know I took part in the Rebellion? If that comes to light, there’s no possible way they’ll just politely ignore the fact for civility’s sake.” And that had been one of his greatest impediments to seeking Redemption in the first place. The newly-appointed Dominic might never have erected some grand monument in Heaven with the names of all the first traitors as an eternal reminder, but neither could he expect that his name and his actions were unknown. ‘I know that’s why the Seraphim Council has yet to reach a verdict on my request for asylum. No one in their right mind would ever trust one of the first of the Fallen.’ It was one thing to know he had to take responsibility for, and own the consequences of, the choices he made long ago; it was quite another to confront and accept the long-suppressed tangle of emotions that were erupting to the surface in the here and now.

With a grimace, he hung his vessel’s head and looked away from Mercy’s gaze. “The moment I interact with any of them in more than a cursory way, the Council will have cause to call upon them as witnesses to my character, and yet it would be an entirely reasonable and proper reaction for them to disbelieve everything I say and do on principle, even when I’m being completely honest and forthright.”


CONDITION
Health 96 / 96, Essence 10 / 10

➜ Body 12 / 12
➜ Mind 24 / 24
➜ Soul 60 / 60

ACTIVE EFFECTS

Truthfulness/6: Roll (Will – Truthfulness) whenever you attempt to lie or use the Balseraph resonance. Failure obligates you to tell the truth instead.

[Erulasto]

Sopholael

”Unfortunately, we were only able to find the names of the bloodlines. We don’t know who the current descendants are. They’re Price, DeWitt, Malanowska, Pierse, and Brar. Thatch did figure out that the current descendant of the Price line is Malcolm. He’s a student at Hollywood Arts High School. When Thatch let us know he tracked one down, we passed the word along to the higher ups and from what I gather Michael has sent a Cherub to watch over the boy for now.”

The sound of shuffling paper – most likely pages turning – sounds softly through the phone for a moment before Tyne continues. ”It says here the Cherub is…..Ramiel. He’s supposedly taken on a role as a student at the school to get close to Malcolm.”

The much older, wizened voice begins muttering from somewhere on the other side of the phone line, and Tyne sighs a bit wistfully.

”Yes, Grandfather. I’ll let him know.” His attention now returned to Sopholael, Tyne continues. ”Thatch was starting to get worried about the fact that somehow this Malcolm was of interest to some Demons as well. He had begun to compile a video diary of some sort to chronicle his investigation. Grandfather said the video was to be released if something happened to him. It would go to his Superior, and the warrior-angels of Los Angeles. Whomever their commanders are. I’m not familiar with who’se on duty there, unfortunately.”

* * * * *


Haralambos

Jerichael grunted in the affirmative, as Harry spoke of his plans. The sound of other voices in the background suddenly rose in volume as it appeared that Jerichael had moved into the common room of the bar.

”Right. We’ll see you soon. I’ll keep the armory in the basement unlocked for you when you get here. Help yourself.” Jerichael said. There is a pause at the revelation of Dancourt’s sister, then he chuckles roughly. ”You’ll be in luck. I already set out some bird seed for Morgannin. Peace, brother.” The call ends a half-heartbeat after that.

Once Harry has become a mighty, divine pigeon, he perches upon the top of a nearby fence.

The officer who has approached Elizabeth is speaking in hushed tones, though it’s not too hard for Harry to pick up what they’re saying.

”Come on, Beth. You need to accept the offer. You’re a sitting duck out here. If one of these protestors starts getting agitated, we don’t want them tracking you down!”

Elizabeth Dancourt simply shakes her head, a stubborn frown on her face.

”I won’t be bullied, Ryan. My brother is a sick man. I sympathize with those people, I really do. But I’m not my brother. I’m not going to let my life be ruled by fear. Me, or my daughter.”


Go ahead and roll for your Resonance to find out if anything rings untrue in the Symphony.


* * * * *


Khalil Dhali


I’d assume that even a marginally successful Private Eye would have at least a beater (Jessica Jones, aside). I sort of envision Khalil being the kind of Angel who would drive a little red Toyota Tercel or a Volkswagon Beetle for some reason.


Justin looks properly chastened by Khalil’s admonishments, and nods his head a bit glumly. He nods to the promise of delivering his wayard sister, relief sagging his shoulders, and he heads out for the evening. The email he sent to Khalil contained not only the promised information, but also a photograph of a pretty young girl in bad gothic make-up, smoking a cigarette while leaning against what appears to be her school behind the gymnasium. Along her arm that holds the smoke, her sleeve has fallen slightly, revealing angry red scars – fresh by the look of it – consisting mostly of profane symbols and strange characters.

The text goes through to Solomon, and a response is swift in returning.

<<Be safe. There has been a lot of Diabolic activity there recently. Be here when you can. We will ensure you are up to date.>>

Rush hour is over, so the trip to Oblivion is relatively uneventful. At one point, an exquisitely fancy imported car roars down a side street – the convertible hood down and a pair of women in the front seat, hair streaming behind them. Aside from the roar of a distinctly impressive engine, the sound of a young woman squealing with joy accompanied the screeching of high-quality import tires on asphalt.

* * * * *


Sarah

Adele seemed inordinately proud of her strong-arm tactics against the Lilim, puffing up her chest with hands resting on her hips and she struck a pose like a Super Hero. She only held the pose for a few heartbeats before she descended into maddened giggles.

When Sarah stopped her, and she was turned in to make eye contact, Adele’s wide eyed gaze took in the gentle sincerity within. Adele sighed wistfully, and nodded thoughtfully, acceptingly. She still wore a smile, though perhaps it was a bit dulled. ”I know, Sarah. I know. You do great work here.” Adele smiles, and nudges her with a shoulder. ”The ticket will still be good if you find a way to make it work.”

When Sarah dragged her to the car, the Ofanim brightened a little bit and rushed forward to run her hands across the hood, almost sensuously.

”Oh. My. God!!” Adele practically moaned with delight, before prancing around the entirety of the gorgeous vehicle. Having made a single full circuit around the car, she promptly lunged at Sarah and squealed in glee as the Ofanim went to wrap Sarah in a fierce hug. ”You are so AWESOME!”

Once into the car, Adele fumbled for the controls to retract the convertible’s roof. The keys were in. The engine roared to life. Adele turned her intense blue eyes and manic grin to Sarah. ”Buckle up, baby!”
The engine roared again – the sound reverberating off the concrete of the underground parking garage like some Beast loosed from the depths of Hell, and Adele depressed the accelerator with glee.

The drive to the Howitzer is thrilling in a white-knuckle sort of way. While most people would see Adele's driving as reckless and incredibly dangerous, she just feels the ride, as she drifts around corners, takes shortcuts that most people would never think to use - like across Mr. Lee's All-You-Can-Eat buffet's terraced lawn. She even slows down when she see's an approaching police car. She just stares at the cop inside wide-eyed, like a kid whose hand is caught in the cookie jar. The officer stares at her quizzically for a moment before shaking his head oddly, and driving away.

* * * * *


Jathiriel

Mercy listened patiently, kindly, as Jason expressed his concern – vigorously. She wore the same smile that was like a ray of sunshine against your face on a summer day. At several points throughout his speech, Mercy opened her mouth for a retort, or to interject, but simply remained silent as he barreled on.

When he had run his course, Mercy lolled her head to the side curiously, the smile becoming slightly wry.

”Are you done finding reasons why you shouldn’t go? Maybe you’re ready for some reasons why you should?” She furrows her brow into a tight frown, and steps back from him, arms crossing over her chest.

”I know you’ve spent a long, long time being Selfish, Jason, but I hate to break it to you, friend – you aren’t the first Demon to seek Redemption.” Mercy’s voice holds an edge to it. Still warm and friendly, but brooking no nonsense and with a bit of a growing temper, Jason is struck by the notion that this Angel of Flowers may have a few thorns as well. ”I’m more concerned about this…” she gestures rather erratically at his body ”…vessel being destroyed. Limbo is not a nice place, and it will set you back on your recovery!”

Mercy huffs indignantly. ”I realize that Balseraph and Malakim go together like oil and water, but you do realize the Malakim take Oaths to ensure that Evil does not live? You also know that my Lady Novalis takes the Malakim into her service? By helping a Demon find Redemption, they fulfil their Oath. They remove a pawn from Lucifer’s armies, and gain an ally with the strength of will, and conviction to actually walk that path. We already count one recovered Lilim amongst our number and I know for a fact she is well-liked by many of our contemporaries.”

Mercy sighs, releasing a heavy breath and lowers her arms from the prickly stance she had adopted. ”It doesn’t matter if you were one of the original Fallen, Jason. It doesn’t matter what ills you conceived of, or what horrors you committed. It matters what you choose to do with yourself NOW. You will always bear the guilt of your actions, but if you walk this path – difficult though it may be – you will have an eternity in His Symphony to make up for it. Besides. The Council won’t accept your call for sanctuary unless you have character witnesses.”

[Siegemonkeys]

Noticing the rings under his eyes, Ramiel makes a mental note that he will definitely check Malcolms dream that night. From the look of it, that song might not be so good after all...He'd have to go and look at his dreamscape to be sure, though if things were really bad he might have to ask a favor from one of Blandine's subordinates to help deal with the problem, if there was one.

"Garage band huh? Man, that's a shame he left then, I hear the guy's really good at playing drums." Sam remarks, raising an eyebrow at Malcolm's next question. "Me? Yeah, I can play a piano or a keyboard, not bad at singing either. Why?"


Is there a skill for playing instruments? I know there's the Singing skill, would it just fall under that or would that fall into another category? Cause I mentioned keyboard only because I assume it falls under Singing, which I have. If not, I'll edit to cut out the mention of instruments and just have him say "Yeah, I can, why?"

[Failed Phantasm]

It took every iota of inner strength he had not to roll his vessel’s eyes once the hollow platitudes began, and it was only out of respect for Mercy that he even bothered to hold back at all. Granted, the condescension strained the limits of that respect – as if he hadn’t been there when the first Malakim were fledged, or come face-to-face with no small number of Yves’ or Dominic’s in his long existence. He had never found it amusing, exactly, but it was still somehow funny that the youngest Choir suffered the same quintessential problem as the oldest. Something as iron-clad and immutable as the Truth or an Oath ought not to have room for interpretation, and yet acting wisely on either was left as an exercise in judgement to the individual angel. All a Malakite had to do was disbelieve his sincerity or give him no chance to (dis)prove it – easily done, given that no one with even the slightest degree of good sense trusted a Balseraph – and then “suffer not an evil to live” could be upheld in mindlessly violent fashion, and what Archangel save Novalis wouldn’t forgive any dissonance that should happen to come of “I sent a Balseraph screaming back to Hell”? He should know: it had happened to him before. ‘Why can she not understand that?’ he thought, fighting the urge to rub the bridge of his vessel’s nose in frustration. ‘We’re just going round in circles.’

“We never had this conversation, so now we’re just going to walk out to your car and forget it ever happened,” is what he meant to say. He knew he should have been trying to break the worst of his bad habits, but it came so naturally and of course he would never have been so idiotic as to let anyone see him with his guard down. That would have been fatally stupid. So of course, the words that came out of his vessel’s mouth, in a perfectly smooth tone and matter-of-fact cadence, were “Your choice of atrociously cliché and meaningless platitudes vindicates my fear that you don’t care enough to learn about me as an individual. I had been hoping to induce you into saying something like that, because I could willfully misinterpret you seeing me as nothing more than a number in some kind of abstract Redemption quota. Then I could run away from this deeply embarrassing and uncomfortable conversation with a clean conscience and no regard for the greater consequences. I secretly hope in spite of myself that the Seraphim Council denies my appeal and sentences me to soul-death instead, because the notion that there’s anyone left in Creation who genuinely cares about me and my well-being has me so terrified out of my scales that oblivion is preferable. I feel so completely unworthy of forgiveness after having abandoned Raphael that I would rather live in uncertain fear than bear the shame of undeserved love, because at least I know how to handle being rejected, belittled, hated, or ignored.”

The silence that followed was deafening. All pretense gone, his vessel’s eyes were as wide as they could possibly be and its jaw had openly dropped. ‘Sweet merciful God above, please tell me I did not just say any of that.’ But as his sense of awkwardness deepened, the inescapable realization sank in. ‘Oh God, I really did say that. Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God! Now is the worst possible time to be like a Seraph again! Damage control! NOW!’

“We have been talking about happy memories for the last ten minutes and we are going to keep doing that until we get to the meeting!” was the only thing his frantic mind could produce on a moment’s notice. As before, something deep inside him stirred and compelled him to cast aside his feeble attempt at falsehood: “I also think you haven’t fairly considered that my concerns might be well-founded, and that’s honestly quite hurtful because I wasn’t trying to manipulate you into doing that. I tried to seek Redemption in the years after Raphael sacrificed herself to destroy Legion, because nothing before or since has shaken my faith in Lucifer’s cause or made me consider that I was wrong to rebel in the first place. Even now, I only make the second attempt because I owe it to her memory. Yet that first attempt in Rome ended disastrously through the combination of overzealous Malakim of Purity, my being a Balseraph, and my own past as one of the first of the Fallen.”

He stopped to take a slow breath and was aware of how warm his vessel felt and how hard its heart was pounding. Suddenly filled with the urge to be anywhere but where he was now, he turned and blindly fled at a full sprint back into the store. He fumbled with the handle of the storage closet for a moment until he finally wrenched it open and flung himself into the darkness, where he could curl up into a ball and hopefully die of embarrassment amidst the gardening tools before Mercy recovered from her laughing fit – how could she not be laughing at him now? – and dragged him away to the meeting.


CONDITION
Health 96 / 96, Essence 10 / 10

➜ Body 12 / 12
➜ Mind 24 / 24
➜ Soul 60 / 60

ACTIVE EFFECTS

Truthfulness/6: Roll (Will – Truthfulness) whenever you attempt to lie or use the Balseraph resonance. Failure obligates you to tell the truth instead.

[JeenLeen]

Haralambos liked being a pigeon. He knew he was smarter than most humans (er, all humans? Wasn't that what the other angels told him?), but it was an unimaginably different feeling to be that strong in the body of a pigeon instead of the body of a man. His superb, agile flight, combined with the immense strength of his wings, was simply exciting. A few physical sensations made him as wide-eyed and gleeful as the children his mind was so often compared to, and being in a pigeon form was one of those.

It was also fun to see the surprised look on the face of an imp when a pigeon pecked its arm off. Most of the fights back in his first city weren't good memories. Sometimes fun in a challenging way, but not exactly pleasant. But that one was a fun memory.

But now wasn't a time to fight. He simply landed and listened, letting out a couple encouraging coos. And tried to remember the details in case this mattered. Woman not like brother. Not like fear. Has a daughter. Cop named Ryan.

Resonance
@ TN 8: [roll0]
Check [roll1]

[seatyger]

The crow let out a shrieking caw, to the ears of any passerby’s, but to Mel the words come through distinctly clearer.

”Son of Eli, you are needed. You must go to the Howitzer. Meet the others. There is a storm growing in the sky. The beasts are restless. The Demons are crawling from their dens and hunting.” When it came to Morgannin, visits were – often – not for pleasure. She gained her fulfillment soaring through the sky, tending to the feathered things of the city and surrounding areas…and collecting shiny things, of course.

Mel nodded, understanding the warning. He wasn't familiar with the Howitzer, though he had heard of it and knew the seneschal.


Morgannin fluttered her wings, seemingly perturbed, and snatched a few more sunflower seeds in her beak.

”The Angel of Litheroy is gone. The Shadow of Death and the Bloody Hand of Baal made sure of this! I heard his essence ripped apart. But he was crafty, yes. He left us secrets that must be revealed.”

The Elohim furrowed his brow, the only outward sign of his concern over the news. "I knew Thatch, and assisted him in the tuning of an artifact recently. Do we know where he kept his base of operations?"

[Anyr]

Faith is an essential part of being an Angel. Each Choir is only attuned to a specific wavelength of the Symphony. They have to trust that the less audible parts are nonetheless part of a divine plan. This principle is essential in moments of chaos and crisis: Like letting an Ofanite drive.

"Gah! Ack! Lookoutlookoutlookout!"

Intellectually, Sarah knew that her car was in good hands. Adele could read the road like a phone book. Sarah reminded herself of that fact many times during the journey. The whole thing was a harrowing, frantic mess. In other words, it was exactly what she needed. Life had been too predictable lately. She was so grateful that this wonderful whirlwind had come to visit. The concert ticket called to Sarah from its place in her pocket. There had to be some way to (legitimately) use it! A weekend vacation with Adele would give Sarah enough energy to do a whole mountain of boring paperwork.

She breathed a sigh of relief when the police car passed by. Dealing with cops could be a real headache. It was also nice to see Adele keep her promises. During this brief lull before the next breakneck dash, Sarah took the opportunity to give her friend some encouragement.

"Thanks for avoiding the law's long arm there. And if there's anything I can do to make your day better, don't hesitate to ask. Want some music? Snacks? Another hug? Just say the word."

Bright Lilim are sometimes known as 'the Gifters'. Once you realise that other people's happiness can also make you happy, generosity becomes much more appealing.

[Erulasto]

Ramiel

Malcolm nods at Sam’s assessment of Brody’s life choices. ”I almost asked him to come jam a couple times, but he’s always around Agatha these days. Gotta pick your battles, am I right?”

The young musician yawns, before shuffling and sorting some of the half-filled pages on the table in front of him. With a side-eyed glance back up to Sam, he chuckles darkly. ”Maybe I’ve been looking at this too long. Fresh pair of eyes, and all that.” He hands the stack of papers to Sam. ”Feel like taking a look? Take it for a couple days and see what another musician thinks?”

He stretches a bit and glances down at his phone, starting a bit with shock at the time. ”Dammit. It gotta run. I promised I’d take the dogs for a walk before my Dad gets home. Here….” He grabs his pencil and scribbles his cell number down on the corner of a scrap of paper before handing it to Sam. ”Never know when it’ll come in handy. Thanks again man!”

And with that, Malcolm is tucking his guitar into its case and scrambling out the door to make it home.


There isn’t any skill for musical instruments as far as I can tell. The Singing skill has a special application in-game for celestial communication, but not playing like…a guitar or anything. Considering how the setting revolves around the idea of a Symphony, I’ve always liked the assumption that every angel can play something if they’re so inclined.


* * * * *


Jathiriel

Through the Balseraph’s tirade, Mercy simply stood there – shock upon her features, and a wetness gathering in her eyes. She took the intensity of his voice in stride it seemed, at least, though she was always an overly emotional being – so if a couple tears escaped at his words, none would blame her. Perhaps Jason would assume that the tears were as a result of the beratement, but in actuality, Mercy was somewhat more hurt by the sudden realization that perhaps he was right? She had after all seemingly made light of the challenges he would face dealing with the other Angels. While she had acknowledged that walking the road to redemption would be difficult, she may have glossed over the nuances of how those challenges would affect an individual.

The flower shop was silent for many a long moment after the door of the storage closet slammed shut behind Jason. There was no laughter, despite what his assumptions might be. Mercy did not need to use her Resonance to see with her own two eyes what this broken Balseraph thought of himself. What his estimation of his own self-worth was.

After those long moments, in which Jason came to the realization that the sense of warmth, and love and compassion that suffused the flower shop had not fled – this was a divine Tether to Flowers, after all - there was a soft knock on the storage room door.

”Jason.” Came Mercy’s soft voice, muffled as it filtered through the door. ”I’m sorry. When you’re ready, come out of there and we can talk? Please? I won’t push you. I promise. I just wanted to let you know that I hear what you’re saying. I know I can’t possibly know exactly what you’re going through, but I do know forgiveness and mercy and love.”

Mercy sighs heavily, and the shuffling sound of her lowering herself down to sit cross-legged on the floor next to the closet door filters through the cracks in the door.

”When Uriel instigated his Purge of Earth and the Marches, many beings were destroyed unfairly. Uriel acted outside of his mandate, and was recalled for that breach in His Plan. Now, we have Dominic and Laurence to carry on whatever form of his Crusade they can. But even those two do not control the entirety of Heaven. Even fiery Gabriel would help burn the corruption from your heart to give you peace.”

For a moment there is silence once again.

”Raphael loved you, even in your darkest moments. She died for you, and me, and all of us. She saved us all – Angels and Fallen alike – from Legion. Hers is the greatest example of love that I can think of, and from a Mercurian of Flowers you know that’s saying a lot.” Her soft laughter rises for a moment. ”You have to want to find Redemption for yourself, not for her. Not for me. Not for anyone. Raphael would have wanted you to be strong enough to do it because it was right. I know that is not an easy thing to hear, and I don’t mean it as a meaningless platitude or to make light of your reasons. I can’t promise you that you won’t stumble, or face intolerance amongst even those that you seek to redeem yourself to, but I CAN promise you that you will have the love and support you need to make your way through to the other side. From my lady, from all her servants. From me.”

* * * * *


Haralambos

It takes only a few more moments before the police officer – Ryan – is heading back into his car with a heavy, resigned sigh. The car sits there for a few minutes as Ryan radios his Sergeant to let them know that he couldn’t convince Elizabeth to take the extra security.

With Ryan’s departure, Elizabeth makes her way back inside – it’s only then that she allows herself to slump down on the inside of her front door and begin crying.

And in Haralambos flies through a conveniently open window, alighting himself atop a tall book case and tucking in behind a rather dusty pile of books – the Complete Encyclopedia Britannica, volumes X, Y and C.

As Elizabeth sobs into her hands, the Angel hears another set of footsteps coming down the stairs. It’s a young girl with curly red hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. She couldn’t be more than sixteen. Her skin is tanned, and she’s wearing a pair of baggy sweatpants with Brighton Academy on the left thigh and a light gray tank top. The most distinct feature she has is a rather obvious case of heterochromia. One eye is deep, royal blue, the other a deep emerald green. It’s quite striking, if a touch out of the ordinary.

”Mom?” The young girl asks as she shifts to kneel down next to Elizabeth. There is no family resemblance whatsoever. ”What’s wrong? I saw Uncle Ryan outside. Is this about Louis again?”

Elizabeth nods slowly before speaking with a broken voice. ”I’m sorry! I’m so sorry Hanna!” The sobbing intensifies for a minute, while the young redhead rub soothing circles on her mother’s back. ”I thought it was safe to bring you back after Louis was arrested. Now…with this appeal? What if he gets out? He’ll come after you again, like he did before! I won’t let my brother kill you like he did your parents. The Pierse’s were good people. Too good for this world. I’m so sorry!”


That was one very successful Fly Silently roll. Hehe


* * * * *


Malchiel

”Apartment near Pasadena. Ransacked. Stunk of Demons.” Morgannin fluttered her wings again, and cawed loudly. ”But Demons are not as clever as Sons of Eli. Solomon knows where it is. Seek Solomon and shine a light on the secrets!”

With that final statement, the Servant of Jordi takes to the sky once again, and soon a veritable murder of crows rises from the trees of the park, a swirling black cloud of feathers that rises in the air before spiraling away. A few tourists stop to take some photographs of the murder of crows, murmuring their surprise at witnessing such an event.

It wasn’t too late in the evening. Barely 8:00 pm. The Howitzer would be hitting its full stride within the hour. Thatch always was a crafty one, and it’s distinctly possible that he left clues behind in his apartment, and around town, for those following him to find.

* * * * *


Sarah

Each exclamation of shock, surprise or horror from Sarah brought a bubbling laugh from Adele. The Ofanim knew, of course, that Sarah trusted her precious car in Adele’s hands. But still, it was immensely enjoyable to bring some chaos to the Bright Lilim’s life. If Sarah was bound by her Duty to Marc – just and good as it was – Adele took it upon herself to ensure her friend was shaken out of lethargy and stagnancy whenever she could. After all, she thought with a manic glint in her eye, what are friends for?

The Ofanim kept her grip anxiously on the ten and two positions on the steering wheel, staring oddly at the police officer as they passed. As soon as the cop drove off, the tension leaked from Adele like someone emptying the drain in a sink. She flashed a smile at Sarah. ”Just watching you get your panties in a bunch over my driving was worth it all. Buuuut….I’m in town for a couple more days. Depending on what happens tonight, maybe we can get together again before I have to leave. I haven’t been on a roller coaster in a while…”

Adele was about to continue, when Sarah’s cell phone rang rather abruptly. Caller ID immediately displayed that it was Liam Ellington, Sarah’s boss and all around good guy. For a lawyer.

Adele shifted her gaze off the street for a moment as they careened down towards Long Beach, and the mischievous glint she held spelled trouble. Chaos, remember?

[Anyr]

Sarah was definitely in favour of another outing. Roller coasters were fun; And less frantic than Adele's driving. Then her phone rang. Even here, professional life was always waiting to pounce. She motioned for her fellow Angel to stay quiet during the call. She didn't want Liam to overhear anything that'd provoke awkward questions.

"Hey boss. What do you need?"

[Erulasto]

Sarah

The Ofanim gave Sarah a mocking pout when she was ushered to silence, but after a heartbeat made a sign like she was zipping her lips and turned her attention back to the road.

When the call connected with Liam, his pleasant sounding voice rang through with only marginal background noise. The honking of cars and distant yells of angry drivers.

”Hey Sarah. Sorry to bother you.” He always said he was, but it certainly didn’t stop him from calling her when he needed to. ”We’ve got Bethany Caulfield coming in for an initial interview tomorrow morning. Bruno was planning on taking it, but we got a call from the Blackwater Studio lawyers and they’re demaning a meeting at the same time. I need you to take care of the interview with Bethany. She’s bringing in one of her friends for moral support, but I don’t think that should be too much of a problem. She’ll stay out of your way. Once the interview is done we’re taking a few days to get our ducks in a row. Need to talk to the talent agency as well. We’re going to put the interns to work on getting the paperwork done up so once you feel confident in your ability to negotiate the contract give anything you need to Quentin and Daniella. Take a couple days to get some rest or whatever. You’re going to need it. The lawyers from Blackwater are right nasty pieces of work. Anyhow, I’ve got to run. Jennifer has a swim meet tonight, and I promised I’d be there this time. Ciao!”

Liam barely let her get a word in edgewise, which was not atypical for him when he got going. He was the kind of man who would dominate conversations and steam-roll over everyone else. But he was a good guy, all in all – and most importantly, he was fair.

[EarthenRite]

Sopholael nodded and then went over the facts he had been given to make sure they were accurate.

“Is there anything else you need to tell me, or that you feel I should know? I will leave you with my cellphone number. I know your grandfather would probably not wish to use it, but it seems as though you’d manage. If there is anything that happens, or you find out more, or you feel as if you are in any sort of danger, call me.”

[JeenLeen]

Haralambos stays hidden, resisting the urge to give a reassuring coo to the young girl. He liked the times he had made a child smile by coming up to it and making happy bird sounds. But that wouldn't help now.

He listens for a while more, trying to memorize the names and faces. At least the girl's eyes would be easy to remember. And if someone were trying to kill her... maybe he'd ask his fellow Michaelite, the Cherub, to keep an eye on her. Or he could stay around here, when no other work was needed. He didn't like how noisy killing a human was, and he hadn't killed anyone who wasn't actively working for a demon before, but someone trying to kill a girl... well, he'd be willing to do what was needed. Maybe just maim the guy, so he'd have a chance to repent. Yeah, that sounded Good.

Not for the first time, he wished there wasn't the need for secrecy. It felt like lying. Well, not the sick-to-the-soul-and-stomach ickiness of a real lie, but similar enough. But he'd do what Michael said. Still, part of him wanted to fly down and tell them that at least one angel would try to protect them.

If nothing else of import comes up, Haralambos flies out, tries to memorize a few landmarks nearby, then heads to the Howlitzer. On the way, he flies by Lee's restaurant to see if it looks extra busy or empty, or anything unusual that might hint at what or how Lee is planning to contact his Superior.


While in a vessel, there's no way to tell me apart from a normal person/bird unless I act obviously supernatural or spend Essence/do something else that makes 'noise'. Correct?

If yes, I'll fly down next to Lee's and look through the windows. Not go inside or get too close to anyone, but get as good an idea as I can as a bird snooping around for a few minutes.
Also, I reckon I can fly really fast with Str 11 and Agi 9. I forget what the book said about flying speed, but, well, point being I reckon I can spare a detour on the way to the bar.

By the way, feel free to roll Resonance for me if I ever need it for something and haven't rolled. Either use the forum or, if it's easier, feel free to use real dice & tell me the result. I'll trust you not to fudge my dice.

[Anyr]

Sarah just managed to squeeze in a 'goodbye' before Liam hung up. That man had an admirable work ethic. He just needed a few lessons in listening. It was amazing how much you could learn by just letting people talk. She put away the phone in higher spirits than when she'd answered it. No more paperwork! Instead, she'd get to actually meet Bethany. Meeting humans (even the nasty ones) was far better than reading about them. Things were looking up. With a playful hand, she reached over and 'unzipped' Adele's lips.

"Okay, boss is gone. Feel free be loud again."

[Erulasto]

Sopholael

Tyne seems to consider Sopholael’s words for a few minutes, humming thoughtfully while scribbling down the provided cellphone number. Eventually, he chuckles. ”I think that’s all we have at the moment, but rest assured. I’ll contact you if my Grandfather comes across anything more that may be of use to you. I don’t think we’re close enough to be in any danger, but I’ll be sure to pass on any concerns we may end up having. I’ll talk to you later.” Tyne hangs up with a click, leaving only dead air for a moment before the tell-tale beeping of a lost dial tone.

* * * * *


Haralambos




While in a vessel, there's no way to tell me apart from a normal person/bird unless I act obviously supernatural or spend Essence/do something else that makes 'noise'. Correct?

If yes, I'll fly down next to Lee's and look through the windows. Not go inside or get too close to anyone, but get as good an idea as I can as a bird snooping around for a few minutes.
Also, I reckon I can fly really fast with Str 11 and Agi 9. I forget what the book said about flying speed, but, well, point being I reckon I can spare a detour on the way to the bar.

By the way, feel free to roll Resonance for me if I ever need it for something and haven't rolled. Either use the forum or, if it's easier, feel free to use real dice & tell me the result. I'll trust you not to fudge my dice.

You’re correct. There isn’t any overt way of detecting another Celestial in a normal vessel. By normal, I mean a regular human or animal vessel. There are some vessels that don’t have to be one of those, but they’re distinctly troublesome to use. For example, Baal is known to have a massive, brutal war-form vessel that he uses when he’s in the thick of things. Bedecked with spikes, and claws, and horns and multiple limbs.

And with perceiving disturbances in the Symphony, even at high check digit successes, you still won’t be able to figure out if it was an Angel or a Demon making the disturbance. But you will know what caused the disturbance.

If you want to fly down to Lee’s, go ahead!


After a few moments of comforting Elizabeth, Hanna helps her into the kitchen and begins making some tea. When it’s obvious there won’t be much more gleaned from listening in to these poor, unfortunate ladies, Haralambos makes as stealthy an exit as he had an entrance. The Power of a Pigeon!

It doesn’t take him long to fly past Lee’s restaurant. It’s a non-descript building, with a large inflatable sumo wrestler tied to the roof with a dozen thick cables. The rather bland décor, visible through large picture windows looks something like you would expect at a Denny’s or an IHOP, save for a full half of the restaurant being filled with row upon row of buffet-style tables. It’s rather packed at the moment, with huge line ups of people waiting for their chance to hit the tables full of greasy ginger beef, fatty pork-on-a-stick, and a mountainous pile of deep-fried wontons.
The back door is cracked open, and the stench of deep fryers and old grease roils out in waves. A single young man in a oil and sweat stained apron leans against the brick wall having a smoke while a bag of garbage sits next to him, waiting to be stuffed into the overfull dumpster.

Lee is, in all his corpulent glory, standing near one of the buffet tables talking to a couple of his cooks while waving stubby-fingered hands around wildly as he animatedly regales them with whatever he's discussing.

* * * * *


Sarah

The minute Sarah had freed Adele from her self-imposed silence, a giggle erupted from her lips – swiftly turning into a full-bellied laugh.

”He….like….he talks..”snort”….Oh…Oh my God! He talks almost as much as Adam does!” Adele manages to eventually make it through her sentence. An open-palm is slapped against the Italian leather steering wheel, making the car jerk and swerve slightly with every hit. The giggles continue for a few more moments, before she begins to settle and wipes a single tear from her eye with a wide, Cheshire grin.

”I feel like a cheeseburger.” A rather abrupt change of pace, it seems, though not unusual for the Ofanim. “Do you want to hit a drive-thru, or just grab something at the Howitzer. We should be there in a few minutes.”

[JeenLeen]

Haralambos lands close to the young man, his pigeon head shifting one way than the other in a quizzical fashion. He contemplates trying to sneak in to mess with the place, but such might cause noise if he actually damages something or tip Lee off that Harry's coming for him.

The demon appeared to just be working for now. Hmm... well, good enough. It felt bad to leave him on Earth for even a few hours longer, but Michael had taught him to choose appropriate times for his fights. A crowded building full of innocents was not a good place to attack.

Once the man finishes his smoke break, Haralambos will poke around the dumpster for any anything unusual that might hint at collecting extra stuff for the summoning. If it won't count as damaging stuff to generate noise, he'll peck holes in the bags to see if anything unusual is there. Then, he flies off towards the Howlitzer. If he finds anything really strange, but not gross like a severed human limb, he'll take it with him in his beak.

He'll also stop at some bird bath, pond, or stream to bathe. He doesn't want to show up stinking like a demon's gluttonous food.

[seatyger]

”Apartment near Pasadena. Ransacked. Stunk of Demons.” Morgannin fluttered her wings again, and cawed loudly. ”But Demons are not as clever as Sons of Eli. Solomon knows where it is. Seek Solomon and shine a light on the secrets!”

With that final statement, the Servant of Jordi takes to the sky once again, and soon a veritable murder of crows rises from the trees of the park, a swirling black cloud of feathers that rises in the air before spiraling away. A few tourists stop to take some photographs of the murder of crows, murmuring their surprise at witnessing such an event.

It wasn’t too late in the evening. Barely 8:00 pm. The Howitzer would be hitting its full stride within the hour. Thatch always was a crafty one, and it’s distinctly possible that he left clues behind in his apartment, and around town, for those following him to find.

As the murder of crows disappeared into the afternoon sky, Malchiel looked down at the abandoned half-full bag of sunflower seeds, allowing a slight smile to come through and linger for a moment. He remained there for a time, tossing small handfuls to approaching birds until the bag was emptied.

So, it was to the Howitzer, then, that he carried himself...by way of the metro. It had been so long since he last drove, he wasn't sure he'd be safe behind the wheel. Besides, he didn't think he could find his last car, a '73 Mach 1. As Malchiel rode along, he considered its potential fates. Beltway winters were often unforgiving, and the salting of roads less so; if the Mustang remained unrecovered for some time, it would've succumbed to the elements. Pity.

Mel was drawn from his musings when the bus reached his stop, and he exited through the rear doors. The Howitzer was just a short jaunt from there, and he soon found himself in the warrior's bar. Entering, he sought out Jerichael.

[Anyr]

"He's much less annoying than Adam. No human can beat the pomposity of a Seraph."

Sarah had trouble tolerating the Seraphim. They tended to act as if they were superior to the 'less divine' Choirs. It's a trait they share with the Balseraphs. Naturally, Sarah always kept this observation to herself. Bridging divides was a big part of her job. So no matter how arrogant people like Adam acted, she'd do her best to get along with them. That included being punctual.

"We'd better go straight to the Howitzer. His Holiness wouldn't be pleased to learn that fast food ranked above him on our list of priorities."

[Erulasto]

The Howitzer

Located at South 19th Place and East Ocean Boulevard, the Howitzer stands out amongst the other colorful locales of Long Beach. It’s a rugged, two-story building lacking more than small, narrow windows every ten feet or so along the walls. It’s build like a bomb shelter. The walls have been washed with several layers of ash grey paint in an attempt to cover the graffiti that inevitably ends up there. The roof of the Howitzer has been converted into an open-air patio, with a large industrial barbeque and several cheap, plastic patio tables and chairs. Wooden posts placed along the walls and set locations across the roof have speakers wired to them to play music, and all contribute to holding up a truly gargantuan tarp to keep the rain away. The tarp, it turns out, has actually been sewn together with dozens upon dozens of flags – everything from the major Allied nations, United Nations, Central Intelligence, and loads of others. It makes for a rather colorful display of diverse national pride.

In big, neon letters above the solid oak door – painted a dark shade of forest green, which has a CLOSED sign hanging upon it – is the word ‘HOWITZER’, next to a cartoonish mural of an old USMC M-198 Howitzer Gun firing an anthropomorphic beer bottle.

In front of the bar, standing at the door is a solid slab of meat. He’s easily six and a half feet tall, with shoulders like Atlas. He wears a simple white tank top and a black leather vest. A neatly groomed black goatee meshes well with black mirror-shades and short-cropped hair is worn slicked back. Upon one bare shoulder, is the rather detailed tattoo of a horned skull leashed to a large cross with barbed wire. Under the cross are the words: In Gladio, et Inimicos Dei, or To the Sword, the Enemies of God. For those who have been here before, or closely associated with Jerichael – this is Roman, Soldier of God and one of the bouncers at the Howitzer. The carved, ivory handle of a hunting knife sticks out from the boot sheath worn against the thick-soled, steel-shod biker boots he wears.

Inside the Howitzer, it seems rather nice – as far as veteran and biker bars go. One side of the room is dominated by a few pool tables, and several dart boards rest nearby. The bar is tucked against the north wall, shelf upon shelf of alcohol rests behind it. A few boots dominate the corners of the rooms, while the rest are simple, round wooden tables and squat stools. Each table – be it the booth or the more common ones, contain a deep plastic bowl of peanuts. An old jukebox sits next to the bar, the washrooms and a stairwell leading up to the roof, or down to the basement store rooms.

* * * * *

The parking lot is relatively empty, which means the Ofanim driving Sarah’s car is even more excited that one would expect as she drops to a lower gear and slams on the brakes while twisting the steering wheel. The beautiful car screeches into a classic bootlegger turn, the back headlights nearly clipping both a passing bus and a light post before sliding perfectly into a parking spot.

This is, of course, witnessed by the handsome looking pigeon that lands on the roof of an old Ford F-150 extended cab sitting near the back, staff entrance.

The bus that was nearly involved in the collision had just begun to drive away after depositing Mel onto the sidewalk in front of the Howitzer.

The last remnants of the earlier days storm were dissipating in to dark wisps on the evening breeze rolling off the ocean. The sun was low on the horizon, and both the beach just down the street and city itself were bathed in the golden-red glow while the ocean glittered like diamonds.

[JeenLeen]

Haralambos flies up to the bar. If he could smile in this body, he would be as he sees Sarah's car spiral into a parking space. He waits until they walk in, flying in with them with an appreciative coo towards Roman. Better to wait to talk until inside.

Assuming the meeting doesn't seem to be in earnest yet, he flies up to Jerichael and reports on what he heard. A cop named Ryan offered extra protection to that woman, the sister of the murderer, or to get her to a safehouse. Not sure. After he left, the woman cried to her adoptive daughter, the kid of people that bad guy killed before. Named Hanna Pierse, or at least had that last name before her parents were killed. One blue eye, one green eye. Had Brighton logo on pants. Hanna's mom said her brother would try to kill Hanna again. Hanna called the cop Uncle Ryan.

Also mentions that Lee is still working as usual at his restaurant. Nothing odd seemed to be happening as he flew by on his way here. He also recalls and adds that the imps he offed were cooking humans. "Do you have time to tell me what Songs you know Lee knows?"

After that, he flies and hops around to socialize with some of the other angels. He avoids Adewale and the other servitors of Dominic, though he's polite if they speak to him. At one point he flies down to the armory and tests carrying a long sword in his claws or beak. Again, if he could be smiling, he'd be smiling at the thought of dropping a long sword near Lee right before his pigeon form dives into him. Let Lee waste a few essence hurting the pigeon body. Then watch the guy panic as the pigeon turns into Madman Harry and picks up the sword.

If Morgannin is already there, he lands next to her. Maybe she'd like to help take down someone who needlessly cooks so many animals every day. No, not just needlessly, but actively nefariously. (A small part of Haralambos' mind is happy at remembering that word. One of the angels back in his last city used it. Harry thought it sounded kinda funny, but it was a helpful descriptor.)


With Numinous Corpus: if I shift vessels while under this Song's effect, does the Song's power end (since it was on the vessel itself) or persist to the new vessel (since it's on me)?
Hoping to cast Tail before showing up in pigeon form, but have it under effect when shifting to human form. But I can see the Song just impacting the vessel itself, so I'd have to recast it in-combat to use it as a human.

[Anyr]

"EEEEEEEEEEE!"

Sarah actually closed her eyes during the final approach. Grabbing onto the nearest convenient surface, she braced for an impact that never came. When it became apparent that her limbs were still in their proper places, she hesitantly took a peek; Then sighed in relief. Once again, order had emerged from chaos. Miracles came in many forms. She took this opportunity to exit the car, before it had a chance to start moving again.

"No matter how many times you pull off a stunt like that, the next one always scares me. But I'm guessing that if I ever overcame that fear, you'd try something even more outrageous."

Together with Adele, Sarah made her way towards the Howitzer. Every local angel being summoned here didn't exactly bode well. But on the bright side, it was a great opportunity for networking. She looked forward to catching up with all the local news. There were plenty of Angels she didn't often get the chance to see. Maybe there'd even be some new faces!

[seatyger]

Malchiel exited the bus, watching the auto-acrobatics of the vehicle swerving its way into a parking place. If he had to guess, he would say an Ofanim was behind the wheel.

He dismissed the observation and turned toward the door. He was unfamiliar with the bouncer, though he (and his very rusty understanding of written Latin) suspected this was a soldier in Jerichael's service.

Within the building, Mel took a moment to note his surroundings, then sought out the seneschal tending bar. As he approached, he noticed a pigeon cooing at Jerichael -- Haralambos, was it? Mel had few interactions with the seraph, but, by all accounts, he was steadfast and competent -- and decided to wait patiently until the bird finished his conversation.

[Failed Phantasm]

Following Mercy’s response, he found himself leaning against the door with his vessel’s face buried in its hands. ‘Am I really reduced to acting no better than a human child?’ He had never known forgotten how to speak the Truth with tact – the Most Common of failings among the Most Holy – but when had he ever needed to? Why should he have? How could it be painful? What reason could there be to avoid it? Who would rather hear anything else? It was the Truth. Why had it taken him so long to learn otherwise?

How typical of him, how damningly indicative of how selfish he had become, that it was the truth about himself that he couldn’t stand to hear. Today was far from the first time he’d learned that particular lesson; the realization that he couldn’t run from himself was all that was keeping him from Singing himself miles away – maybe even into the Pacific Ocean and the safe, insensate embrace of Limbo once more. But she was right: Limbo was no peace, and running was no way to Redemption.

His vessel’s jaw worked helplessly for a moment, its mouth moving but producing no words. “I’m sorry,” he finally said in a tiny whisper that was, to him, deafening in the silence. “I’m sorry for being so…” he paused, rubbing his vessel’s face as he looked for the right word. “Petulant.” Yes. That sounded right. “I know I shouldn’t constantly be expecting the worst in everything and of everyone around me – even myself,” he admitted, after a long pause. “I just can’t—” He laughed. It was sudden and bitter and wry, with a note of self-loathing, as he realized what he was about to say. “I can’t handle the truth,” he said, knowing just what he was inviting by saying it. “Especially the truth about me, for better or worse.”

He searched for something – anything – to say next, but found that he was spent after the earlier outburst; his words had finally failed him. “I’m sorry if I’m cutting you off but I don’t think I can continue this until later,” he said quietly. “So we should get going or we’ll be late.” He leaned back against the door and looked up at the ceiling of the closet. “Just, please do me one favor first?” He reached up and rattled the door handle helplessly. “This closet’s the one that doesn’t unlock from the inside.”


CONDITION
Health 96 / 96, Essence 10 / 10

➜ Body 12 / 12
➜ Mind 24 / 24
➜ Soul 60 / 60

ACTIVE EFFECTS

Truthfulness/6: Roll (Will – Truthfulness) whenever you attempt to lie or use the Balseraph resonance. Failure obligates you to tell the truth instead.

[Erulasto]

The HOWITZER

Sarah, Haralambos, Malchiel

The interior of the Howitzer wasn’t packed persay, but there were a number of people present. Anyone who entered, of course, was given a once-over glance by Roman at the door but he wouldn’t interfere with their entrance. It would make entirely too much sense for Jerichael to provide all his Soldiers with a dossier on the local Angels so they could be recognized on sight. Would make for less….misunderstandings.

Jerichael is leaning against a pool table, arms resting atop a pool cue with a scowl on his face. He is a tall, broad shouldered man in a wife-beater and pair of stone-washed blue jeans. His head is bald and his chin is covered in salt-and-pepper stubble. There are a pair of old, beaten dog tags around his neck with the name Jeremiah Howser upon them.

Leaning across the pool table, lining up a shot is a Solomon, a handsome looking man of perhaps Levantine descent. His long, wavy hair is tied back in a loose ponytail and the most distinctive thing about him otherwise is the old, patchwork green longcoat he always seems to be wearing. Come to think of it, no one can really remember him ever not wearing it.

A trio of Angels are sitting in one of the booths near the bathrooms. A matronly woman, a short Japanese man and a lanky black man in a fitted, and well-tailored navy suit. This is the Triad of Judgement: Fortisima, Rezzael and finally, Adewale. Adam has a briefcase open on the table, and is sorting through a substantial pile of hand-written documents while Fortisima is busy enjoying a pint of some dark, frothy stout beer. Rezzael simply sits impassively, watching the room with a slightly pinched expression on his face.

Standing in front of a dart board is an older gentleman with sharp, hawkish features and a full head of grey hair. He’s wearing a uniform of the Los Angeles Police Department, and the epaulets upon it denote his rank as Captain. This is Gaspariel, and his aim with the darts is impeccable – scoring three bullseyes in quick succession.

Morgannin has relented to taking the form of a tiny, waifish human for the meeting, but still retains some alieness to her behavior. For starters, she is literally perched in a crouching position upon the back of a chair in the corner of the room. It’s almost gravity defying to see her so precariously resting, only the bared toes of her feet resting upon the old wooden chair. In one hand, she holds a small handful of peanuts while the other furiously pops them into her mouth. She’s wearing a simple black dress, and her hair is extraordinarily long and unkempt – a glossy black like a crow’s feather. The wild strands are falling in front of her face, obscuring her eyes.

A handful of bikers are sitting around one of the tables near the bar, their own drinks half-finished on the table. Each of the bikers is obviously packing heat, and based on the religious iconography they’ve all got tattooed upon their bare skin, it would be a good assumption they were all Soldiers.

A pair of new visitors are present. One leans against the bar, in a tweed suit that looks like it came straight from a Huckleberry Fin novel. His hair is frizzy and white-blonde, and his features are narrow but friendly – he couldn’t be more than forty or fifty years old in human years. Upon a hooked nose sits a pair of circular spectacles, and below is a large bushy mustache that covers most of his mouth. He’s got a bright red briefcase sitting next to him on the bartop and it – strangely enough – is covered in yellow polka dots. To finish the image, is a rather well-tended lily tucked in the lapel of his suit over his heart.

The other is a young man in a bright blue polo shirt and black slacks. Upon the breast of the shirt, within a bright yellow embroidered tag, are the black letters BEST BUY. He’s got a pair of wire-frame glasses – sort of trendy – and short hair spiked and neatly styled. He’s got a sleek looking tablet in hand, and is furiously typing away at something on it with a small smile on his face.

Neither of these individuals have been seen before in Los Angeles, though it’s obvious the younger of the two has a role of some sort.

* * *

Haralambos

Jerichael glances towards the pigeon as it flutters down to land on the side of the pool table suddenly, surprising Solomon and almost making him scratch his shot.

”Haralambos. Welcome. Glad you could make it.” Jerichael speaks gruffly, before listening to the report from the Seraph on his encounter with the Dancourt family and the police officer. Solomon seems troubled by the news, brow furrowed, though he remains silent for the moment.

At the mention of Lee, both Angels scowl and Jerichael shakes his head slowly. ”That pig is doing his Prince’s work too effectively for my liking. You may be right that we should do something about it, even if it’s a temporary solution. Though, with the news we’ve got to share, I’m not sure if it should be as high a priority as I’d otherwise suggest. We can open it to discussion after we’ve had the meeting, is that sufficient?”

Solomon pipes in at this point. ”I’ve had a couple encounters with Lee before, but for a greasy Demon of such ridiculous size, he’s a slippery thing. He’s tough, resilient, but the only Song I’ve ever seen him perform is a couple variations on Motion. Not sure if that helps.”

After Harry’s departure from Jerichael and Solomon, he lands his pigeon form near Morgannin and finds himself meeting the pitch-black gaze of the Friend of Beasts. He head tilts to the side with a small scowl, but none the less she offers him a single peanut broken from the pile in her palm.


I’d say that since the Song of Numinous Corpus affects the vessel itself, changing vessels would end the prior Song. But if anyone can offer a good reason for it, I’d be willing to consider it.


* * *

Sarah

When Adele exited the car, she did it by hopping over the door instead of opening it – though she was careful not to step on the fine, leather upholstery of the seats for leverage.

”Oh yeah!” Adele croons sweetly. ”I have to try and get your blood pumping somehow!” She snickers softly, that manic glint in her eyes again. ”I’ve already got a few backup plans in mind, dontcha know?” She tossed the car keys back to Sarah, after a moment or two of longing looks at the silvery, shiny metal in her hand.

When the two of them walked in, offered a genuine smile from Roman, the first thing Sarah noticed was that there was, indeed, a couple new faces. But there were also a few conspicuously absent. Solomon glanced up from a quiet, huddled conversation with Jerichael after they had spoken to Haralambos. When he saw Sarah and Adele, he excused himself for a moment and headed over to them with a wide smile.

”Sarah! How good to see you again, and you Adele. A pleasure as always.” The Angel of Faith would dip into a low, sweeping bow before them, before taking both of their hands and pressing a kiss upon their knuckles.

Adele scoffed slightly at his flamboyant greeting, and took a subtle step closer to Sarah, giving Solomon only a brief, curt nod.

Unpreturbed, Solomon continued. ”I’m glad you both were able to make it. We’ve received a message from Thachael from the day he vanished. It was encrypted, so we brought in some….outside assistance. It took a while and…well, I won’t bore you with the details. But the contents of the message were….startling, to say the least.” He gestured to the young man in the Best Buy uniform, who glanced up and waved sheepishly.

* * *

Malchiel

Mel was correct as to the driver, as he saw the Ofanim vault out of the expensive car to follow the local Angel of Trade into the Howitzer.

He received a nod from the bouncer, regardless of recognition, and stepped aside slightly to allow the Angel easier access – perhaps with a touch of deference.
When the Haralambos-pigeon had taken it’s leave, Solomon had abruptly departed as well to greet the Ofanim and Bright Lilim, leaving Jerichael at the pool table. He offered a hand in greeting to Malchiel, with a small smile.

”Malchiel. Thank you for coming. Morgannin isn’t much of a people person – and I’m sure it chafed her to be a messenger for us, but the matters of import on the agenda for tonight are significant enough to sway even her unpleasantness to our way of thinking.”

* * * * *


The TETHER of FLOWERS – Mercy’s Flower Shop

Jathiriel

Mercy’s soft laughter floated through the quiet of the flower shop, and it was swiftly followed by the click of the lock on the closet door to allow him out.

When he emerged, she wrapped him in a brief, but tight hug. ”Of course, Jason. We can continue when you’re ready.”

She gave the Balseraph a curious once-over with her gaze, before brushing some lint from his shoulder as a mother would her child on school picture day. Then, without another word she gestured for him to follow her to the back door and the old, rusted pick-up truck sitting in the back, its yellow paint faded from the years and exposure to the weather.

Once she was in the truck, she clipped the seatbelt on and smiled at Jason once he was in. ”Don’t forget to buckle up, Jason. I read somewhere that motor vehicle collisions account for something like half of all travel-based fatalities….and I like your vessel too much to chance it.” The engine turns over on the fourth attempt, sputtering and coughing and wheezing like a dying buffalo.

Unless Jathiriel wants to continue his conversation on sensitive subject matter, or debate the statistics the Mercurian had offered, the trip to the Howitzer was relatively uneventful. By the time they were pulling into the parking lot of the Howitzer, the clock on the dash of the truck showed 8:10 pm. There were a few other vehicles present, including an incredibly expensive looking convertible and a big, beefy Ford truck that looked like it could have hauled the Ark by its lonesome.

[EarthenRite]

Sooholael packed up his bag and notes from the discussion on the phone, and threw on his overcoat. He locked the door to his office and then the library in turn and drove towards the Howitzer.

It was most definitely not, on the surface, his sort of place but he prided on trying to make himself comfortable wherever he went. And, in turn, to make others as comfortable as he could.

He pulled his car into one of the spaced and got out, walking to the door and smiling at the bouncer. “I hope you haven’t had call to be overly busy tonight.”

He adjusted his glasses and continued inward, getting the lay of the land before choosing a direction.

[Erulasto]

Sarah



Tweed Suit: One of his clients - he's a therapist - lost a particular stuffed bear that her father got from her at the Los Angeles Natural History museum. It was the last time she was able to see her father, so the bear holds a lot of sentimental value. He's hoping to try and acquire one if he has time in town. But it's not looking good.

Best Buy: This gentleman has a lot of needs, but it seems his most pressing need presently is the use of a USB charger so his iPad doesn't die - considering he's the one who will be showing the Angels at the meeting the message from Thatch, having his toys die on him would be....problematic.


* * * * *

Jathiriel



Solomon likes Jerichael, Haralambos, Tweed Suit, Sarah, Fortisima, Gaspariel and Rezzael. It seems like they all respect him as well. Adele is uncomfortable around Solomon, and he loves to egg her on. He strongly dislikes Adewale and the feeling is mutual - more it seems because of their opposing support for mortal faiths. He is indifferent to Morgannin and Best Buy. He greatly respects Malchiel.

Jerichael is friends with Solomon, Gaspariel, and Rezzael and respects Haralambos. He thinks Fortisima is dangerous, but respects her abilities and her non-confrontational way of doing her duty. He dislikes Morgannin, Adewale and Best Buy. He is indifferent to Tweed Suit. He believes Sarah is very honorable, and believes she is the picture of what a dutiful angel is.

Adewale distrusts Solomon a great deal, is annoyed by Adele, and respects the other two members of the Triad - even if they were lax under his predecessors leadership. He respects Malchiel and Jerichael and Gaspariel. He dislikes Morgannin and Best Buy - who he's watching!!! He's indifferent to Tweed Suit.

Morgannin feels all the angels here are too busy dealing with humans to take care of the natural world around them. She doesn't really mind Haralambos - when he's a pigeon at least - and Malchiel, and maybe Adele just a bit. But everyone else is too tied up in the human world.

Gaspariel likes Jerichael and Solomon, as well as Adele due to the elemental natures of their Superiors. He respects Malchiel and Sarah - as strong foundations upon which the mortal world is build but he dislikes Morgannin, Best Buy and Tweed Suit. He finds Haralambos effective, if a bit odd. He respects the Triad.

The Triad share some similar views. Each respects Jerichael and Gaspariel. Rezzael and Fortisima like Solomon, but Adewale despises him. They try to have as little to do with Adele and Morgannin as possible - especially Rezzael (he has trouble understanding the Ofanim way of thinking). They are suspicious of Best Buy, and indifferent to Tweed Suit. All of them respect Sarah, and Fortisima even likes her. But its a professional respect.

Tweed Suit only knows Solomon, and is a bit uneasy around most of the rest. He's pretty shy.

Best Buy is even more nervous if you can imagine, and he is downright fearful of the Triad, Jerichael and Gaspariel. He likes Solomon, but doesn't know anyone else well enough to form an opinion yet.

Adele dislikes Adewale, but doesn't mind Fortisima. She's not overly fond of Rezzael, but only because he's so SERIOUS all the time. She respects Gaspariel and Jerichael because they do their duty well, but she finds Solomon incredibly vexing. She doesn't know Tweed Suit, but she's bumped into Best Buy a couple times and while she is indifferent to him, she feels he's got the short end of the stick. She likes Morgannin as a fellow Ofanim, but doesn't understand why she'd rather eat birdseed than a cheeseburger. Adele really likes Sarah and has the utmost respect for her and the duties she performs (but where's the fun in letting her know that).

Mercy respects Jerichael and Gaspariel for what they do, but doesn't particularly like either of them. She enjoys the company of Solomon and Fortisima, but finds Rezzael and Adewale repugnant and jerk-faces. She knows Tweed Suit, but isn't familiar with Best Buy. She gets along with Morgannin the best out of the Angels, and likes Adele even if she thinks she's a bit too chaotic for her own good. She likes Sarah and Malchiel, but she's a but leery of Haralambos - Novalis and Michael do not see eye-to-eye.

I think I got them all. Phew.....message me if I missed anything and I'll try and flesh it a bit more.


* * * * *

Sopholael

Roman smiles at Sopholael as he approaches, and gives a small chuckle. "Naw, boss opted we'd be closed for renovations tonight on account of you lot having your meeting. Still waitin' on a few, but go on in. Most 'er there."

And indeed, Roman was right. Most of the Angels were there now, including one in a Best Buy uniform Mel had never seen before. On a cursory glance, the only one really missing was the Malakim of Gabriel - Khalil Dhali. Knowing him, however, it's likely he was bringing the fiery wrath of Gabriel to the wicked and cruel.

However, there was one in the crowd he did not expect to see. Lophiryne, a Mercurian of Blandine, was resplendent in his usual choice of attire - a tweed suit and rather comical mustache. His vessels always tried to give a gentle, if amusing, grandfatherly quality.

When Lophiryne catches sight of Malchiel, he wiggles his nose - the mustache nearly dancing in excitement - and scuttles away from the bar towards the Elohim. "Oh Malchiel! I am ever so glad you're here!"

[JeenLeen]

Haralambos accepts the peanut gratefully. He is not one to usually eat--feeling wasteful eating food a human could benefit from--but he does partake from time to time in bird form. And hospitality, accepting or receiving, is a virtue, so one of the angels told him.

He speaks, a mix of chirping and words.
"Lee is trying to summon his Prince sometime soon. I'm hoping to kill him tonight, at least if whatever this is about doesn't mean I have to do something else. I was thinking about all the animals he nefariously cooks each day, wasteful, disrespectful of God's creation. I admit I care more about ending a demon's presence on Earth before he does more bad, but I think we both hate what he does. Would you like to help me kill his body and shut down his restaurant?"

To be clear, he's not trying to be manipulative. Rather the opposite: he's openly stating why he thinks she'd want to fight him, then admitting his motivations differ somewhat. He does put something of an emphasis on the word 'nefariously'--it'd probably confuse most people not used to him, but he's simply happy to be using a big word probably properly.


[roll0] @ 8
check digit: [roll1]

Also, I agree with your assessment of Numinous Corpus. That ruling seems the most metaphysically consistent with how the Song works. I'm disappointed, I admit, but agree.

[Anyr]

Sarah paused to greet Roman on her way inside. Soldiers sacrificed some of their God-given freedom, for the sake of the highest cause. She liked to reassure them that their service was appreciated. Then Sarah entered the Howitzer proper. A quick scan revealed that this really was 'all hands on deck'. Nearly everyone was here: Along with a few newcomers. Even Morgannin had deigned to show up. This room was like a tempting buffet of opportunities. Sarah was already pondering which to approach first: When the decision was made for her. Solomon suddenly swept in, kissed her hand, and made with the sweet words. Sarah returned the greeting with a warm, yet formal manner, tuned to Solomon's specific tastes. She didn't have the luxury of following Adele's lead.

"I hope the day finds you well, Solomon. A startling message, you say? Then I look forward to seeing it."

The talk of Thachael being missing worried her a bit. This was the first she'd heard of it. Sarah quite liked Thatch. He was good, honest company. But his inability to take a Role made him too conspicuous. She hoped he hadn't gotten the wrong kind of attention. Once Solomon took his leave of her, Sarah would make a beeline for the two newcomers. Meeting new people was so important. She took her first measure of them with a simple glance. Their shallowest Needs called out to her from across the room. Good, those would do nicely. Some simple, easy ways to improve their lives.

The man in tweed had already greeted someone by the time Sarah got there. So she strolled over to Mr. Best Buy instead. The poor guy seemed a bit nervous. Maybe she could ease some of his tension.

"Hi there! Good to see a new face around here. I'm Sarah, from Trade. Helping newcomers is part of my job. So please, let me know if there's anything you need. Even something trivial is fine to mention."

She already knew what he wanted, of course. But she wasn't so crass as to just say it. Besides, being vague could sometimes coax out a Need that she'd yet to sense.

[Siegemonkeys]

"Sure, I'll take a look at it. See you later man!" Sam tells him as he goes. Taking the sheets of music and the slip with Malcolm's number, he pulls out his phone and adds Malcolm to his contacts. He thinks for a moment after adding the number, then looks through the rest of his contacts for Jerichael. They didn't work for the same Superior, but Jerichael was the seneschal for one of the city's biggest Tethers, so Ramiel made sure to get in touch with him back when he arrived in LA. If something was going on in Malcolm's dreamscape, it was possible that Ramiel was going to need help from one of Blandine's subordinates, and while Jerichael worked for Laurence, if anyone would know where to find an angel in LA it'd be him.

Looking around to make sure no one was around to eavesdrop on the call, Ramiel dials the number and waits, taking a look through Malcolm's music sheets for anything peculiar while the phone rings.

[Failed Phantasm]

He spent the car ride in silence, his vessel’s head resting against the cold window and its knuckles bone-white against the armrests as he braced himself for a meeting whose proceedings and participants he could not predict. He even let Mercy’s maternal manner go unremarked, too spent to protest. If she was listening to the radio as she drove, he never noticed; with one ear pressed to the window, the only thing he cared to listen to was the sound of the wind as it whirled past. And when they had finally pulled into the parking lot, it took a few minutes for him to notice that they weren’t stopped at a light.

With a sigh and a stretch, he straightened up and looked out at the Howitzer, feeling a vague sense of wry amusement at finding himself at yet another seedy public house. How they had sprung up like daisies since the so-called Middle Ages. Everything from the smells to the sounds to the state of repair were familiar; whether the sameness was simply skin-deep remained to be seen.

“I’ll follow your lead,” he said. “I’ll not speak unless spoken to. I’ll do no violence in either word or deed, to angel or human, nor will I do anything else anything motivated by anger. But,” he turned his vessel’s head to look Mercy in the eye; “I reserve the right to Sing myself back to the flower shop if the situation warrants. I will not do so lightly, but if I must, I'll make the determination on my own judgement.” He looked back out at the Howitzer, one hand on the door handle. ‘Here goes nothing.’


CONDITION
Health 96 / 96, Essence 10 / 10

➜ Body 12 / 12
➜ Mind 24 / 24
➜ Soul 60 / 60

ACTIVE EFFECTS

Truthfulness/6: Roll (Will – Truthfulness) whenever you attempt to lie or use the Balseraph resonance. Failure obligates you to tell the truth instead.

[seatyger]

”Malchiel. Thank you for coming. Morgannin isn’t much of a people person – and I’m sure it chafed her to be a messenger for us, but the matters of import on the agenda for tonight are significant enough to sway even her unpleasantness to our way of thinking.”

"She was well compensated for the inconvenience," Mel responded as he took the proffered hand, sparing a brief glance at the waif-form across the room. "It's good to see you well, and that this tether is in capable hands. It's been, what, a century-and-a-half since we last worked together on that affair at the Crystal Palace in London?"

[Erulasto]

The HOWITZER

Sarah

The young man in the Best Buy shirt glanced up nervously at the approaching Lilim, and he caught himself giving her a veritable once-over, cheeks suddenly tinging red.

When Sarah introduced herself, he cleared his throat and tried to plaster a calm and collected façade over his face.

”Hi Sarah. Nice to meet you. I’m Valarniel. Heavenly Tech Support.” He chuckled as if it were some inside joke. ”You don’t happen to have an iPad charger kicking around, do you? I didn’t have time to grab mine when I was practically manhandled out of my apartment by Mr. Muscles over there.” he flicked a hand almost dismissively in Jerichaels direction.

While Sarah is making her introductions, Adele has slipped behind the bar, softly whistling to herself in an attempt to look innocent, before suddenly ducking down for a moment. The sound of clattering rose in a cacophony of noise before she popped back up a moment or two later with two bottles of wine in one hand, and a couple glasses in another.

* * * * *


Haralambos

The Ofanim of Animals stares down at the Pigeon with unblinking black eyes for several moments longer than would otherwise be considered polite in casual conversation. It’s a little unnerving, and definitely goes to show just how little she knows of social cues.

When she finally speaks, her voice is coarse from lack of use. ”You need help with killing a pig-demon? Ask a warrior. Lee is vile but a human evil. He will fatten up the humans. Make them easier to cull if needed. Jerichael or Solomon would help you well in this task.” The usually impassive face of the Ofanim twists into one of disgust at the thought o the humans being fattened up, but there is a predatory gleam in those alien black eyes at the thought of culling them.

She reaches out with a pale finger and, assuming he lets her, softly strokes along his feathered wings – the first twist of a smile upon lips that do not look like they were made to bear such an expression.

”You are a pretty bird. You should stay like this.”


Morgannin thoroughly believes what she is saying – Jordi and many of his servants believe that Humanity failed the test put to them in the Eden Experiment, and have pushed the Seraphim Council time and again over the years to wipe Humanity out. Unless Lee is damaging the environment in significant ways, or really – truly – harming animals (especially birds in Morgannin’s case) you likely won’t get too much help from her beyond maybe scouting the restaurant out.


* * * * *

Jathiriel

Mercy remained - unusually - quiet during the ride to the Howitzer, though she cast many a nervous glance towards Jathiriel as if struggling with whether to make small talk, or offer more words of comfort and encouragement. In the end, they had arrived before she had even sorted out what she would say to him at this point. There were many conversations they would have in the future, but none seemed so relevant at this time.

She did pause, however, before they entered the bar and turned to give him one last smile. "You're doing the right thing, Jason. I am proud of you." And then she turned and they passed Roman who only gave the two of them a curious glance and a small nod, and were inside.

There was a mingling of people, and - apparently - animals, for a pigeon sat upon a bar stool while a frightening, wraith-like young girl perched precariously on another. An attractive young business woman was speaking to what appeared be an employee of Best Buy, while a young lady in a University of California hoodie helped herself to a couple bottles and glasses of wine from behind the counter. A pair of older men in suits were talking - one looking like he stepped from a Charles Dickens novel with all the tweed he wore. A broad, intimidating man in stone-washed jeans and a wife beater was talking to a dignified gentleman, and a handsome man of middle eastern descent was milling about himself. It was the trio in the booth, however, that made his hair stand on end. They carried themselves with a righteous indignation and arrogance that could only be born from serving Dominic.

When the two of them had entered fully, the young girl in the hoodie bounded over to them with a spring in her step and a manic grin on her pretty face.

"Hey! Mercy! Who'se your friend?!"


* * * * *

Malchiel

Jerichael smiles thoughtfully for a moment, pondering Malchiel's timetable and finally nods his approval.

"You're right. It was a long time ago, and we certainly had some good times then. You have been keeping yourself out of trouble, I hope?" He glances away from the Elohim for a moment, letting his eyes wander across the assembled Angels with a small frown. "I am a bit concerned that Khalil has not joined us, though he did send me a message that he was going to the nightclub nearby - Oblivion. I hope he is being cautious, for it is a den of depravity. He may be finding more trouble than it is worth. Though..." He sighs softly. "You try telling that to a Servant of Gabriel."

Jerichael notices the newcomer with Mercy, and quirks a brow darkly. "Mercy has made herself a new friend. I do not know this one." The Servant of Laurence, motions for Malchiel to join him as he makes his way across the bar towards Mercy and Jathiriel.

He barely makes it half-way before his cell phone rings, and he chuckles. "Excuse me a moment, my friend." Pulling the cell from his pocket, he turns to the side and answers it....

* * * * *


Ramiel

The coast was clear - the music room sat silent and abandoned now that Malcolm had taken his leave. The majority of the school was now closed up with only an errant janitor doing his rounds, and the single portly security guard on the evening shift most likely sitting in his office watching the exterior camera feeds.

While Ramiel waited for the call to connect, he let his gaze sweep over the sheets of half-worked music with a growing sense of unease. There was something familiar[/b] about the music, though he could not place it. In his mind, he could hear the tune that Malcolm had intended and while parts of it were obviously interpretations or his own take on the sound, the underlying sequence of musical notes held a strange significance.

It took him only moments longer, humming the tune to himself in thought, before the revelation struck him like a Calabim with a sledgehammer. The realization was enough to give him a chill, and cause a cold sweat to break out on his back. How could this be? It was....impossible?

Malcolm had transcribed the song from his dream and it was, while a poor translation, chords from the Symphony itself. Only the Angels were privy to hear the blessed music of God's Creation - even the Fallen were unable to truly perceive it as they once were. How was a [i]MORTAL able to do so?

A heartbeat passed in what seemed like an eternity, before the line on the call connected, and the gruff voice of Jerichael came through. "Jerichael speaking. What can I do for you Ramiel?"

* * * * *


I broke this post into two, as I realized that there needed to be at least another quick round of introductions to be made - as well as Jerichael needing to take Ramiel's call. Once we've seen some reaction to everyone now present, I'm going to continue on with the meat of the meeting, so to speak.
Thanks for your patience and your hard work! :smallbiggrin:

[Siegemonkeys]

Ramiel reads through the musical notes, tapping his foot while he waits for the line to connect and hums to himself. His humming slows down, as does the tapping of his foot, when it hits him just what this song is supposed to be. What the hell? That's not possible, Ramiel hadn't ever heard of mortals that could hear the Symphony in all his life, and he'd been around for a long, long time. He'd wondered if something funny was going on in the kid's dreams...but not something this out there.

The line clicks, and the voice of Jerichael snaps him out of his stupor. Ramiel stands up, slings his backpack over his shoulders, and starts to walk and talk towards the school's exit. "Jerichael, I need a favor." He starts, his voice taking a serious tone that clues the seneschal in that this is something big. "I need to meet up with one of Blandine's angels, as soon as possible. Like, 'drop everything else' soon as possible." Unlike Adewale, Ramiel wasn't the type to tell others to drop everything for him, anyone who knew him would know that. Whatever was going on, it must have been deadly serious.

[Anyr]

Aw, poor guy. Sarah already felt sympathy for Valarniel. He'd clearly been forced out of his comfort zone. The Triad should probably have sent a less intimidating emissary to fetch him. Sarah had great respect for Jerichael's bravery and valour; But he wasn't exactly a master of tact. People like Valarniel needed a gentler approach. Studiously ignoring his roaming eyes and reddened cheeks, Sarah gave him a reassuring smile.

"As a matter of fact, I do have one. Getting a flat battery at the wrong time can be fatal in my business. Here you go!"

After a bit of rummaging, she extracted a plug and cable from her bag. Sarah handed them both to him; And at the same time, though Valarniel didn't know it, he gave her something back. She felt the satisfying weight of a new business card in her celestial wallet. This partnership was off to a promising start.

[JeenLeen]

Haralambos coos at the petting, then speaks. "Thank you. I am glad you are honest. Even of those angels that don't lie, a lot use words that are so... tricky it's hard to understand what they really mean. I do really like this body. It's harder to get some things done -- like cutting an imp in half -- but it is a really nice to fly. And stuff like eating and baths are nicer.
With Lee, I heard he knows some Songs of Motion. I'm fine fighting him, and can probably take him on my own, but worried he'll run away like a coward. Would you be willing to have some birds nearby to caw if they see him after he moves? You'd be able to see this body fighting. It's pretty cool how much strength I can pack into a nosedive peck."

By the end, he's speaking with some playful enthusiasm, sort of like a kid happy about, but a little embarrassed to talk about, a new toy.
With a slightly embarrassed ruffling of his feathers, he adds, "I understand if you have other stuff, or just don't want to. I know a lot of angels don't like fighting demons as much as I do. I am glad you're willing to tell me instead of... fancy-wording around it."

There's no judgement in his words. Haralambos does feel critical of warrior-angels who don't fight because of politics, fear, or other stupid reasons, but he understands all angels are made for different purposes. He'd definitely prefer it if more wanted to fight as a fun or useful thing to do, but if they don't, well, it's not their purpose so no reason to judge.

---
Haralambos gets a little distracted seeing Mercy and her companion enter. A Seneschal of Flowers is... well, on the same side, but an odd force. Michael and other Michaelites had told him about servants of Novalis, Blandine, and the others who don't really fight. Same side, but not really pulling their weight. He reflected a moment about his non-judgement of non-militant angels, verses ill feelings towards those archangels. His shakes off the confusion, leaving it to the archangels to figure out. He'd work with Mercy if needed, and gladly help if it was something good. Just... a tad worried she'd push against the fighting that's needed.

Some part of him feels like it'd be nice to talk to her companion, though. Maybe there'd be time later.

[seatyger]

"You're right. It was a long time ago, and we certainly had some good times then. You have been keeping yourself out of trouble, I hope?"

"For the most part. I had a nasty affair with a Shedim some time back. Left me in a state of disrepair for a couple decades," Mel answered. "This is the first time I've set foot on Earth since then."


He glances away from the Elohim for a moment, letting his eyes wander across the assembled Angels with a small frown. "I am a bit concerned that Khalil has not joined us, though he did send me a message that he was going to the nightclub nearby - Oblivion. I hope he is being cautious, for it is a den of depravity. He may be finding more trouble than it is worth. Though..." He sighs softly. "You try telling that to a Servant of Gabriel."

Malchiel flashed his trademark quirky half-smile in response. He knew quite well.


Jerichael notices the newcomer with Mercy, and quirks a brow darkly. "Mercy has made herself a new friend. I do not know this one." The Servant of Laurence, motions for Malchiel to join him as he makes his way across the bar towards Mercy and Jathiriel.

He barely makes it half-way before his cell phone rings, and he chuckles. "Excuse me a moment, my friend." Pulling the cell from his pocket, he turns to the side and answers it....

Nodding, Mel continued toward the pair. Mercy was another angel he knew quite well, though he couldn't recall the last time they interacted. He stopped next to the hooded girl, his eyes making contact with the Mercurian's before training themselves on the newcomer.

[Failed Phantasm]

He breathed a quiet sigh as he followed Mercy into the building, not bothering to stifle it as the tide of sight and scent and sound washed over them both. Far harsher than the body odor and the alcohol, and more glaringly obvious than the 4/4 time of whatever the Hell was playing over the speakers, was the clash of clothing styles. Had he the ability, he might have changed the music to something more fitting (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6b0ftfKFEJg) – alas that he had never been a Servitor of Lightning or Technology. ‘Let’s see how many I get right on my first try, ’ he thought. ‘Longcoat guy, tweed Einstein lookalike, briefcase Navy man, old lady, Best Buy wage-slave, bird girl, and–’ He allowed himself to give the pigeon the barest moment’s disbelieving stare before looking away. ‘And somehow there are celestials on both sides of this War who have the sheer audacity to wonder how humans can pick them out of crowds.’

With so many eyes – and likely more than a few weapons – trained on him, he fought the desperate, overwhelming urge to bring his vessel’s palm to its face; sudden moves were probably not a good idea right now. Instead, he opened himself to the Symphony, straining to hear the harmonies between the angels gathered there. He had, to their credit, missed a few angels based on his first impression of their vessels’ attire, but the notes of respect that he could follow back to their source revealed them just as surely. But theirs was not a perfectly harmonious song. ‘Ah, so that is trouble in Paradise that I’m hearing,’ he thought as snatches of “grudge” and “distrust” and “fear” sounded long and loud over all else. But perhaps he focused overmuch on the discordant notes because he was still an un-Redeemed demon.

Unfortunately, the half-minute’s reprieve was over only all too quickly and he was left to watch Adele, Malchiel, and Jerichael approach him directly, but at least the latter was sidetracked by a timely phone call. Since the former had spoken to Mercy and not him directly, he let the Angel of Flowers field the question – he had just said not three minutes earlier that he would follow her lead – and assessed the information his celestial perceptions had gleaned. ‘None of them know who I am,’ was his first conclusion, and he found little evidence to counter it. ‘Prudent of Mercy, I suppose,’ he granted; ‘If the local Triad knew I was here, no doubt they would have kicked down her door just on principle alone, though I suspect her dislike of two of them is well-reciprocated.’ Unfortunately, that meant the awkward introductions had to be made here and now, with enough tension and testosterone in the air to make him feel as if this were a Tether – whether of War or the Sword or Stone didn’t matter, since he was too weak to fight back effectively after his escape from Hell. He had been entirely honest in his promise to Mercy, but the doubt that he would be treated kindly in this place was beginning to gnaw.


CONDITION
Health 96 / 96, Essence 10 / 10

➜ Body 12 / 12
➜ Mind 24 / 24
➜ Soul 60 / 60

ACTIVE EFFECTS

Truthfulness/6: Roll (Will – Truthfulness) whenever you attempt to lie or use the Balseraph resonance. Failure obligates you to tell the truth instead.

[Erulasto]

Ramiel

There is a pregnant pause on the other end of the line as Ramiel speaks, though the sound of a number of other voices speaking in the background filters through the line.
After a moment, Jerichael sighs a bit. "You're in luck. I've got one with me right now. Come to the Howitzer as soon as you can. We've got our own situation, but I suspect, given recent developments on our end that your problem and ours may be related. I've gathered up everyone in LA that I can find but our resident Malakim of Gabriel. I'm just about to start a little conference. Get your ass over here as fast as you can and I'll fill you in when you arrive. Then you can tell us what you've discovered." Jerichael hangs up a moment after he receives any sort of confirmation from Ramiel that would acquiesce to his request.

As Ramiel clears the school, and passes into the lightly forested field that the sports fields lay next to, he catches a glimpse of Agatha standing across the field next to Brody's car, looking in his direction with a dark, angry scowl on her face. But then, after a moment, she simply turns and gets into the vehicle, giving Brody a quick kiss on the cheek before they drive away.

* * * * *


Sarah

Valarniel perks up visibly when Sarah offers him the cable and plug, his smile warm and appreciative. "Oh! Thanks a bunch! You're a life saver! Jerichael and Solomon have me running their IT for this meeting and I'd hate to let them down!" He moves to plug the tablet in, and huffs out a relieved breath when the charging light flicks on. "Thank the Lord...or thank a Sarah, I suppose would be more appropriate." He chuckles weakly at his own - poor - attempt at humor. The tablet has a video file queued on the screen, and in small text Sarah catches the name 'Thatch' on the file title.

Glancing back to Sarah. "Do you know of anyone else who may need of some....technical support?"

Valarniel suddenly stills, eyes locked at the door where Mercy and Jathiriel had just entered.

"Who are they?" He asks in a quiet voice.

* * * * *


Haralambos

Morgannin watches the pigeon go on what could only be described as a pigeon tirade, and perhaps if one were to be closely watching, she may even quirk the smallest of smiles at the Seraph's antics - though one would be hard pressed to have her admit it. It's a bit of a foreign expression on her face, so unused to human interaction.

When he finishes, she dips her head slowly in thought. "I will....consider it. I may do this for you. In return...you will do something for me, yes?"
Morgannin follows the gaze of Haralambos towards Mercy and her companion, head tilting in that strange way that birds do. She hops from her stool, and nearly scuttles across the room towards the newcomers, leaving Haralambos to ponder her last words as he looks upon the Seneschal and her friend himself.

* * * * *


Malchiel

While Jerichael speaks on the phone to someone named Ramiel, he leaves Mel to meet with Mercy and her companion. Mercy smiled as she saw Mel approach, and gave a small bow of greeting. Since Adele had come over as well, Mercy took the opportunity to make a brief introduction to the Elohim and the Ofanim.

"Hello Malchiel. It's so good to see you. How have you been?" Then, glancing at Adele and Malchiel, the Mercurian gestures to Jathiriel at her side and tips her head in his direction. "Allow me to introduce the newest employee of my flowershop....Jason....or Jathiriel, if you'd prefer to stand on formality." She chuckles softly as if she had made some incredible joke.

* * * * *


Jathiriel

Malchiel and Adele now having been introduced to the Balseraph, with Morgannin approaching at the tail end of the introduction, it seemed as if no further elaboration on his identity would be forthcoming from Mercy at this point.

Morgannin does not pause her approach until she is directly within his personal space - not in a threatening manner, mind you, simply uncomfortably close. She actually sniffs him a couple times, and tilts her head oddly to the side.

"Why do you smell like a closet? The Servant of Jordi inquires. It's an honest question, Jathiriel would assume for there is little hit of snark or malice in her voice, simple curiosity. She turns her strange black gaze to Mercy. "Do you make him sleep in the closest?"

Adele snickers at the exchange, and sets both the glasses and wine bottles down on a nearby table before pouring a generous glass for herself, then fills the other glass - though she doesn't make a move to offer it to anyone - and turns her wide eyes longingly towards Sarah before glancing back to Jathiriel.

"Hiya Jason. Welcome to the party!" The enthusiasm is palpable, coming off the Ofanim of Wind in waves.

* * * * *

Sarah, Haralambos, Malchiel, Sopholael and Jathiriel
8:30 PM


”All right then!” Jerichael speaks, rather loudly as he hangs up his cell phone and claps his hands together twice to get everyone's attention.

”We can finish introductions and pleasantries when we're done. We have some work to do and I'm loath to wait any longer."

When he's done speaking he waits for everyone to take a seat, and when he see's everyone is ready, Jerichael steps over to the far wall, and switches on one of the wide-screen televisions that is suspended there. Normally, it would be playing football or baseball, or maybe even a UFC fight if that was what the usual crowd was in the mood for at the time. Now, however, the screen flickers to life and a simple Windows desktop is shown. A single file is shown on the desktop labelled: Thatch Vlog.mp3.

Jerichael turns to the assembled Angels and with a grim expression begins to explain.

”Some of you know Thatch. Some don’t. He’s been in and out of LA for a while now. As long as I’ve owned the Howitzer, at least. His recent return to us over the summer was for a reason he only revealed to myself, and Solomon. His plan was to gather some evidence, before bringing it to the rest of you. Eleven days ago we received this file.” he jerked his thumb over his shoulder towards the screen. ”He sent it to a secure server run by Halo Dataworks – a Divine front for some of our earthly endeavors. It was heavily encrypted, so we had to bring in Valarniel over here, on loan from Jean, to help us crack it. Go ahead and play it.” The young man in the Best Buy suit shifts uncomfortably at the attention, while he maneuvers his fingers across his iPad - now charging and in no danger of dying before his task is done - for a moment, before glancing up at the television. It crackles with static for a moment, before a frozen image flickers to life.

Upon the screen is paused video depicting Thachael in a coffee shop, and then with a few murmurs of surprise among the gathered Angels, the video log begins to play.




<A screen flickers on, showing a comfortable looking coffee shop late into the evening. Few patrons are visible in the background, and the glow of a crackling fire is seen in the periphery as a non-descript man of middling years settles onto a plush leather chair and adjusts the broad-rimmed black glasses upon the bridge of his nose.>>

“Hey. Yeah, hi. Good evening!” He says with exaggerated charm.

“This is Thachael. My friends call me Thatch.” Thatch smiles, and scratches the two-day salt and pepper stubble upon his chin. “Humans have such fascinating creations. ‘Vlogging’, I believe they call this one. It’s a good way of revealing things so no one else has the ability to censor it without some difficulty. Litheroy certainly approves!”

Thatch takes a tall foam cup and sips the steaming coffee within, before idly gesturing to the cup with his free hand. ”Another one of humanities greatest inventions. Coffee! Oh, Holy Holy Holy! I wonder sometimes if this is what Dionysis used to call Ambrosia? I wish I could have asked him when I had time.” He sighs, and sets the cup aside.

His expression turns serious, as deep and rather intense brown eyes fixate on the blinking red light next to the webcam he’s recording from.

“Okay. Enough of the pleasantries. We’ve got some pretty deep **** coming our way. Revelatory in the sort of manner that could shake the foundations of our efforts in the War.”

Thatch smiles grimly, and steeples his fingertips together.

“A couple of weeks ago a few friends of mine doing Blandine’s work in the Marches started to put two and two together, and realized that there was a growing pattern to some of the content that the Dreamers in Los Angeles were having. I love a good mystery, so they asked me to take a look into it. I found some rather disturbing things. First off, according to a friend of mine who helps Yves maintain the Library, each of the Dreamers having this dream seem to be on the list of potential Prophets. For those of you whose Superiors haven’t clued them in yet? This means their dreams can be frighteningly accurate.”

Thatch takes another small sip of his coffee, before heaving a heavy sigh.

“These dreams-slash-prophecies all point towards a shift in the celestial political landscape, and possibly a shift in the power balance between Heaven and Hell. That’s the good news. The bad news is that we don’t know much beyond the fact that there are five mortals who are at the crux of it.”

<<A sweet-sounding voice greets Thatch from off-screen, and he grins widely as his attention turns to the newcomer, and his hand raises to close the lid on his laptop, ending the recording abruptly.>>



<<The video begins, though little is able to be made out as the webcam is shifted about in what appears to be a bedroom, while the sound of Thatch huffing in exertion sounds through the built-in microphone. After a few moments, the camera settles and shows Thatch’s face close to the camera, almost taking up the full screen. Behind him, tangled in silk sheets, is revealed to be an attractive young lady, though her face is hidden in the pillows while a soft snoring is heard from her.>>

“Sorry for that.” He glances behind him with a small smile. “The corporeal world certainly has its share of pleasures.” His voice is soft, almost whispered, and a bit harder to hear in the silence of what appears to be a hotel room. “Where was I? Right. Right. So, we’ve got five mortals who somehow will shake the foundation of the War. How absurd does that sound? Mortals, precious as they are, affecting Heaven and Hell on such a predicted scale? Well, I’m not one to put a lot of faith into whispered chicaenery without some sort of proof. I realize how that sounds, coming from me, but Revelations aren’t really Revelations if they’re not true. They’re just lies. So I did some digging and guess what I found?”

He smiles a bit, and turns to rummage around somewhere next to him. A moment or two later, he returns his gaze to the screen and holds up an incredibly old compass of tarnished brass. It could easily be hundreds of years old, from when great sailors sought out new routes to India and beyond. He turns it over and shows the brass back, whereon a quartet of stylized musical notes are displayed roughly correlating to the four cardinal directions and a fifth is displayed in the center.

“This is, if you can believe it, the personal compass of Martin Luther, circa 1515. It’s also a relic that is, according to my friend in the Library, supposedly attuned to a particular prophecy. I asked him to make some inquiries and try and find a copy of this prophecy for me. In the meantime, the one recurring theme in these prophetic dreams is a rather….sad….individual. Cassiel. A Word-bound Cherub who has had a few patrons over the years. She started as a servant of Andrealphus back when his Word was Love and he hadn’t fallen. When he fell, her heart broke for she truly loved him. Raphael picked her up, as they were friends in the early days and nursed her broken heart. Eventually, Cassiel was again abandoned by her Superior when Raphael sacrificed herself. She took up service with Eli but by this point, Cassiel wasn’t much for doing anything beyond singing her lamentations and dwelling in her own misery. ”

Thatch sighs, and pinches the bridge of his nose before rubbing his eyes in weariness.

“She’s a great singer. One of the best of the Angels. You can imagine what sort of praise that is, considering what we are. She was even offered a position as a Trisagonist, but she turned it down. The Seraphim Council, along with the support of Eli, Novalis, Gabriel and a few others who wanted to see her recover from her losses with renewed purpose gave her the Word of Tears and charged her with helping others heal their own sorrows. She’s got a purpose now, and she’s great at it. Warm smiles, friendly shoulders to cry on, everything a human would need to cope with their own losses and sorrows. You can still see her own sadness and grief deep in her eyes if you look hard enough. Cassiel being involved in some sort of grand prophecy makes me and some of my associates nervous.”

“I’ll let you know more when I get some more answers."

<<Thatch glances at the young woman behind him with a soft expression, and then reaches over and clicks off the recording, turning the screen black.>>



<<When the video recording flickers to life, Thatch is revealed to be sitting in an old, creaky wooden rocking chair in what appears to be a log cabin of sorts. He’s sporting a black eye, and a split lip that he’s tenderly applying some ice.>>

“So, things are getting complicated. I figured out how the compass works. Give it some essence and it will lead you to one of the mortals. I found one. His name is Malcolm Price. He’s a band student at Hollywood Arts High School in Los Angeles. I wasn’t able to approach him – wasn’t sure I even wanted to. Just kept an eye on him for a couple days. Turns out, I wasn’t the only one watching him. I really don’t know how, but the Demons are in on this as well. I don’t know how much they’re aware of, but they know at least enough to be watching this Price kid. I got jumped by a couple of their goons. They roughed me up, scared me off. But they didn’t get the compass.”

He sets the ice pack aside, and takes a large swig from a frosty can of beer sitting next to him.

“I haven’t heard anything from my friend in the Library. His silence is a bit concerning. I’m going to put in a call to the local militant arm. I get the feeling things are going to get a bit more dangerous soon enough.”

<<He reaches over, takes another swig of beer and shuts down the video feed.>>



<<The webcam clicks on without fanfare, revealing what appears to be a rather barren warehouse. A thunderously loud foghorn in the distance perhaps indicating its location near the harbor. The camera is focused on a three of figures sitting around a large wooden spool of cables tipped on its side, using it as a makeshift table. The compass sits in the center, surrounded by a few beer cans and a take-out carafe of coffee. One of the men sitting on a small wooden box near the makeshift table is Thatch. One is a tall man with broad shoulders and a buzz-cut wearing a stained wife-beater and a pair of stone-washed blue jeans. The third is a lean man with a rich, olive complexion in a green wool trench coat covered in patches of brown and grey leather where it was hastily mended. His hair is long and wavy black, tied in a haphazard ponytail.>>

“You can’t be serious!” The bald man thunders. “If you’re right and you can’t ascend while you’ve been feedin’ that damn compass essence, you’re a sittin’ duck! At least come to the Hostel so my boys can keep an eye on ya.”

The dark haired man in the green jacket shakes his head slowly, drumming dark fingertips on the side of a can of beer held lightly in held. When he speaks, his voice is thick with a rich accent. “If Thachael is walking around with a bunch of your boys it will do naught but draw extra attention to him. Unless YOU are willing to take the compass yourself?” There is a hint of mirthful teasing in his inquiry, to which the bald man scowls and looks away, shoving his meaty hands into his pockets.

“Gentlemen, please. Now is not the time for divisiveness. We know the first of the mortals, and that the compass will help us find the others. We need everyone to be on board with this. By God! Bethrezen is here, and if HE has taken an interest in this little endeavor of ours then I, for one, am willing to put aside any petty squabbles – yes, even with Morgannin and Adewale – and try and have this resolved as fast as po…..”

<<Thachael’s tirade is cut short, as a thunderous explosion rips through the far wall of the warehouse, sending smoke and debris scattering across the room. From the dusty cloud that has begun to fill the room, flashes of muzzle fire can be seen while the harsh popping of firearms discharge raise in cacophony. Thatch snatches the compass from the top of the make-shift table moments before the large, bald man grabs it and heaves it across the room into the cloud of smoke with as much ease as throwing a paper airplane. A couple voices rise in pain at the clattering crash of the spool slamming into something.>>

“Thatch! Go now! Keep it safe and get it to the others.” The bald man growls, as he draws a hefty aluminum baseball bat from the floor next to him. The green-coated man clasps his hands together and murmurs a beautiful incantation as the smoke of the explosion begins to swirl up from its uncontrolled spill and begins to take shape into a dome in the center of the room before pulling an ancient looking scimitar from beneath his jacket and turning to face the handful of mean looking bikers and gangland soldiers that had begun to swarm in.

<<Thatch turns with the compass held tightly to his chest and sprints towards the laptop and attached webcam. A hand grips it and slams it shut moments after a monstrously tall figure clad in black-lacquered, baroque plate armor steps through the growing throng of soldiers and thugs, and raises a great two-handed flanged Morningstar in salute to the bald man and the green-coated man.>>



<<The webcam blinks to life, flickering with the occasional burst of static. It reveals a singularly nasty spider-webbed crack on the bottom corner, revealing some damage. Thatch leans back with a pained groan, his face battered and bloody – fresh blood still seeping from a slowly healing gash above his left eye. A dark stain on his blue button-down shirt slowly spreads while a bloody hand presses against it.>>

“Ahhh….damn. This isn’t good. Look, I stashed the compass somewhere safe. I couldn’t ascend while I was actively using it and they’ve been hot on my heels for days. There are some things you need to know and I’m running out of time.”

He signs softly, before continuing. “First off….There are five mortals involved. The compass will help you find them, but be careful, the Demons want them to. We still haven’t figured out what’s really going on, but we know enough to make this a high priority situation.”

“Second, we know one of the mortals. Malcolm Price. Music student at Hollywood Arts. He’s under Infernal watch, and I’ve asked Morgannin to keep an eye on him as well. She’s so touchy, but her birds are everywhere. We don’t know the others.”

“Third. If you’re the poor sods who are getting this message dumped in your lap, I’ve got a piece of advice. Turns out, there’s a rogue servant of Kronos in town somewhere. His name is Jathiriel. The last message I got from my friend in the Library was that maybe Jathiriel is a bit more in-the-know on this situation. Even if he doesn’t realize it yet. Make sure Asmodeus’ dogs don’t get him first…and by God, make sure Adewale keeps his distance. Water-boarding may be effective, but it’s not going to encourage a renegade to keep being…all….you know….rebellious.”

Thatch coughs violently, a dribble of blood leaking from the corner of his lips. A loud crash is heard from somewhere outside the slum apartment he seems to be hiding in.

“Damn it! They’re here already.” Thatch begins to type furiously, sparing the occasional glance towards the front door of the suite as loud footsteps thunder down the hall, closer and closer.

“All shining and silver,
With a beautiful face,
You look into me,
And find this place.” He chuckles darkly, and cringes as he utters such a dissonant reveal.

“We can’t let them find it first. It’s in my favorite coffee shop. The one where I met…her. My Lady in Red. She can tell you what street it’s on.” He smiles sadly for a moment, glancing down to a small, fragile looking necklace in his bloody hand – a one-winged ruby heart on a thin gold chain. “And…please. Tell her….tell her I’m sorry I won’t be meeting her in Bora Bora this time.” His corporeal vessel begins to slough off, unravelling like a hundred thousand ribbons untying at once.

<<The front door splinters open, as a swirling cloud of angry, gnashing black surges into the room past the heavily armored figure from the warehouse. The cloud screeches, and the lens cracks again as it swarms over the manifesting celestial form of Thachael and a cry like the pealing of a perfect bell sounds out, before the video screen flickers with static, and freezes…..>>



A heavy silence falls over the common room of the Howitzer, and whether anyone else had overheard or made the connection, there were a few glances towards Jathiriel with mixed emotions on their faces. Then, as if to break the tension, Solomon clears his throat a bit uncomfortably and softly speaks. ”We have received confirmation this morning from Heaven. Thachael’s heart has been broken and his forces dispersed. He is gone.”

[XIII]

Satisfied with Justin's disposition, it was time to move out.

Next stop, Oblivion. Khalil chuckled to himself at the thought.

Khalil hoped that his cherished Beetle would give him no issues this morning. Luckily, only three tries before the rear-compartment engine roared to life. Traffic was no issue, thank goodness. Khalil had no issue with the joyriding women, there was no wrong in having a little fun. He just hoped that is all it was, and that nobody was hurt. He preferred the classics anyway, he patted the steering wheel affectionately, "Don't worry old girl, I only have eyes for you".

Khalil hoped this would go smoothly. Get in, get the girl, get out. He kinda also hoped he would get to burn some filthy heretics and demons, he could use the practice. After parking, Khalil made his way into the club.

[JeenLeen]

Haralambos starts to fly after Morgannin, towards the newcomer, but at the clap of Jerichael's hands he instead lands on one of the stools.

As the videos play, he is at first somewhat distracted. Dreamers? Some prophecy? Tricky stuff. Better to let others just figure it out and tell me who to punch back to Hell. But as more details unwind, he gets a gut feeling. Maybe that girl... could she be one of the Five? And Lee is probably looking for one of them, too. He's glad he got to report before the meeting started.

He also realizes that Bethrezen being involved means he needs to contact Michael. That... is costly in essence, especially if he needs to kill Lee to stop him from trying to summon his boss to find one of the Five.

He looks around the crowd. Didn't Michael say one of his cherubs was in town now? Haralambos hoped to talk to him. Maybe that newcomer was him.


I will be posting as I can.
By the way, I realize that Jerichael's is the next person to speak after my Resonance roll in the OOC thread (check digit 4). Do I detect anything hidden or dishonest about his words?

I hope it's cool with Haralambos having heard about Ramiel but not met him yet. Makes sense based on timing of Ramiel's assignment and how busy he's been with Malcolm.

[/spoiler]

[Anyr]

Valarniel's gratitude warmed Sarah like sunlight. Little moments like this made life all the sweeter. It certainly helped her weather the boy's terrible jokes. She was about to answer his next question (and perhaps fulfil another Need), when he suddenly looked towards the door. Turning, Sarah saw two new arrivals. For some reason, Valarniel seemed quite shaken by them. She did her best to put him at ease.

"The woman is Mercy. She's a Mercurian of Novalis. Really nice, generous person. The man is new. I've never...seen...him...before..."

She trailed off. Her eyes were locked with those of Mercy's companion. In him, she sensed a very familiar desire: One that no Angel could possess. Sarah had yearned for it herself, not so long ago. A shiver ran through her. Mercy had made a very bold, very risky move. She needed all the help she could get. Trying her best to sound casual, Sarah said some quick goodbyes to Valarniel.

"Could you excuse me for a minute? I need to go say hello."

Sarah made a beeline across the room. She quickly insinuated herself into the conversation circle around Mercy. The other occupants barely received a glance from her. Even Adele and her waiting wine glass were mostly ignored. Sarah was on a mission. Her friendly greeting carried a lot of hidden weight.

"Good to see you again, Mercy. Everything going well? Please let me know if you need anything."

That wasn't what she really wanted to say. She actually wanted to grab Mercy's shoulders, shake her, and scream 'are you insane?!'. But that wouldn't do anyone any good. There was a ticking time bomb that needed defusing. Sarah advanced to her main target. Moving right in front of Jason, she extended a welcoming hand to him. If he accepted, he'd feel the nervous tension running through it. Sarah's calm appearance was a front. She was actually on the verge of panic.

"And hello to you too. My name is Sarah. I'm so glad that you've decided to join us. Don't hesitate to ask me for help."

The look in her eyes left no room for doubt. She knew what Jason really was. But rather than being repulsed, she looked worried; Worried for him. In the brief time available to her, Sarah tried to convey a simple message: 'I'm on your side'.

8:30 PM

Unfortunately, Redemption would have to wait. The meeting's reason for existence soon monopolised everyone's attention. They all gathered in front of the big screen. Sarah made sure to claim a seat beside Jason. She thought that whatever the presentation was about, it wouldn't hold her interest; She was wrong. Thatch's blog proved (to put it mildly) very engaging. Its videos evoked nostalgia, warmth, intrigue, fear...and, finally, grief. Solomon confirmed the last message's truth. Thatch was gone. Sarah sat in silence, processing the news. She thought back to the few times she'd crossed paths with him. He'd asked her so many questions. Now that friendly, inquisitive servant of truth was beyond any help she could give. All she could do was honour his last testament: Protect the compass, the five humans, and the Demon of Kronos sitting beside her.

Hopefully not alone.

[seatyger]

Once introduced, Mel greeted Adele. "Impressive driving, though I'm sure the bus driver is reconsidering several life choices following that close call."


"Hello Malchiel. It's so good to see you. How have you been?"

"I have been well, Mercy, and as provoking as the matter of our gathering is. It's pleasing to see you, too."


Then, glancing at Adele and Malchiel, the Mercurian gestures to Jathiriel at her side and tips her head in his direction. "Allow me to introduce the newest employee of my flowershop....Jason....or Jathiriel, if you'd prefer to stand on formality." She chuckles softly as if she had made some incredible joke.

Mel cast Mercy a sideways glance, at once an expression of acknowledgment of her joke and a sign of affection for the Mercurian (well, about as affectionate as Mel could be with his long-time friends and colleagues).

"Jathiriel, is it? I don't know the name. What is your Choir?" he asked politely, though quite aware the young celestial was nervous about something. Perhaps he was an outcast seeking redemption, another stray Mercy successfully brought in from the cold.

However, before he could get an answer, the waif-form of Morgannin passed through the tiniest gap in the group and asked that odd question. In most instances, Mel would simply ignore the Friend of Beasts' quirkiness, but the sincere curiosity in her expression and voice gave him pause. What would possess her to believe the young man smelled of closet, musty and--

His thoughts were again interrupted by another celestial pushing her way into the middle of the growing crowd. He knew of Sarah, the Bright Lilim of Marc, more than he knew her. She and another companion had come to him recently about a reliquary he had made for a seraph some years ago. Her behavior was also curious, especially directly inserting herself immediately in front of the newcomer. It was as if she sensed something the others had not. Curious.


”All right then!” Jerichael speaks, rather loudly as he hangs up his cell phone and claps his hands together twice to get everyone's attention.

”We can finish introductions and pleasantries when we're done. We have some work to do and I'm loath to wait any longer."

When he's done speaking he waits for everyone to take a seat, and when he see's everyone is ready, Jerichael steps over to the far wall, and switches on one of the wide-screen televisions that is suspended there. Normally, it would be playing football or baseball, or maybe even a UFC fight if that was what the usual crowd was in the mood for at the time. Now, however, the screen flickers to life and a simple Windows desktop is shown. A single file is shown on the desktop labelled: Thatch Vlog.mp3.

Jerichael turns to the assembled Angels and with a grim expression begins to explain.

”Some of you know Thatch. Some don’t..."

Malchiel was of the former category. He knew Thatch well, though they hadn't worked together -- at least, not in recent memory beyond a brief favor.


A heavy silence falls over the common room of the Howitzer, and whether anyone else had overheard or made the connection, there were a few glances towards Jathiriel with mixed emotions on their faces. Then, as if to break the tension, Solomon clears his throat a bit uncomfortably and softly speaks. ”We have received confirmation this morning from Heaven. Thachael’s heart has been broken and his forces dispersed. He is gone.”

From the moment Jathiriel's name was mentioned, Malchiel's eyes fell directly on him. His gaze held no suspicion, no malice toward the fallen; it was like he was boring into the celestial's very soul to determine the veracity of his desire to reform. Not to judge, but to understand.

When Jerichael announced that Heaven confirmed Thatch's dispersal, Mel took a step forward. "I created that compass for Thachael, and I can describe it with detail for anyone may need that," he offered.

[Siegemonkeys]

"Perfect. Hold tight, I'll get there fast as I can." Ramiel responds, hanging up the phone and climbing into his car, a beat-up old toyota that could pass for a cheap hand-me-down from his 'parents'. He missed the old motorcycle he owned the last time he came down to earth, but this was enough for getting around in, even if it wasn't in style. Clearing past Agatha and Brody with hardly a glance in their direction (this time not on purpose), he makes his way for the Howitzer, fast as he could.

When Ramiel finally arrived, he found a place to park and sighed, reaching into his console for a pack of cigarettes. With a click of his zippo he lit one up, grabbing his backpack and bringing it in with him. Pushing the door to the Howitzer open, the other angels present would look back to see what looked like a teenager, backpack slung over his soulders with a lit cigarette in hand. "Sorry that took a while, Jerichael. Got here fast as I could." He apologizes, looking up at the screen to see the end of Thachael's vlog, something he'd been shown prior to his assignment here. "Looks like we've got related business after all. Except I've brought some fresh new information with me."

[JeenLeen]

As the others are offering information, Haralambos also pipes in, speaking a human voice from his pigeon vessel.

"Lee, the demon of gluttony, is trying to contact his Superior to get help finding somebody by tomorrow night. I think it's related. I also encountered a teenage girl earlier today. My gut tells me she might be one of the Five." He looks at the Seneschal overseeing the proceedings. "I already reported the details, so I'll you all decide what needs to be done. But I can help protect someone or send a demon to Hell."

[Erulasto]

OBLIVION NIGHTCLUB

Khalil Dhali

In Compton at the corner of East Johnson Street and Santa Fe Avenue is a warehouse-sized building painted entirely matte black on the exterior. It’s constructed entirely of concrete on the outside, with a large set of steel barn doors on the front leading into a coat check area. Beyond the coat check is a second set of heavy wooden double doors. In large black letters edged with LED light that fade between purple and blue are the words OBLIVION.

Two men in snug black t-shirts and jeans stand on either side of the door, controlling how many go in and out of the club – considering the line wraps around the block, they’ve got their hands full.

Deep, heavy bass rumbles from within – felt like some monstrous, infernal pulse. Every time the double doors in the coat room open, a heavy wall of sound thunders out into the street drowning out the myriad of conversations being held by those in line.

The people waiting to get in run the gamut of styles, though there is a large number of candy ravers, and gothic punk styles present – but even a few in board shorts and colorful Hawaiian button down shirts.

A black Cadillac sits across the street and down a block or so, engine idling. A man in a brilliant, ruby red silk shirt and finely tailored black suit jacket and slacks leans against the passenger side door smoking a cigarette with a wide, toothy grin. His hair is spikey and black, and his features are sharp and chiseled. The driver is a thickset man of maybe Mexican, or Puerto Rican descent with a shaved head hidden under a ruby red bandana and coiling tattoos across both arms and his chest – visible from beneath a leather vest. A Winchester Super X Pump shotgun sits in the passenger seat next to the driver, who is sipping from a bottle of Corona.

A couple of youths from the line keep glancing over in their direction, and murmuring amongst themselves. Eventually, with some goading, two young ladies sheepishly walk across the street towards the black Cadillac. They were cute young things, dressed in clothes that were far to risqué for the overall appearance of their age. By the slight wobble of the girls in their high heels, it would appear they had already been drinking. As he noticed them approach, the smoking man slid off the side of the car, still smiling, and stepped towards the girls with open arms. There was a handful of cash offered to the man, and he took it and gave the bills a quick count before tucking it into his jacket pocket and producing a small plastic bag filled with a handful of brightly colored pills.

Khalil successfully parked in one of the nearby lots – there was an abundance of other cars parked here, far too many if the reputation for intoxication and inebriation was deserved - and approached the line for the club. The bouncers eyed Khalil curiously as he approached, and snickered slightly at the sight.

”Hey man, you don’t strike me as the kind of guy who likes this scene.”

* * * * *


The HOWITZER

Sarah, Haralambos, Sopholael, Ramiel, and Jathiriel

Ramiel

When Ramiel entered, the bar was abuzz with silent inquisitiveness. He could feel the questions unasked hovering on the periphery, and the room seemed charged with tension.

When he spoke to Jerichael, the Seneschal glanced up at him with a grim expression and nodded. "I take it you're fully in the loop already, then. Good." He motioned for Ramiel to join him at the front of the room next to the television, now showing a simple black screen with a looped arrow in the event that anyone wanted to watch it again. Valarniel had not shut it down, and waited off to the side patiently.

Jerichael returned his attention to the rest of the assembled crowd. "People, this is Ramiel, a Cherub of War. Michael sent him down to us on special assignment after word of this video got to the Seraphim Council. He's been sent to keep an eye on Malcolm just in case some of Thatch's predictions end up being accurate. Go ahead and fill us in."

* * * * *


Haralambos


It’s all good.
Jerichael is being truthful about everything he says. There isn’t anything dishonest about his words or his intent. As far as he knows, he’s relayed the situation as is.

And since Haralambos and Ramiel share a Superior, it would only have made sense that Michael would have let Haralambos and Ramiel know of each other. Maybe not too much in the way of specific detail about their respective duties, but it’s polite to keep allies abreast of news that there is another agent working in their territories.


When Haralambos had offered his suspicions of Lee summoning Haagenti, and possibly being involved, it was Rezzael who first piped up - though his eyes, and the rest of the Triad's never let their narrowed gaze wander from Jathiriel, who had apparently been outed by Thatch's video.

"Lee is a minor player in Los Angeles." His accent was thick, and very authentic Japanese. "If he has a hand in the current events, it is possible he is working along and making a bid for prestige and power among his fellows. I do know that Bethrezen does not have an amiable relationship with the Djinn - and that bodes well for us. If there is Infernal politicking involved, then perhaps they will not be as capable of putting forward a unified front." The insinuation that hopefully the Angels would be able to capitalize on their own unified hung behind his words unspoken.

Then, Jerichael introduced the same Servant of Michael that Haralambos had been thinking about contacting. Divine providence, no?

* * * * *


Sarah

Valarniel gaped like a fish at her sudden departure, but ended up nodding mutely as he turned his attention back to the tablet and prepared himself for the task he was brought in to assist with.

When Sarah approached Mercy and Jathiriel, Mercy smiled sweetly and nodded in greeting before stepping in to envelope Sarah in a brief, but tight hug. She let her own sparkling eyes linger on Sarah’s for a moment, with a depth of wisdom within. She had hoped, deeply, that Sarah would be here to introduce to Jason – there were few friends to have in your corner like a redeemed Demon, let alone a Bright Lilim.

When the video had finished running its course and the room descended into an uncomfortable silence, Sarah realized that many of the Angels had their eyes trained on the Balseraph and a realization suddenly dawned that hopefully the rest of those in the room would take Thatch's warning about Jathiriel's importance in the spirit it was intended instead of easily slipping into old hatreds and bigotry.

When another new face arrived, and Jerichael introduced him as Ramiel - a servant of Michael and guardian angel for Malcolm, things quickly seemed to become a bit more....real. Even the Archangels had taken an interest in this, and one with support and power such as Michael assigning a Cherub to the mortal meant that they were taking this seriously.

* * * * *


Malchiel

A Cherub of War had been introduced, and revelations that the Demons may not all be working together on this - both offered some peace of mind to the old Angel, though there were still many, many concerns.

When Malchiel voiced his foreknowledge of the Compass and it's construction by his own hands, many Angels openly gaped at the knowledge.

It was, however, Adewale who rose from his seat and stepped further towards the rest of the crowded Angels.

His deep, baritone voice intoned clearly across the room.

"Of course a Servant of Eli would be the one to have a hand in creating a Compass that directly led to the death of an Angel, and the possible conclusion of a troublesome prophecy." The judgement was razor sharp in his voice, which would come as no surprise from a Seraph of Judgement.

But before he could continue, Fortisima laid a hand upon his shoulder and shook her head sternly at him.

She then spoke up. "Malchiel, can you tell us how the creation of this compass came to be? Did you create it of your own volition? I cannot imagine such a thing was done on a whim, nor with any intentional malice." The last bit was said with a pointed look at Adewale.

* * * * *


Sorry folks, the Easter weekend got crazy, I'm sure for everyone else as well. I appreciate your patience with the delay in posting. I was hoping to have everyone weigh in before the next post - but since I suspect the hectic holiday weekend complicated things, I did some editing and tweaking so that we could continue.
We need a post on Jathiriel's response to the vlog, but otherwise I believe we can progress as normal.

The prologue here will be wrapping up soon - it's just some discussions to be had before the official beginning of the first chapter. Go ahead and award yourselves 3 character points each for superb roleplaying and all-around awesomeness. Nothing you buy will be counted until the official beginning of Chapter One, but go ahead and get a head start on pondering.

For those who maybe don't know: Experience points in In Nomine are essentially the same as the starting character points, and all costs associated are identical to the initial costs.

I'd ask that, unless you're improving a skill or a song you've already got or something similar, toss me a private message to discuss what it is your asking for and why you think your Superior would let you have it. Unless it's something you could get yourself.

Also, Khalil and his trip to Oblivion will continue to run parallel to the current arc and we can carry it into the first chapter. Not to worry.

Thanks again! Hope you all had a wonderful weekend.

[seatyger]

It was, however, Adewale who rose from his seat and stepped further towards the rest of the crowded Angels.

His deep, baritone voice intoned clearly across the room.

"Of course a Servant of Eli would be the one to have a hand in creating a Compass that directly led to the death of an Angel, and the possible conclusion of a troublesome prophecy." The judgement was razor sharp in his voice, which would come as no surprise from a Seraph of Judgement.

But before he could continue, Fortisima laid a hand upon his shoulder and shook her head sternly at him.

She then spoke up. "Malchiel, can you tell us how the creation of this compass came to be? Did you create it of your own volition? I cannot imagine such a thing was done on a whim, nor with any intentional malice." The last bit was said with a pointed look at Adewale.

Mel's only reaction to the seraph's baseless accusation was to adjust the cuffs of his dark grey English-style suit jacket and tug on the matching waistcoat. His face betrayed no emotion, no reaction beyond attention to his grooming.

Only when prompted by Fortisima's questions did the angel of Eli look up and step into full view of the Triad. He replied, "Adewale, you are as inflexible and uncreative in your thinking as ever. I have made nearly two dozen relics and reliquaries over the last thirty years, for angels of every Choir and Superior, all for the prosecution of this War, and have assisted dozens of our brethren in their efforts -- including nearly all of you here tonight. Assisting Thachael a fortnight ago was no different."

Malchiel's tone was measured, as if he were simply talking about the day's weather. "The compass itself was one of a pair I created at the behest of my superior, Eli, and I delivered it to Vicar Luther himself as a gift. I was not aware of any prophecy tied to the relic; neither did I create it with any prophecy in mind. It was truly meant as a gift to a Soldier who was about to perform great deeds in the name of the Lord.

"Thachael specifically sought me out, because he knew the compass was my creation," he continued. "He needed assistance with attuning it, and I gave it willingly; he mentioned only that five mortals were important to his current project, and that he needed to be able to identify and locate them quickly. I was able to set it up as a sequence. Finding an attuned mortal will allow one to unlock the next, and so on. He didn't share anything else regarding his current activities, and it wasn't necessary, at the time, for me to have such knowledge."

[Failed Phantasm]

He hadn’t expected to be the center of attention quite so soon, but one angel at his side quickly became five – two of which were so uncomfortably close that he could practically feel his wings drawing protectively around himself. Morgannin was actually the least problematic of the group, so easily distracted by irrelevance like a raven by tinfoil. Mercy’s laugh answered the Ofanite and he saw no reason to dignify her questions further. But his sentiment was neither malicious nor dismissive: if she wanted to learn anything remotely personal about him, he understood that she would do it in her own time, and likely not a moment before he found himself an animal vessel. She certainly didn’t seem to care about more than his name right now, and the polite disinterest suited him just fine.

The other Ofanite was equally easy to handle. Adele’s enthusiasm seemed genuine enough, but she had eyes for someone else entirely. His impression was that she saw him as an interesting toy or prop, a conversation piece that would catch her friend’s attention so she could get back to socializing with people she actually cared about. He returned her greeting with a “Thanks,” and the ‘aw shucks’ kind of shy wallflower smile that she seemed to want from him. He obligingly left the filled wine glass where it was so she could offer it to her friend, as she clearly intended.

Next was the Elohite, and here his footing was less sure. He felt exposed was as in-control of himself as ever, a skill born of long practice and no small amount of mimicking his once-Superior. Kronos was ever the unflappable one. Still, the emotion-sensing power of the Powers was not to be so lightly discounted. While the feeling of uncertainty beneath the surface was itself hardly an issue, letting anyone other than Mercy know that was an almost unforgivable crime against his dignity. Worse, Malchiel asked the one question he absolutely did not want to answer. His first instinct was to deflect it, but his read of the room revealed no convenient targets. He opted to take a shot in the proverbial dark, offering a sly wink and affecting a lightly sing-song tone of mockery as he trotted out a very ancient Seraphic evasion: “You know, I don’t think I care to answer that.” Hopefully, it was still heavenly habit for Seraphim to annoy their peers by going past truth-telling and straight into volunteering uncomfortable opinions that shatter politeness and social harmony. But naturally, his thoughts were quite different. ‘Please, for the love of God, assume I’m an Impudite.’

Last, and most troublesome, was Sarah. Mercy had mentioned the Bright Lilim in passing before they’d come to the Howitzer, and if the affection sounding across the Symphony from so many angels were any indication, then here she was. At first he thought she would take her wine glass and talk about him to Adele, but no – she charged into the semicircle with all the subtlety of a Calabim and started talking to him. He was no freshly-fledged demon. He recognized the tension beneath the carefully-maintained façade, in her words to Mercy and in her gestures to him. That knowledge gave him no better idea of how to deal with her. Experience told him to accept nothing – nothing – from a Lilim without knowing what she wanted for it first. While an outstretched hand may well be harmless, her offer of assistance was as dangerous as words could be. ‘Tell me exactly what you want or no deal,’ he almost blurted out, fighting what was very nearly a reflex. ‘No unspecified favors.’

But she was Redeemed. She was younger than he was by orders of magnitude – she had to be; he remembered Lilith in the Garden, for Heaven’s sake! – yet she had done it. He had no idea what to think of that. Had it been easier for her? Harder? He shot a split-second’s sideways glance at Mercy. ‘This is what I meant,’ he thought. After another moment’s hesitation, he shook Sarah’s hand. ‘Would a Hellborn be afraid of forgiveness?’

He jumped and wrenched his hand free when Jerichael clapped, having forgotten that there was a world outside the tiny gaggle of angels pressed around him. Finally they were getting to the business of the night. Obviously, it was no surprise to an old schemer that Mercy had an ulterior motive for bringing him to the bar that particular night. ‘At least it’s just a film screening instead of a surprise trial.’


He found himself eating his words once the TV was switched off and the lights came back on. He could feel the eyes turned towards him at the mention of what he was, but the potential shame was nothing compared to the rising indignation he was surprised to find himself feeling. To be implicated in some mortal affair, as if he hadn’t been in Limbo for who-knows-how-long! As if he hadn’t even been in this part of the world since it was called the Viceroyalty of New Spain! ‘At least the Exhibitionist of Revelation had the decency not to reveal my Band,’ he thought; ‘Thank God for small mercies.’ But there were Malakim present and he knew he would soon be the target of their tender attentions, and that made him feel one brief instant of cold terror. If they knew he was a Balseraph, nothing he said could be trusted. The Liars could potentially fool even the Most Holy, and anyone with the slightest familiarity with the Band knew it. Even if what he said were true and a Seraph confirmed it, the doubt would still be there. ‘What if he deceived the Seraph?’ they would think. ‘You can’t trust a Liar.’ The Seraph of Judgement’s reckless accusation, even though it was miraculously not directed at him, only deepened his concern. ‘Damn it, this is the last thing I needed.’


CONDITION
Health 96 / 96, Essence 10 / 10

➜ Body 12 / 12
➜ Mind 24 / 24
➜ Soul 60 / 60

ACTIVE EFFECTS

Truthfulness/6: Roll (Will – Truthfulness) whenever you attempt to lie or use the Balseraph resonance. Failure obligates you to tell the truth instead.

[JeenLeen]

Haralambos steps back and forth as Rezzial talks. At first he is hopeful that it will be a call to strike against the demon, but then he mentions politics. This reminded him of some of the boring, annoying parts of the fights he did while on loan to Laurence. "A demon is there, but it's working against another demon, so DO NOT KILL IT YET!" -- such boring orders. Sure, Rezzial hadn't explicitly said that, but with a bit of disappointment Haralambos figured such would be Jerichial's decision.

And Adewale's a jerk, and the relic-maker defends himself. The details about it were stuff he had a bit of trouble following.

Haralambos brightens at realizing that, as Michael sent a cherub here because of the video, Michael already knows about it. That... probably means he needn't spend the essence to call Michael just yet.

He is a bit confused as why so many people are focusing on Mercy's friend. (Haralambos wasn't close enough to catch his name.) Well, he reckoned somebody would point it out. He ruffles his feathers a bit discouraged, waiting for orders on who to hunt or protect.

Of course, as a pigeon, the only person who probably reads him properly is Morgannin, unless someone uses Resonance on him. At that thought, he almost reactivates his Resonance, but figures there'll be politic-talk and it'll just annoy him to sense the details.


So Luther was a Soldier of God in the lore? Cool.

Also, wanted to note that the frustration is completely IC. All's very cool OOC.
Thanks for the xp award. I think this might be the first PbP for me, at least of those that had xp, that lasted long enough to get some that mattered.

[Siegemonkeys]

Ramiel crosses his arms and watches with amusement as Malchiel explains himself, his amusement mostly taken from the opening insults thrown Adewale's way. When he's finished explaining himself, Ramiel takes a drag from his cigarette and points over to Malachiel, his head turned towards Adewale. "Be glad that Malachiel's a better man than me, Adewale. Cause if I was him and you just blamed me for getting one of us killed, I'd have had to ask Rezzael to help me pull my foot out of your ***." He says bluntly. "Anyways, it's a good thing he did make that compass, cause we're gonna need it to find the other humans from this prophecy. And trust me, it's shaping up to be a big one, cause I just got this." He produces a set of papers from his backpack, holding them up for the others to see. Musical sheets, the ones Malcolm gave him before he left school. "Jerichael, put this up on the projector."

"Now, I want everyone one of you to take a look at this." He gestures up to the screen, where the music sheets were being projected. "This is a sheet I just got from Malcolm earlier today, said it was a song he's been hearing in his dream that he's having trouble getting down right. Look familiar? No? How about now." Ramiel starts to hum the song aloud, and after a couple seconds most of the crowd would start to realize what this was supposed to be; The Symphony. Poorly translated, but undoubtedly notes from The Symphony, something that demons can't hear, let alone humans.

"That's right, it's The Symphony. I don't know how he heard it, or what dreams he's been having, but you can see it up there for yourself. It's a bad translation right now, but you can still recognize it even in this state, and this is just what he's managed to get right so far. When I saw him he had dark rings under his eyes, like he barely got any sleep at night or he had a bad dream. Then he gave me the sheets, and I recognized what they're supposed to be. So now we're left here with two very important questions; What's going on in his dreams, and how the hell is he hearing The Symphony. Right now I don't have an answer to that second question, but if Malcolm's only supposed to be one of a few...Maybe the others can hear it too. I don't know how that plays into whatever prophecy Thachael discovered, but I don't think any of us would argue that humans that can hear The Symphony is a Really Big Deal. And as for the first question, that one we can at least look into. Jerichael tells me there's someone here who works for Blandine, who's that? Cause I'm gonna need you to take a look at Malcolm's dreams and share what you find with the rest of us. Might give us a clue just what's going on with this prophecy."

[Anyr]

Poor Thatch's murder was just one part of a larger picture. For now, everyone was focused on their own specific section. Sarah knew that that wouldn't last. Once they stopped arguing about artifacts and Djinn, they'd turn their attention to her newest priority: Jathiriel. A Demon was sitting right in the midst of this Angelic strategy meeting. He'd already seen and heard too much. Only the cavalcade of revelations had let him last this long. Sarah cast her eye down the scruffy figure beside her. The two of them had only just met. She knew almost nothing about him. But every time she looked into his eyes, she saw a strong, sincere yearning for Redemption. That was enough. While everyone's attention was still elsewhere, she leant sideways to whisper in his ear.

"Okay, we don't have much time. So listen closely. I'm on your side. I'm also on their side. My job is to be the bridge between you and them. I'll vouch for your good intentions. Then the Seraphs will vouch for the Truth of your words. Unless you have the tremendous bad fortune of being a Balseraph, that should be enough to satisfy the Triad. After they sheathe their swords, we'll negotiate a proper deal for you.

You probably don't trust me yet. That's fine. Trust came to me slowly as well. Just know that you're not alone."

[Failed Phantasm]

What might best be called ‘morbid fascination’ kept his attention on the celestial congregation rather than his own misery for the moment. Had Mercy not told him otherwise, he might have guessed the angelic population of Los Angeles was near-exclusively Seraphim and Elohim, so tactlessly direct the conversation had been. The Cherub’s revelation was not nearly so surprising in comparison. Kronos’ demons could still hear the Symphony after all, and not simply in the half-remembered way of the Fallen. Why wouldn’t humans eventually demonstrate the capacity? Perhaps the expectation that they were deaf to it had been warranted in the past, but their numbers had tipped into the billions within the last hundred years. Eventually, there was going to be another Lilith. Or five, as the case may be.

Speaking of, the Lilim took advantage of the commotion to start a whispered conversation with him. ‘So you’re to be my literal devil’s advocate?’ He wondered how Mercy had managed to arrange that; perhaps there was some sort of irresistible cosmic irony about a woman defending a snake. When she spoke of trust, it was all he could do not to burst out laughing. She really had no idea what she was getting herself into. “You want me to trust you? Fine,” he whispered back in a tone that was somewhere between resignation and bitter amusement; “Guess who has six eyes and no thumbs?” This guy! As he leaned away from her, he whispered, “Get out while you still can.” and this was probably her one good chance to do it. He would have fully expected her to, but for that notion of self-sacrificing compassion that he had been the recipient of. It was almost enough to make him remember what that felt like. Almost. And it was so damnably hard to be paranoid when people were going out of their way to prove him wrong rather than right. Then again, he’d yet to be interrogated by the Triad or the Malakim, and they of all people would know that Mercy’s protection and Sarah’s advocacy only extended so far. They would try to catch him alone. But he hadn't gone through the trouble of shattering his Heart and bursting out of Hell only to be brought low by some stick-up-his-*** newly-fledged Seraph who was just as likely to order him executed as to sell him out to a Servitor of the Game. There was more to that rumor than Asmodeus' chest-beating about how corrupt Heaven's Judgement was, he was sure of it.


CONDITION
Health 96 / 96, Essence 10 / 10

➜ Body 12 / 12
➜ Mind 24 / 24
➜ Soul 60 / 60

ACTIVE EFFECTS

Truthfulness/6: Roll (Will – Truthfulness) whenever you attempt to lie or use the Balseraph resonance. Failure obligates you to tell the truth instead.

[Erulasto]

The Howitzer

Sarah, Malchiel, Ramiel, Haralambos, and Jathiriel

The tension was thick in the air in the wake of Thachael's revelations. Despite the unified front that the Seraphim Council constantly pushed for, there was already some discordant notes in the bar - a microcosm of the greater celestial political arena.

Jerichael still stood near the wide-screen television; thick muscled arms crossed over his broad chest with a grim scowl. Ramiel - the newest addition to the Howitzer's current populous - standing near him to give a fresh report to the assembled Host.

Adewale stood near a booth to the side of the room, his back so ramrod straight and rigid it was a wonder it didn't snap from the tension within. His eyes nearly burned with self-righteous indignation, which was fortunately - and perhaps only - assuaged by the Cherub of Judgement next to him with her grandmotherly hands upon his arm and a soothing look in her eyes. Fortisima still held a smile upon her features, though even hers was strained at the moment. The Malakim - Rezzael - despite having spoken, was still sitting in his spot at the booth, a steaming mug of tea before him; and still, his sharp eyes watched Jathiriel.

The Balseraph himself was still, alas, central to the tension in the bar. He was surrounded it seemed, though not by any Angels he would likely fear an escalation from. Mercy was close by his side, and she allowed her hand to graze his own for a moment - a show of solidarity - if the intensity in her gaze and thin line of her pursed lips were any indication of her current mood. The Ofanim of Animals and the Ofanim of Wind were still there as well - though the former was simply watching the ongoing proceedings with some mild curiosity. Adele on the other hand, seemed to be positively vibrating with the tense energy in the room. Her manic eyes flickered across the room, perhaps too fast to follow.

Sarah was the lynchpin however of Jathiriel's little assemblage, however. The Bright Lilim seemed genuine, though the Balseraph would likely be struggling to take such a fact at face value. How long, after all, did it take him to warm up to Mercy? And of course, there were still moments where the two of them struggled to feel their way around each other.

Haralambos seemed the most overly aggravated by the gathering, though it was entirely likely the Seraph of War wouldn't be directly invovled unless Adewale made a demand, or one of the other militant angels offered motivation to do so.

Solomon leaned against the pool table, brow furrowed in deep thought and Lophyrine simply stood next to the surprisingly quiet Sopholael, his briefcase held tightly in hand while an infinitely sorrowful expression had settled on his face - a single tear even running down his cheek at the news of Thachael's destruction.

Valarniel was awkwardly silent, still clutching the tablet to his chest like a lifeline, but did while he was not up in arms with Jathiriel's presence, it appeared that he certainly was startled by it.

* * * * *


Malchiel

Fortisima seemed well-pleased with Malchiel's response - indeed, she had comissioned a talisman from the Elohim herself a few years ago and she still used those oven mitts when she needed to handle something hot - like pulling fresh cookies from the oven, or pulling the heart out of one of Belial's servitors chests. A solid pressure was applied to Adewale, with perhaps a flicker of warning in her eyes. Adewale may have been the Seraph of the Triad and the de facto leader - but Fortisima was truly ancient, being created in the early days of the world shortly after Humanity had first learned to bake bread.

Regardless, the Seraph scowled down to Fortisima, realizing that Malchiel would not make a good target - and his self-righteous honey-brown eyes turned to the only other convenient target in the room, and the one he figured he was well within his rights to deal with.
While Malchiel had shut down Adewale, there were others who seemed to take a direct interest in what he had to say. Solomon, the Cherub of Faith pushed off the pool table and moved to stand next to him.

"I, for one, consider it divine providence that the creator of the compass himself just so happened to be in the city at a time when it had become scrutinized by Destiny and Fate. I have to admit, I once met Vicar Luther and saw the compass on his desk. I was always impressed by the craftsmanship." Solomon grinned, though his dark-chocolate eyes were still distinctly troubled.

* * * * *


Ramiel

Adewale had just turned his expression away from Malchiel when he was stopped in his tracks by the words of the Cherub of War. He sputtered, and his mouth worked furiously as he glared at Michael's Servant.

Before he could utter a damning response, Jerichael had put the sheet music up on the projector and the Seraph of Judgement allowed his train of thought to lapse into shock.

The notes were frenetic and scribbled haphazardly. This was not the writing of a well-thought out composer. These notes were - desperate, chaotic and almost...mad in their composition. But sure enough, as Ramiel began to hum the notes it was there - underneath the extraneous bits, and at the very core of the music and they could all FEEL the Symphony responding. It was as stark a revelation as the one Thatch's death had been.
When Ramiel asks for the Servant of Dreams, Lophyrine steps forward with a short bow of his head. "That would be myself, noble Cherub. I am Lophyrine, Servant of Blandine and Walker of the Marches. What you have shown us is a great shock to me, though I will admit that it does - in a way - answer the why of the Prophecy."

He glances at Sopholael, then back to the rest of the room. "I was one of those in the Marches who first discovered the dream-prophecy that Thachael had spoken of in his vision. I was, in fact, the one who brought it to his attention and asked him to investigate it for us." The Mercurian allows his eyes to shift down to the ground, and a couple more tears flow down his cheeks while he sniffs, and scratches the large bushy mustache under his nose. It doesn't take an Elohim to realize that he feels responsible for Thatch's death.

* * * * *


Sarah

In all the dramatics that the other Angels had become engaged in, Sarah had the perfect opportunity to whisper to Jathiriel without too much scrutiny, though if the smile that had dawned on the Seneschal of Flowers pretty face was any indication, she may have picked up on the spirit of the message, if not the words themselves.

Mercy nodded to Sarah in agreement with her statement, seemingly pleased that she'd found another ally so swiftly in her desire to help the Fallen find the blessings and love of Redemption. While she was certainly pleased, Mercy had hoped that Sarah would be on board with the idea and one of Jathiriel's biggest supporters.

"Thank you, Sarah." Came Mercy's fervent expression, eyes watering a little as she looked back to Jathiriel.

Morgannin had begun to slip further away from the gathering, but Adele seemed to have her interest continue to grow in the newcomer. She siddled over to Sarah and Mercy and Jathiriel, and nudged Sarah in the ribs with a wink before reaching into the cavernous pouch on the front of her hoodie and seeming to rummage around for a minute or two.

"You gave me this idea!" The Ofanim proudly states, before pulling out a rather old iPhone. It was old, but in good shape, though the back was covered entirely in McDonald's McCafe stickers. There was enough there for at least a half-dozen free coffee's.

While Adele had turned her attention entirely on Jathiriel as well, Mercy took a moment to pull a book out of her beaded, hemp purse and handed it to the Lilim. It was wrapped in faded leather and embossed with hearts and flowers drawn in multiple hues of gel-pens.

"Here." The Angel of Flowers spoke softly, tenderly, as she offered it to her. There was a...familiarity about the book. "This is a very special book. It's a diary." Mercy has a faint coloring of her cheeks, as her eyes go a bit misty. "I traded a few favors to get it back. It has special meaning to me, but I think it might help you a bit more at the moment. It belonged to an Angel named Summer. She was a Bright Lilim. Like you. She was my....first Redemption."

Mercy smiled at some memory before continuing. "You know what he's going through." She glanced back to Jathiriel. "But I want this diary to help someone else find their Light."

* * * * *


Jathiriel

The Ofanim offered the phone to Jathiriel with a wide, manic grin. "I'm...uh...not as good at making deals...and stuff. But, like....my number is already programmed in. Keep it and give it a call if you ever need some...eh...fast transportation." She looked a bit sheepish as she stood there, offering the phone to Jathiriel.

While Adele had been offering Jathiriel the phone, Mercy had taken a moment to present Sarah with a rather colorful book - in what looked like a rather emotionally vulnerable moment for the Seneschal.

It was in this moment that the power of the Symphony rose in answer to the humming of the Cherub at the front of the room. The sheet music and its contents forced themselves into the foreground, perhaps offering a brief respite for Jathiriel as much of the antagonistic attention was drawn away.
But the music hit Jathiriel deep within his fractured soul. It squirmed within the cracks in his Resonance, and filled the hole in him for a moment with an ephemeral, sudden feeling of wholeness - a burning, blinding, searing light in his minds eye flared and a hundred memories raged through his mind's eye.

And then, the Symphonic harmony with the hummed tune faded and he was left as fractured and cracked and Fallen as before - though his mind still pulsed from moment to moment with his memories from so many lifetimes that they had blurred, and seeped into one another.
Things he had not thought of in so very, very long.

Standing in the Garden, watching as the Perfect Man and Perfect Woman lived their lives in peace with the others. A Cherub of remarkable beauty and purity, with eyes set upon the Lovers with a terrible longing. A tall, dark man - sinister in his countenance and malice - in a suit so black it put the smoke of the Pit to shame as he offered a taloned hand to the broken, wretched Seraph that knelt upon the ground before him - fresh from his Damnation. The cry of heartbreak and anguish at not only the rejection, and the betrayal, but the violation that followed when the Love had become dark and twisted. Seeing that same, beautiful Angel with haunted eyes in armor of silvered tears, with hair white as the light of the moon standing next to wise, compassionate Raphael as the Heavens arrayed against the Horrors of Legion.

Something had touched him in the half-maddened scrawl upon the students notebook, and for perhaps the first time, Jathiriel may have gleaned that something much larger was in play and that perhaps the Hands of Fate and Destiny were upon him...even here. Even now.

* * * * *


Haralambos

Haralambos could feel the aggression in the room. These Angels - some of which were reportedly paragons of nobility and justice - were allowing their pride and their wrath to dominate their rational thoughts and their duties.

There was just so much going on that didn't make sense at first. Haralambos was never one for the political battlefield - he left that to others - but there was a tugging at the edge of his mind that perhaps, just perhaps, if things were as serious as they were appearing to be, that his sword-arm would be called upon sooner, rather than later.

Morgannin had made her way back over to Haralambos, and sat down on a stool next to him, before reaching for another nut and popping it into her mouth - black eyes still locked upon the room as a whole.

She leaned over towards Pigeolambos and offered him another peanut.

"The Angel of Flowers brought her Demon friend to visit." She offered up, deadpan, before pointing to Adewale and the others of the Triad. "It is part of why he is...so angry."

But then the Symphony responds to Ramiel and even Morgannin - as unconcerned with Divine politics as she is - is floored, quite literally, by the sensation. She looks up, black-eyes wide in shock as she lays upon the ground. Fear is in her eyes, palpable and heavy. The urge to fly and tell Jordi that the Man-things could experience the Symphony gnawed at her. One more abhorent thing about the Two-Legs. Perhaps this affront would be enough for Jordi to begin his Purge?

* * * * *


Haralambos: http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=22939778&postcount=4
Sarah: http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=22939778&postcount=6
Jathiriel: http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=22939778&postcount=3
Malchiel: http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=22946297&postcount=29
Ramiel: http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=22939778&postcount=14
Khalil Dhali: http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=22939778&postcount=7
Sopholael: http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=22921362&postcount=26

Please let me know if I didn't catch the right version of your sheet! :smalleek:

[XIII]

Khalil swore the air thickened as he approached Oblivion, like it was saturated with pain, woe, and sin. He rubbed his fingers together, imagining the greasy film this fog of desperation would leave behind. He felt like spitting out the bitter taste the air left on his tongue. Khalil thought of burning the place down after he retrieved the girl, knowing full well he would do no such thing, today at least. He watched sadly as the children took the pills from the man, these kids didn't stand a chance against Oblivion. He eyed the snake in the silk shirt with burning hatred, committing his face to memory before approaching the bouncers.

"Are you kidding? These kids don't know what a real party is, they couldn't keep up with me if they tried. Plus, I actually tip the bartender well."

[JeenLeen]

Haralambos continues stepping back and forth, spending nervous energy. He's not sure what Adewale is up to, but it seems jerkish. At least the relic-maker and Solomon seemed to help put him in his place.



She leaned over towards Pigeolambos and offered him another peanut.

"The Angel of Flowers brought her Demon friend to visit." She offered up, deadpan, before pointing to Adewale and the others of the Triad. "It is part of why he is...so angry."


Haralambos started to peck at the peanut, but stops in surprise at her statement. Well, that explains it at least. But... did that mean that guy was trying to be an angel again? Probably. Novalis might be foolish -- so he'd been told -- but she did do a good deed in getting enemy soldiers to stop being enemies. Mercy's probably the same.

He eats the peanut, looking back and forth from the demon to Adewale, putting two and two together. He's about to speak when his fellow Michaelite reports.

---
The song is pretty if a bit dissonant. Sort of like a white lie meant to soothe a hurt person -- not good it exists, but Haralambos could see the good meant by it. He looks at the Soldiers of God, to see if they seem surprised like the angels.

Realizing it'll probably get some mocking, he decides to ask anyway. "So, what does it mean that a human is almost... whatever Malcolm is almost doing? Does that mean he could eventually do Songs like we can? The Soldiers we fight with can Sing."

He decides to add, confidence replacing this questioning ignorance: "But, besides why this matters, we know it does. We need to fight together. The demons killed one of our own. They are trying to do something Bad with these humans. We should stop them. You all know I'm not one for politics. I'm not smart. But I am a fighter, and a Seraph of Michael. Thatch was willing to set aside politics for this. Let's do likewise." Turning his head to the demon, he adds, "In his final words, Thatch said that a renegade was important. I can tell when someone is saying we have an ally in our war. If he's seeking Redemption, I consider him one of us, in honor to our War and to our destroyed friend's wishes."

The pigeon body looks over the room, pausing a moment extra at Adewale. Though not intimidating in this form, he hopes his words bring to mind what those here have seen of him in combat. He's not into politics, nah, but he can try to get people to ignore that stupidity.


That's the right link.

Also, Resonance to read who responds to him:
[roll0] @ 8
[roll1]

[seatyger]

The link is correct, thanks. :)


While Malchiel had shut down Adewale, there were others who seemed to take a direct interest in what he had to say. Solomon, the Cherub of Faith pushed off the pool table and moved to stand next to him.

"I, for one, consider it divine providence that the creator of the compass himself just so happened to be in the city at a time when it had become scrutinized by Destiny and Fate. I have to admit, I once met Vicar Luther and saw the compass on his desk. I was always impressed by the craftsmanship." Solomon grinned, though his dark-chocolate eyes were still distinctly troubled.

"And our Superiors say God has abandoned us," Mel quipped, deadpan. It was difficult to tell if he was joking or sincere.


He decides to add, confidence replacing this questioning ignorance: "But, besides why this matters, we know it does. We need to fight together. The demons killed one of our own. They are trying to do something Bad with these humans. We should stop them. You all know I'm not one for politics. I'm not smart. But I am a fighter, and a Seraph of Michael. Thatch was willing to set aside politics for this. Let's do likewise." Turning his head to the demon, he adds, "In his final words, Thatch said that a renegade was important. I can tell when someone is saying we have an ally in our war. If he's seeking Redemption, I consider him one of us, in honor to our War and to our destroyed friend's wishes."

The pigeon body looks over the room, pausing a moment extra at Adewale. Though not intimidating in this form, he hopes his words bring to mind what those here have seen of him in combat. He's not into politics, nah, but he can try to get people to ignore that stupidity.


"Haralambos, the why is still quite important here. It's not enough to know of this anomaly," Malchiel countered, his quasi-professorial demeanor coming to the fore in his posture. "We have multiple aspects to this story, each as important as the other: Potential prophets who are dreaming of a prophecy that may surround our friend Cassiel; five humans who may be attuned to the Symphony; intense Infernal interest in the subjects; and Martin Luther's compass and how the prophecy attaches to it.

"You are correct that the normal politicking between our Superiors and our Choirs must be suspended while solving this puzzle," he added, his eyes briefly falling on Adewale. "But, we must remain aware of the larger picture, and how each aspect fits within it."

How much of Cassiel's story would Malchiel know, since they've been in Eli's service together for quite some time? History roll, perhaps?
History 13 [roll0]
Check +1 [roll1]

[JeenLeen]

"Haralambos, the why is still quite important here. It's not enough to know of this anomaly," Malchiel countered, his quasi-professorial demeanor coming to the fore in his posture. "We have multiple aspects to this story, each as important as the other: Potential prophets who are dreaming of a prophecy that may surround our friend Cassiel; five humans who may be attuned to the Symphony; intense Infernal interest in the subjects; and Martin Luther's compass and how the prophecy attaches to it.

"You are correct that the normal politicking between our Superiors and our Choirs must be suspended while solving this puzzle," he added, his eyes briefly falling on Adewale. "But, we must remain aware of the larger picture, and how each aspect fits within it."

He steps back and forth nervously a few times while Malchiel starts listing things, but tries to pay attention.
"When one of us knows why, I'd like to be told. But, I want to help protect the humans and fight the demons. I had planned to kill Lee tonight, but I'll let you all figure out what needs to be done. If I should guard those looking for the compass or Thatch's Lady, I'd be glad to. Jerichael, I told you what I know of what Lee's up to and that pretty witch he mentioned. I'll let you all figure out where I should fight."

He picks up a peanut in his beak and flies down beside Morgannin, dropping it by her hand. But his eyes are mostly on Jathiriel, and checking if Adewale or anyone else makes a move against him. It looks like Sarah and Mercy are protecting him. Well, that's probably good. Thatch said we need him. Allies were good.

[Anyr]

Sarah wasn't bothered by Jathiriel's cold reception. Demons view the world through a lens of selfishness. When offered compassion, their first instinct was to ask 'what do you get out of this?'. Sarah remembered that narrow, lonely mindset. Escaping it took more than just kind words. Luckily, Jathiriel had plenty of help. A nudge in Sarah's ribs heralded the arrival of a familiar frenetic figure. Adele greeted the Demon with that wonderful, passionate energy that Sarah adored so much. She was like a guiding light in the darkness.

And then there was the third member of this trio. Mercy's gentle face seemed to carry even more tenderness than usual. While Adele distracted Jathiriel, the Angel of Flowers offered Sarah an unexpected gift. As soon as Sarah saw the book, she was struck by a feeling of nostalgia. Why did it seem so familiar? Confusion soon became wide-eyed wonder as Mercy explained its origin. The diary of a Bright Lilim! Sarah handled the book gently, as if it were a delicate artifact. For her, the hardest part of Redemption had been leaving her family behind. Heaven had so very few Bright sisters. And even the ones who did exist rarely got to meet each other. So to her, this diary was a chance to connect with something truly precious. She marvelled at being given so perfect a gift. She bowed her head to Mercy in sincere gratitude.

"T-Thank you so much. I can hardly describe how much this means to me."

Jahiriel was in good hands. Sarah was truly blessed to have Adele and Mercy as comrades. Between the three of them, they had all they needed to thaw a frozen soul. And that was before they got a surprise cameo from the Symphony itself. Sarah was, of course, surprised by Ramiel's humming. But to her, it was merely an affirmation of something she could already hear. Rather than looking to the singer, her gaze flew to Jathiriel. Could this music reach even a Renegade?

[Erulasto]

Player

Character

Choir/Band
Superior



Anyr

Sarah (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?554233-In-Nomine-Los-Angeles-(OOC)&p=22941909&viewfull=1#post22941909)

Bright Lilim

Marc



seatyger

Malchiel (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?554233-In-Nomine-Los-Angeles-(OOC)&p=22946297&viewfull=1#post22946297)

Elohite

Eli



EarthenRite

Sopholael (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?553583-In-Nomine-Los-Angeles&p=22921362&viewfull=1#post22921362)

Elohite

Yves



Failed Phantasm

Jathiriel (https://docs.google.com/document/d/1iHiPMGMzaZJuV7ilyISV1Enq_g6_21VhWu1h5Q4dVjw/edit)

Balseraph

Kronos



JeenLeen

Haralambos (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?554233-In-Nomine-Los-Angeles-(OOC)&p=22939778&viewfull=1#post22939778)

Seraph

Michael



XIII

Khalil Dhali (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?554233-In-Nomine-Los-Angeles-(OOC)&p=22942091&viewfull=1#post22942091)

Malakite

Gabriel



Siegemonkeys

Ramiel (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?554233-In-Nomine-Los-Angeles-(OOC)&p=22943750&viewfull=1#post22943750)

Cherub

Michael



* * * * *


The HOWITZER

Malchiel


Your check was more than sufficient – I’d say that the basic information would have readily been available, but given the success of your roll and the check digit, I’ll answer any specific questions you may have about Cassiel and her history. You can either DM me the questions, or post them in an OOC Spoiler or the OOC Thread. Your choice.


The gathering of the Host were fairly attentive to Malchiel’s words, Solomon and Jerichael taking an especial interest.
Adewale was held in check by the rest of the Triad, though the impotent rage that could be seen simmering under his professional outward appearance was troubling.

”You are correct, of course, Wise One. There are far too many moving pieces to this puzzle, and far too much coincidence for my liking.” Spoke Solomon before scratching his chin in thought. ”The immediate tasks, as I see them, are to find the Compass and find the five Humans involved in the Prophecy. As much as we may like more direct action, it seems that information is power – especially in this regard.”

* * * * *


Haralambos

Morgannin remains silent, though she does take the peanut and eat it – almost trance-like as her black eyes stare unfocused at the room, obviously lost in the twisting paths of the altogether alien mindset of a Servant of Animals.

Jerichael is the first to respond to Haralambos with a firm nod. “I agree, my friend. I would like nothing more than to rally the troops and off each and every Diabolical vessel in the city – but we are blinded by the bigger picture, and I am unsure about offensive actions without having an idea of the unforeseen consequences.”

Solomon picked up the conversation next. ”If Lophyrine is going to investigate the Dreams of Mr. Price for us, then we have one avenue accomplished. Haralambos raised a good point, however. The Compass and Thatch’s Red Lady. The two go hand-in-hand, and I cannot say that I have any experience with whom this lady friend of his may have been. That knowledge is a rather pressing concern.”

* * * * *


Sarah

Mercy simply smiled a somewhat sad, but hopeful smile to Sarah when she took the book. The Angel of Flowers tipped her head, and opened her arms to embrace Sarah again. When she was close, she took the moment to whisper to the Bright Lilim. ”There are some things written in the diary that I would ask you keep to yourself – especially around the Triad. Summer was….unorthodox in some ways….and I would hate for her name to have come under any more scrutiny than it need.”

It wasn’t phrased like she was actually concerned that Sarah would be likely to gossip about what was contained within the diary – but there was a weight to her words that implied rather heavily that it was a warning for her own sake, as well as the sake of the original author.

When Mercy withdrew from the hug, she beamed at the Bright Lilim.

”You needn’t try and tell me how much this means to you, Sarah. I can see it in how the Symphony dances when you are happy. Truly, we are blessed that you came to us.” Mercy was always incorrigibly good at sentimentality.

* * * * *


The OBLIVION

Khalil Dhali

The bouncer chuckled at Khalil’s words, before seeming to decide to humor the man. He jerked his thumb back over his shoulder, towards the interior of the rave club with a wry grin.

”Go ahead, man. Show ‘em how it’s done!” There were some murmurs of discontentment amongst the crowd lined up outside at the seeming preferential treatment and being allowed to queue jump his way inside, but a glare from the bouncer silenced any disgruntled mutterings rather quickly.

As Khalil stepped into the dark interior of the club, the first thing he felt was the deep, reverberating bass pounding through his skull and in his bones. The heat from so many tightly packed, sweating Humans was palpable – and the sweat upon the air was salty and humid.
The interior of the club appeared as a massive, open warehouse. On the far, narrow wall from the entrance was a raised stage upon which a DJ stood behind a massive, highly technical setup while before him banks of floodlights and LED displays shifted through the color spectrum to the pulse of the music. It bathed the dancing throng in ephemeral light that the Malakim knew felt just….wrong. The rhythm was….darkly inspired, it seemed.

Just inside the door, a young woman in a tight crop top and a pair of shorts far to small to be considered descent approached with a high-sided tray.

”Hi! Want a drink? Or something stronger?” She chirped, and with the full, blown-out pupils and sickly sweet smell coming from her pores as she sweat, Khalil immediately picked up on the strong drugs pumping through her bloodstream.

[JeenLeen]

Haralambos ruffles his feathers at Jericheal's words, but replies with acceptance, somehow sighing through his beak. "It sounded like that would be the case. If it's time to fight, let me know. Does anyone want to spy on Lee, to try to see what he asks his boss? If you want info, that's a way to get it. I can do it, but if I see him ready to kill people to cook for his Superior, I..." He pauses for a moment, a kind of long moment, making sure to speak honestly. "...think I'd try to kill him. I don't like letting people die."

He almost adds his fear that, if the Demon Prince sees him, Haralambos won't retreat from a fight, and will likely die. Instead, he just ruffles his feathers again, and eats another peanut, simply adding, "Let me know where you want me. Lee. Other angels. Humans."


To clarify, his pause is to reflect him spending time on making sure he's truthfully stating his feelings. His conclusion is "Even if told not to kill him, I think I would try."

It's not conflict about whether or not killing him is worth it. (Harry considers it worth it, and he doesn't really think about the long-term consequences besides realizing their might be some so that's why he was told to not kill yet.)

I realized it could be taken a couple ways, but I reckon intonation would help clarify IC, but of course we don't have that in text format.

[XIII]

Oblivion, It was almost too much to bear. This place was a gaping maw of sin, swallowing the innocent and wicked alike. The corrupted atmosphere pushed in on Khalil's senses, it felt oppressive. He clenched his fists, quieting the fire inside begging for release. He tried not to notice the young lady's attire, he really did. He tried not to think of what she was subjected to. He put on his best act, "I'm actually looking for my date, better find her before ordering, right? Maybe you've seen her?" Khalil pulled out the picture Kaitlin, against his better judgement. He should try to find her on his own first, not draw attention. Time was of the essence, Khalil felt like the more time he spent here, the deeper the trouble would be.

[Siegemonkeys]

Ramiel's eyes turn to Lophyrine as he introduces himself, taking another puff of his cigarette while he listens. Seeing him start to tear up, however, Ramiel frowns. Surprisingly, he puts out his cigarette in a nearby ashtray, not even halfway done with it yet, and approaches the Mercurian to give him a supportive pat on the shoulder. "Don't blame yourself. You're not the one that killed him, those demons in the video were. You and him were just doing your jobs, now we'll honor his memory by finishing it." He consoles him. The servants of Michael had a bit of a reputation for being brutes and killers, but Ramiel wasn't a cruel person. He knew what it was like to lose a friend, he'd lived long enough to see it happen a few times.

"Take a minute if you need to. When you're ready though, we need to know what you saw in the dreamscape. Maybe it'll have clues for what this prophecy entails, or how we can find the other humans involved in it."

[seatyger]

Malchiel nodded his assent to Solomon, and was content to simply observe the interaction between Haralambos and Jerichael.

[Erulasto]

OBLIVION Club


Khalil Dhali

The inebriated girl seemed to sway on her feet just slightly – imperceptibly to most – as she leaned in and squinted at the picture. It was sort of comical, if you peeled away the layers of corruption and moral decay that permeated the club.

After a moment, her eyes widened in recognition. ”Oh! Oh yeah! That’s Kaitlin! Oh…uh….yeah….” Abruptly her demeanor changed and a bit of a fearful tint colors her expression. ”I…uh….I’m not supposed to talk about her. Sorry.” That was enough to give someone emotional whiplash.

It was around this moment that Khalil noticed that above the stage where the DJ played his music, was a second floor room – an overlooking office of sorts – with the entire wall looking down on the dance club being tinted glass. Just on the other side, he saw the blurred shapes of a woman in a red dress and a pair of smaller women – one in a tailored suit, and one in a slinky club dress.


I’m going to be wrapping up the Prologue in this post – however – as Khalil is involved in events across the rest of the night, with his excursion to the club – for the next few posts there will be a bit of a time differential between Khalil and the rest of the group.


* * * * *


The HOWITZER


Haralambos

Solomon shakes his head slowly, thoughtfully, and sighs. ”I’m not convinced that the Demons know significantly more than we do at this point, or if they do than their infighting could provide us the distraction we need to gather our own information.”

Jerichael turns to Haralambos, and allows a small smile to grow on his face. ”Why don’t you head down to the Gravel Pit and see what scum is crawling around? Or you can help keep an eye on Malcolm with Ramiel. He’s our most precious asset at the moment – I’d say his safety is one of our top priorities.”

* * * * *


Ramiel

Lophyrine smiles sadly to Ramiel and nods slowly. ”Thank you.” He sighs and wipes a hand across his face wearily. ”I must return to the Marches. The Dreamers are beginning to return and will be entering their Dreamscapes shortly. I must be there to safeguard them, but I will send you all the information I have in the morning if that is acceptable? I wish I had time to regale you with it now – but…..duty does not wait and I cannot leave them vulnerable to Beleth’s minions.”

Everyone

With the news that Lophyrine needed to return to the Marches, and at least a cursory explanation about what it is the Angels in Los Angeles faced, Jerichael glanced at his watch and grumbled.

”We should convene for the evening. Gaspariel and Mercy need to return to their Tethers, and I’m sure Ramiel wouldn’t mind taking a look in on his charge. If there are no objections, I’d like Malchiel and Mercy to meet with me and Solomon tomorrow to discuss a few things. I’d like us on the search as soon as possible. And….” He glances at Jathiriel. ”I’d like to have a chance to talk to our new friend if he would be amenable.”

With what seemed like a solid dismissal, the majority of the Angels began to part ways. Some – like Lophyrine – took advantage of the Tether to assume their celestial form safely and directly ascend to Heaven so he could head to his post on the borders of the Marches. Others, like Adewale, simply left to drive home.

Adele had to take a rather abrupt phone call, and by the end, she had looked at Sarah, Mercy and Jathiriel with wide-eyed surprise and sadness before mouthing the words I’m Sorry and suddenly shedding her own corporeal vessel – though instead of ascending, she sped off into the distance like a veritable whirlwind.

Mercy frowned in concern, before turning to Sarah telling her to be well – then she would have taken Jathiriel by the shoulder and led him out from the Tether and into the evening sea breeze.


Thus ends the Prologue. I wrapped it up rather abruptly, but I felt the pacing was starting to wane a bit. I’ll be posting the intro to Chapter One in the next little while.

If there was any little thing you wanted your character to do before calling it for the night, either PM me or toss up a post about it. Otherwise, prepare for Day Two. Heh

Thanks for your patience folks!

[seatyger]

Malchiel wove his way through the departing angels to Jerichael. "I'm going to the Library, to investigate some thoughts I have on the matter. I will return tomorrow," he said. Without further ceremony, the Angel of Eli shed his corporeal form and ascended via the Tether.

I sent you a PM with the questions about Cassiel that came to mind.

On a second note, I think I will spend my three points to strengthen my Vessel, if that's all right.

[JeenLeen]

Haralambos is a mix of confused and unhappy with his orders, but he accepts them readily enough. The Gravel Pits are a fun place, and it'd be nice to get to know his fellow Michaelite a bit more.

He flies over towards Ramiel and says, "If you'd like some help, I will come, but I'd like to follow his advice on going to the Gravel Pits. But if you get a sense that the demons who attacked Thatch set their sights on you, call me and I'll fly there. Well, assuming nothing prevents it." He gives Ramiel his cell phone number, noting that it'll exist again once he assumes human form. He also summarizes the information about Hanna Pierse. "I don't have any proof, but something in my gut says she matters. Maybe one of the Five, but I don't know. She needs protecting if that murderer gets out.

...also, does Michael already know about this video? I was supposed to report when one of those big-fighting demons shows up, but it sounds like a bad time to call a Superior."

Assuming Ramiel doesn't strongly want accompaniment, Haralambos flies close to the Gravel Pits then assumes human form. He double-checks that his phone is on, in case Ramiel calls. If nothing of import happens, around 3 or 4 AM he picks up a big pipe or similar weapon and runs through exercises for a few hours. Between that Rite and the refreshing divine energies of sunrise, he'll regenerate the essence he spent transforming.

If anyone stares or comments about the strange guy there so late when almost everybody has left, he just grins his childish grin and rants a bit about being prepared. He does like the Role he was given.

----
If Mercy and Jerithiel don't leave immediately, Haralambos flies near the Renegade and tells him, "If you're sincere, and you need protection, let me know."


The note toward Jerithiel is whenever it makes sense time-wise. I wasn't clear from the post if he was staying to talk to Jerichiel, he and Mercy were leaving immediately, or if that depends on what the player chooses.

Since you say Day Two is starting soon, I figured I should mention the Gravel Pits for that night, but if you planned on that being part of Day Two, feel free to postpone it.

Also, Resonance roll for if our Renegade does respond. If he doesn't, some random person at the Gravel Pits. (Since folk lie so much at the Gravel Pits, or so I reckon, Haralambos doesn't usually use his Resonance there unless he'd trying to figure out a specific person.)
[roll0] @ 8
[roll1]

Lastly, but perhaps most importantly: is it free to go to Heaven at a Tether and to return and become corporeal again?
If yes, would that be a quiet way to try to invoke Michael, to report to them about Betherezen (sp)?
I read there's a +3 bonus to trying to Invoke while at a Tether. Does that bonus apply in Heaven at the spot corresponding to a Tether (or is there a bonus if in Heaven)?

[XIII]

Khalil put on his best nice-old-man face, "Oh, dear, I'm sorry to have stressed you out. I'm just the guy they hired to transport the girls back and forth, I was told to fetch this one and I don't ask why. I should have started with that instead of trying to be funny. I assume shes up there with the rest? You know, I could really use a water, if it isn't too much trouble." Khalil suppressed the urge to charge in "guns blazing", so to speak. His work as a private 'eye' had taught him that certain measures of discretion would take him further than brute force. A smile, a joke, feigned ignorance; these things could open doors that fists could not. It also kept the cops off his back. He wondered if Gabriel intended this position to teach those lessons to the young and brash Malakim. In the back of his mind he was wondering if any demons had picked up on his scent yet. A small part of him hoped so, a part that yearned for the cleansing of this horrid place by the glorious flames of Gabriel.

[Erulasto]

Chapter One

”And I heard, as it were,
The noise of Thunder;
One of the Four Beasts saying:
‘Come and See, Come and See’.
And I saw,
and behold a White Horse.”
- Johnny Cash, When The Man Comes Around

Los Angeles, California
September 26th, 2018
9:18 AM

After a brief respite in the previous evening – with the sun’s rays finally piercing the gloom of the storm clouds that had lingered over the city for the majority of the day – once the sun set and the temperature had dropped again, the rain had begun again in earnest and had continued through much of the morning. The sky was bleak, and puddles had formed in the streets. Peals of thunder were heard in the distance, the horizon black and sinister to the South.

A man stood upon the pier, shielded from the rain by a sleek, fashionable umbrella. His dark eyes simmered with intensity like the glow of dying embers. The hand not holding the umbrella – clad in a fitted leather glove like the other – was holding a smartphone tuned in to the local news station.

”Good morning Los Angeles. This is KNX 1070 News. Another day with more rain for the greater municipal area. South near the Mexican border, the center of the storm is raging with winds gusting up to seventy miles per hour. The Mexican Government has issued a statement that Tijuana has been battered by multiple lightning strikes and, despite the winds and the rain, there are several out of control fires.
Meanwhile, the protest outside the courthouse has begun in earnest, with more than just immediate family and friends arriving to show their support for the continued incarceration for convicted murderer Louis Dancourt. Despite the public outcry, the California Supreme Court has reopened the case and begins to review their findings today. A statement issued by the lawyers for Mr. Dancourt applaud the Supreme Court’s decision and have declared – quite adamantly – that justice will be done……

The man smiled in satisfaction, before shutting down the news app with a quick swipe of his thumb, and bringing up his contact list. Dialing the first number, he brought the phone to his ear.

”Hello. They’ve agreed to the appeal.” He paused for a moment, listening to the voice on the other end before scoffing. ”Of course he will. We’ve spent far too much time and effort for something so simple as a conviction to stop us now.” He chuckled grimly at something said on the other end of the line. “Yes, I’ll make sure Garezar is ready for when the time comes. Rest assured. All is happening as it is Fated to.”

The call disconnects, and the man tucks the phone into the jacket of his black, wool overcoat, before turning his burning gaze back to the horizon.

* * * * *


The GRAVEL PIT
Haralambos
September 26th, 5:07 AM


As far as I’ve always understood it, Ascending to Heaven while in a Tether is a free act – though summoning your Superior still has a cost, it’s easier in said Tether as well.
There’s no cost to Summon your Superior when you’re in Heaven. You just go talk to their Angelic equivalent of a secretary and see if they have time to see you. That being the biggest issue. Archangels are busy and some, like Michael, aren’t in Heaven often. That’s why Summoning is the go-to method (though not the only one, obviously) as it basically is like sending them a big, flaming text message saying I need you!.

As far as the Gravel Pit goes, you’ll have had time to do your Rite but I’m starting Haralambos a bit earlier than the rest of Day Two – around 5 maybe? The Gravel Pit runs all night, so I’m going to assume he made at least a quick stop in close to the end of the night. I’m also going to assume he managed to ascend to Heaven and – while Michael was not immediately available – Haralambos was able to let another Servitor known it was important they speak. Michael will pop in at some point in the near future for a status update.


The Gravel Pit is a filthy place. It’s not like one would assume that an underground fighting arena would be considered a paragon of hygiene and follow the Occupational Health and Safety standards, but hearing about it and seeing it have always been two different beasts.

It sits in a large warehouse, surrounded by an even larger yard fenced off with high chain-link and barbed wire fences. Most of the yard has been converted to a parking lot, and on any given night one can find a range of vehicles there from modded street racers, to old beat up junkers. The yard is bathed in floodlights, and large burly men wander around packing chain-wrapped baseball bats, tire irons, crowbars and other savage implements used to brutalize troublemakers.
The warehouse itself is nondescript – there are no signs, no indicators of any sort as to what happens here. Large barn-doors open into the warehouse proper, consisting of small tables and uncomfortable folding chairs around the outside. The upper reaches of the warehouse had a built-in network of catwalks, but they’ve been modified with wooden planks, haphazard metal grates and is now a chaotic warren of paths and landings for patrons to watch down upon. In the center of the warehouse, the concrete floor has been cleared away in a rough-shod circle and dug out to a depth of about three or four feet. It’s a significantly wide pit, and is surrounded by metal railings in most places, though a few breaks exist where small stepladders have been installed to allow easy access in and out.

The floor of the pit is loose packed gravel, and both the rough stone walls of the hole and the gravel itself are stained with old, dry blood.

Tonight, there’s a lot of fresh blood as well.

In the center of the pit, a towering hulk of a man just finished grinding his opponents face into the rough, broken concrete at the lip of the pit – leaving streaks of red and little tatters of torn skin behind. He drops the unconscious man with a roar and raises his hands to the howling approval of the crowd.
It’s when his arms are up that the full breadth of the snarling bestial head tattooed on his chest is revealed. The mark of the beast upon its brow, and a crown of horn’s upon its head are indicative of this monstrous humans true allegiances to the Demon Hunter who has been watching the fight from the press of the crowd.

The smell of sweat and cheap beer suffuses the air.

A flicker of movement is seen from above, and a pair of women stand on the catwalk above, looking down. One of the women is in a fitted, high-quality tailored suit. Her hair is platinum blonde and worn in a tight bun. She’s youngish, but pretty – though the coldness of her eyes is unsettling. Two bruisers in high-fashion suits flank her, the bulge of barely concealed firearms visible. She’s eyeing the end of the conflict below with a predatory interest. Next to her is a woman of stunning beauty with long, wavy hair the color of sunshine and honey. She’s in a provocative red dress – a deep crimson version of the archetypal little black dress. She, on the other hand, is watching the fight with some disdain though she’s sticking very close to the shorter, suit-clad woman and her large bodyguards.

Suddenly, a hand claps Haralambos on the shoulder. The owner of said hand is Colton Iron-Eye, one of the organizers of the fights. He gets his name from the rust-red fake eye sitting in his empty socket. The smell of tequila is strong on his breath, and it looks like he started drinking before he finished shaving, given the patchwork job he’s done.
”Harry!” He slurs. ”You want a rumble t’night my man?! Bets are three-to-one. We’ve got important visitors tonight.”
He leans in a bit conspiratoraly ”Sounds like the Lebedev twins are looking for some new muscle to add to their stable.”

* * * * *


Sarah
Ellington and Wolf, LLP
September 26th, 2018
9:18 AM

The saying that there is No Rest for the Wicked is a gross statement, and most likely the utterance of a Balseraph – since Sarah had long since given up her own wicked ways, and yet sometimes? Sometimes it felt like there was no rest for her, either.

At least, in this case it wasn’t paperwork that was weighing her down.

Instead, it was the young woman sitting in her office – almost twenty minutes late for her appointment – across her desk. Bethany Caulfield was gorgeous in the way that would make her a starlet or a media darling of some sort. She had the physique of a model, and a face that matched – though it was obvious as she sat there with some simple eyeliner and pink lip gloss – that it was a natural beauty that didn’t take much to cultivate. People would have killed to look like Bethany Caulfield. In this case, it was that same beauty that had singled her out in the crowd of the club she had been at – the Rhapsody in Red – as a target for the predatory agent of Blackwater Studios.

Bethany wasn’t even eighteen yet. She was just a couple months away, and that was her only saving grace at this point. The contract that she had signed was relatively iron-clad and extraordinarily exploitative. As soon as she was eighteen, Bethany belonged to Blackwater.

While Bethany had foolishly signed the contract promising her a life of luxury, wealth and fame – a decision that was exasperated by the alcohol the young girl had consumed – the contract itself had only stated that she would be required to star in a total of five movies, to be determined at a later date.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t entirely the truth it seemed. Sarah had managed to get herself a copy of the film production schedule, and right after Bethany turned eighteen Blackwater was slated to begin principle photography for a title that made Sarah shiver involuntarily: Gravel Pit Gangbang.

This beautiful young girl’s first media appearance was – almost literally – being thrown to the wolves. While it was unlikely Sarah had much experience there, she had heard stories of it from Haralambos, who had occasionally frequented it. From what he had said, this experience would break most young girls. The list of male cast members for the video was almost fifteen names long – and if Bethany was to believed, as she had shyly admitted to Sarah earlier, she was still a virgin.
If there was any unbroken part of Bethany’s heart and soul after that, it wouldn’t have survived some of the other titles that Sarah suspected were meant for her. While she certainly was no specialist in the area of Destiny and Fate, Sarah would strongly suspect that there was no way a human could meet a Bright Destiny after living through such a traumatic experience.

Claire, a paralegal aide was seated at a small side table in Sarah’s office, a tablet nestled on her lap as she records the minutes of the interview with Bethany.

The beautiful young girl sighs wearily, and glances up at Sarah from beneath her bangs.

”Someone from school got us all – my friends and I - some fake ID’s so we could get into the Rhapsody without questions being asked. We were there because someone we know was accepted into a local band on a trial basis. It was his first night playing for a live audience and we wanted to be there to support him. He’s a phenome with a bass guitar. Josie, one of the girls I went with got us all a drink from the bar and Liv was flirting with a couple of handsome guys in suits who were there. They kept offering to buy us drinks….and…well, as you can see….we didn’t turn them down.” She was blushing now, sheepish at her lack of responsibility that night.
”It wasn’t until later that we found out they worked for Blackwater Studios and said they were looking for some new talent. Liv and Josie ended up bailing a little early, but I wanted to wait for Felix Brar – the friend we were there for – and the guys kept talking about all the fame that came with being a movie star. They were throwing a lot of money around…and being an actress is my dream. So when one of them offered me a job…..” Bethany lowered her gaze, and rubbed her hand against her eyes to stop the tears that were threatening to fall.

This case was troubling on so many levels, and to make matters worse, whenever she let her mind wander she saw the rather panicked expression on Adele’s face from the previous night before she sped off from the Tether after taking the phone call.

* * * * *


Ramiel
Hollywood Arts High School

Vapula had a hand in the world of mortal mathematics, Ramiel was sure of it.. What else but a Demon could have created something as infernally obtuse and needlessly complex as algebra. This was – of course – one of the downsides of a vessel that was a student in high school. It wasn’t all pep rallies and social drama.
Fortunately – maybe conveniently – Ramiel shared this class with Malcolm.
Unfortunately, Agatha also shared this class with her dark-haired friend Victoria.
Ramiel – as Sam – caught the glare from Agatha and Victoria out of the corner of his eye more than once as the morning had started.

When Malcolm finally came in – ten minutes late for class – he looked brutally tired. His face was even a bit gaunt and exhaustion had settled heavily onto his shoulders like Atlas holding up the World. He hadn’t shaved, and it didn’t appear that he’d showered either. He had an iPod earbud tucked into one ear, the cord extending down to the small device tucked into his pocket. Malcolm seemed almost dazed as he wandered into class and slumped into his seat in the row next to Sam, before resting his head on his desk and seeming to deflate as a sigh huffed past his lips.

The soft, but piercing sound of giggles and cruel snickering was heard from a few desks away where Agatha and Victoria were seated.

Suddenly, a rather loud BLING sounded as an email found its way into Ramiel’s cellphone. The sender was an email address called: [email protected].

Inside were a couple attached documents that contained the promised description of the Prophetic Dreams that Blandine’s Servants had seen cropping up as a precursor to the current fiasco.

”Mister Shepard.” The voice came from Mrs. O’Donnell, the math teacher. ”Please turn off your cellphone while in my class.”

As Ramiel listened to the teacher, he felt a chill seem to sweep into the room.

He heard a drip – a single droplet falling into the stillness of a pond – and then another. And another. No one else seemed to hear it – listening only to the droning of the teacher discussing why they’d need to know what X*Y=Z was.
The dripping sound was coming from the air vent near the door. Ramiel saw a thick, oily black fluid dripping from the fan.

It began to drip faster, puddling and spreading across the scuffed white of the floor. No one noticed. Even as it began to pour and to spread faster, it suddenly took a seeming life of its own as it began to slither across the floor towards the teacher. The bubbling fluid reached the floor under her, and small inky tendrils began to grasp at her foot and pull itself up her leg – less a puddle now and more a strange, clay-like slime.

But now, a new sound was heard. Shaky breathing. The stuttering of an uncertain heartbeat. It sounded like a panic attack in the making – and that’s when Ramiel realized that Malcolm was looking directly at the thing, his pupils blown out and his skin pasty and covered in a growing sweat.

It wasn’t just Ramiel seeing this – whatever it was – now.

* * * * *


Malchiel and Jathiriel
Mercy's Flower Shop

The weather was unpleasant and bleak, but as one would expect from a Tether of Flowers, Mercy’s was still warm and inviting and bright. It was closed today – there weren’t often a lot of customers who would be coming in during such inclement weather, but it’s not as if the Tether really needed the income. There were enough allies that Novalis had, and by proxy, Mercy to keep the books balanced and ensure that no Diabolical plots or schemes were successful in shutting down the Tether.

As it was, the back room that Mercy used as a residence in the flower shop was warm as a tea kettle brewed a nice English breakfast blend and a pot of coffee percolated next to it. The smell of honey, lemon and a rich Colombian roast filled the small kitchen. On the old, but well-kept kitchen table sat a platter of freshly baked blueberry or banana-nut muffins.

Solomon sat at one side of the table, stirring a pinch of sugar and some fresh cream into his coffee thoughtfully. He and Jerichael had asked for Malchiel to meet them here at the Flower shop so they could discuss what direction they were going to go with the investigation – but also to have a brief conversation with Jathiriel and get a sense for who the redemption-seeking Balseraph was.

Mercy was leaning against the still-warm stove with a friendly smile and a cup of green tea in hand while Jerichael was in the front of the shop on his phone – busy coordinating some Soldiers to keep an eye on things while he was gone.

Jathiriel and Malchiel took two of the other chairs at the kitchen table, and Mercy had offered each of them their choice of coffee or tea when they sat. If they’d made a choice, it now sat before them on the tabletop covered by a simple white linen tablecloth.

It was Solomon who broke the silence first. ”We did not get a chance to properly meet with the….events….of last evening. I am Solomon, Servant of Khalid – Archangel of Faith and I have heard of you in passing, Jathiriel. But I am very pleased to make your acquaintance in this regard, more than I would have been in the past.” He smiles wryly. ”No one understands the crisis of Faith quite like Khalid – and I can acknowledge that we all have moments when we question it.”

Jerichael returns from his phone call, and glances to Jathiriel with a grim smile. ”I’ll be blunt. I hope you don’t mind. The Triad don’t trust most Fallen. I don’t trust you. But I’m willing to give you a chance to earn my trust. If you’re serious about wanting Redemption, I’ll advocate for you to the Seraphim Council and my own Superior. But…” His gaze is steely. “Hurt Mercy and I’ll end you.” It’s not said as a threat. A statement of facts. At least Jerichael is honest with Jathiriel where he stands.

Mercy eventually comes to sit between Malchiel and Jathiriel – across the table from Solomon and Jerichael – and while she rests a gentle hand on the Balseraph’s shoulder, she sighs softly at Jerichael’s words. That’s just how he is – gruff and unfriendly, but he’s not blindly bigoted.

She turns her gaze to Malchiel.

”Did you spend any real time with Thatch recently? I hadn’t known he was in town until I saw the video last evening. I’ve been trying to wrack my head for ideas on who this Red Lady would be. There is a club – the Rhapsody in Red? We could try there, though I think it may be a bit too obvious. Or we could try and canvas coffee shops…..” She frowns for a moment. ”I wonder if the Demons know about the compass? If they do, what if they find a way of figuring out that you made it? Could they come after you thinking that you know how to find it?”

* * * * *

The OBLIVION
Khalil Dhali
The previous evening...

The young lady looked nervous for but a moment, though at his request for water and assuaging of her concerns with the kindly old man demeanor, she nodded briskly. ”She’s got an interview with one of the owners of the club for a job right now. She should be down in a few minutes. I’ll get you that water!” She hustles away through the crowd to fetch a water bottle. Given the nature of what most of these young humans are high on, water does seem like it is in abundant supply here.

While she’s gone, Khalil feels eyes on him. Across the room, is a tall man in a black turtleneck. The sides of his head are shaved and the mop of hair at the top of his hair is pulled back into a small man-bun. His face is hard, and eyes cold and black as they sweep over the crowd, coming to rest on Khalil for a moment. Khalil realizes the man is almost a full head taller than the majority of the crowd.

Just then, the young lady returns with a bottle of water and a chipper smile.

”Here you go, sir!” She smiles almost shyly at him, cheeks flushed with drug-induced thoughts and feelings. ”Can I…do anything else for you?”

There’s movement by the metal-framed circular stairs that lead up to the office. A door opens, and Kaitlin steps out – a bit unsteady on her feet. Next to her is a shorter woman with platinum blonde hair chopped and messy. This blonde woman is wearing a slinky little dress, and wearing a wide – almost shark-like – grin on her pretty features. A younger man in a simple black leather jacket and equally dark jeans steps out, and loops his arm through Kaitlin’s before helping her down the stairs. He looks back and exchanges a few words with the blonde, who nods excitedly and waves them off with a dismissive flick of her wrist before returning to the office.

The man in the leather jacket would lead Kaitlin down the stairs and through the periphery of the crowd towards the door. She was still walking unsteadily, and her eyes were glassy and unfocused. Khalil would be able to tell that the man was actually assisting her in staying upright, and guiding her direction with a firm hand.

[XIII]

Khalil put the water down and took the young lady's hand into his hands "Thank you, if there was only one more thing I could ask of you, it would be to take care of yourself. If you're ever in trouble, come find old Khalil.It was a pleasure to know you, I must go about my business now." Khalil offered a silent prayer to Gabriel: Gabriel, whose eternal fire lights the path of the righteous, burn the darkness from this girl's veins. For every shadow, no matter how deep, is threatened by the flame.

Khalil did his best to fit in the crowd as he moved. He wondered at the true nature of the turtleneck bouncer. He wondered what cruelty the platinum blonde visits on these girls. He wondered who the boss was. He wondered how long they would flail before crumbling into ash. Fighting the urge to set the entire place aflame was beginning to make Khalil feel physically ill.

He anticipated that the next few minutes would be critical in rescuing Kaitlin. He moved through the crowd towards Kaitlin and leather jacket, moving as closely behind as possible without giving himself away. He would not allow any more harm to come to this girl and decided if it was necessary, he would charge in and do what he was born to do.

[JeenLeen]

Harry's disinterest drops when he sees the tattoo on the man. Whether it's just an idiot being 'cool' or an actual demon-worshipper, he doesn't like it. And he, as Madman Harry, doesn't stand for it.

He scoffs at the sight of the two women. More than once he thought it'd be better to eliminate them, but he knew Michael preferred they not kill humans unless it was needed or they were known agents of demons. And maybe they could repent. Yeah, maim, don't kill.

At Colton's words, Harry smiles. He answers with a voice like childish glee.
"I was just thinking someone with that mark needs to go down. If we fight, do I need to leave him alive?"

At the mention of the Lebedevs, his expression grows a tad confused. "Do you mean that guy works for them, or do you mean they might want to hire me if I beat that guy?"


For Colton's answer:
[roll0] @ 8
[roll1]

For when meeting that guy in the ring, and first responses from him
[roll2] @ 8
[roll3]

[seatyger]

Mel spent much of the night in the Library, using the records there to jog his memory about Cassiel's story. It had been centuries since he had interacted with the Angel of Tears, and the force of her sorrow at the time left him disquieted for several days. He recalled Dominic's concern about the strength of her grief being tied to a Word; it wasn't without merit, and Cassiel wouldn't be the first to fall under the weight of her own Word.

Hypotheticals aside, Mel returned to Los Angeles, still contemplating the power of Cassiel's Word within the Marches, and how it could affect the Dreamers in question. There had to be a connection...what was the Angel of Tears up to?


She turns her gaze to Malchiel.

”Did you spend any real time with Thatch recently? I hadn’t known he was in town until I saw the video last evening. I’ve been trying to wrack my head for ideas on who this Red Lady would be. There is a club – the Rhapsody in Red? We could try there, though I think it may be a bit too obvious. Or we could try and canvas coffee shops…..” She frowns for a moment. ”I wonder if the Demons know about the compass? If they do, what if they find a way of figuring out that you made it? Could they come after you thinking that you know how to find it?”

Mel shook his head. "Not significant in terms of quantity or quality, unfortunately," he admitted. "It took about a day-and-a-half to apply the blood in such a way that it gave Thatch a linear progression between subjects. We were in the office of some warehouse near the Port of Los Angeles, and he came and went to eat, sleep, and so on. I was engrossed in the work itself, and Thatch was content to keep the conversation focused on the task.

"After that, I decided to explore the city for a while - spent a lot of time at the former St. Vibiana's, listening to the Symphony there. I neither saw nor heard from Thatch after we parted ways."

[Anyr]

Sarah was a connoisseur of beauty. She enjoyed collecting beautiful clothes, jewellery, and trinkets; But not beautiful people. Bethany Caulfield was nobody's possession. Being caged and exploited would ruin her. Sarah wanted to hug the scared young girl. She wanted to let Bethany know that someone cared deeply about her plight. Sarah suppressed the urge, of course. Contract negotiators shouldn't act like their clients' best friend. Her role was to provide steadfast, professional aid. Offering the crying actress an embroidered handkerchief, Sarah comforted her as warmly as protocol allowed.

"It's okay, it's okay. You needn't blame yourself. Those men are the ones at fault. They clearly lured you into a trap. I understand how easy it is to be lead astray, when offered your fondest desire."

Of course she understood. Desire was her Resonance. She could see it swimming through Bethany's wet eyes. Sarah would protect and nurture this girl's dreams, until they had a chance to bloom. She opened with a question about the most obvious gap in Blackwater's armour.

"Did any reliable witnesses see what happened? The recruitment tactics you described are extremely unethical. But at the moment, it's your word against theirs. If we could get someone to corroborate your side of the story, we'd have a much better chance of getting the contract nullified."

[Failed Phantasm]

He cradled the cup in his vessel’s hands, the boiling heat of freshly-brewed tea seeping through the ceramic cup and his matted mittens into the flesh of its fingers, and all the while he stared very studiously at the steam rising from its surface rather than meet the eyes of anyone present. The wearily unfocused gaze and the bags beneath its eyes might be mistaken by a human for sleeplessness – not technically wrong – but was instead the lingering stress from the night before. Only the calming ambiance of the Tether of Flowers kept him from practically exploding with indignant rage the moment he and Mercy had made it back from the meeting, but even that hadn’t been enough to put the unwarranted accusation out of his mind until hours later. Worse still, experiencing the full, unfiltered force of the true Symphony again had done no favors for his emotional stability. Really, the entire evening had been packed with more than enough catharsis for a lifetime.

‘And now,’ he thought, ‘I have to deal with this.’ His inner voice was edged with annoyance as he looked across the table at the Cherub and the empty chair beside him. ‘Wonderful.’ If the two hounds meant to ask him anything about the Servitor of Revelation’s death, he had no better answer for them than the completely honest “I don’t know” and he would have to be hopelessly naïve to think they would accept that. Why trust a Renegade over a martyr? When Solomon addressed him, he gave him the courtesy of a neutral expression and a polite inclining of his vessel’s head to acknowledge the sentiment, even as he bristled internally at the angel’s smug tone and condescending smirk. He bit back the sarcastic rejoinder and instead took a slow drink of tea, fortunately at just the moment that the other Cherub marched into the room to the beat of his boots echoing in the empty store. ‘Steady now,’ he thought as the bad cop of the duo sidled into his chair. ‘If you can’t get through this, you’ll never be able to handle the Triad.’

He felt a brief moment of vindication when he was brazenly threatened and again when Mercy laid her hand on his vessel's shoulder, pleased that Jerichael at least had the decency to put his naked hostility on display. Of course the Cherub would never openly call it a threat, oh Heavens no. But the motivation behind the steel in his gaze would have been obvious to an infant. ‘Hello blackmail, my old friend,’ he thought at the mention of the Council. No surprise that they’d hold that over his head. ‘“Do as I say or I’ll screw you over!” is as much in vogue up here, I see.’ But more importantly than that, the audacity of the implication that he’d harm the one celestial to date who had shown him even a single iota of genuine compassion was so ludicrous and insulting that it was all he could to do to not roll his vessel’s eyes out of its head.

Fortunately, Mercy redirected the discussion to the Elohite and the contents of the videos they had seen the night before. His own guess was that the “Red Lady” was, in fact, the human woman that Thachael had been screwing – ‘Practically on screen, no less,’ he thought as took a sip of tea – because it was the most obvious answer. Unfortunately, he couldn’t read interpersonal connections across a recording the way a Seraph could do so to intuit the Truth. Lacking that, he had to keep quiet about the matter for fear of the messenger contaminating the message; better that they come to their conclusions without his input.


CONDITION
Health 96 / 96, Essence 10 / 10

➜ Body 12 / 12
➜ Mind 24 / 24
➜ Soul 60 / 60

ACTIVE EFFECTS

Truthfulness/6: Roll (Will – Truthfulness) whenever you attempt to lie or use the Balseraph resonance. Failure obligates you to tell the truth instead.

[Siegemonkeys]

Sam sat at his desk, barely listening to the teacher while he speculated which devil to blame for algebra. The ring from his phone catches his attention, and he pulls it out perhaps too quickly in his hurry to distract himself from the teacher's lesson because the teacher notices and asks him to put it away, which he begrudgingly does. After that, he starts to zone out again, until he starts to notice the sound of something dripping. He looks around, and finally his eyes catch the weird black ooze dripping out of the vent. He narrows his eyes, unsure what it was, but he glances around to see if anybody else notices it. Apparently not, save for Malcolm who looks awfully panicked. His guess was that it was a demon, or at least something celestial, since that was the only way he could imagine the others couldn't see it...though if that was the case, he had to wonder how Malcolm could see it. If he could hear the Symphony, he supposed it wasn't that strange for him to see celestial forms as well.

His curiosity is cut short, however, when he realizes the ooze is approaching the teacher. That makes him tense up, realizing he needs to intervene. He couldn't do anything overt right now without drawing attention though, and so he decides to try something more subtle. Casually, Sam starts to hum; Loud enough for others to hear. To most, it would just sound like he was humming a tune out of boredom. To a celestial, however, they would recognize it as pig-celestial, and the message was much more threatening than the tune would imply to mortals. Roughly, it said "Get out, or I will kill you.". He did his best to put the inflection on 'kill', and sound as intimidating as he could while using pig-celestial. Of course, it wasn't an idle threat; If the ooze didn't take this chance to leave, he had every intention of stepping out of sight, taking celestial form, and educating the intruder on why it was a bad idea to ignore a threat from one of Michael's servants...Though he hoped it wouldn't come to that, since it seemed like Malcolm could see.

I'm using one of the applications of Singing to speak in pig-celestial. I don't know if I need to make a roll, either to get the message across or to successfully intimidate the ooze, but let me know if I do.

[Erulasto]

OBLIVION Club

Khalil Dhali

The young lady blinks – and, for just a moment, Khalil can see a certain level of recognition dawn and break through the glassy-eyed, drug-fueled haze. She offers a tentative smile and a slow, hesitant nod before slipping back into the crowd to continue offering drinks to the revelers.

Every so often, Khalil caught a glimpse of the tall, turtle-necked man on the periphery. He could tell the man was watching him, though he kept himself to the opposite side of the warehouse dance floor – a veritable throng of humanity between them.

The man in the leather jacket had manhandled Kaitlin outside, immediately veering off towards a back alley and the staff parking lot that was situated behind the club. It was out of sight of the main street and the line of would-be partiers that were still waiting for admittance. It was out of sight of the black Cadillac and the predators who were peddling their narcotic wares to any who were interested.

And perhaps, most importantly, it was out of sight of any bouncers who were hanging around the front to keep the peace – such as it was.

* * * * *


The GRAVEL PIT

Haralambos

Colton stares at Harry with a grin. ”Pal, if you feel like crushing Big Pete’s skull, go for it. He’s done it enough to others. Besides, odds are he’s going to lose at some point. Can’t stay undefeated forever!” [b] Colton cackles, and slugs Harry playfully on the shoulder.

[b]”You serious man?! First off…s’only Anya here today.” He points up to the platinum blonde in the suit. ”She’s the brains of the family. Handles the business side of things.” His finger shifts to point at the other woman atop the catwalk. ”And that is the sexy as a fox Selena Carter. Never seen her hired by one of the Lebedev’s though. Guess she’s expanding her clientele.” Colton whistles appreciatively as his eyes rake over the woman in the slinky red dress.

Colton pats Harry on the shoulder in a friendly, placating way though the corner of his eyes twitch a bit uneasily. ”Yeah, yeah. Demons are ****ing bastards. I get it. That one?” He gestures to the big muscled man in the pit – Big Pete, apparently. “He’s mean as a Demon for sure. He’s one of Anya’s boys. If you kill ‘im, you’ll be on her radar. Think ‘bout what that means before you get in there. The Lebedev Twins are practically running the Russian mob on their own now.”


Colton doesn’t actually have any real idea if Big Pete is a Demon – but he knows he’s a cruel son of a bitch. The Truth rings clearly – the man is a Soldier, but isn’t a Demon himself. While it seems that the Lebedev’s truck with the Infernal, Anya doesn't appear to be a Demon herself.
I'll save the roll for the guy in the Pit for when there's a direct interaction.


* * * * *


Ellington and Wolf, LLP

Sarah

Bethany smiles shyly at Sarah - the Bright Lilim did give off a comforting aura, whether she was trying to be professional, or a friend. The Divine had a tendency to be just that much more full of compassion and empathy.

When Sarah asked Bethany the question about the witnesses, Bethany furrowed her brow for a good minute or two as she tried to think through the alcoholic fog of the night and see if she picked up anything that she may have missed.

After a minute, she blinked owlishly and seemed to sit up straighter with a sudden exclaimation. "Oh! Oh yes!"[b]

She pulled her purse open and began to rumage around inside for something with a growing scowl.

[b]"Where was it...." she muttered, before pulling a sleek black business card from the bottom of her purse. One side bore the graphic of a bright scarlet lipstick kiss, while in professional looking white letters it said: Selena Carter, Escort Services and a phone number in the local area code.
Bethany smiled a bit sheepishly and handed the card to Sarah.

"This stunning blonde in a red dress showed up around the time when the Blackwater guys were making their sales pitch. She.....she offered to buy me an Uber home, and that if I really wanted to be famous to come see her instead of these....um...what did she call them? Leeches, I think?" She shakes her head. "I wish I remembered that earlier. They really, really didn't seem happy to see her. One of them started talking to her in some foreign language and she just laughed at him and gave me her card."

Around this time, Sarah hears a loud discordant note echoing through the Symphony slightly to the North of the office she's in.

* * * * *


Hollywood Arts High School

Ramiel


I think you'd normally need to make a check for the Singing skill, but in this case I'll just go with it for flow.


The black slime seemed to pause in its approach, before recoiling from the teacher and settling into a singularly revolting puddle of bubbling, frothing ink. From the center, five unnaturally long and slender arms rise and bend at the elbows to place their spidery-fingered hands palm-down on the floor like some strange crustacean. The arms flexed, drawing more from the puddle. Next came a crown of writhing, squirming worm-like pseudopods upon a roiling orb of blackened flesh that moved and rolled as countless faces pressed against it from the inside. Below the orb seemed a tangled mass of intestines, hanging organs and other unmentionable things that dripped with the black oily residue.

Three of the faces pressed into the flesh of the orb and seemed to turn to regard Ramiel, with lecherous grins upon the faces.

"No...need....for...violence...." the thing garbled from three mouths at once, each seemingly choking on that inky bile while it spoke - droplets and rivulets spilling from the lips as they moved. "We come...with....a....message." It shifts about upon the five arms, and a score of eyes open across the fleshy tumorous orb. Some lock with Ramiel, some on Malcolm. Most are red and weeping, some are whitened by cataracts or film. All glare with some horrible malevolence.

"When...the...Five....sing as one....the...suffering.....of all....will...be....like....the black....tears....of the.....Prince of...Darkness. Remember....the.....Song....of the....Dreaming Dark....Macolm." The Demon seemed to laugh - a revolting, wet sound, before it allows itself to sink back into the puddle.

If unopposed, the inky black with seem to draw into itself and vanish like it was sucked down some unnoticable drain.
Malcolm is pale and has soaked his shirt with sweat. He looks on the edge of passing out and a greenish hue has risen as his throat bobs wordlessly. Puking or passing out both seem equally likely at this point.

* * * * *


TETHER of FLOWERS

[i]Malchiel and Jathiriel

Mercy seemed to take in Malchiel's explanation without question, and sighed thoughtfully while she took a small sip of the tea in front of her. A discordant note sounds through the Symphony, echoing loudly to the Northwest - though at a great distance. It startles all those at the table, and Jerichael and Solomon look to one another for a moment before nodding almost impercebtably.

Jerichael turns to look at Malchiel, Mercy and Jathiriel. "See what you can find about this....Red Lady or start looking in coffee shops. Solomon and I will go and check out the...noise." The two of them slipped into the back of the shop, and out into the greenhouse where they shed their corporeal vessels and were off.

Mercy turns to Malchiel and Jathiriel with a friendly smile. "Do either of you have any preference on where to start? If Malchiel said that Thatch was holed up near the ports, we could try some of the coffee shops near there? Though I'm not entirely sure what sort of quality coffee shops would be near a place like a harbor." She shrugs a bit helplessly. "Harry mentioned a red-headed girl near a safehouse of Gluttony he thought might've been one of the Five. We could go check her out too, although - again - without the compass it would be a hard task to figure out if it really was her. I suppose we could try and find a sponsor for Jathiriel as well. You'll need to try and decide on which Archangel you officially want to petition." Probably the least exciting of the options, for Jathiriel, she is sure. But she smiles at him, trying to get across the sense that she will be by him the whole way.

[JeenLeen]

As Colton talks, Harry's smile grows. A Soldier. Yes, that he could kill.
He didn't follow exactly what Colton mean about the women. He'd heard of Selena, but never thought much about her beyond a bit of wondering if she worked for the Lust demon, at least indirectly. She was pretty. Harry didn't think much of the physical attraction his Corporeal vessel had. Distracting, so he just ignored it. It always seemed silly, and, well, wrong, that some angels got so distracted by the pleasures of the body.
Hmm... maybe should hire her and hope his Resonance reveals the truth. Whether it ended with her confused about why he just wanted to talk, or him maiming the seductress or bashing a her demon head in, either way.

He didn't know what to think of the mobsters. But if a Soldier worked for them, and he got their attention by killing him, he'd be happy whatever that meant: intel for the other angels, or some demon-servants to kill.

"Thanks, Colton. So... you ain't sure whether killing their man means they'd hire me or want revenge? Eh, either way, right?" He waits a moment for a response, hoping to get a bit more of what Colton meant, but starts walking to the Pit. "Next fight mine?" he asks with childish glee. He starts to take off his shirt, and the Kevlar vest underneath, handing them to Colton.

--skipping ahead to in the Pit, assuming all goes well--
As the fight is announced, Madman Harry stands there with a big grin. At one point, he glances up to the two women, but doesn't look long, turning back to the Soldier. His eyes have a dark happiness to them as he stares at his foe.

"Before we fight, it'd be wise to ask ya: you a demon wearing a mask, or just an idiot who likes tattoos? Either way, maybe this'll be fun, leaving your unholy blood on the ground."

Yeah, he liked this body's role. He might be confused about some pleasures of the flesh, but the pleasure of a good fight was something he understood. It he knew Michael approved of.

When the fight starts, Harry rushes forward, holding back on his speed just enough to keep it plausibly human. As bulky frame nears the Soldier's, he pushes off the ground in a leap to smash his fist into the enemy's face, then bounces back to dodge whatever blow the Soldier sends his way. He follows this up with side kick, aiming for the fiend's chest. Let's see what strength his dark masters gave him. He twirls to dodge its counteract, then with a laugh (perhaps spitting out a little blood if it got a lucky hit on him), says, "You are strong. So, who do you serve? I reckon it's more than that Russian chick."


I hope it's okay I skipped a bit. Trying to keep the flow of the scene moving, since I know combat can sometimes take a while in PbP, and I don't want to hold up the rest. If I'm doing anything uncool by your standards, let me know. For initiative, we can say Harry is acting as Agility 7 instead of 9, if you want to have a mechanical impact of him moving slightly slower than needed to rush in. He is dodging at full agility, as he knows Soldiers can be dangerous. (I reckon he generally holds back when fighting mundanes, both for credibility and to not hurt mundane jerks too much.)

As a mix of Punches being 1 less damage and Kicks being 1 less accuracy, my Punch and Kick are identical mechanics-wise (those cancel out for total Power at TN 13+). I'll roll for two rounds of combat (please remember he's at -5 to Dodge from my Choir Attunement):
Round 1
Fist/Kick
TN check for intervention: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]

Dodging:
Acrobatics TN 10: [roll2]
Check: [roll3]
Dodge TN for intervention: [roll4]
Check: [roll5]

Round 2
Fist/Kick
TN check for intervention: [roll6]
Damage: [roll7]

Dodging:
Acrobatics TN 10: [roll8]
Check: [roll9]
Dodge TN for intervention: [roll10]
Check: [roll11]

Questions/thoughts
I see from the rules that using cover is helpful, but I assume that's not really an issue in a fighting pit. If I'm wrong, let me know.
I'm guessing the Pit's rules do forbid me from keeping my body armor on, right? If not... well, I guess he keeps it on, but that seems unfair. Harry's fine being unfair to a Soldier of Hell, though.

Also, how much descriptive detail do you like in fights? I've done some games where it's simply "I attack X" to games like Exalted where you get bonuses for descriptive details of how you attack with awesomeness. From your narrative style thus far, I assume you'd like description, but let me know.

Lastly, since Selena seems a good person (I'm surprised!) from Sarah's post, I'll just state that Harry's mental ramblings about hurting her are not something I OOC am planning. He might try to hire her to see what she is, but I hope that just helps the party. In other words, not planning to disrupt things by killing her (unless it turns out she is an agent of Lust or something similar.)

[Anyr]

Sarah took the offered business card. Selena Carter? The name rang a bell. High class escort with lots of connections; And, as luck would have it, a grudge against Blackwater. Sarah had never actually crossed paths with her. That was apparently about to change. The mention of a red dress triggered a flashback to poor Thatch's final words. If only he'd been more specific. A lot of women (Sarah included) owned red dresses. So she held out little hope of Selena being Thatch's 'lady in red'. Wouldn't hurt to check, though.

She almost dropped the card when the Symphony suddenly rippled. She just managed to avoid reacting to the sound that Bethany and Claire couldn't hear. Curious as Sarah was about it, she couldn't just abandon her client. Some other Celestial would have to investigate it. Maybe Adele was speeding towards the noise right now. Augh, shouldn't have thought that! Now Sarah was worried about her friend again. She'd been trying to put that ominous phone call out of her mind. Adele could handle herself. Sarah needed to focus on Bethany. Putting the business card in her jacket pocket, she continued the interview.

"That's a good start! From the sounds of it, Selena might well be eager to help us. Okay, next question: Have you ever had any dealings with Blackwater before? Job offers, conversations with talent scouts, etc? If the bar ambush was your first contact with them, then their behaviour will look even shadier.

Did the Blackwater men tell you their names? Failing that, a description would be helpful. Examining their records might yield something incriminating: Like evidence that they've tried this scam before."

[XIII]

As soon as he was out of view Khalil sped up until he was right on them, "Excuse me, sir? You forgot something."

He had forgotten that humans weren't things. Also, Khalil's old gnarled fist.

[seatyger]

Tether of Flowers
"His apartment was in Pasadena, some distance from the warehouse. I expect whatever coffee houses he patronized would be closer to there," Malchiel mused. "I think we should start at the apartment itself, and see if we can find something the demons missed."

[Erulasto]

OBLIVION CLUB

Khalil Dhali

The man in the leather jacket turned with a scowl as Khalil addressed him, his eyes widening in shock at the old man having suddenly overtaken them. He could have sworn he and the girl were alone in the alley. When the gnarled old fist connected with his nose, there was the rather grotesque sound of crunching cartilage and Khalil felt a sudden warmth on his knuckles as the man’s lip split and nose buckled under the force of the impact – spilling rich, wine-red blood.

His eyes rolled back in his head and with a whimper, he simply….keeled over and landed on the damp asphalt in a boneless heap.

Kaitlin stayed standing, swaying dramatically as her glassy-eyed gaze stared blankly down at the man no longer supporting her physically. Her painted lips moved wordlessly as if she was struggling to speak, though it was obvious to Khalil that the drugs flooding her system were potent enough to render her mostly docile and incoherent.

* * * * *


The GRAVEL PIT

Haralambos


Nothing is uncool, not to worry.
I’m good with how you did things here. It’s a nice way to speed up some combat.

But this has actually raised an interesting point that I hadn’t thought to ask, or if it was brought up I certainly can’t remember.

@Everyone: Do you want me to make my rolls in the thread to show you things like the enemy combat rolls and whatnot, or do you trust me to just roll it on my end and relay the results? I’m okay with either one, really. I know none of you have played with me before and may have concerns about how trustworthy I am as a DM/Storyteller. Heh :smallbiggrin:

@JeenLeen: In regards to this fight, I’m just going to roll on my side and post the results. If the decision is made to have me do the rolls on here, then I’ll do that going forward. But for now? Simplicity!

Also, to answer your question about cover – yes, it’s a wonderful thing to have (though damaging cover as a celestial still causes ripples in the Symphony), but in the Gravel Pit it’s really not applicable. There’s nothing here that would count as adequate cover.

And yes, no armor in the Pit. No weapons. No armor.

I’m a fan of description – it’s the storyteller in me – but I won’t penalize someone if that’s not their style.


Colton laughed at Harry, the sound accompanied by the strong smell of booze on the man’s breath. ”Yeah, yeah Harry. It means they’ll be offering you a job. If you smash their boy, you’ll have proven to be tougher and the Lebedev Twins love having a stable of big, strapping tough-guys. Especially Svetlana.” He clapped Harry on the shoulder and jerked his head towards the Pit.

”You’re up, man! Give ‘im Hell!”

Inside the Pit, Harry feels the gravel crunch and shift underfoot and smells the sweat and blood of copious combats held within staining the rock and the air. This place would make a fantastic Tether to War.

The big, tattooed Solider leers at Harry as he stretches – joints popping with the effort.

”I ain’t a Demon, little man. But I’ll do the job none the less.”

When Harry smashes him in the face, he recoils back a single step and spits a wad of blood out – accompanied by one of his teeth. The Soldier growled in frustration, and lunged forward to try and wrap Harry in a crushing bear hug, but the Angel was a Servant of War and it was his life’s work to crush the enemies of the Host. Harry avoided the man’s lunge and placed a solid kick into the Soldier’s side. Harry felt a rib break under the impact and he staggered for a moment.

His eyes were bloodshot and he almost frothed at the lips with seemingly impotent rage. The Soldier rushed Haralambos, a wild haymaker seeking to end the fight as swiftly as possible. The fury behind his attack is intense, and Harry is fast – but not fast enough, as the Soldier clips Harry as the Seraph moves to avoid the blow.


1 damage. This Solider is going to get wrecked. Hehe


* * * * *


ELLINGTON AND WOLF, LLP

Sarah

Bethany pursed her lips in thought, and ran her fingers through her hair with a small huffed breath.

”No, I’ve never had any encounters with them before. I know one of my friends was approached by them a couple years ago. She was fifteen at the time. Didn’t seem to phase them, from what she told me. Her dad had to chase them off because they were pretty insistent.” She leans forward, burying her face in her hands. ”Oh my God!” She half-wails. ”I’m so stupid!”

It takes her a moment to compose herself again, before Bethany continues. “The one who gave me the contract. I think his name was Victor? I don’t remember a last name. He was handsome. Blonde hair and green eyes. Nice suit. Spent money like it was nothing. The others didn’t introduce themselves, but they spent more time at first talking to my other friends before they left. After they did, Victor stayed with me while the other two went off to mingle in the crowd more I think.”

A soft rapping is heard on Sarah’s door frame, as Liam Ellington comes to call. He’s got a dark glowering expression.

”Sarah. Miss Caulfield. I’m sorry to interrupt. May I have a word with you in the hall for a moment, Sarah?”

* * * * *


I've got a response post for the two of you started. I'll post it once I've got the next post from Jathiriel since you're both present at the Tether of Flowers.

[Anyr]

Sarah made a mental note of everything in Bethany's testimony. Claire would handle the physical notes. But before there was any chance to ask another question, an ominous visitor arrived. It seemed that, one way or another, the world would find a way to interrupt this meeting. Sarah couldn't ignore Liam Ellington like she'd ignored the Symphonic ripple; Especially with that stormy look on his face. She countered said storm with a sunny smile.

"Of course, Mr. Ellington. I'll be right out."

Once the boss had left, Sarah reluctantly stood up from her desk. She used the brief time window available to reassure Bethany.

"I just need to step outside for a minute. Wait right here. Oh, and Bethany? You're not stupid. Trust isn't a weakness. Those men are the ones to blame here. Never forget that."

Then she walked towards the door. On the way, she hurriedly brushed some stray lint off her skirt. Liam seemed to be in a foul mood. She didn't want to give him any excuse to reprimand her.

[Erulasto]

Sarah made a mental note of everything in Bethany's testimony. Claire would handle the physical notes. But before there was any chance to ask another question, an ominous visitor arrived. It seemed that, one way or another, the world would find a way to interrupt this meeting. Sarah couldn't ignore Liam Ellington like she'd ignored the Symphonic ripple; Especially with that stormy look on his face. She countered said storm with a sunny smile.

"Of course, Mr. Ellington. I'll be right out."

Once the boss had left, Sarah reluctantly stood up from her desk. She used the brief time window available to reassure Bethany.

"I just need to step outside for a minute. Wait right here. Oh, and Bethany? You're not stupid. Trust isn't a weakness. Those men are the ones to blame here. Never forget that."

Then she walked towards the door. On the way, she hurriedly brushed some stray lint off her skirt. Liam seemed to be in a foul mood. She didn't want to give him any excuse to reprimand her.

Liam stepped into the office next door, currently unoccupied, and when Sarah joined him he closed the door behind them.

When he turned to Sarah, his scowl was still present. "I'm going to cut right to the chase. Blackwater's lawyers called us a few minutes ago. They want to set up a meeting to mediate this dispute. They want Bethany present, yourself as the appointed negotiator and on top of their lawyers, apparently their CEO - Strauss - is going to be present. They're threatening a counter-suit against Bethany for libel and slander if we don't accept the request for an expedited meeting." He scratches his chin thoughtfully for a moment. "Do you think that you'd be ready to sit down with them soon? Maybe in the next few days?"

[JeenLeen]

Haralambos has a big, stupid grin on his face as the fight continues. The spittle of blood and tooth means it is going well. His mind and body hones to the Symphony as his Seraphic senses cause him to pinpoint where his foe will be.

Heh. A broken rib. Nice. That'll help. And, ouch, something he could actually feel. This guy was strong, but still nothing compared to Harry.

"Well, well, looks like you're a tad bit more than a moron with tattoos. Stronger than those some I've throw down with. Any reason I shouldn't leave you a bloody heap on this gravel?"

He gives the Soldier a moment to respond, but then moves with angelic speed to land another fist in the cretin's jaw. He begins almost literally circling the foe with his jumps, ducks, and weaves, as he lands punch and kick to end this fight.


I'm fine with you rolling on your own end.
Also, if something happens when we should roll but forget to (like if XIII hadn't rolled his punch), I think you should roll for us if we roll it OOC before our turn comes up. That way no waiting on a post for a dice roll.

I'll do a few more rounds, but Harry's going for the kill. If I KO him, gonna bash his head against the ground until he's truly dead. Probably and then some, to be on the safe side.

Round 3
Combat:
Fist/Kick
TN check for intervention: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]

Dodging:
Acrobatics TN 10: [roll2]
Check: [roll3]
Dodge TN for intervention: [roll4]
Check: [roll5]

Round 4
Combat:
Fist/Kick
TN check for intervention: [roll6]
Damage: [roll7]

Dodging:
Acrobatics TN 10: [roll8]
Check: [roll9]
Dodge TN for intervention: [roll10]
Check: [roll11]

Round 5
Combat:
Fist/Kick
TN check for intervention: [roll12]
Damage: [roll13]

Dodging:
Acrobatics TN 10: [roll14]
Check: [roll15]
Dodge TN for intervention: [roll16]
Check: [roll17]

[Anyr]

Blackwater really wanted their newest prize. No wonder Liam was sour. And he only saw a fraction of the stakes in play. Sarah carried the burden of a wider perspective. She knew that this wasn't really a battle for Bethany's career; But rather, for her immortal soul. The War between Heaven and Hell spanned many arenas. The Angels of Trade were as much a part of it as the Angels of the Sword. So when Sarah next spoke, her voice was filled with resolve.

"If all goes to plan, I should be ready by then. And even if it doesn't, I'll still find a way to save Miss Caldwell. Those scumbags are not going to get their claws on her."

Some humans wondered whether their work really mattered. Sarah knew that her work mattered.

[Failed Phantasm]

The disturbance sounding across the Symphony startled him briefly, but only just – it was enough to make him look up from his tea for an instant before turning his attention back to it once he’d decided the sound was from too far away to trouble himself with. He would hardly be surprised to learn that some Calabite had totaled a few cars or blown up a house or committed some other equally-mindless act of destruction, and what was there to be done about it now? The territorial Cherubim had other ideas though, and they quickly excused themselves to go chasing shadows, making a much louder, headache-inducing noise – or at least, their proximity to him made it seem so – as they shed their vessels and vanished into the distance. He would have rubbed his ears had he been able, but for the lack of hands (and ears) and the impossibility of taking celestial form in one of Heaven’s tethers; he rubbed his vessel’s ears with its hands anyway for a moment as if that might help with the ringing in his head.

Mercy, as unflappable as ever, steered the conversation between herself and the Elohite back to its original topic. He himself paid only minimal attention to the chatter while he started on a blueberry muffin, having moved from “celestials only eat for greed or vanity!” directly to “screw it, this headache won’t go away on its own.” Still, he couldn’t quite ignore that he was being dragged into whatever the hell was going on in Los Angeles, all on the word of some soul-dead stranger he’d never met before. ‘If by sheer, blind chance we run into this human woman,’ he thought, pondering how best he could contribute so he could get all these damnable Servitors of the Sword and War and Judgement off his back; ‘Mercy or I should be able to pick her out of a crowd by her relationship with the dead angel.’ He chewed thoughtfully on his bite of muffin. ‘Unless she doesn’t actually have feelings for him, which would complicate things.’

The mention of his true name drew his attention back to the conversation, and the word “Archangel” shortly after that made it eminently clear what Mercy had said. Slumping over his tea, he waved his pastry-free hand dismissively and said, “I’ve already made up my mind who to ask.” He took another bite and said, through a mouthful of muffin, “Council’s decision whether I even get the chance.” Perhaps that was a bit too lowercase-f fatalistic an attitude to have, but it wasn't as if Redemption had a clearly marked road for him to follow. Nor were any of Los Angeles' angels seemingly inclined to consider that maybe the Servitor of Revelation had been mistaken – not lying, just mistaken – about his purported involvement or privileged knowledge about this new front in the War. But no, that kind of self-awareness was in no greater supply in Heaven than on Earth or in Hell. ‘Why don't you hand me over to the Triad and have done with it, like you all seem to want?’ he thought bitterly. ‘The longer I'm stuck in this political limbo, the better the chance of the Game dragging me back to Hell.’ Forgetting that Mercy and the Elohite were still there, he audibly scoffed to himself when he realized the flaw in that reasoning: ‘But it's not like Dominic would be any slower than Asmodeus to sentence me to summary execution.’


CONDITION
Health 96 / 96, Essence 10 / 10

➜ Body 12 / 12
➜ Mind 24 / 24
➜ Soul 60 / 60

ACTIVE EFFECTS

Truthfulness/6: Roll (Will – Truthfulness) whenever you attempt to lie or use the Balseraph resonance. Failure obligates you to tell the truth instead.

[seatyger]

Mel tilted his head slightly at Jathiriel's verbal flailing. He was struggling with his decision, as should be expected from one of the fallen seeking redemption; the easy thing would be to remain within your comfort zone and your place within your Band or Choir. Jathiriel was choosing the difficult, but worthier, path. As with all seeking redemption, Malchiel hoped for sincerity on his part and honest assessment on the part of his judges.

His eyes, cool and dispassionate, focused into the deep recesses of the demon's thawing heart, trying to discern the state of Jathiriel's feelings and motivations. His subject seemed quite reluctant to help out for someone who supposedly had information to assist them in this endeavor, and Malchiel suspected there was more to it than being surrounded by judging eyes.

[roll0]
[roll1]

[XIII]

That solves it, not a soldier. Time to run before every celestial in the city comes sniffing. Khalil immediately regretted hitting the man so hard, he was hoping for a less messy knock-out. Now it looked like a celestial did it, to boot. Khalil grabbed Kaitlin, "Hey Kaitlin? Let's go somewhere nice and safe, ok? Sorry but I need to do this, don't touch your face ok?" Khalil wiped the blood from his hand onto her face, concentrating on the area beneath her nose. He wanted to make it seem like Kaitlin was ODing, and he was going to play the part of the old hero. He swept Kaitlin up into his arms like a child and started hurrying towards his car. He planned on saying things like "Stay with me, we're getting you help" or "Damn these drugs!" to dispel suspicion if he gathered any attention. Surely, any bouncer would want an underage, ODing girl to be as far away from being associated with their business, as possible. Khalil adopted a worried and anxious look for show. Not difficult to maintain when he looked into Kaitlin's eyes.

[Siegemonkeys]

The demon was hideous to look at, certainly terrifying for any mortal to behold. And yet, as intimidating as it tried to be, the only reaction it drew from Ramiel was a cold, unflinching glare. His threat was no bluff, and the demon must have known it because after it said it's piece the demon seemed to almost drain away. A soft 'hmph' escaped Ramiel as it faded away, and Ramiel might have given chase if it weren't for the fact he needed to stay close to his charge.

The demon's words didn't particularly phase Ramiel, though he made a mental note of them. 'When the five sing', huh? He assumed the demon was referring to the prophecy, but Ramiel knew better than to take a demon's words at face value. Maybe when the five sang something terrible would happen, or maybe something good would happen and the demon was just trying to confuse and obfuscate things. He didn't know, but that was why he'd wait for the other angels to figure out the fine details of the prophecy before he made any assumptions. Maybe the email he received had those details now, but he'd have to wait till after class to check it...

...Or maybe not. Poor Malcolm seemed like he was ready to puke up his guts after what he saw. Ramiel had been focused on the demon, but now that it was gone it was finally hitting him just how complicated that demon just made things. Mortals weren't supposed to know about their kind, and yet here was one that could apparently see them in their celestial forms. And after seeing something as hideous as that, Ramiel knew this was gonna be a real pain to explain. Deciding it was best to do something now, before Malcolm threw up or passed out, Ramiel tore out a sheet of paper from his notebook and scribbled a note down, passing it to Malcolm as soon as the teacher wasn't looking.

[It's okay, you're safe. I saw it too, but don't say anything. Tell the teacher you feel sick, I'll volunteer to take you to the clinic. Then I'll explain.]

[Erulasto]

The GRAVEL PIT

Haralambos

The Soldier is a monster to be sure, but in the end he is still only human.

Harry's next punch strikes the Soldier square in the jaw, and the Seraph can feel bones fragmenting under the force of the blow. The Soldier actually whimpers as he feels the crunch, and staggers back. He lashes out with his own fist - a wild swing - and fails to meet anything but air as the Seraph is suddenly no longer where he was before.

The crowd watching the fight is raucus, loud and their screams and bellows of rage or approval blend into a cacophany of noise.

Harry follows the wild swing with a solid kick to to the solar plexus and the Soldier goes down - sprawling back and slamming forcefully into the rough, broken concrete that makes up the side of the Pit. His head actually bounces off the stone with another sickening thud, and as he slumps to the side - disoriented and mauled - a fresh spot of red is seen on the wall where the Soldier's head impacted.

There is a sudden lull in the crowd's antics and a hush falls over the warehouse as they watch in awe. This beast of a man was down for the count.

But it seemed that Harry wasn't finished quite yet. He casually strolled over to the downed Soldier, and with one glance to the crowd - awaiting the resolution of this fight with baited breath - Harry raises a foot, and promptly stomps upon the Soldiers head as it lolled between boot and stone.

The skull caves beneath the blow, and Harry's boot heel comes away slick and red. The Soldier, bleeding from a visible crack in his skull, gurgles weakly for a moment as his body spasms upon the gravel floor before stilling once and for all.

Suddenly, the noise from the crowd rises to new levels as cheering erupts within this den of violent delights.
Colton is there at the side of the Pit, leaning down and offering a hand to help Harry extricate himself. He's got a wide grin on his face.

"By God Harry! That was amazing! A bit disgusting, but amazing!"

A damp towel is offered to the Seraph to clean himself up, and a fresh bottle of water alongside it.

In the lull after the fight, the voices of bookies calling out updated odds and new payouts for those lucky enough to bet on Harry - few though they may have been - Harry catches movement out of the corner of his eye.

The congratulatory crowd around him parts like the Red Sea before Moses as Anya Lebedev and her bodyguards move towards him.
The young woman - significantly shorter than Harry - comes to stop in front of him with pursed lips and a cold gaze. When she speaks, her voice carries the thick accent of one born in Eastern Europe.

"A rousing performance. A bit costly to me - Pete was a valuable asset - but a cost I am certainly willing to pay for a show such as this. I shall cut to the chase. Your skills and brutality would be a great asset to me. You would be well compensated for your time and effort on my behalf. Think it over, and come to the Oblivion Club when you decide, yes?"


I ran through two more rounds of combat using your rolls provided in your last post. Nicely done. I saw you had some posts in the OOC channel. I'll respond to those later today (tonight?) as I've just gotten off an extruciatingly busy and rather unpleasant couple days at work and figured I'd get the IC post sent before worrying about anything else. Sorry for the delay.


* * * * *


OBLIVION CLUB

Khalil Dhali

The man - likely one of Svetlana's errand boys - was out cold, and likely wouldn't awaken for some time though Khalil knew that no permenant damage would be done - except perhaps to the man's pride.

Kaitling was incredibly out of it, and while Khalil wasn't sure if she was registering the words he spoke to her, it made his act of pretending she was ODing one something that much easier to pass off.

She didn't touch the blood now smeared across her face, though when Khalil swept her up her head lolled back and her eyes rolled back into her head as she finally passed out.

When Khalil rounded the corner of the alley towards the front of the Club, there were murmurs beginning to roil through the gathered crowd as they took notice of the unconscious girl in the old man's arms. The Bouncer took a couple steps forward, brow furrowed in barely contained rage - though as Khalil made the comments about the drugs, the man's face paled and he scratched his head thoughtfully. He stared at Khalil for only a moment, before shaking his head and purposely turning his attention back to the line of patrons awaiting entrance. If the cops got a call about an overdose tonight, Svetlana would have his hide. Literally.

One or two of the party-goers called out to Khalil to see if he needed any assistance, or if he wanted them to call an ambulance - though most didn't seem to want to get involved. It made Khalil a bit sick to his stomach at the thought of how indoctrinated to callousness and selfishness that some humans had become in the face of human suffering, but in this particular case, the less attention the better.

He made it to his car in record time, the girl weighing next to nothing in his arms. She was still unconscious, but her breathing had evened out to the steady rhythm of an incredibly deep sleep.

The Malakim was able to get her settled into his car easily enough, and as he buckled her in, he caught a glimmer of movement outside the club. The freakishly tall man in the black turtleneck was standing outside, a cigarette held purposely between his fingers as he took a deep drag with a toothy grin. When Khalil met the man's strange black eyes, the grinning man tipped his head in greeting to the Angel as wispy trails of smoke seeped from between his teeth - bared as they were in a predatory grin.

* * * * *


ELLINGTON and WOLF, LLP

Sarah

There was a silence that was palpably heavy in the office that Liam and Sarah stood in as Liam took in her words with a thoughtful - if weary - expression on his face. He scratched his chin, and sighed a deep sigh.

"I know you'll do everything you can for her, Sarah. This is the kind of case that got me into this business in the first place. It's disgusting how some people can prey on others like this." He shook his head sadly, and turned to step out of the office before pausing just inside the doorway. "I'll let Blackwater know we will agree to meet them on their new timetable, and I'll make a couple calls to see if any of my friends in the courts can stymie their attempts at a countersuit. Maybe something about it infringing on her rights, I don't know. I'll figure it out. In the meantime, keep doing what you do best."

Liam offers Sarah a wan smile, before disappearing back down the hallway towards his own offices. Hiring Sarah was one of the best choices he's ever made for his business.

This whole situation stunk of Diabolical influence. Sarah was likely right that this far surpassed some random girl and her dreams of stardom. It had the stink of Lust and Fate all over it.

For a brief moment, before Sarah turned to leave the office, she caught a glimpse of a pillar of oily black smoke rising from the city in the distance. Beneath the rising plume was the ruddy glow of fire. If her estimations and knowledge of Los Angeles geography was correct, she'd place the fire as coming from Brighton House - and also the direction of the Symphonic disturbance she heard earlier.

Even with the rain that was blanketing the city, the fire raged in the distance and the smoke rose higher and higher - the oily, thick blackness of it beginning to merge into the stormclouds overhead and spread like a sinister stain.

* * * * *


HOLLYWOOD ARTS HIGH SCHOOL

Ramiel

The class had continued throughout the encounter with the Demon in its Celestial form, but only now that it had made its escape did the strange bubble of silence that had settled around Ramiel burst and once again allowed the sounds of the teachers droning voice, the rustling of pages and scribbling of pencils through.

Malcolm was not looking well at all, but despite his obviously tormented physiological reaction to the Demon's presence, he still took the note with a shaky, clamy hand when Ramiel handed it to him.

He unfolded it slowly, his watery eyes flickering down to read what Sam had written to him.
He blinked a couple times, and Ramiel could see the internal struggle within his eyes. Sam had seen it too? He wasn't going crazy then? But Sam also seemed to know what was going on....

Malcolm hesitantly stuffed the note between two pages of his algebra textbook before raising a shaking hand.

"Um...m...Mrs. O'Donnell? I think I'm going to be sick. Can...can I be excused?" The elderly teacher turned to berate Malcolm for trying to get out of math class, though as soon as she saw him her scowl vanished and she stepped over to him with a worried look on her face.

"Oh dear. You don't look so good Malcolm. Go ahead. Can you get to the nurses office on your own?" She turned to gaze about the class, concern etched still upon her face. "Can I have a volunteer to help Malcolm get to the nurses office?"

With a sly grin, Agatha had begun to raise her hand to take on the responsibility herself. It was obvious to Ramiel that Agatha certainly did not have Malcolm's best interest in mind, and perhaps had even planned something cruel. There was still time - Mrs.O'Donnell hadn't seen her raising her hand yet, and she hadn't spoken up quite yet either.

* * * * *


The TETHER of FLOWERS

Jathiriel and Malchiel

Mercy seemed genuinely pleased with the revelation that Jathiriel had already made a decision on which Archangel to petition, and it showed upon her face as she beamed at him with a radiant smile.

"I'm SO happy to hear that, Jason! Want to give me a little hint who it is?" She pried, not unkindly, with a teasing poke of her finger at his ribs.


As far as the Resonance roll goes for Malchiel, it's successful though only a check digit of 2. I'm going to leave the response to that particular tidbit of info to Failed Phantasm. I certainly think he can explain Jathiriel's thoughts and emotional state of being much better than I can. :smallbiggrin:


Regardless of Jathiriel's response to Mercy's gently teasing inquiry, she finishes her tea and sets the tea cup in her small sink with a light clatter of dishes. She lets some hot water run from the tap to fill the sink, and pours a bit of detergent in - filling the kitchen with the scent of lavender, now mixing with fresh baked goods, flowers and the tea itself.

Without turning to look at either Jathiriel or Malchiel, she hums a soft tune for a moment or two while she washes up her dishes.

"As soon as we're done, I'll drive us to check out those coffee shops? Does that work for the both of you? I...I know that getting involved in all this puts an even bigger target on your back, Jason. I won't make you help us, if you don't want to. I promised I wouldn't let the other Angels persecute you on principle, and I'll stick by that promise regardless of your choice."

Mercy flicks a nervous glance over her shoulder to Jason and Mel. "Thachael said that you were imortant to...well, whatever all this is....even if you don't know how or why."

Around this moment, Malchiel's cell phone rings and the caller ID shows it's Jerichael. He and Solomon hand't been gone long, so it was surprising that they'd call so soon after they departed to investigate the disturbance in the Symphony.

The gruff voice comes over the line the moment Malchiel answers.

"Malchiel. Someone blew up part of Brighton House. Sopholael was in the library with a few students. The whole place is a burning crater. Given the level of incendiaries used in the bomb, Solomon and I suspect a Servant of Belial." He mutters something, and Solomon is heard answering him in the affirmative. A heartbeat or two later, it is Solomon on the line - having taken the phone from Jerichael.

"Greetings once again my friend. Could you please pass on to Mercy that we'd like her to stay at the Tether for a while and keep an eye on things there? The bomb killed everyone in the library. We found what was left of Sopholael's vessel. This wasn't random. It was a hit. Maybe a message. We just lost our only Servant of Destiny in LA. I don't have to tell you to be careful, do I?" The Cherub's voice was thick with concern and a sadness.

[JeenLeen]

That was rewarding. One Soldier destroyed, and the world a slightly better place. He feels a few wisps of sadness at seeing the crowd so happy at the death of a human, but perhaps to some of them it was had a tinge of righteous anger at the brute instead of pure selfish enjoyment.

As he cleans up, and sees the woman approaching, Harry looks with a mix of confusion and apprehension. Later on, he hopes she takes as it being unsure if she plans to get revenge or not.
At her words, he almost activates his Resonance, but sees her words are pretty much nothing of value.

Work for her? Seems unacceptable. But to go along with it long enough to find out what she's up to? That could work. He didn't like deception -- he knew some Seraphs had a knack for it, but to Haralambos it was too close to lying -- but a few tricks to further the cause of Good was worth it.

Harry nods, changing his mind about Resonance and letting one question come out, some nervousness sincerely obvious: "We can talk details at the Club? I'm not the brightest, but I like some work more than other." With that line, he puts on a grin towards Pete's corpse. Definitely not a lie, but slightly deceptive. "And got some rules about who I'll kill. Will you be there this afternoon? Tonight? I don't think I'll need long to decide."

---
Once the fight concludes, and Harry shares some congratulations with Colton and a few others he's friendly with, he puts back on his vest and shirt and gets ready to head out. With the dawn's light, he feels his divine essence regenerate, and the small bruise the Soldier left on him vanish.

"Thank you, Lord," he says in a quiet prayer.

He calls Jericheal and (leaves a message if no answer) says, "Well, I ended a Soldier working for the Lebedevs. One of them offered me a job, and I figure that's a good way to see how much they work with the Bad in town. From what I could sense, wasn't clear if they knew their thug was a Soldier, but they have some dealings with the Bad Guys in town. She seems to be human.

You still want me to avoid the cook?"
The tone of the last question could remind one of a kid asking for an extra piece of candy, expecting a 'no' but hoping for a 'yes'. It bugged Haralambos, but he could see a bit of the reason for sparing Lee, for now.

Assuming no new orders, Harry drives home to change clothes, then drives near where Hanna Pierse lives and takes a walk around the neighborhood, keeping an eye out for her.
It sounds like it's not a nice neighborhood, so he probably blends in and is left alone as the big scary guy on the corner.


No worries on the OOC posts. It's mostly me trying to understand some details of the system, not anything relevant at the moment.

I did a couple jumps in my post to try to catch up to the present, for the other PCs. Feel free to ignore the skip if you had more planned at the Gravel Pit. Basically it's Harry leaves, reports to the coordinator (presumably told again, no, do not kill Lee), then watches who he considers his ward.

Resonance for the sister:
[roll0] @ 8
[roll1]

[Erulasto]

The GRAVEL PIT

Haralambos

Anya doesn’t seem in any way perturbed by the look of apprehension and confusion on Harry’s features. In fact, Harry gets the distinct impression she doesn’t really consider him worth noticing beyond what he can do for her.

She quirks a brow at what, to her, seems like excitement at the prospect of a job working for her, and allows a small – but savage smile to grace her lips.

”If you wish to come to the club tonight, so be it. I have business to attend, so I will not be there until later in the evening. You are welcome to come at your leisure as my personal guest. My sister Sveta can…entertain you while you await my arrival.” The savage smile remains, as she turns from Harry and stalks out of the Gravel Pit – flanked by her entourage.

As she departs, Harry feels eyes upon him as he realizes that Selena is gazing at him curiously, before turning with shoulders slumped in resignation and following Anya out.

- - -

EAST ORCHARD STREET, EAST COMPTON/LYNNWOOD GARDENS
9:45 AM

Harry had felt the rising of the Sun, though he did not see it – obscured as it was by the bleak and thunderous storm clouds that had congregated above the South-Western coast.

He had spoken to Jerichael briefly a bit earlier, and received a pleased acknowledgement of his job silencing another Soldier of Hell. He warned Harry to be cautious in his dealings with the Lebedev’s as the reputation that had been growing around them was a nasty one – and Jerichael had asked, pointedly, to consider the repercussions to his role in the Symphony if it became known that Harry was associated with the Russian mob.

As far as Lee goes, Jerichael was still a bit leery in open antagonism of a Demon, but he did eventually concede that if an opportunity revealed itself to Haralambos, he should consider taking it.

Now, he was standing outside, a block or two away from Hanna Pierse lived with her guardian – Elizabeth Dancourt. The street had emptied quickly about an hour earlier as the residents had all scurried off to work in the early hours of the morning – trying to avoid the downpour that fell in torrential waves. For a moment, Harry thought of the Great Flood that had once come to wash the Sin from the Corporeal world so long ago.

Elizabeth had left early, though Hanna was still inside the house. Harry had heard, easily enough, her words to the young red-headed girl. It seemed Elizabeth had called Hanna in sick from school – it seemed the young woman woke screaming in the middle of the night from a rather traumatic dream.

Standing under the boughs of a large poplar tree in a small abandoned lot just down the street, he could see Hanna step out onto the old front porch of her house – the white-washed wood, in a colonial style distinctly out of place for California, had faded over the years. She was wearing a pair of blue and grey checkered flannel pajama pants, the waistband rolled down to sit low on her hips and a plain pastel blue cotton T-shirt. A white mug of steaming coffee sat in her hands as she padded barefoot across the porch and sat upon the top step. She was sheltered from the torrential downpour by a wide overhang, but seemed to take a measure of peace in the constant, droning roar of the water upon the street. Tin wind-chimes of little angels and hummingbirds tinkled in the wind above her as she sipped the steaming coffee and Harry saw a weariness start to drain from her shoulders as if the sounds of the rain and the wind were like a soothing balm to her troubles.


I skipped the actual conversation with Jerichael, as it worked out that now Harry is – more or less – on par timeline wise with the rest of the story. He’s just a few minutes behind the large discordant sound in the Symphony which will likely occur within the next few posts.
I’ve made this post a bit early, so I can better align the parallel time frames across the players.

[Failed Phantasm]

He endured the jab into his vessel’s ribs without so much as glancing away from the muffin in its hands, nor did he utter even the slightest grunt of protest. He wished he could feel half as excited as she did, or feel even a tenth as genuine. He wanted to serve Raphael again, but he’d shot himself in the proverbial foot on that count long ago; even were she still alive, would she have taken him back? Could he ever serve another Archangel with the same heartfelt love he’d once given her? ‘How did Uriel’s Servitors manage this?’ he wondered in weary despondence. No Archangel would accept being second-best in a Servitor’s heart, and Laurence was no substitute for his former Superior. ‘Can I not solve this because I’m still a demon? Would being an angel again help?’ It had been so long that he honestly couldn’t remember what it felt like. “Ask me later and I’ll do more than hint,” he said quietly, with an unsubtle glance at Malchiel.

She didn’t leave things be for long, though. It had barely been two minutes before she pressed on about whatever investigation Los Angeles’ angels were conducting into whatever the Hell was going on here. It was fortunate that the Elohite’s phone started ringing almost immediately afterwards because – between spending the last twelve hours reviewing everything that had happened the night before, and the open threat to his character not five minutes ago – the Balseraph had reached his personal breaking point. He drained the last of his tea and went over to help Mercy with the dishes, anticipating that the Power was nowhere near perceptive enough to simultaneously hold a phone conversation and eavesdrop on a second over the sound of running water and clanking dishes.

“No, Mercy, this doesn’t work for me,” he said to her in a low whisper. “You are the only one in this entire city who has even the remotest chance of believing me when I say that I have no idea what is going on here, even though that’s the God’s-honest truth. I haven’t even been in this part of the world for nearly five hundred years!” He plunged his vessel’s hands into the soapy water and started scrubbing a pastry plate, unwilling to trust himself with one of the more delicate cups – he felt sure that he was going to crush one in his vessel’s hand out of sheer outrage. “But no one will accept my word over Thachael’s. And why would you? He was your friend. I might complain about the unfairness of that, but you know what? Fine! I can accept that a friend’s word is worth more than a stranger’s. But Servitors of Revelation are only incapable of lying, Mercy, and I think willful falsehood is the one area in which all of you would call me an expert. Litheroy and his Servitors can still make mistakes – it’s how Alaemon manages his victories in their little feud – and I think that’s exactly what your friend has done.”

“And I still wouldn’t have cared about an honest mistake, but I’ve been accused of complicity in a celestial’s murder, Mercy! There is no way I can just bow out of this now without every angel in Los Angeles holding that over my head when the Seraphim Council hears my case.” He waved one of his vessel’s hands at the seat that Jerichael had vacated only a short time ago. “And I thought I would only have to worry about the Triad, but no! Your Cherubim friend has seen fit to both blatantly threaten me and coerce me to become involved in this with the nature of his testimony to the Council. But the thing that’s making me absolutely livid–” as if to emphasize, he wrapped his vessel’s hands around the sponge he was using and squeezed so hard that its knuckles were bone-white while the sponge was wrung bone-dry “–is that he apparently genuinely believes that I would I even consider doing any kind of harm to the only celestial on Earth who’s shown me even a moment of genuine kindness!”

He dropped the sponge back into the sink, where it languidly expanded with water once again, and then braced his vessel’s arms against the counter and hung its head. “I’ll do this if you want me to, Mercy,” he said quietly. “You’re the only angel in Los Angeles whose judgement I completely trust.” He shook his head sadly. “But I can’t help but feel like I’m back in Hell, being set up by Asmodeus to take a fall. It seems like the rest of you all accept on blind faith that I know more than I really do. I don’t think I can not do this without it seeming like an admission of guilt to the Triad or the Council. How is this supposed to be my road to Redemption if it feels like I have a Fiery Sword pressing into my back this entire time?” He looked up at her with pleading eyes and he was clearly begging her when he said, “Please tell me I’m just being paranoid, Mercy. Please tell me I'm wrong.”


CONDITION
Health 96 / 96, Essence 10 / 10

➜ Body 12 / 12
➜ Mind 24 / 24
➜ Soul 60 / 60

ACTIVE EFFECTS

Truthfulness/6: Roll (Will – Truthfulness) whenever you attempt to lie or use the Balseraph resonance. Failure obligates you to tell the truth instead.

[seatyger]

The TETHER of FLOWERS

Upon reading the renegade's state of mind. His fear was understandable, given being largely surrounded by unfriendly angels and involved in a potentially major shift in the balance of power in the War.


Mercy seemed genuinely pleased with the revelation that Jathiriel had already made a decision on which Archangel to petition, and it showed upon her face as she beamed at him with a radiant smile.

"I'm SO happy to hear that, Jason! Want to give me a little hint who it is?" She pried, not unkindly, with a teasing poke of her finger at his ribs.

Malchiel flashed a quirky smile at the seneschal's "ribbing."


...Without turning to look at either Jathiriel or Malchiel, she hums a soft tune for a moment or two while she washes up her dishes.

"As soon as we're done, I'll drive us to check out those coffee shops? Does that work for the both of you? I...I know that getting involved in all this puts an even bigger target on your back, Jason. I won't make you help us, if you don't want to. I promised I wouldn't let the other Angels persecute you on principle, and I'll stick by that promise regardless of your choice."

Mercy flicks a nervous glance over her shoulder to Jason and Mel. "Thachael said that you were imortant to...well, whatever all this is....even if you don't know how or why."

Around this moment, Malchiel's cell phone rings and the caller ID shows it's Jerichael. He and Solomon hand't been gone long, so it was surprising that they'd call so soon after they departed to investigate the disturbance in the Symphony.

"I'd still prefer the apartment first, then coffee shops around it," he mentioned as he drew his phone from a jacket pocket.


The gruff voice comes over the line the moment Malchiel answers.

"Malchiel. Someone blew up part of Brighton House. Sopholael was in the library with a few students. The whole place is a burning crater. Given the level of incendiaries used in the bomb, Solomon and I suspect a Servant of Belial." He mutters something, and Solomon is heard answering him in the affirmative. A heartbeat or two later, it is Solomon on the line - having taken the phone from Jerichael.

"Greetings once again my friend. Could you please pass on to Mercy that we'd like her to stay at the Tether for a while and keep an eye on things there? The bomb killed everyone in the library. We found what was left of Sopholael's vessel. This wasn't random. It was a hit. Maybe a message. We just lost our only Servant of Destiny in LA. I don't have to tell you to be careful, do I?" The Cherub's voice was thick with concern and a sadness.

Not reacting to the sorrow he felt within at the loss of another angel to the War, he nodded and responded, "You don't. I'll tell her."

Malchiel ended the call and turned to the others. "There's been an explosion and Sopholael's been lost; Solomon and Jerichael believe infernal involvement and intent. Mercy, they would like for you to stay with the Tether for now. Jathiriel and I start canvassing the area on our own."

[Anyr]

Liam looked so tired. Decent people like him deserved more relaxation. Sarah, of course, did what she could to lighten his load. But she couldn't run the company for him. Her job was to help Ellington and Wolf fulfil the potential it already possessed. She looked forward to the day when Liam and his co-workers could breathe easily again: Even if that meant having to bid them farewell.

With a sigh, Sarah turned to leave; Then turned right back again. Rushing to the window, she peered out at a distant inferno. Brighton House was on fire! And worse still, A Celestial was almost certainly responsible. One of Belial's followers, perhaps? Now she was even more curious about the ripple than before. Nonetheless, she ignored it again. A scared girl was awaiting Sarah's return. Her place was here. With a last glance at the flames, Sarah walked back to her own office. She'd give Bethany a reassuring smile as she sat down.

"Sorry about that. Mr. Ellington was just filling me in on some final details. Unless there's something else you wanted to tell me, I think we're about ready to wrap up this interview. Here, take my card. Please call me if you remember anything useful; Or if you just need a helping hand. It doesn't have to be a legal problem. Your safety is more important than protocols.

My boss mentioned that you'd be coming here with a friend. Is she waiting outside?"

[XIII]

Khalil had been worried about attracting good Samaritans that may have asked too many questions. Gabriel forbid a passing emergency responder of some sort saw him and messed up his plan. Instead, Khalil was left disgusted with the lack of humanity around him, even if it was working in his favor for the moment.

Khalil locked eyes with the turtleneck man, almost certain of his true nature. He would look better aflame.

Khalil winked at the man and blew a kiss, got in his car, and started driving in the wrong direction. His paranoia warned him that he may be followed.

The old man scratched his head and thought of his next move.

Does Khalil have anyone he can turn to for medical assistance outside of clinics and hospitals?

[Siegemonkeys]

Unfortunately for Agatha and whatever meanspirited idea she had, Sam didn't bother raising his hand, he just got up. "I'll take him, ma'am." he volunteers, the concern on his face only slightly exaggerated. The teacher would probably know by now that the two were friends, so it stood to reason that Sam would be concerned when Malcolm looked like he was going to faint.

Unless Agatha or the teacher stop him, Sam helps Malcolm out of the classroom, offering a shoulder for him to lean on if he needs it. Once they're a few steps away from the classroom and the hallway seems empty, Sam heaves a sigh as he ponders how exactly he's going to try and explain what happened. "First thing's first, are you okay man? Take a second and catch your breath, you're safe now. That thing's gone now, I promise." Sam starts, deciding for now it was best to calm him down and stop him from panicking before he got into more detail. That, and it gave him a second to think about how he was gonna explain this to a mortal.

For the record, if someone's going to try and stop Sam before he goes, feel free to post that and I'll edit out the part about him pulling Malcolm outside and getting him to calm down.

[JeenLeen]

Haralambos ruminates on what he's seen as he stands nearby Hanna's house. Not directly in front of it of course, but with his hearing he can hear enough to know if anything bad happens.

Selena is important, he's pretty sure. Maybe she's a demon using the mob and thinking he's a Soldier of Heaven. Maybe she's a spirit. Or maybe she's just a tad bit in the know. Hmm... if she's human, she seems to be an agent of Lust, whether knowingly or not. Confronting her and, if she's not on their side, killing her, seems good. He's pretty sure Madman Harry could probably do that in tune with the Symphony.

And Hanna's nightmares. Didn't Ramiel say Malcolm wasn't sleeping, either? She was one of the Five, he was sure now. Once again, he felt chafed by the edicts that they couldn't just tell humans what was going on. Haralambos liked being a Seraph, but he wished he could attune to a person like a Cherub without the cacophony his Song of Attraction made.

As is, he stays put.


Haralambos hears the sound and almost starts to dash out to investigate, but then hesitates. Someone should be protecting Hanna.

He tries to trace in his mind where the explosion came from. After a minute of focused thought... Southward, it seems... huh, so not towards Lee's shop, so probably not his Superior showing up. He hesitates between flying off to investigate and staying to protect Hanna, but decides to stay. If he thought it was Lee doing something big, he'd go there and kill the demon after its Prince left. But he wasn't great at investigating, and any demons causing the mayhem probably already fled.
...is that smoke? Harry's wanted to kill that fire demon, but the fiend probably fled already.

Feeling a tad frustrated and bored, he calls his friend Khalil.
If gets him: "Hey, it's Harry. You okay, man? That sound just now wasn't you, was it? From last night's meeting, seems something big and Bad is up. Oh--and I got to kill a Soldier earlier today. That was fun."
Actually, he leaves the same thing as a message if he gets voicemail.
He's hoping the source isn't Khalil, but it wouldn't be the first time either one of them made some noise in town.

Since he's talking on a phone -- something he noticed makes humans more easily ignored -- he walks closer to Hanna's house, keeping an ear out for her, too.

[Erulasto]

Early Morning
Khalil Dhali


From a PC perspective, I know that Sarah has the Corporeal Song of Healing – which, while the mechanics of an overdose are a bit open-ended, I’d rule that in this case it would make sense that such a song would be helpful.
From an NPC perspective, both Mercy and Solomon also have the Corporeal Song of Healing – though Mercy is stronger in Songs than Solomon is.
Alternatively, as you stated, clinics or hospitals.
It would entirely depend on whether or not Khalil wants to keep Kaitlin’s condition on the down-low. From a role perspective, admittance to a hospital for a drug overdose could be a way of shedding more light on what she’s been up to. Plus if the emergency room staff feel she’s a danger to herself, they could hold her for a while.
Then again….it also makes her easier to find.

Also, from a time-line perspective, once you decide on what route to take for treating Kaitlin (he’d at least know that Sarah has a job she can’t just step away from at a moment’s notice, unfortunately), we’ll accelerate to around 10:00 AM and gloss over the specifics of the treatment. Regardless, Kaitlin is currently safe thanks to the single-mindedness of Khalil and his devotion to the ideals of Gabriel.

Feel free to write up a quick blurb about what Khalil is doing with Kaitlin, and then go ahead and skip ahead to when – I assume – he returns to his office for the next day? Or do whatever he wants instead, but he succeeded (like everyone did) on hearing the explosion of Brighton House, which means that you can include your response to Haralambos in the next post as well after he calls you.

Sorry if that’s a bit rambling and complex, but I’m trying to synchronize the timeline for the players. :smallbiggrin:


The man with the turtle-necked shirt just continues to smoke idly as Khalil blows him a kiss and winks in his direction before driving away.

As he’s driving, Kaitlin murmurs softly in her sleep. Most of it is illegible, but Khalil picks up a couple words and names amidst her drug-fueled dream-ramblings. Of note, Kaitlin mentions the name Madison, the name of her brother Justin, and repeats ”I’m sorry” several times, voice thick with a whimpered, hidden sorrow.

They drive for a little while, and as they do Khalil can feel a glorious crescendo in the Symphony – and he knows that the Sun has finally crested the horizon, hidden behind storm clouds though it may be. The flush of essence rising within him is, as usual, a wonderfully rapturous feeling.

Much of the city would be starting to stir at this point, and while most emergency rooms are open all night, clinics would just be opening now.

Not to mention that both Sarah and Mercy would be starting work soon. Both of which were skilled in the healing arts.

* * * * *


ELLINGTON and WOLF, LLP
10:00 AM

Sarah

Bethany smiled a small, strained smile as Sarah returned to the office. Even from here, the plume of smoke rising from the fire at Brighton House was visible through the pouring rain pattering against Sarah’s office window.

It was obvious to Sarah that Bethany was comfortable with her – she felt safe with the Bright Lilim – but the ongoing drama had taken a toll on the girls emotional state of mind. She takes the offered card with a quick glance, before tucking it into her purse with the intention of putting Sarah on speed dial when she gets home.

”Oh, um...yeah. She dropped me off and went to grab a coffee and finish off an essay for her political science class. She’s supposed to meet me back here in….” Bethany glances at her phone for a moment “About ten minutes or so?”

With a small wave, Bethany excused herself and stepped out of the office to make her way to the elevator. She was already calling her friend and letting her know she was finished and ready for a pick-up.

Meanwhile, Claire had risen from her chair and smiled at Sarah. ”Poor girl. It’s a shame what she’s going through.” She shook her head, and made a few small adjustments to something on the screen of her tablet before turning towards the door. ”I’ll have the minutes from your interview today drafted and sent to you by the end of the day Miss Summers. Is there anything else you need me to put together for you today?”

Claire was an extremely capable paralegal, and Sarah knew she’d have meticulous notes put together – and likely would even added annotations about nuances that many would miss, such as the emotional state of Bethany and other little details that could go a long way towards helping make a solid case.

Beyond what Sarah needed to accomplish with Bethany and her dealings with Blackwater, there were some significant problems that seemed to be brewing on the horizon. She had the impression that Los Angeles was about to become significantly more dangerous – and perhaps contested – in the coming weeks.

Currently, as far as Bethany goes – the most compelling lead that Sarah has is the sleek, black card for the escort that offered to help the young woman: Selena Carter.

* * * * *


HOLLYWOOD ARTS HIGH SCHOOL
10:00 AM

Ramiel

Mrs.O’Donnell gives a pleased hum of acknowledgement at Sam’s quick-thinking concern for his friend, and simply waves a hand towards the door before returning her attention to the classroom and continuing her lessons for the day.

Ramiel would catch a glimpse of stilted rage and interrupted malice upon Agatha’s face as she glares proverbial daggers towards him, but it is likely of no real concern to the Cherub.

When the two of them make their way out of the classroom, Malcolm leans heavily upon Ramiel’s shoulder for support – and he can feel the tremors wracking the students body as his mind and body rebel against the hideous sight he’s seen.

Malcolm ends up sitting on the floor, back against some lockers with his head buried between his knees. The Cherub can hear the ragged breathing begin to slowly calm as Malcolm sorts through the traumatic experience.

”Thanks dude.” He whispers hoarsely after a few moments. ”What the **** was that, man? Like something out of a nightmare…..but I’m not sleeping, am I? This **** is real?”


If Ramiel wants to tell Malcolm the truth, go for it. If he wants to be deceitful or try and spin the tale into something a little different, please make a Fast-Talk roll (or the appropriate skill default otherwise).



* * * * *


EAST ORCHARD STREET, EAST COMPTON/LYNNWOOD GARDENS
10:00 AM

Haralambos

The rumbling discordant sounds that echo through the Symphony are large, and in Haralambos’ experience it usually means that the damage done was significant. Soon, even from his current locale, Harry can see the plume of dark, oily smoke rising on the distant horizon from the fire – though the context would likely remain intangible.

While his call connects to Khalil, and Harry begins his slow stroll towards the house with Hanna sitting on the porch, he realizes she’s singing softly to herself.

The sound is unbearably sweet and Harry immediately thinks back to those most honored of Angels who perform the Trisagion around the Throne of God. It takes a moment or two for Harry to place the song the pretty red-head is singing – a song he’s heard in the past on the radio called Stay by the mortal singer Rihanna.

Hanna certainly does the song justice, and the way her voice dances across the words makes Haralambos feel a bit funny – like his heart, safely ensconced in Heaven, is tugging at him. For some reason, he feels a strange watery grief grip his heart and he blinks away a sudden, unbidden tear.

Though Haralambos exists to fight The War, and doesn’t usually preoccupy himself with much beyond that – even he would realize that she is special, as her voice alone was able to stir great emotion in the Angel.

* * * * *


TETHER of FLOWERS
10:00 AM

Jathiriel and Malchiel

Mercy gives an acknowledging nod to Malchiel wanting to check out Thatch’s home before they check out coffee shops. It’s a wise idea. Leave it to an Elohim to cut to the chase.

When Jathiriel rises, Mercy smiles that warm, sunshine-filled smile of hers and makes room for him when Jathiriel joins her at the sink to help with the dishes. The Seneschal doesn’t push him for information on whom he wants to petition; she knows he’s being truthful when he lets her know that he’ll share that information later.

She listens to his whispered words to her with a calm, but unreadable expression on her face. Her eyes linger for a moment on the sponge, and she bites back the sudden urge to gently tease him about what such an innocuous corporeal object could have done to deserve such punishment. Maybe there was some sort of parallel between the sponge and Jathiriel and his opinion of his on situation.

”I don’t believe that you were complicit Jason. I honestly don’t believe you were even privy to whatever this plot is – at least, not knowingly. What I DO believe, is that I’m not the only one who would believe you. Sarah would, for starters, and if Sarah does you can bet that Adele would as well.” She giggles softly, and nudges him with her shoulder. ”Three isn’t too bad, and I could make a case that Solomon that would believe you too. He’s big on putting his faith in people. It’s a start, anyhow.”

She drops her own dish rag onto the countertop and pulls the drain on the sink, letting the hot soapy water begin to drain with a gurgle. She turns to face him fully, and rests one of her freshly dried hands on his shoulder gently, as she is wont to do.

”You are right, Jason.” Mercy tilts her head thoughtfully. ”The Word of Revelation is about shining the Light on secrets and revealing things that others try to hide, but that does not make them infallible. It is very possible that Thachael was mistaken. But as much as you may not like my answer, Jason, I truly don’t believe he was.”

Mercy holds a hand up to stave off any sort of rebuttal from him before it could even begin, and takes a hold of his shoulders firmly to turn him bodily to face her before the sink.

She meets his eyes with an intense stare that still holds boundless compassion despite the heaviness of the subject matter at hand.

”Jason. I know you’re scared, I really do. You’re facing a lot of open hostility, and barely veiled suspicion. I want to ask you a question. If you can look me in the eye, and answer me honestly then I won’t ask you to do this. I won’t ask you to get involved any more than we have to. You can stay here and work in the Tether for as long as it takes to help you find yourself again. The word of a Seneschal carries some weight with the Council. Enough weight that unless you’re looking to petition someone like Laurence or Dominic, it should be more than enough to weigh in your favor.” Mercy seems genuine, and uncharacteristically serious when she makes this statement to Jathiriel.

”Can you tell me….without a shadow of a doubt….that you are absolutely sure that there is no way that Kronus hasn’t had you ensnared you in some twisted game of Fate? In all the time you served the Pit? You’ve been free of his machinations that entire time? I promise you I’m not saying that you knew…but if there is even the slightest chance that he’s somehow had you dancing to his own tune before you cut the strings and found me? If there is some chance that you can help stymie a dark Fate, isn’t it worth trying? For answers? For love and selflessness?”

Mercy’s smile took a sad turn, as she leaned in and brushed her lips across his cheek with gently before stepping away from him. ”Some of us may be heavy-handed in our methods, Jason, but remember that the only thing that makes us different? Demons were selfish enough to try and impose their will on the Symphony instead of trusting that – despite everything – there is a purpose to all this.” Mercy gestures slowly around her – as if to imply, well, everything.

The moment between the two of them is broken with the announcement from Malchiel that Sopholael – the resident Angel of Destiny – was just snuffed out.

Mercy gaped in horror at the news, her attention turned from Jathiriel for the moment as a few tears spilled down her cheeks.

”Oh, Sopholael…..” She murmurs between sniffles, wiping at her eyes weakly. ”It was at Brighton House, wasn’t it Malchiel? How many students were killed? Oh, God…..such needless violence!” She all but hisses, a glowering anger suddenly simmering under her perky, bright countenance.
It’s a stark and sudden reminder – seeing that anger – that even a Servant of Flowers is capable of having thorns when pushed.

”If a Demon has made an outright attack on and another Angel – especially a servant of Yves – then this isn’t an abstract plot anymore. The Forces of Hell are making a bid for something.”

Mercy shakes her head in frustration and steps over to Malchiel, and rests her hands on her hips. ”It’s a good idea that you both be out and on the move. The Tethers will be likely targets if this escalates even further. Jason, Malchiel. Please…” Her voice has descended into a whisper. ”Be careful. I can’t bear to lose any more friends.”

[Anyr]

Sarah waved goodbye to the departing actress. Poor girl. Claire echoed that thought aloud. The contract negotiator returned the sympathetic smile of her paralegal.

"At least she doesn't have to go through it alone. As for other tasks, could you check for a 'Victor' on the Blackwater personnel lists? I know that that's a long shot. Even if Bethany remembered his actual name, he might well be off the books. But we have to explore every lead. Thanks as always, Claire."

Claire would make a fine lawyer some day. And unlike her Angelic boss, she'd probably be one for the rest of her life. This Role was just the latest in a long line. Sooner or later, Sarah would move on to something else: Like a stockbroker, or a salesperson. How did humans cope with having only one lifetime? They burnt so briefly, yet so brightly. It was a privilege to be among them.

Right now, one particular human needed her help most of all. Sarah picked up her bag, and motioned towards the door.

"Right, I'm going to pay a visit to Selena Carter. Hopefully she's not fussy about appointments. Call me if you need me!"

Next stop: L.A's most intriguing escort company.

[JeenLeen]

I'm guessing we can RP this as a side-scene if we want. I'll pick up after getting off the phone. We can assume Harry gave Khalil a summary (with many details left out) of last night's meeting.

By the way, Haralambos also has Corporeal Song of Healing, albeit just at rank 2. I'd rather you not call him for healing this girl, though, to keep from messing up the timelines. If you use a clinic, you could use a fake name and stay guard, saying you're her grandfather or something like that. Not sure of legal ramifications for when/if they find out that's not true.


Harry gets distracted from his friend at the girl's singing. It was sweeter than Malcolm's, but... was that a tear? He'd cried in pain, and at the loss of friends, but not like this.
"...hey, buddy. I think I should go. Pretty sure it's nothing bad. Probably something good. But... I'm sure I've found one of the Five. Call me if you need me. Maybe we'll hit up Lee later."

He wipes away the tear and starts looking around, to see if anyone or anything is also listening. Malcolm was watched by demons, and this girl might be as well.

He decides to call Sarah as he scopes out the area. Maybe she'd have some insight on the more fancy aspects of town. Again, leaves a message if can't reach her.
"Sarah, it's Harry. I saw that Serena person last night at the Pits -- y'now, the escort? -- with one of those Russian sisters. I fought a Soldier working for the Russians, and Serena seemed... well, maybe to notice something. Was looking at me odd. Do you know if she's... more than a normal person? I'm thinking of hiring her to see what she is. Any idea how I could reach her?
Also, I got offered a job by the Russians. Gonna turn it down. The brainy one's bad, but not a fiend. Younger one stinks of lust, though, from what I've heard. I'm hoping to talk to her and see what she is. You ever deal with them?"


Hoping to do a little transfer of info while you drive to Serena's. Also, good way for Harry to be told to stay away if you don't want him stepping on your PC's toes.

I hope this doesn't seem too metagamey, or at least it's the helpful type. IC, Sarah does seem the most likely to know how to reach a high-society person.

[XIII]

Khalil called Solomon (apologizing for calling at such an hour) and explained the situation to him and requesting aid for Kaitlin, even including the bit about the turtleneck man. Khalil's car twists and turns through the streets on the way to allies and aid, his faithful VW Bug sounding more like a sputtering tractor than any car. Kaitlin's whimpering made Khalil's heart sink into his stomach, "Shhhh, you're safe now. Nobody can hurt you with Khalil around."

Another day, the sun had rose, he took a deep breath, "Praise Gabriel." Khalil basked in the feeling of another day beginning, his inner fire burned strongly. When he was satisfied that nobody was following, he finally stopped at their destination. Thanks be to Gabriel, that could have been sooo much worse.

Khalil contacted Justin and asked for his address, he would be personally bringing Kaitlin home. Khalil was interested in building rapport with the parents, he was not finished with Kaitlin and would need to gain their trust . The child needed guiding light.

I wonder how she's doing right now.

Khalil sat in the boiler room of his office, taking in the intense heat from the churning furnace. Any human would have struggled to breathe under the oppressive waves of roaring fire as he stood in front of the open hatch. Khalil was in his own personal heaven.

When would it be acceptable to visit?

The phone rings, it's good ol' Harry. After Harry catches Khalil up on the meeting, Khalil tells Harry about his night. "Thachael is gone... That's some heavy stuff, Harry. I guess I'll get cracking on this case immediately, where do we start? Listen, I'm really worried about this girl, Harry. I think I'm gonna play guardian angel for a bit with this one, I just can't let it go. Also pretty sure an infernal spotted me on my way out. Hopefully he gets stupid and comes after me."




In the interest of being all caught up, I'm just go ahead and be as brief as possible. Does Khalil live in/above his office Jessica Jones style? Or does he have a place of his own? Sleeping in the boiler room would make sense for the heat source. We could spruce it up! Would Khalil have heard the dissonant note from striking the human?

[seatyger]

TETHER of FLOWERS
10:00 AM


Mercy gaped in horror at the news, her attention turned from Jathiriel for the moment as a few tears spilled down her cheeks.

”Oh, Sopholael…..” She murmurs between sniffles, wiping at her eyes weakly. ”It was at Brighton House, wasn’t it Malchiel? How many students were killed? Oh, God…..such needless violence!” She all but hisses, a glowering anger suddenly simmering under her perky, bright countenance. It’s a stark and sudden reminder – seeing that anger – that even a Servant of Flowers is capable of having thorns when pushed.

"By God's Grace, only a few. The explosion was in the library," he noted calmly; while Malchiel found the loss of innocent life as distasteful as Mercy did, he also understood that each soul was lovingly cradled and comforted by God himself in their final moments. Such was the New Covenant between the Creator and His children.


”If a Demon has made an outright attack on and another Angel – especially a servant of Yves – then this isn’t an abstract plot anymore. The Forces of Hell are making a bid for something.”

Mercy shakes her head in frustration and steps over to Malchiel, and rests her hands on her hips. ”It’s a good idea that you both be out and on the move. The Tethers will be likely targets if this escalates even further. Jason, Malchiel. Please…” Her voice has descended into a whisper. ”Be careful. I can’t bear to lose any more friends.”

"We will, of course," he answered before turning his attention to the Balseraph. "I hope you drive; I'm woefully out of practice and would rather not rely on public transportation for this endeavor."

[Erulasto]

HALO SUITES PENTHOUSES

Sarah


As far as the phone call with Harry goes, I’m okay with you guys communicating especially for the sake of game-flow and whatnot. The nuances of the timing could be considered the trickiest part, but in this case we can assume that the call was made before Sarah arrived at Selena’s penthouse.


The car ride hadn’t taken overly long, despite the miserable weather. The wind had bitten at Sarah as she stepped from her car and a young man in the claret velvet uniform of a valet approached her to find parking. Despite the sheltered overhang that kept the rain from soaking her through, she felt the wind keenly as it caressed her hair. Memories of Adele sprung to mind, unbidden, as she knew the Ofanim would have absolutely loved this weather – to the point that she would have untied her hair just to feel Janus’ fingers run through her tresses.

The Halo Suites Penthouses were some of the premier real-estate along Hollywood Boulevard. Three buildings, each over eleven stories in height with almost the entire exterior wrapped in mirrored glass that caught the light and allowed them to shimmer like radiant pillars. Each floor of these towers held only three suites, and from Sarah’s brief investigation, each ran upwards of two million dollars to buy. The view had to be phenomenal for that price.

Selena Carter usually ran her business from her home on the tenth floor of Tower B. A check on her personal website indicated that at this time of day she was usually home to take visitors and appointments – and since her schedule was posted on the site as well, Sarah seemed to have come at a fortuitous time. Selena was not only home, but free for the next couple hours.

A door-man in a tailored black suit and tie stood just inside the small foyer – all granite and crystals – and he gave her a small nod of greeting as she approached the bank of three elevators that rose up the center of the tower.

The elevator ride up was swift, and she could barely feel its movement – so smooth and advanced it was. During the brief ride up some rather wonderful classical music was playing – in this case, Sarah recognized it at Mozart’s Moonlight Sonata.

The tenth floor was a large circular hallway wrapping around the trio of elevators. The floor was granite tile and the walls were covered from ceiling to floor in painted murals and black slate vases held gorgeous bouquets of flowers between each of the three large, solid mahogany doors.

1002. This was the suite. From just beyond the door, Sarah could hear the tell-tale sounds of a John Coltrane album – Ballads, circa 1963 jazz saxophone, if Sarah recalled correctly.

With a rapping on the door, there was a distinct lack of change for a heartbeat or two before suddenly the volume decreased on the album and a soft, distinctly feminine voice that dripped with allure and sensuous promise called through.

”It’s open. Make sure you take your shoes off when you come in.”

Beyond the heavy wooden door was a sprawling, open penthouse. The floor was tiled in soft bamboo planks, and the area immediately within the doorway – as well as the visible kitchen – were tiled in polished slate. The interior walls were all a light, charcoal grey color and the exterior wall was just glass as far as the eye can see. The glass could tint on command, but presently allowed as much light in as the dreary, rainy sky would allow.

Immediately inside was the living room, which was lowered into a wide depression and filled with red and black leather couches around what appeared to be a cobbled stone fireplace and chimney that was open to all sides with the couches around it. Within, a large fire crackled to chase away the dreariness of the day.

A massive flat-screen television sat nearby, next to an antique record player – from which the jazz music softly played. While currently unused, there was a covered Jacuzzi on the balcony and several reclining lawn chairs folded up and tethered in the corner.

Leaning against the granite countertop of an island at the edge of the kitchen and the living room was a woman who certainly looked the part of a high-priced escort. She was fit, but curvy in all the right places – with a red button-down silk blouse and a knee-length black pencil skirt that accented her physique perfectly. She had long blonde hair that seemed to actually be a scintillating mix of blonde hues that gave the silken locks a shimmering quality – from platinum to deep honey gold. She held a thin-stemmed glass in her hand filled with a wonderfully spicy smelling red wine. The rim of her glass held the slightest smudge from her cherry-red lipstick.

When Sarah stepped inside, she smiled charmingly.

”You’re not one of my regulars.” Sarah felt more than saw Selena rake her gaze appreciatively over her. “Pity.”

* * * * *


SENTINEL INVESTIGATIONS
10:00 AM

Khalil Dhali


So, in this particular case I’d say that it’s entirely your call. I have absolutely no problem with you keeping an office and a residence separate, though even a good PI isn’t going to necessarily be rolling in a high-class penthouse. Nothing says you couldn’t have an apartment in an older building that you’ve turned into an office as well – like Jessica Jones, as you say – but I’d say you should have a fireplace in the very least. C’mon. Gabriel would totally hook you up.

On the point of a dissonant note, I would agree with JeenLeen that your role would very likely give you the chance to cover it up. Basically, if it makes sense to be something that a normal PI would do, the Symphony won’t always complain if you do it.

As Jeen said though, go ahead and roll Corporeal Forces + Role on the d666 to see if it does make a note. Even if it does, it’d be a really small blip in the grand scheme of things – but the roll could always get noticed or an unfortunate Intervention.


Solomon was more than happy to help when Khalil called, and he met the Malakim in a McDonald’s parking lot where he had assisted in easing some of the physical symptoms that Kaitlin was going through. He had told Khalil, with a sad voice, that the young woman had a very hard road ahead of her and that many of her hurts were not simply corporeal. He had let Khalil know he was going to meet with Mercy, Jerichael, Malchiel and a new friend named Jathiriel shortly at the Tether.

Solomon had warned Khalil that, with the news of Thachael’s death, had come a revelation and the news of a potential ally in the form of a repentant, renegade Demon of Kronos. This Jathiriel took the mortal name of Jason, and was – for the moment – to be kept safe and unharmed, as there was a strong implication that he was integral to the unravelling of this mystery and it would not do them any good to have his vessel killed and him sent back to the Pit before he could find the Light again.

When Justin answered Khalil at the door of his house in an upscale neighborhood, there was only Justin’s own little car and Khalil’s in the driveway. Once again, the absentee parents had vanished off to whatever flight of fancy caught their interest and were blissfully ignorant of the trauma their children were going through.

Just had been overwhelmingly thankful, tearing up as soon as he laid eyes upon his little sister and helping bring her in and settle her onto the plush couch.
The young man had proceeded to offer more money to Khalil in gratitude for saving his sister, though at the stern indication that she was not entirely saved yet, Justin seemed to deflate and nod his head sadly. He agreed without hesitation that he would like Khalil to keep an eye on Kaitlin until she had recovered.

Justin had even offered to have Khalil over for breakfast in a day or two to have Kaitlin meet him when she was back on her feet, and so they could have a sort of….intervention.
Justin actually broke a smile when he mentioned he made a mean bacon and eggs.

Now, nestled against the warmth of the boiler, Khalil felt the sin and the ichor of his visit to Oblivion burning away under the caress of Gabriel’s fiery dominion.

It’s not long after Khalil receives his call from Harry that the Symphony erupts a ways away with a discordant cacophony. There was a plume of black smoke rising on the horizon as Brighton House burned.

His phone rang again. It was Solomon.

When the Malakim had answered, the Cherub of Faith spoke immediately.

”Khalil, we may have need of you soon. A Demon attacked Brighton House. They blew up the library with Sopholael and a number of students inside. It was an incendiary, so I’m suspecting a Servant of Belial. We may need to fight Fire with Fire. Jerichael and I are going to meet at the Howitzer shortly. We’ve asked the Seneschals to stay close in case this is a precursor to a larger attack. Do you have the time to meet us?”

* * * * *


EAST ORCHARD STREET, EAST COMPTON/LYNNWOOD GARDENS

Haralambos

The call to Sarah, conveniently enough, seemed to catch her right before she arrived at the penthouse that Selena Carter called home.

When Harry turns his attention back to Hanna, he suddenly catches movement out of the corner of his eye. An honest-to-god herse drives up – painted a vile shade of puce and bearing upon its side the logo of Mr.Lee’s All-you-can-eatery.

Harry could scarcely believe his luck, as the driver’s side door pops open and out steps the most corpulently rotund man he’s ever seen. He has to weigh over four-hundred pounds. He’s still in his chef’s garb. It’s none other than Mr.Lee himself. He waddles up to the house that Harry had destroyed the Imps in nearby. He’s not even halfway up the walk before he starts yelling about inconsiderate, incompetent little goons. The yelling is so loud that he jowls warble grotesquely and even Hanna stops her own thoughtful singing, and stands on the porch to glance at the fat Asian man making his way up to the other house.

She looks about as disgusted as Harry feels.

[JeenLeen]

A wide grin grows on Harry's face.

He glances towards Hanna, approving of her disgust but anxious about her seeing him attack. What if he wants to show himself as a friend later?
Well, things are limited, aren't they?

He walks, somewhat casually, towards the house Lee nearing, glancing inside the hearse to see if it has a driver or anyone else who might come to Lee's aid. Regardless of what he sees, he walks forward. As he walks, he activates his Resonance on Lee, just in case the demon says anything.

If Lee enters the house, Harry follows at a rush and slams his fist into the back of the fiend's bloated head. But if Lee starts to return to the car or sees Harry approaching, he starts the fight outside, sorry for Hanna's sake but prioritizing the War.

As he feels his fist hit flesh, he snarls, albeit quietly to not draw outside attention, "You stink of gluttony. Time to die and return to your master."

In the back of his mind, he really hopes that, of the Songs that cowardly pig knows, the Celestial Song of Motion isn't one of them.


@ Anyr: let me know what Sarah shares about Serena. Harry would say that, if she is an angel or spirit and it helps, she's welcome to share what he is.

Resonance
[roll0] @ 8
[roll1]

Move Silently, in case you want it for him approaching without trying to draw notice. Ignore if it's not needed.
[roll2] @ 10
[roll3]

Fist/Kick
TN check for intervention: [roll4]
Damage: [roll5]
Is there any bonus for a surprise attack? If yes, please add the end result to my damage check. Here's hoping his Vessel is low and I can stun him with a heavy damage roll ^_^

[Erulasto]

A wide grin grows on Harry's face.

He glances towards Hanna, approving of her disgust but anxious about her seeing him attack. What if he wants to show himself as a friend later?
Well, things are limited, aren't they?

He walks, somewhat casually, towards the house Lee nearing, glancing inside the hearse to see if it has a driver or anyone else who might come to Lee's aid. Regardless of what he sees, he walks forward. As he walks, he activates his Resonance on Lee, just in case the demon says anything.

If Lee enters the house, Harry follows at a rush and slams his fist into the back of the fiend's bloated head. But if Lee starts to return to the car or sees Harry approaching, he starts the fight outside, sorry for Hanna's sake but prioritizing the War.

As he feels his fist hit flesh, he snarls, albeit quietly to not draw outside attention, "You stink of gluttony. Time to die and return to your master."

In the back of his mind, he really hopes that, of the Songs that cowardly pig knows, the Celestial Song of Motion isn't one of them.


@ Anyr: let me know what Sarah shares about Serena. Harry would say that, if she is an angel or spirit and it helps, she's welcome to share what he is.

Resonance
[roll0] @ 8
[roll1]

Move Silently, in case you want it for him approaching without trying to draw notice. Ignore if it's not needed.
[roll2] @ 10
[roll3]

Fist/Kick
TN check for intervention: [roll4]
Damage: [roll5]
Is there any bonus for a surprise attack? If yes, please add the end result to my damage check. Here's hoping his Vessel is low and I can stun him with a heavy damage roll ^_^



Lee makes it into the house slowly, but eventually he makes his way into and promptly see's the blood stains on the floor that were spilled from the Imp after Haralambos struck it with the 2x4.

The Djinn wasn't given a chance to turn around or even squawk his surprise before Haralambos' fist bashes the Demon in the back of the head with a meaty crunch and sends him staggering forward with the force of the blow. The Seraph was remarkably light on his feet and the Djinn was particularly obtuse.

Lee turns about on stubby legs and snarls, his jowls rippling and spittle flying from his large mouth.

"When I'm done putting you down like the lapdog you are, I'm going to enjoy eating you for second breakfast!"

The Djinn releases a flash of Infernal essence, and his stubby fingers shift and twist into razor-sharp, but gnarled talons.

He bellows a loud roar, his mouth distending into an inhuman shape as row upon row of lamprey-like teeth undulate within his gullet.

Lee darts forward with surprising speed for his bulk, though not gracefully - more like a stampeding hippopotamus and rakes a claw forward towards Harry.


I'm going to shake things up for this and actually show the rolls for this, since we're looking at your first honest-to-god fight with a Demon.
For transparency, Lee has Numinous Corpus: Claws/2 (+2 Accuracy, +2 Power), Fighting of 1, Strength of 8 and 3 Corporeal Forces.

[roll0] TN 14
[roll1] +2 Power

EDIT: I rolled again in the OOC channel.
(2d6)[7]
(1d6)[4]


Lee has a Dodge skill of 1, Agility of 4 and no acrobatics, giving him a Dodge TN of 5. Since you are a Seraph of War, Lee cannot dodge unless he Full Dodges - which he's not doing at the moment.
Let's see what Harry can do. :smallamused:
EDIT: I knew I shouldn't have previewed before I posted.

[XIII]

McDonald's Parking Lot

Khalil greeted Solomon warmly, "Salam, brother. Thank you for coming, I've never had much of a healer's touch. She will have my flame to light the way out of the dark. My task is not finished until she is saved, that was the contract I made with her brother." Khalil cleaned the blood off himself as Solomon went to work, "Got a little messy, I should have held back more. Either way, the man will be fine after his nose and lip heals up."

"A rebel, eh? I can't say I cross paths with any. By the time I knew Sarah she was already one of us, plus it's different with her. I don't know how to feel about this, but I promise to refrain for burning him as long as he seeks the light."


Justin and Kaitlin's Home

Khalil greeted Justin with a big smile, "Special delivery." Khalil attempted to make it seem difficult for him to move Kaitlin, he was just an old man after all. He kept his anger pushed down when he didn't find worried parents scrambling to find their daughter. He would have a talk with their parents one day. "She's not out of the woods, Justin. At the risk of sounding like a anti-drug commercial, addiction is a disease. We have to be here for her, care for her, and when need be stop her from harming herself again. If we don't she'll end up back where she was. Justin, I only barely made it in time to save her. Any later and she could have been gone, taken, or worse. Kaitlin comes first from now on, everything else comes second. You have my number, don't hesitate to use it." Khalil stroked his mustache pensively in between thoughts, "I don't need your money, I've already been paid. I will take you up on breakfast though. Let me know when she wakes up, especially if she gives you trouble." Khalil grabbed Justin by the shoulders and smiled, "You're a good brother, a good man. We can do this."

Sentinel Investigations

Khalil basked in the heat, offering prayers to Gabriel as he relaxed in it's purifying embrace. He could not stop thinking of the brother and sister, he prayed for peace and healing on their behalf. Talking to Harry had given him a lot to think about, he prayed for guidance for them all. Khalil jumped up at the disturbance in the symphony. By Gabriel, what was that? Khalil picked up the phone...

Khalil listened intently to Solomon. His fists clenched as he listened. By the time Solomon was done Khalil felt the fire inside him raging to be released. "I'll... Be right there."

Please let it be one of Belial's scum. Oh, please.

[Anyr]

While driving through the rainy streets, Sarah heard a phone ringing in her bag. The ringtone sounded different from usual. This wasn't her expensive, top of the line phone. It was the cheap, disposable one. Despite appearances, the latter had a more important role. She took one hand off the steering wheel in order to rummage in her bag. Such poor road safety! Adele's reckless driving had rubbed off on her. Sarah managed to extract and answer the phone without any major vehicular disasters.


"Sarah, it's Harry. I saw that Serena person last night at the Pits -- y'now, the escort? -- with one of those Russian sisters. I fought a Soldier working for the Russians, and Serena seemed... well, maybe to notice something. Was looking at me odd. Do you know if she's... more than a normal person? I'm thinking of hiring her to see what she is. Any idea how I could reach her?
Also, I got offered a job by the Russians. Gonna turn it down. The brainy one's bad, but not a fiend. Younger one stinks of lust, though, from what I've heard. I'm hoping to talk to her and see what she is. You ever deal with them?"

...Huh. Sometimes the Symphony could be quite blatant. Not that Sarah was complaining. 'Coincidences' like this were gifts. Harry had certainly stumbled upon some interesting information. And as usual, he approached it in an endearingly straightforward way. The mental image of him dating/interrogating Serena was hilarious. Maybe Sarah could spare him some embarrassment.

"I don't know much about the sisters. Ellington and Wolf doesn't generally seek business with the Russian mob. I do know exactly how to reach Selena, though: Because I'm on my way to meet her right now. She's a witness in one of my cases. I've never heard of her being involved in the War before. But I'll definitely keep an eye out for celestial influence. If I spot any, I'll let you know."

Soon enough, Sarah was looking up at Selena’s home. It made quite a first impression. She checked her reflection in these towering mirrors that touched the sky. She wanted to make a good first impression too. The building's interior continued to impress. Every part through which Sarah passed, from the lobby to the elevator to the corridors, was exquisitely crafted. She actually felt a bit guilty for enjoying it so much. This place was a symbol of needless extravagance. But Sarah couldn't resist drinking it in. Bright or not, she was still a Lilim. And the best was yet to come.

A wooden door opened to reveal the apartment beyond; Along with its owner. Sarah had learnt not to stare too much at beautiful humans. They tended to take it badly. In this case, though, she had a feeling it would be all right. Her eyes roamed the full length of Selena Carter: Not in a lustful, lecherous way; But rather, in the manner of someone sincerely admiring a work of art. Naturally, she took particular interest in the eyes. What Needs swam within them?

I'll stop here for now: Just in case the Need/most desired trade affects Sarah's approach.

[JeenLeen]

"When I'm done putting you down like the lapdog you are, I'm going to enjoy eating you for second breakfast!"

The Djinn releases a flash of Infernal essence, and his stubby fingers shift and twist into razor-sharp, but gnarled talons.

He bellows a loud roar, his mouth distending into an inhuman shape as row upon row of lamprey-like teeth undulate within his gullet.

Lee darts forward with surprising speed for his bulk, though not gracefully - more like a stampeding hippopotamus and rakes a claw forward towards Harry.

Harry's smile grows wider as the idiot chooses to fight. A real challenge! It feels like ages since he's fought an actual demon who knows how to fight!

As the brute rushes forward, Harry sees with delight that the fight shouldn't be too hard. The beast is strong, but slow. That means Harry's Forces, toned to fight on this realm, probably outbalance his enemy. Excellent!

Harry moves with ease to dodge the claws, ignoring any blood that starts to flow if they reach him. In reply, he deftly swivels and lands a kick against the bloated one's ribcage.

With the second round of combat, Harry lets out a musical cord as he moves his hands intricately, before smashing his open palm into the creature's leg, hoping to snap it in half. As he touches, he tries to attune his body to Lee's garment, to better track him should he flee.

"I heard you blubber on your phone about the pretty witch. Wanna give me her name so I kill her next?"


EDIT: yes, great rolls. No damage from his claws. Also, remember I'm wearing Kevlar.

Combat Round 1: includes dodging his first claw rake. Or did he get to attack in the 'surprise round'?

Dodging:
Acrobatics TN 10: [roll0]
Check: [roll1]
Dodge TN for intervention: [roll2]
Check: [roll3]

Combat:
Fist/Kick
TN check for intervention: [roll4]
Damage: [roll5]

Combat Round 2:
Trying Corporeal Song of Attraction on his pants:
Sing TN 8: [roll6]
Check: [roll7]
I don't think there's a bonus with Songs for touching, but if there is, please apply it appropriately. Celestial Song would be more useful, but seems way too likely to fail to be worth casting in-combat.

Dodging:
Acrobatics TN 10: [roll8]
Check: [roll9]
Dodge TN for intervention: [roll10]
Check: [roll11]

Combat:
Fist/Kick
TN check for intervention: [roll12]
Damage: [roll13]

[Erulasto]

EAST ORCHARD STREET, EAST COMPTON/LYNNWOOD GARDENS
GLUTTONOUS SAFE-HOUSE

Haralambos


I had forgotten the Kevlar, thanks for the reminder.

Also, no, he didn’t get to attack in the surprise round, but I figured I’d save time by getting his action in already, though technically it should have been Harry attacking, then attacking again (as his Agility is way higher than the fat Demon’s). So what I’m going to do to mitigate that is only make actions for combat round 2 in this post since Lee already acted for round 1. Hope that’s not as needlessly complicated as it sounds in my head.


The corpulent Djinn rakes his claws through the air that once held the Seraph of War - and while they don’t achieve Lee’s purpose of eviscerating his opponent, they do rend wicked gouges in the drywall and awful 50’s flower-print wallpaper. Whether Lee is too enraged to notice or care, Harry already hears the rippling and echoing disharmony at the destruction the Demon is causing.
This could get noisy.

When Harry lands the kick to Lee’s side, he feels bone fracturing under the impact and the Djinn squeaks out a sound of pain. It’s like kicking a sandbag wrapped in jell-o, and Harry can see the spreading ripple of across the fat like a still pond disturbed by a pebble.


I believe there is no way to resist the Celestial Song of Attraction, so I’m proceeding under that assumption. I’m assuming you only spent one Essence to invoke it.


Haralambos is able to intone the music of his Song, and feels the essence coil itself around the Djinn and imprint itself upon him. For the next four hours, Haralambos will be able to track Lee if the grotesque Djinn of Gluttony tries to flee.

Lee snarls in impotent rage as the Song settles upon him, and lunges towards the Seraph again. This time, the peal of essence upon the Symphony is heard as Lee attempts to utilize one of the disgusting gifts that Haagenti provides, but the shocked look of horror on his bloated face is perhaps indicative that his Superior is presently unhappy with his performance.

The shock of this failure seems to drag the Djinn into a moment of stunned indecision.


Well, that roll was a bust. Oh well! Maybe he can bite you next time. Hehe

[Erulasto]

BRIGHTON HOUSE

Khalil Dhali

When Khalil arrives, Brighton House is surrounded by a veritable wall of flesh. Officers of the LAPD stand in the torrential rain with water-resistant overcoats worn to help stave off the elements. They’re keeping the passerby’s away and helping to herd the evacuated students of Brighton House to safer climates.

Several large fire trucks are parked nearby, the firemen rushing around while they work ceaselessly to contain the blaze – though, fortunately, the weather is doing an admirable job by itself. It’s obvious to Khalil that the fire was simply the byproduct of a more directed and targeted attack. With the weather: rain saturating the building itself, that the fire would not likely have spread far on its own. Instead, the incendiaries were used to wholly consume the library and everything in it.

Jerichael stood next to Solomon across the street, a bright yellow umbrella held in Solomon’s hand to keep the rain away from the two of them. Jerichael had added a leather jacket to his tank top and stone-washed jeans, and Solomon had his hair down and some soot staining his cheek. Both looked deeply troubled.

The Library at Brighton House was tended by a kind soul – Sopholael, an Elohite Servant of Yves – and he did not deserve such an end, and while he would awaken eventually in Heaven, the students consumed in the blast would not get a chance to achieve their own Destinies, and instead be recycled back into the Symphony to try again.

Jerichael didn’t speak when Khalil arrived, he simply gave Khalil a grim nod of acknowledgement. Solomon however, smiled wanly at his friend.

”Oh, how I wish it were under better circumstances to see you again Khalil.”

[Anyr]

A single glance can change so much. One moment, Sarah was walking confidently into the room; And the next, she was frozen in place. Selena's eyes had ensnared her. The Needs within them were...unexpected. In an instant, half of Sarah's plans for this meeting collapsed. Unless she constructed some metaphorical scaffolding, the other half would be next. She had t-Wait, how long had she been staring? Move, idiot!

With an effort, she forced herself back into motion. Hopefully Selena was used to people getting lost in her eyes. Sarah let out an embarrassed cough as she bent down to remove her shoes. Time to get back into 'lawyer mode'.

"*Ahem*. Selena Carter? My name is Sarah Summers. I'm a contract negotiator, representing Bethany Caulfield. You met her recently at the Rhapsody in Red. A group of Blackwater agents were trying to recruit her. Do you remember?"

Outwardly, she just seemed a bit flustered. Inwardly, her mind was racing like Adele on an open road. Reading Selena's Needs was like downing an emotional cocktail. Sympathy, fear and anger warred for dominance within Sarah. This woman was the architect of many people's pain: Including her own. She silently begged for something that might not even be possible. Sarah could already see a dozen ways in which helping Selena could go disastrously wrong.

But she'd try anyway. It was the right thing to do.

[JeenLeen]

Speaking to Sarah

Harry is surprised to hear Sarah's words, and he lets it show fully in his voice, tinged for concern for his fellow celestial.
"Wow. That's something. Well, just be careful. I'm not sure what she is, but she seems something even if she's human.

If you can, let me know what you find out. And let me know if you want me to stay away from her, or try to read the Truth from her. I'd be glad to help ya, but I don't want to mess up your plans."

The Fight with Lee

Harry's face grows annoyed at the disruptions Lee is adding to the Symphony. Whatever happens here, Harry does not want to draw attention to Hanna's home. Unfortunately, those claws seem too sharp for Harry to just sit and take it. But his expression is replaced with a smile as he feels the new senses of the demon's location swirl in his mind.

Seeing the stunned expression on the demon's face, Harry decides to try to end the fight faster.

He spins and slams his elbow into the demon's face, Singing a deep baritone as he moves. Unfortunately, nothing happens beyond the wasted Essence and the elbow's hit. Harry quickly kicks backwards to avoid whatever the demon tries in reprisal. With childish glee overpowering his disappointment at his Singing, Harry goads on the demon.
"I figured you might be as stupid as you look, but I didn't think you'd be as stupid and weak as you look."
He follows it up with another kick to the leg and more footwork to avoid the creature's counters.

Although the fight is fun, the undulations of Lee's flesh, and the sickly feeling of his fist indenting it, make the fight slightly nauseating as well. Harry misses his longsword. And his tail.


Yes, one Essence for the Song. Since my check digit was 4 and I also have the Corporeal version of the Song, I get +1 check digit for 5 hours total, right? (I hope it doesn't matter, but want to make sure I got the rules down right.)

I didn't 100% follow what you said about fixing the combat rounds, but I think I got it and it sounds good. I'll keep rolling. I guess 2 more rounds, and see what changes. Harry's hoping to goad Lee's pride, to keep him fighting.

Essence Left 8/9
Damage taken: 0

Round 3
Dodging:
Acrobatics TN 10: [roll0]
Check: [roll1]
Dodge TN for intervention: [roll2]
Check: [roll3]

Fist/Kick
TN check for intervention: [roll4]
Damage: [roll5]

Round 4
Dodging:
Acrobatics TN 10: [roll6]
Check: [roll7]
Dodge TN for intervention: [roll8]
Check: [roll9]

Fist/Kick
TN check for intervention: [roll10]
Damage: [roll11]

[Erulasto]

HALO SUITES PENTHOUSES

Sarah

When Sarah managed to shake herself free of the reverie and shock she was likely feeling, it seemed that – while Selena was most likely used to people staring at her – it hadn’t gone unnoticed.

The gorgeous blonde wore a pleased smirk on her ruby-red lips, and an elegant brow was quirked with amusement. When the shoes had been left behind, Selena gestured for Sarah to join her in the living room on one of the leather couches while she provided her professional spiel.

”Oh yes. Bethany. Pretty young thing. Such a bright future.” A shadow of a scowl passed across her features, displeasure showing plainly for a moment before it seemed to settle back into a distantly amused façade. ”It would be a shame to waste her talents under someone like Blackwater employs. They are leeches, suckling at the blood of the innocent and leaving husks of wasted potential.” Selena took another sip of her wine, before a soft laugh rose past her lips. ”Where are my manners? My apologies, Miss Summers. May I offer you a glass of wine? A cooler? I can whip you up something stronger if your tastes run a bit more….adventurous.” Selena moves to a tall wine-rack along one of the walls of her kitchen, where Sarah catches a glimpse of several vintages worth hundreds of dollars, and a couple bottles of scotch and brandy that appeared to be in the original bottles they were brewed into during the Civil War.

Regardless to whether Sarah acquiesces to the inquiry about a drink, Selena eventually tilts her head – still wearing that amused smirk – and settles onto a couch across from Sarah. She crosses her legs daintily upon the couch, and smooths out the black fabric of her skirt with an almost disinterested fashion.

”How may I be of…service…to you today, Miss Summers?” There was a coy glimmer in her eyes. She was certainly enjoying her time with an apparently flustered corporate lawyer.

[XIII]

Khalil parked his bug nearby and walked around the scene, absorbing all the details he could. His eyes scanned the policemen for familiar faces, hopefully someone who would spill the beans on what they know so far. The flames reflected off Khalil's eyes as he observed and analyzed, eyes that betrayed the youth of the soul within. He never liked the rain, the old man adjusted his tweed newsboy cap and wool coat uncomfortably. At least the rain is doing some good.

Khalil approached the two angels, "Jerichael. Solomon, likewise. I am eager to get to work, what do we know?"

Khalil imagined Sopholael and the innocent souls inside burning, screaming, attempting to flee. He had no doubt Sopholael did all he could here before burning away, that is if his vessel was not destroyed in the initial explosion. Khalil decided his rage would only be sated by visiting the same fate on those responsible for this.

[Anyr]

Sarah flopped down upon the comfy leather couch. Her professional persona was already in tatters. She had no hope of seeming cool and detached now. So she decided to go for 'nervous young businesswoman with a crush' instead. Instead of sitting still, she fidgeted noticeably in her seat. And despite apparent efforts to the contrary, her eyes kept wandering over Selena. Hopefully that'd provide a convincing excuse for her tension: Because that part wasn't an act. Sarah really was scrambling to cope with this situation. For now, she just focused on her original purpose.

"Wine? Thanks, but I'd better not. As for your (*ahem*) services, I'd like you to be an official witness. Blackwater recruited Bethany Caulfield using unethical and illegal tactics. At the moment, though, it's her word against theirs. If you'd agree to testify on her behalf, we can free her from Blackwater's clutches."

After which, Selena would presumably try to ensnare Bethany in her clutches. Sarah could see so many problems on the horizon. She'd just have to deal with each as it came.

[Erulasto]

EAST ORCHARD STREET, EAST COMPTON/LYNNWOOD GARDENS
GLUTTONOUS SAFE-HOUSE

Haralambos


Yes, five hours for the duration. My apologies for not including it in the last post. I was going off memory for some of it while I was having a coffee break. Hehe

Sorry for any confusion with the post about fixing combat rounds. I realize I didn’t even make a lot of sense to myself. Regardless, I think we’re on track at the moment.

Round 3
Mister Lee! Claw Attack! Go!

[roll0]
[roll1]



Had Lee the foresight or information that would have allowed him to identify that the nimble man he had engaged in combat was a Servant of War, he perhaps wouldn’t have been overly eager to continue the fight with Haralambos. He knew he was losing, at least in some part of his corruption-addled mind, but the hunger for the flesh of this Angel was beginning to overpower what little sense of self-preservation that this corpulent Djinn had.

He went down to a knee roughly, with a sound much like that of a stuck and wounded boar, after Harry’s kick shattered his kneecap. The Djinn, teeth grit against the pain while spittle and what appeared to be bile from his ravenous gullet dripped down his chin, pushed himself back up and took another wild swing at the Seraph.

The Djinn was seething as, once again, the Seraph had avoided his wicked talons. The sounds of sweaty exertion mingled with snarls, and rabid grunts filled the house as, once again, his claws rent the wall behind Harry - this time shredding a painting of the McDonald's logo.



Claw! Claw! Claw!

[roll2]
[roll3]



Harry had deftly avoided the Djinn's blow, and slipped in through his defenses. A knife-edged hand slammed into Lee's throat, and harry felt the cartilage collapse under the force of his blow and Lee staggered for a moment on weak, stubby legs.

And then, like a towering tree being felled in the forest, the fat Djinn toppled over - gasping weakly as the life fled from his vessel through a ruined trachea.

A surge of militant pride swelled in Harry as he thought of the approving, if grim, smile that Michael would have given him.

And that's when he heard the sweet, young voice behind him scream....

* * * * *


BRIGHTON HOUSE

Khalil Dhali

Jerichael and Solomon adjusted under the umbrella to make a little bit of room for Khalil to join them. The fire continued to rage, and Khalil could almost feel Gabriel’s displeasure at this act of devastation. These flames burned uncleanly, producing oily black smoke and the stench of burnt drywall, plaster and people. It was a nuance that would only be detectable to one of Gabriel’s chosen. Like sampling a fine wine.

Khalil could almost taste Belial on the wind.

That’s when he caught a whiff of foulness even closer than the abstract. It was the smell of petrol and other chemical accelerants, along with the scent of Pit-born malice.

His gaze was drawn to an unassuming Asian man. His head was shaven save for a single short Mohawk and a scruff of beard upon his chin. His eyes were covered in mirrored sunglasses, and a fat, hand-rolled cigarette was burning brightly as it was pinched tightly between his fingers. The burning embers on the end of the cigarette didn’t even sputter or flicker as the rain cascaded around it – as if it were burning incredibly brightly.

With a too-wide smile, he beckoned the three of them to come over and join him before taking a large drag on the cigarette and letting the smoke coil lazily from his mouth.

* * * * *


HALO SUITES PENTHOUSE

Sarah

The nervous, somewhat off-kilter persona that Sarah had erected to cope with the drastically changed circumstances of her visit seemed to do the trick. Either that, or Selena was just as masterful at the art of putting on a show as Sarah would likely expect, given her newfound revelations about the beautiful escort.

”Well, isn’t that a shame.” Selena spoke with her ruby red lips upturned in what seemed like the most genuine smile she’d offered Sarah since she arrived. She took another sip of her own wine – which swiftly turned into downing the entirety of the glass before idly settling it upon the floor next to the couch.

”I’d be more than happy to help Bethany in any way I can.” Sarah catches a hitch of….something….in her voice. Sympathy or understanding, perhaps? Guilt?

”Maxwell Strauss and I….have a sordid history, I should warn you, Miss Summers. It’s likely that the leeches he employs will try to…discredit…my reliability as a witness. But…then again….my lifestyle doesn’t leave me with a lot left in the shame department, and I’m used to people digging invasively into my personal life. So what do I have to lose?” The laugh that follows is musical and beautiful, if a bit self-depreciating.

”Do you have any timeline, Sarah….may I call you Sarah?” The question is abrupt, but regardless of Sarah’s response, she seems to steamroll on. “I’m very flexible with my schedule, so please let me know. I will make sure that I am available in any way you need me.”

[Erulasto]

THACHAEL’S LOFT

Jathiriel and Malchiel

As it turns out, when one expects the glory of a Celestial, one would not immediately think of them crammed like sardines into a tin can with wheels.

But that’s where they found themselves. Stepping off a packed subway near the loft complex that Thachael called home. The trip was, most likely, filled with a silence perhaps a little on this side of uncomfortable.

When the pair eventually ascended the wet steps of the subway, and into the downpour slickening the streets, they got their first glance at just what type of neighborhood that Thatch called home.

The side streets and alleys were all packed with kiosks and stalls like a massed bazaar, all under colorful tarps strung across the buildings on either side. There was a constant droning hum as the rain pattered and across the tarps above, which set a background track to the murmuring susurrus of voices as people milled about, doing their shopping in the farmer’s market. Near them, a faded hot dog stand under a red and white striped umbrella sizzled and filled the street with a wonderful smell – a blend of meats and several exotic spices.

Despite the weather, the area was filled with people coming and going, and the street was filled with a veritable sea of colorful umbrellas. A large, but squat building – maybe four or five stories tall at best – covered in old reddish orange bricks stood at the end of the street and it was here, on the third floor that Thachael called home.

The door was simple wood, and based on the scuff marks around the brand new brass door handle and dead bolt, it would seem it was forced at least once in the last few weeks. It wasn’t a dangerous neighborhood, but it certainly didn’t have that upscale flavor that came with areas like Hollywood Boulevard or Santa Monica.

Sitting next to the door, under a faded blue awning was a middle-aged man with black skin and long, unkempt dreadlocks. He was puffing on a carved pipe while his weathered hands danced across the strings of a small ukulele, the jaunty tune rising to mix with the rest of the noise filling the street. A top hat of abused black velvet sat upon the ground in front of him, a smattered mixture of coins glinting within.

[JeenLeen]

Victory! Not sure if you meant the surge of feeling at the end to express this or not, but winning this fight would count as the "Duel with a diabolical" rite of Michael, so I'd regen the essence I lost, right?

Also... was the scream right behind me, or nearby? I'll play it either way. But if my post is vague/confusing, it's because I wasn't sure if "behind" means immediately behind or the house or two behind me.

Also, Resonance on her (if she's the only person there) or on an abductor (if that's the situation.)
[roll0] @ 8
[roll1]

Lastly, does Lee look human at all upon dying? Or is he still clawed and lamphrey-mouthed?

Hmm... I'll try rolling Status for her impression of Haralambos, just in case I get divine intervention. Feel free to disregard.
[roll2] @ ??? (base is 6+3+1=10, but I could see covered in blood near a demon-corpse modifying that target number :smallbiggrin:)

(If the scream is another person besides Hanna, he reacts the same.)


Haralambos feels pride and exaltation -- not that he'd use those words -- as the Djinn falls dead. It's tinged with regret about the noise they made, but, all in all, it was a quiet fight. He starts to ponder if he should wait to see if any demons come to see what was up, when he hears the scream.

He turns around as quickly as he can, looking for Hanna. If he doesn't see her, he runs towards her house, moving inhumanly fast.

If, as he both hopes and fears, she's screaming simply at seeing him murder a man with his bare hands, he tries to talk as calmingly as he can, holding up his hands and motioning towards the bodies. "Hey, hey. I'm not a bad guy. That guy's a demon, and the others were cooking people. I'm here to protect..."
He cuts off as he realizes what he's saying probably isn't helping, and he's not sure if he should say he's here to protect her.
...he's, um, not that great at comforting mortals. While his charming childlike innocence might usually disarm fears, this is one of those time he likely seems more like a sociopathic idiot who doesn't realize that killing is bad. But he waits to see how she reacts, hoping it's listening -- or maybe some insight based on her being a prophet -- and not to run in terror calling for the police.

If she's being grabbed, he surges to the offender, hoping to quickly add another body to his list of kills this day.

[Anyr]

Success! At least, by previous metrics. Sarah had gotten what she'd originally came here to get. But now it just felt like the first steps of a long journey. Outwardly, the lawyer gave Selena a grateful smile. Despite all the hidden issues, she genuinely was grateful.

"Sarah's fine. And thank you for being so co-operative. It's a great help. As for the schedule, Blackwater is rushing things. Your moment in the spotlight will probably be in just a few days."

Her words only scratched the surface. There was so much more she wanted to say. She wanted to truly connect with Selena; To let her know that someone saw the Need within her. If only there were a way for the two of them to really talk, without masks or games. They might be able to figure a way out of this mess. For now, though, Sarah could only offer the simplest of links.

"Erm, I'll need some way of contacting you. Is it okay to exchange numbers? Feel free to call me too, if you have any questions. Or for, you know, some other reason..."

She twirled a strand of hair around her finger as she said that last bit. Legal proceedings and nervous flirting weren't exactly the kind of connection she sought. But she had to start somewhere. Selena was secretly begging for someone to help her. One way or another, Sarah would try to be that someone. Even though this was going to cause so many headaches...

[XIII]

Khalil scrunched his nose and covered it with his cuff, "Disgusting, offensive, vile" Khalil spoke the words with venom, his rage was beginning to boil over. He'd not witnessed much worse personally in his short lifetime. He had not been around to witness every travesty before and since the siege of Constantinople, as Solomon was. "Perversion- The ****ing nerve... Brothers..." Khalil motioned to the Chinese man waving them over, "Behold." he said sarcastically, with no small measure of anger. Spittle sprayed through the old man's gritted teeth as he attempted to keep his voice down, "Allow me this honor, Solomon. I will bring you it's charred husk; Gabriel roars for retribution, I feel it."

[Erulasto]

BRIGHTON HOUSE

Khalil Dhali

Solomon and Jerichael wore matching expressions of disgust, and righteous anger burned in their eyes as they took in the sight of the smoking Chinese man, who simply sat on the other side of the street with that too-wide smile and eyes hidden behind the mirrored sunglasses.
Jerichael, like Khalil, seemed the angriest. He had taken a single step forward, though both he and Khalil would have felt the strong but comforting grip of the Cherub of Faith upon their shoulders.

"I feel the wrath of Gabriel in you, my friend. I advise caution. We are....rather exposed out here." And it was true. Firefighters and a crowd of onlookers still milled about as the school burned. A gun-fight, or any fight for that matter that was visible to Mortals was likely to cause...complications.
"We are being baited." Jerichael finally spoke with a snarl. He tipped his head back to the man across the street, and gestured with some disgust at the bulge in the man's jacket that was, no doubt, a concealed weapon.

After a moment, Solomon looked back to Khalil. "I know this one. He is Zhangarmal, a Calabim in Belial's Court. He's apparently very good at selling his destructive tendencies to whichever mortal will pay. I am reluctant to engage, but he does seem to want to have a word with us....."

* * * * *


HALO SUITES PENTHOUSES

Sarah

Selena simply offered Sarah a small, gentle looking smile and nod to the warning about Blackwater and their attempt the hustle the proceedings along to a pace more to their liking.

The gorgeous woman moved to her kitchen once again, and pulled a sleek cell-phone off the granite countertops, before turning and all but sashaying back to Sarah. All the while, that...smile....was present. She lofted an elegant brow in amused contemplation, before she actually handed Sarah her unlocked cell.

"Go ahead and put your digits in, Sarah. I'll make sure to let you know who it is if a random, unidentified number pops up on your phone." She smirks, and sits back down upon the couch, leaving Sarah with the glossy black and rhinestone studded Android phone.

After a moment, she purses her lips in thought. "Would you...perhaps....do me a teensy little favor?" She flips her bangs out of her face, and turns a little more fully to face the Bright Lilim. It's almost like handing her the keys to the palace.

"Maybe just....let Bethany know that I hope she is okay? She doesn't owe me anything for my help. I'm just glad I was there to help."

* * * * *


GLUTTONOUS SAFE-HOUSE that ISN'T SO SAFE ANYMORE

Haralambos


The scream was directly behind Harry, at the front door to the safe house.


Haralambos doesn't need to look particularily far to find Hanna. She was standing at the top of the old faded steps on the porch, the front door in hand - now open wide to reveal the carnage beyond.

Harry see's her eyes on him, for at least a moment, when he whips around at her scream. More telling, perhaps, is that her eyes suddenly flicker across the room - taking in the vicious claw marks across the walls and through paintings. They fall then to the bloated, dead man on the ground.

She isn't panicking necessarily, as Haralambos' words pull her attention back to him. Her breathing is fast and erratic, and her skin has become a bit paler than normal, but she seems to be holding herself together surprisingly well.

After Harry trails off in his explanation, she blinks wide eyes and licks her dry lips apprehensively for a moment.

"You....you're not like them...are you?" Hanna raises a shaky hand, and points down to the corpse of the Djinn - who'se consciousness is now likely settling into Trauma back in Hell after being rather forcefully ejected from the Corporeal realm.

* * * * *


THACHAEL'S LOFT

Malchiel and Jathiriel


The Ukelele-playing man was very good friends with Thatch. He knew Thatch from....sometime...someplace....he just can't remember. Thatch always seemed sad when he spoke to him, but never really said why. He always tipped the Ukulele-guy, and bought him coffee and breakfast since all he had was his ukulele and the songs in his head.
He doesn't remember why he loved playing the ukulele so much. Just that it was important to him. Thatch said he was hurt in a car accident a few years ago, but he doesn't really remember it.
He really has no relationships with anyone but Thatch. People on the street barely pay him any mind, aside from maybe throwing him a few coins if they're feeling particularly guilty. For some reason, no one likes to sit and talk to him for long. They always get sad.

[JeenLeen]

Relief washes over Harry at her response.

Moving more towards his normal tone, with a calm sincerity, he says, "No, I'm not. That was... um, I'm not supposed to talk to this to humans, at least normally, but I think you're special, so maybe He won't mind. That," he says, motioning to Lee's former body, "well, that was a demon's body. Killing its body does real harm to their side, but unfortunately he can come back. Probably not for a few days, a couple weeks if we're lucky. The others are imps. And I... well, I fight demons."

Deciding he's probably said enough to cause trouble, he figures he might as well continue, He adds, "I'm an angel. I think you're having dreams about something important, and I want to protect you."

After a pause, he adds, "Do you believe me? I'd rather not waste the divine energy I have. I might need to fight more demons today, but I can Sing if you want to see a small miracle."

Whew...
Just a reminder that I got a good Resonance roll on her in my last post, so let me know the truth of what she says.

[Anyr]

Sarah got handed an unexpected temptation. Much as she liked Selena's seeming openness, it meant little. All those pretty words exposed her to no actual risk. The same couldn't be said for handing her unlocked phone to a stranger. Sarah weighed the black device on her palm. In the wrong hands, this could do some serious damage. Even an honest person might accidentally glimpse some of its secrets. Was this a test? A whim? Surely Selena couldn't really be this trusting.

Well, Sarah's next actions would be the same either way. She deliberately tilted the phone's screen so that the other woman could see it too. Then she navigated directly to the digital phone book; And added a new number to the listings. She did her best to avoid seeing anything she wasn't meant to see. Maybe she'd just missed out on a great spying opportunity. So be it. The Word of Trade was about building trust; Not betraying someone to gain a petty, short-term advantage. Once the deed was done, Sarah handed the phone back to Selena.

Then came the request to pass along a message. Bethany would probably be glad to hear that someone else was in her corner. Sarah really wanted to believe in Selena's good intentions here. It'd be wonderful if she genuinely was concerned for Bethany's well-being. As with the phone, though, Sarah couldn't help but be suspicious. Not that that showed on her face, of course. Her face was still smiling gratefully.

"Of course I can, Miss Carter! I'll pass along your good wishes to Bethany. The poor girl needs all the support she can get right now. It's so nice to know that she can rely on you."

There was one thing that Sarah knew for a fact: Selena did have a conscience. She was capable of remorse. And right now, her remorse was overwhelming. She knew the pain of betraying someone's trust. Maybe that was the starting point that Sarah needed. Maybe through it, she could help Selena see the value of forming a true bond.

[Failed Phantasm]

It was a very different demon who exited the subway station, practically grinning as he took in a deep breath laden with the scent of rain and fresh fruit and wet plastic and car exhaust, more pleasant in every way than the stench of body odor and cheap perfume (among other things) of a subway car. But both in the subway and out on the streets, his tension and fear had practically evaporated to the point that he might have thrown out his arms and spun gleefully in the downpour were it not for the press of the crowd around him and the presence of the Elohite beside him. ‘Finally!’ he thought to himself as he strolled through the market with a jaunty smile and a vigorous pace. The frenetic, unchoreographed press of bodies pulled him this way and that, hypnotically guiding him through the dance as if they were the charmer and he the snake. He greatly preferred the company of humans – wonderful, Symphony-deaf, utterly non-magical humans – so much more than that of most other celestials, though the irony of that prospect was not lost on him: today he reveled to be among the jealous and petty creatures who had murdered his friends and precipitated his Fall millennia ago. But that was all in the past! Better a mob of humans with their proverbial torches and pitchforks than the tender scrutinies of the Malakim. At least the former could (eventually) be reasoned with; the latter would hold grudges ‘til Judgement Day.

It was only when he heard the sound of an instrument rising above the din that he realized that he was where he had meant to go, as both address and description matched what the Elohite – wherever he’d disappeared to – had told him earlier. The street musician was almost enough to bring his mood crashing down. No one had told him whether or not there was an angel guarding the place, even if it should have been obvious in hindsight, and he really had no desire to deal with another blatantly hostile new “friend”. Still, he refrained from scowling and listened with his celestial senses, carefully focusing on the musician lest he unintentionally learn the complete life stories of random passers-by. Had he scowled, it would have quickly become a wicked grin upon hearing the echoing emptiness return: there was only one class of being he’d ever encountered whose only presence in the Symphony was a distinct tenor of trauma and terror. «Remnant,» he whispered to himself in the demonic tongue. Granted, he knew that he shouldn’t try to terrorize or torment the wretched creature, no matter how fun it might have once been and no matter how easy it was to unintentionally do. He striving to be worthy of Heaven again, he reminded himself.

‘I’ll try the door first,’ he thought, ignoring the man and turning the handle to the building. ‘Chat him up only if need be.’


CONDITION
Health 96 / 96, Essence 10 / 10

➜ Body 12 / 12
➜ Mind 24 / 24
➜ Soul 60 / 60

ACTIVE EFFECTS

Truthfulness/6: Roll (Will – Truthfulness) whenever you attempt to lie or use the Balseraph resonance. Failure obligates you to tell the truth instead.

[Erulasto]

GLUTTONOUS SAFE HOUSE

Haralambos

To her credit, Hanna doesn't seem - particularly - phased by his explanation. She's got some of the physical fear responses still - erratic heartbeat, pale and clammy skin and shallow breathing - but she doesn't move away from Harry as he moves a bit closer to her, and she seems to be having a remarkably easy time adjusting to the revelation.

"I...uh....yeah, I do believe you. I shouldn't, but it...honestly...it kinda makes sense now?" She frowns a bit, and leans back against the wall, before sliding down to sit on the floor across from Lee's bloated corpse. Tucking her knee's up to her chest, she sighs and hangs her head a bit.

"My...uncle....I guess? He said some strange things to me before he....he tried to...um...kill me?" She wipes at her eyes to stave off any gathering tears. "He said if I wouldn't sing the song he wanted then I had to...had to die. But...he didn't have my uncle's voice. I don't know....I knew no one would believe me if I told them."



Every word Hanna says rings true with the Symphony. Mostly. The notion that no one would believe her is false, but she does believe it to be true.
I think that covers it at a check digit of 4.


* * * * *


HALO SUITES PENTHOUSE

Sarah

Selena had offered Sarah the proverbial keys to the city. Perhaps she had ulterior motives - it was hard not to be suspicious, knowing what she knew - but unless she got a Seraph invovled, it was unlikely she'd have any answers that would not come with time.

When Selena took the phone back, she immediately swapped the contact information to Sarah with a heart emoji next to it, with a small grin on her ruby red lips, then rose after collecting her empty wine glass and moving to pour herself another generous helping.

"She's a good kid, you know? I'd hate for her to get any more mixed up in this world." Selena heaves a heavy sigh, and for just a moment, Sarah catches a glimpse of the weariness and - perhaps - loneliness that weigh upon the escort.

"Oh and....Sarah? Be careful yourself. Blackwater is excellent at covering it's bases, and....I can't get you proof....but they've got some ties to people even less scrupulous and reputable than themselves, if you can believe it. I've heard some horror stories of...shakedowns....and the sort. Just make sure that everyone you've got involved in this can take care of themselves. There's been too much suffering in this city already."

Selena all but downs the entirely refreshed glass of wine in one rather impressive go before turning her back to the Bright Lilim and turning the soulful music crackling from her antique record player back up - filling the suite with the mournful wailing of a jazz saxophone, and sucinctly ending the conversation it seemed.

* * * * *


THACHAEL'S LOFT

Jathiriel and Malchiel

Whether the Balseraph had any intention of traumatizing the Remnant or not, as Jathiriel approached, the man continued plucking the strings of his ukulele and smiled up at him as he approached the door. It was a radiant smile - warm and friendly - and belied the great tragedy that had befallen the dark skinned musician as he sat on the steps. He dipped his head in greeting, though no words were expressed, and his attention returned to the flow of the music.

A couple more passerby's tossed some coins into the top hat, clinking audibly as the amount grew.

When Jathiriel had arrived at the door, he found it was unlocked - and beyond, through the dirty glass - he saw a stairwell winding around upon itself as it rose to each floor above street level.

The door cracked open, easy enough, the hinges squealing in protest. This place really was sort of run down, and Jathiriel found a strange parallel between this area of Los Angeles and the Remnant, and perhaps even himself - from a certain point of view: abandoned, forgotten, fallen through the cracks in the great hustle and bustle of the Symphony as it pressed onwards despite leaving some things behind.

[Anyr]

There it was again: The Need. It called out from within Selena's eyes. The motives behind it weren't exactly virtuous. But they carried the potential for virtue. Sarah needed to nurture that potential. She knew that it might be dangerous. And behind her sympathy for Selena, an undercurrent of anger still lurked. This woman had caused much pain to good people...just like Sarah. And also like Sarah, Selena deserved a chance to set things right.

Her host's elegant voice gave way to jazz music. Their first meeting (hopefully the first of many) had come to an end. Sarah reluctantly rose from the comfortable couch. Some of her anxiousness showed through as she said her goodbyes. Had she made a good impression? Would Selena want to see her again? Luckily, those worries could also be those of an eager to please, somewhat smitten lawyer. So they fit both Role and reality.

"Thank you for everything. I'll be sure to heed your warnings. And please don't hesitate to call; Y-You know, if you want to."

With one last backward glance, Sarah departed. She made her way through the luxurious building; And out into the rainy city. The wind gave her a breezy welcome, as she waited for the valet to bring her car. Almost by rote, she extracted her shabbier phone from its bag. A promise guided her hand. She really didn't want to make this call. But it'd literally be dissonant for her to avoid it.

Across town, Madman Harry's phone rang.

[XIII]

"It's either a trap..." Everything else Khalil could think of ended how a trap usually did, with them killed. "Correction, it's probably a trap. Shall we?" Khalil would follow the more experienced angels' leads, wary of an ambush or foul play.

[JeenLeen]

Hanna
Harry's smile at her reassuring answer gives way to a look of concern and sorrow as he describes her uncle.

"Shedim," he says with disgust in his voice. "They're a type of a demon that can possess people. I'm told there's at least one in town, though I haven't gotten to fight it personally. Disgusting creatures, using people, corrupting people... I'm truly sorry to hear that about your uncle. Maybe we can save him, too."

He feels conflicted. He knows he probably should be asking her questions, to inform the other angels, but he isn't sure what to ask. And he realizes he should be doing more to comfort her, but this really isn't what he was made for. His mind goes back to safety and fights.
"We should move from here. When angels or demons do, um, certain stuff, it can make noise we can sense. This fight wasn't super noisy, but it might've attracted someone's eye. I don't want you here if another demon shows up, and honestly the other angels might be mad at me for telling you what I did. But I'm glad I did, if that Shedim already spoke to you."

Harry looks outside, to make sure the coast appears clear.
"Can you head back towards your house, and let's talk more there? I should do one more thing here. Or, if not your place, is there a coffee shop or Dunkin Donuts nearby? I don't usually eat, but my treat."
If Hanna makes it out safely, Harry takes Lee's cell phone, wallet, keys, and anything else not-too-disgusting in his pockets, then, after covering his face with a spare apron from the safehouse, picks up the bloated corpse and hauls it to the hearse-car. He heaves it on top of the vehicle, tosses the cretin's driver's license into the car, then walks back to the Djinn's former safehouse.
That should almost certainly destroy his Role.

Once inside, he looks with satisfaction at his work. He's about to leave when his phone rings. Sarah.
...
After they finish talking, he washes the blood off in the sink, then heads out the back to meet up with Hanna.
He waves, and comfortingly puts a hand on her shoulder, and says, "My name's Haralambos, by the way. Is there anything you can tell me about you or your uncle, that might help me protect you? Or about your nightmares or what it wanted you to sing? Or, um, if you just wanna talk to someone who believes you, that's fine, too."


New resonance roll for talking with her, since I reckon enough minutes pass. Doing it with the touch for +2 bonus (not that it mattered with the roll... the bonus for touch is just to check digit, not the activation, right?)
[roll0] @ 8
[roll1]

Edit: :smallfrown:
Edit 2: to clarify, the apron was around Harry's head. Basically, trying to protect his role's legal status should someone see him place the corpse. His hope is that someone calls the cops soon.


---
Phone Call with Sarah

As Harry prepares to shift forms, his phone rings. Sarah.
He answers quickly, the adrenaline and vigor of the last fight leading him to concern for his fellow angel's corporeal safety. "Sarah, are you okay?"

[Anyr]

It took a while for Sarah to reply. She carefully considered the phrasing of her next words. She'd promised to share this information with Harry. But the two of them were very different people. Their reactions to it would be different too. After making sure that nobody was listening, she finally spoke.

"...I'm okay. I just finished meeting Selena. You were right: She's on the other team. One of Andre's subordinates. Here's the twist, though: She's also Thatch's lady in red. Now we know how the information leaked."

And why Thatch got destroyed. Sarah didn't say that part aloud. The pitch she was about to make would be difficult enough, without reminding Harry about that. Memories of Thatch rose unbidden to her mind's eye; Then were firmly pushed down again. Revenge would just make a bad situation worse. She had to explain that in a way that Harry would understand.

"This'll probably make you angry. It makes me angry too. But I need you to stay in control. Listen carefully, Harry. I'm only telling you this because I promised. This chain of information needs to stop with you. Do not tell the others about Selena. You don't need to lie. Just...don't volunteer anything. The Destiny of a human soul depends on it.

I have a plan to handle the lady in red. It has way more potential benefits than a violent approach would; As long as nobody messes it up. So please, promise me you'll stay out of the way. This is my battle. Let me fight it on my own terms."

[JeenLeen]

Phone Call with Sarah

Harry pauses for moment, then says, "Thinking. Um, hold on."

She was a Soldier, or demon, or something of Lust. She should die... but it wasn't the first time he was supposed to wait. And he guessed something it was a war of politics instead of fists and blade.

"...um, listen, I don't promise anything. Don't want to get caught in a lie later. But, I guess I can keep quiet about this. Just, are you going to find out where the compass is hid? That matters for the Five. If it falls to Lust, that's bad for their souls. And I reckon others of us are wasting time trying to find the Red Lady.

But, yeah, I'll stay away from Selena as I can. At least, until your part in this war is other. If she needs killing, though, you can let me know. Or if you need some muscle in whatever you're doing."


Really good think Sarah got to her first ^_^

[Anyr]

"Of course I'm trying to find the compass. But I couldn't just brazenly ask about her favourite coffee shop. I have to be patient and subtle. Don't worry, Harry. I'm keeping all the factors in mind."

It actually felt more like juggling too many plates. Harry's position was completely reasonable. Plenty of Angels would say that finding the compass took priority over everything else: That saving two individual souls along with it wasn't worth the risk. Sarah didn't think like that. She was part of the second most human Choir. The cosmic battle for the compass felt like a distant abstraction to her. She felt far closer to the Needs of Bethany, Selena, and Jason. Oh God, Jason! She'd almost forgotten about him. Hopefully he wouldn't need her help in the near future. Because if he did, she really would be stretched thin.

"Anyway, that's the situation. Thanks for understanding."

[JeenLeen]

Talking to Sarah

He sounds hesitant, but agreeable.
"...you sure you can't just ask? It sounded like Thatch thought she would tell us. But I'll trust you to understand it better than me. I don't really understand how Trade fights this war, but I I know you're doing Good. I'd like you tell the others you have a lead on the compass, that you're handling it. That way they don't waste their time."

"And, should it come to Selena needing killing, do you know what she is? Demon or Band? Soldier? I won't attack her until your part is over, unless it's that you need saving or, um"--here, he pauses and speaks the next word with embarrassment--"avenging, but it'd help me to know, even if it's a few months from now. And it might help me tonight, since she was talking to the Russians.."

[Erulasto]

BRIGHTON HOUSE
Khalil Dhali

Solomon nods to Khalil, and Jerichael shoves his fists into his jacket pockets with a scowl as they slowly - cautiously - make their way over to the grinning Demon.

As they approach, the grin doesn't waver one iota. Instead, Zhangarmal claps his hands together and chuckles softly as he speaks with a thick accent born of a lifetime of speaking Cantonese.

"Wonderful! I am most pleased that you - my esteemed friends - could join me, here, today!" He gestures to a small diner across the street.
"Come, come. Let us get out of the rain, yes? I cannot speak for all of you, my friends, but I do not readily enjoy being...wet. I'm more of a....dry heat....sort of man, yes?"
The grin remains, and he takes a few tentative steps towards the diner, though never turning his back on the three Angels.
Solomon and Jerichael share a look, and glance towards Khalil as well. They're troubled, for sure, but also concerned at what sort of calamity this could escalate into if they tried to make a go for the Demon in the middle of a crowded street.

* * * * *


ON THE ROAD AGAIN

Sarah

It hadn't taken long for the valet to bring her car around - and she was comforted knowing that it was just as pristine and intact as it had been when the valet had taken it from her.

Once she was out and driving again, the Bright Lilim had her conversation with Haralambos. Sarah certainly was being stretched quite thin. It was thoroughly likely that Marc would want her to - at least - keep an eye on the goings on in the city, especially if there was some greater prophecy at play here. But a renegade Balseraph, the potential for a young girl to meet her Fate, and now Selena on top of which? There was only so much she could manage, even if she was a favored member of Marc's entourage.

It was only a few moments after Harry had finished his call with Sarah that her phone chimed twice with incoming text messages. The first appeared to be from Selena.

It didn't say much. Simply: Thx for the visit. Was nice to meet u! Let me know if u or Bethany need anything?

The second was from Claire. It contained several attachments in PDF format for her to peruse, including the meeting minutes from her sit down with Bethany, an updated time-table for the case, and a concise point-form analysis of Ellington and Wolf's case against Blackwater as it stood currently. For a human, she moved like Adele did when it came to her work. It was...impressive.

She knew that Mercy had been meeting with Jason and Mel at the Flower Shop, and that Solomon and Jerichael had opted to at least have a brief meeting with them as a chance to talk to the Balseraph.

Harry had been killing Soldiers - and a Demon of Gluttony - as he was wont to do. Ramiel - the Cherub of War brought in to protect one of the Five was likely doing his thing at Hollywood Arts. That was a pretty concise set of circumstances. The only real variables, thus so far, were the location of the Compass, the identities of the other four mortals, and maybe what in the High Heaven happened at Brighton House?

* * * * *


DUNKIN DOUGHNUTS

Haralambos

Hanna had taken all of Harry's explanation it seemed with a proverbial grain of salt. She certainly seemed to have a remarkable amount of composure given the nature of what was going on. But, even Harry would likely realize that if a Shedim had gotten into her uncle - the convicted killer Louis Dancourt who was currently having his case appealled at the level of the California Supreme Court - and had tried to kill her, it's likely she went through something far more traumatic than simply a fat Djinn and the righteous ass-whooping it got from Haralambos.

Hanna had agreed to meet him in about fifteen or twenty minutes at the nearest doughnut shop a few blocks away. She had to grab a few things before she left, but he watched her scurry away with an umbrella.

The apron did the trick and masked his features as he disposed of the Djinn's body in plain sight. By the time he was slipping away unseen and unnoticed, Lee's bloated body had already attracted some attention and far away sirens were heard in the distance once more - a seemingly common occurence in this neighborhood.

Once Harry got to the Dunkin' Doughnut, he saw Hanna sitting in a corner with a steaming mug of coffee and a few glazed doughnuts on the table in front of her.

She offered Haralambos a timid smile as he sat, and pushed a doughnut towards him in askance.

Then, she took a small nibble of her own, and washed it down with coffee containing so much cream and sugar it might as well have been white in color.
"Nice to meet you...I guess. I don't know what I can tell you that I didn't already tell the police and everyone else about what he did.....but I suppose the bits that stood out the most were this....I dunno...black oil that seemed to be covering his eyes and staining his teeth. He was drooling it as he laughed. Thick, black oil." She shudders unconsciously, and takes another sip of her coffee.

"Uncle Louis....or whatever it was.....said that someone was going to bring me a song that wouldn't make sense at first, but...um...he said I was going to get together with a few other friends and we were going to perform the song for somebody important...and...um...that...that's why I needed to die. I couldn't be allowed to sing the song, or something."

She sighed heavily.

"Look...it...it doesn't make any more sense to me, okay? I just...I just don't know what's going on."

[JeenLeen]

Dunkin Donuts

Harry's eyes have a mix of compassion and confusion at her story. He guessed it showed, given her last remark.
The Shedim didn't want her to sing? And what was that oil? It was a very unfortunate time for his Seraphic senses to fail.

"I believe you," he opens with, in complete sincerity. Maybe she has a detail or two wrong, but he believes she is telling the truth as she saw it.
"A lot of that doesn't make sense to me, either. But I," he sighs, then continues, "Angels aren't like most people think of them. We're made for different purposes, different strengths. I'm a fighter, not a thinker. I'm sure you're smarter than me. Most people are. So my main thoughts right now is that there's a creature after you I probably can't just punch, but I don't understand what it wants, or, well, didn't want, and I don't know what to do.

But I've got friends who are smarter. I'll talk to them. And one of my top priorities right now is making sure you're safe. If your uncle gets free, I'll do what I can to keep him away."
He grows a tad sheepish.
"I, um, I don't know what it's like to lose family. Don't have any. But I've lost friends. I reckon you feel confused about your uncle. If you want him to die for what he did, I understand that." Thinking back to Selena and Thatch, he continues, "But revenge can be Selfish, even if for a friend. I'd like to save both of you from the Bad Guys, if I can. Shedim corrupt, but there should still be a human soul worth saving in him."

[Anyr]

"She's an Impudite. And I doubt that Thatch knew. It's the kind of thing he'd probably have mentioned. As for just asking her...I honestly don't know what she'd do. Maybe she really would give it to us. Selena is a mess, Harry. She's desperately searching for a way out of the hole she's dug for herself. The trouble is, that exit could take many forms.

As for the other seekers, I wouldn't say that they're wasting their time. There has to be more than one way to find Thatch's coffee shop. They might well reach it before me. Anyway, Harry, I'd better go. You've given me a lot to think about."

Could Harry's straightforward suggestion actually be the right one? Sarah had felt that same impulse during the meeting: To reveal her true nature, and honestly reach out to Selena. But fear of the risks had restrained her. Selena might embrace Sarah like a lifebelt in a stormy sea; Or she might hand her new friend, and the compass, over to Andrealphus, in the hopes of earning a pardon. This wasn't like Jason's pure, direct desire for Redemption. Selena's desires had the potential for many paths. Sarah was already risking a lot. At the moment, she couldn't justify putting her life (and possibly those of the Five) in a Demon's hands.

No sooner had she hung up, when her phone received an extra dose of temptation. The seemingly innocent text message made Sarah second guess herself all over again. Was Selena reaching out to her? Augh, she really wanted to give that woman a hug! To tell her that striving for goodness was worth the trouble. Sarah had a feeling that, sooner or later, she'd surrender to that impulse.

But not yet. Today she was taking things step by step. Not all of Selena's Needs provoked a moral dilemma. Sarah could (hopefully) accomplish one of them with just a quick text message to Bethany.

[Just met with Selena Carter. She wants you to know that she's happy to help; And that she hopes you're okay.]

If only this whole case were that simple.

I think that that fulfills the favour that Selena requested. I'm guessing that this is a level 1 Geas?

[JeenLeen]

Sarah

"Alright. I'll trust you, but just be careful. Not meaning to be talking down to you -- I don't like it when the others do that to me -- but just I worry 'bout my fellows getting into fights. I get that your busy, but if you know anything special about the Dancourt murderer, could you send it my way? I think a Shedim was controlling him, going after one of the Five. Can fill you in later"

[XIII]

"Shut the **** up and get on with it, Gargamel. You smell like the bottom of a burning dumpster. What, you don't shower too? Also, nice haircut." Khalil's nerves were on fire, waiting for the inevitable betrayal. He moved cautiously toward the diner, pulling out his phone to check his messages briefly and making it look as if he sent a brief text. Khalil would continue to follow Solomon's lead, but pressed forward, eager to get this over with.

[seatyger]

Malchiel regarded the remnant for several moments. His song seemed familiar, but nothing from twisting vines from his long memory reached out to the Elohite's consciousness. Still, though, the music resonated within the Symphony, and Mel drank in its tones as he placed a comforting hand on the musician's shoulder on the way up the stairs.

"Sorry," he announced as he caught up with Jathiriel, "a little girl lost her teddy and needed a little help finding it."

He peered into the building past the penitent's shoulder.

"Come on. Let's see if there is anything of use in the apartment."

Mel is happy to follow Jathiriel up the stairs. It isn't his nature to push past folks; he's dispassionate, not rude.

[Erulasto]

DUNKIN DOUGNUTS

Haralambos

Hanna rests her face in her hands with a heavy sigh, and shakes her head slowly after a moment before continuing.

"I suppose having an Angelic equivilent of an MMA fighter watching out for me isn't so bad. No offense?" She offers him a shy smile, before taking another sip of her coffee. "My uncle was a bit distant at the best of times. He used to study a lof of ancient history and whatnot, you know? Was a Professor for a while at that special school...Brighton House...before he..um...you know." She shakes her head again, and taps her fingers on the tabletop in a strange, almost melodious rhythm.

"I appreicate the sentiment, Haralambos. But I think my uncle is a bit past saving. Even if you were able to...I dunno...kill or whatever, that thing in him? I can't imagine the cops being all like: 'Oh, he was possessed by a demon from Hell. I guess we'll let him out of jail now.' Besides, I don't think I could be in the same room with him without some traumatic BS flashbacks of what he did to me."

Hanna glances around a bit nervously, before her hands slip down to the collar of her shirt and she pulls it down to reveal her collarbone and the flesh beneath it. It's not much of a view, but the top of vivid scars that Louis anointed her flesh with are visible enough to give Harry a pretty gruesome, if distinct, idea of what she's talking about.

Once she releases the collar of her shirt, and settles it back into place to hide what's beneath, she quirks a brow thoughtfully. "You know....I was wondering. Do you work alone, or do you have like....a whole posse of Angels to keep the peace?"

* * * * *


ON THE ROAD AGAIN

Sarah



Yes indeed! That's a Level 1 Geas under your belt!



It wasn't long after that a chime from her phone notified her that Bethany had responded with an all-caps YES and a number of thumbs-up and heart emojis. It's followed by a second text thanking the Bright Lilim again for all her help. Bethany even makes the rather ironic claim that she's lucky to have a Guardian Angel in Louboutins watching out for her.

After the text, there is a moment of respite for Sarah as she drove through the rain-slicked streets of Los Angeles. The respite was broken several heartbeats later when Sarah's phone rang, one more time.

The number that flashed caused a lump to form, heavy in her gut. It was Adam, and it was a simple text.

[Sarah. Your presence is needed immediately at my office. We have questions we would like for you to answer, if you are able.]
The Triad was requesting her presence. That was never a good thing.

As Sarah was driving, she happened to pass by the Oblivion Club and though it was closed for the moment - not set to open until the sun had begun to set - there was a surprising amount of activiy. Three large black SUV's with tinted windows were aligned in front of the club, and the street was filled with a few men and women in suits.

* * * * *


BRIGHTON HOUSE

Khalil Dhali

The Calabim grinned still, his expression not faltering in the face of Khalil's open hostility.

"Now now...control yourself." He opened his jacket wide, revealing dozens of small strips of a putty-like greyish-brown substace strapped to a thin black vest and interconnected by a multitude of wires. It was wide enough as well to reveal the rather large caliber handgun he wore in a holster at his side. It struck Khalil that he was well prepared to face three of the most competent Angels in Los Angeles by his lonesome. Even for a Calabim, he was proving that he may not have been as stupid as his Superior.

Once the jacket settles back into place, he looks around casually and takes a seat before the three Angels. Jerichael and Solomon seem a bit paler than normal at the revelation of the dead man's switch being worn by the Demon, but neither seem particularily interested in sitting with the Calabim.
"I am here to give you a message. On my word." The grin actually fell from his face, as he leaned forward and tipped his mirrored shades down to regard the trio of Angels with unmasked eyes for a moment.

"We've got a little something in the works here, and, while I'm sure you'd all love to be the monkey wrench in our plans, I don't think that would be a good idea. See, your little divine librarian? The one who'se a pile of slag in the wreck of the school over there? He was the warning. I know the little bastard of Revelations got a message to you. Sod off and leave it alone and we don't start offing any more of your....friends. Feel me?" The Calabim leaned back, and clasped his hands over his lap while the grin started to spread on his face again.

"Not that I don't love the idea of burning you all to cinders, but Bethrezen would rather this be a...hmmm...a quiet transition. No sense stressing her out. It'll be a bitter enough pill to swallow without adding in any more death, feel me?"

[Erulasto]

THACHAEL'S LOFT

Jathiriel and Malchiel

It didn't take long to arrive at the door to Thachael's loft. The door was painted a faded forest green, and it was scuffed near the door handle which sat in a mess of splintered wood. The door was closed - barely staying that way - having been only partially repaired after being forced open by the hit squad that came for the Angel of Litheroy.

Several bright yellow strips of police tape were placed across the door, denoting this as an active crime scene - though really, it was long enough ago that it was likely that no police would have been making any new trips to this side of town to investigate what was, apparently, a home invasion.

It was easy to get inside, simply pushing the door open and stepping between two strips of the tape. The door opened with a groaning sound - the abused hinges needing some love and maybe some WD-40.

Inside was dim, but it seemed as though it would only have been as such due to the dreary clouds outside. The tall bay windows were covered only in thin, gauzy white curtains that probably allowed a great deal of ambient light to filter through on a bright day. The floor was old hardwood, and was in desperate need of a good waxing. It was also cluttered with debris and what appeared to be several bloodstains.

It had a lot of the common trappings of a young man in a loft. A shiny computer sat on a sleek IKEA desk - all dark stained wood and chrome. Notepads, portable hard drives and a handful of pens stuffed into an empty coffee mug sat on the top along with a couple CD's and a boxed copy of World of Warcraft. The kitchen was a bit dated, but it was in good repair. There was a bathroom tucked off to the side, near a large bank of bookshelves that covered almost an entire wall from floor to ceiling in books and stacks of paper.

A few esoteric paintings hung on the unfinished brick walls - some of them bearing gashes or gouges from a struggle.

A familiar looking bed - the one that Thatch and his Red Lady sat upon during one of his Vlogs - sat rather prominently in the middle of the loft, facing a wide-screen television on the wall next to a small Blu-ray player. An old nightstand next to the table had a thick, heavy looking leather bound book with colored tabs sticking out to save a number of pages. Next to it was an ash tray filled with cigarette stubs - all long since cold. A pack of matches bearing the mark of the Rhapsody in Red sat next to them, almost empty now save two or three.

Laying atop the blood speckled sheets of the bed was a small picture frame - simple and chrome - with cracked glass. On it, was a picture of an absolutely gorgeous woman with multi-hued blonde hair and wearing a red sweater and black sweat pants hugging Thatch from behind as they sat on a pier watching the sunset. It was a candid photograph, and it seemed they were giving each other major heart eyes.

[XIII]

Khalil had plenty of ideas on how he'd like to take down the scum across from him. Almost all could end up with him, his friends, and every human in the immediate vicinity killed. It was time to play it cool, he could always track him down later. Maybe.

"Oh, ok. Was that all?" Khalil said, a bit disappointed. A demon just told him to stop struggling against the infernal powers or they'd kill more angels. Imagine that. "They're really thinking outside the box downstairs, eh? Stop it or we'll keep killing you like we have been anyway? Can I go now?"

[JeenLeen]

Dunkin Donuts

Harry listens with consolation on his face she talks, a fleeting smile at the mention of an "MMA fighter". It's a shame Soph was dead for now; he might've known more about Louis, having worked at the same place.

He grimaces at seeing the scars. Not at the sight of the wounds themselves -- he's had, and inflicted, far worse -- but at the thought of them being inflicted upon an innocent child.

At her question, he gets a puzzled look for a moment before answering, "Er, sorta? I mostly work alone, unless another angel wants help. I'd tell you more, but a lot of angels like to keep their lives private. Like, I knew that fat man was a demon, so I went after him. Demons might do the same to us. Heh, I admit, before you showed up at that flophouse, I was kinda hoping a demon would've heard the noise and came, to put two back in hell today. But a human soul is more important than putting a demon down."

He pauses, a few wheels clicking in his mind -- and probably showing some puzzlement on his face.
"How... why did you come to the flophouse? I saw your disgust at seeing Lee, but, um... And you told me earlier it said you needed to Sing--I remember that clearly--but you mentioned just now it said you couldn't be allowed to Sing. Right?"

Harry tries to activate his Resonance again, knowing it's too soon, and feels the familiar headache of his senses being dazed. The activity of late had had him using it a lot. What a blasted, Fated time to lose his angelic sense of Truth.


By the way, I wouldn't have had Harry tell about other angels regardless of what I suspect. I almost had him say more in my post before realizing stuff OOC, but realized that'd be "not cool" in angelic society.

Right now, he reckons she's confused, and he's confused about why/how she came to the flophouse, mainly thinking as a prophet she might hear Noise. He's not suspecting Shedim. Still, an inconsistency puts a Seraph on edge, so let's try Detect Lies. Sadly, he's untrained as he overly relies on his angelic senses.

[roll0] @ 6 (Urgh, it's Perception - 2)
[roll1]

[Anyr]

Sarah was glad to give Bethany some good cheer. And in return, Bethany's replies made Sarah feel warm inside. This simple exchange of text messages managed to capture the essence of Trade. Marc's Word encompassed so much more than numbers on a balance sheet. It resonated throughout the best aspects of humanity.

Okay, no time to rest. Sarah's workload had already grown substantially. She needed to lighten it before some new crisis came-

*Ring Ring*

...along. Sarah literally groaned when she saw the incoming number. Adam only called when there was a problem: Or rather, when he thought there was a problem. Then some unfortunate Angel would have to waste valuable time putting Adam's mind at ease. Sarah did her best to empathise with the demanding Seraph. But he hadn't exactly made that easy. As usual, she responded to his text immediately. Any delay would make him even crabbier.

[On my way.]

Then she drove at high speed towards his office. Hopefully she'd be able to satisfy this latest inquisition quickly. She had a lot of better things to do.

[seatyger]

THACHAEL'S LOFT

Laying atop the blood speckled sheets of the bed was a small picture frame - simple and chrome - with cracked glass. On it, was a picture of an absolutely gorgeous woman with multi-hued blonde hair and wearing a red sweater and black sweat pants hugging Thatch from behind as they sat on a pier watching the sunset. It was a candid photograph, and it seemed they were giving each other major heart eyes.

Taking note of the state of the room and deciding to inspect the computer and drives later, Malchiel produced an ornate compass from the inside pocket of his jacket. It's artful construction matched the one shown by Thatch in his vlogs, though it's condition was nearly pristine, as if it had been created a week ago, rather than centuries.

"We need something of the girl's," he said, gesturing with the compass toward the picture on the bed. "A few hairs should be sufficient -- look for a brush in the bathroom. I'll see if there's something useful on the bed."

[Erulasto]

ADAM'S OFFICE

Sarah

Adam had his office at the courthouse of Los Angeles - he was acting as a young lawyer for the District Attorney's Office, after all. The building was grand and impressive, as any monolithic structure devoted to order and judiciary hearings was bound to be. No one paid Sarah much attention as she entered, aside from having to pass through a security checkpoint and metal detector. The guards were alert, though clearly a bit on the bored side. One portly man behind the monitor for the metal detector cast her a single, cursory glance before waving her on her way.

As she made her way to the elevators, she caught a glimpse of several armed prisoner guards flanking a tired - if a bit manic looking - man in his late forties. He was emaciated and looked unkempt in his bright orange jumpsuit, the shackles about his feet and hands rattling with each shuffling step he took. His shoulder length hair was a greasy, unwashed mousey brown and his eyes were cold - but haunted. Louis apparently hadn't shaved recently either, for the scruff on his chin and jaw were full enough to show sparse patches of wispy greys. Next to him was a man who bore the look of a shark. All sleek lines and predatory glint in his eyes. He was clean shaven, with expertly groomed hair and a tailored pinstripe suit. Recognition struck her momentarily as she realized this was none other than Louis Dancourt and his attourney - most likely on their way to one of the appeall hearings that the news had been speaking about recently.

As they headed off to whatever meeting was waiting for them, Sarah entered the elevator to the third floor where Adam's office was.

A few of the interns and paralegals smiled and nodded to her in a polite greeting as she made her way down the hall, a familiarity with the workings here striking her accutely. This place resonated with truth, justice and an optimistic drive to see good prevail.

Adam's office, however, was - frankly - oppressive. The decor was dark - polished, stained wood and heavy black-out curtains covered the windows that would have allowed the room a great view of the early morning sun. Adam was sitting behind his desk, the dark navy blue suit he wore and black tie shadowing him into the dimness of the room. The most surprising element of the room, however, was that Rezzael - the Malakim of Judgement - was present as well, though he appeared distinctly uncomfortable in a nice blazer and slacks instead of the usual monks robes he wore when he was on his own business.

Adam barely looked up when Sarah entered - it could have been a slight towards her, or simply Adam being a disingenuous dickbag as usual.

He was busy tapping away on his computer, but deigned to speak at her, rather than to her. "Sarah. So good of you to join us. Have a seat." Adam still hadn't acknowledged her any more than necessary, but she caught a look from Rezzael as he leaned next to one of the heavily curtained windows.

The Malakim nodded a curt, but polite greeting to Sarah though the look in his eyes was....uncertain? Wary? The sudden realization that the Malakim was hesitant about whatever this meeting would be about was like a bucket of cold water dumped over Sarah.

Whatever Adam had to say, it wasn't likely to be good news.

* * * * *


THACHAEL'S LOFT

Malchiel

The bed was messy - it hadn't been disturbed overly much since the night of Thatch's death - though Malchiel was sure that the police forensic team had combed over it as thoroughly as they could.

The sheets were speckled with old, dried blood. Malchiel couldn't be sure whose it was. Dust had gathered on the ultra-modern headboard, though one small area was much thinner than the rest - as if something had been sitting there until recently.

The picture of Thachael and his Red Lady still sat on the bed, atop the covers, looking as if someone had tossed it there out of hand. Upon closer inspection, the frame had been broken as well, and the corner of the picture jutted out precariously as the whole thing threatened to come undone at the slightest nudge. What really drew his eye, however, was the thin white stripe of a folded piece of paper jammed into the back of the frame to be hidden between the picture itself and the cork backing of the frame.

As Malchiel approached, his foot clipped something solid hidden just out of sight under the bed and obscured by dangling sheets and comforters.
Maybe the forensic team hadn't done such a good job after all.

* * * * *


DUNKIN DOUGHNUTS

Haralambos



I'm really glad you're speculating so much! I feel horrible when I can't be as consistent with posting as I'd like, but it's good to know that you're still enjoying it.

One the subject of the black tar look, it wouldn't be the common appearance of a Shedim in celestial form necessarily. Seigemonkeys inquired the same thing after Ramiel's encounter with it in the school. I'd go out on a limb and say that it's likely Harry would at least recognize the similarity between the tar and a Shedim, if not have an accurate idea of what it exactly is.

From a meta perspective, withouth going into great plot detail for fear of spoilers, I will at least confirm that it IS a Shedim - though I've made a few small adjustments to flavor for the purposes of Distinctions and/or Superior.

As far as all the speculation goes as to who or what Hanna is, the paranoia is like frosting on a cake for me. Mwah ha ha ha! I guess we'll see how things play out! You're free to try and stick with Hanna as long as you like - though I'm sure Madman Harry isn't someone Hanna is anxious to introduce to her adopted mom. That'd take some serious explaining.



Hanna seems content at least with Harry's explanation about the possibility of companions, and his hope to slay another Demon. She smiles a little at his earnest desire to send the Fallen back to Hell. It's good to love your work, right? Harry certainly isn't what Hanna would have expected an Angel to be like, but then again - she of all people should remember not to judge a book by its cover.

When Harry makes his puzzled inquiry into her own words to him, she pales slightly and frowns in consternation. Harry can almost see the neurons in her brain firing and making an attempt to find an answer to his question.

At first, she simply asks, in a quiet voice. "I heard some shouting and some noise from the house...and I know one of the kids who lives there. Name is Curtis. I wanted to make sure he was okay. He used to get into screaming matches with his parents, and he'd show up at school with a bruise or two sometimes. But...eh...seeing what was going on in there, I'm starting to wonder, you know?"

At the mention of Singing, Hanna seemed to wince and Harry could see her small hands balling into white-knuckled fists. The half-torn napkin she had been meticulously tearing into small peices was left abandoned on the tabletop.

Her mouth opens once, then twice, as if she's trying to find the right words. It's almost comical, if she didn't seem so....anxious about it.

"I....don't know Harry. I can't really...remember..." Her features take a bit more of a greenish hue as she's visibly struggling - mind seemingly racing. "I....I can't.....I have to Sing. I...know...but....they don't...want me to? Oh...oh God!" Then, just as suddenly as the anxiety begins to erupt on her face, eyes beginning to become wild and pulse erratic, Hanna turns from Harry and promptly begins vomiting on the floor of the Dunkin Doughnuts.

From the cash register, the middle-aged cashier calls over. "Hey! Is she okay?"

* * * * *


BRIGHTON HOUSE

Khalil Dhali

The Calabim nodded to Khalil with a grin, and stepped away from the trio of Angels.

"Yeah, that's all. I don't get paid to be creative, lapdog. Just to deliver the message....or the burn." He chuckled to himself as he turned to make his way out of the cafe. "Remember what I told you. You've got a lot of pretty little friends in this city, and I know a few of the Fallen who would just love to get their hands on someone like your Bright Lilim or maybe the Flower girl, yeah? Toodles!" With that, the Calabin was stepping back out into the rain and pausing to light a cigarette before wandering back in the direction of Brighton House - to no doubt admire his handiwork some more.

Solomon and Jerichael shared a dark look on their faces, but it was short lived enough that it appeared neither were entirely keen on the idea of letting this go.

It was Jerichael who gruffly spoke first. "If they're sending us a clear message like this, I suspect they're not in as much of a position of power as the Demons want us to think. If they really had the upper hand, would they even bother to try and warn us away?"

[JeenLeen]

Harry starts to say, with hesitation and fear, how the imps had cooked whoever lived in that house, with disgust and fear for the child she was mentioning... but then her expression froze him to silence.

At her sickness, he rushes to her side, holding her firmly but comfortingly, safely. When the clerk speaks, he replies with worry, "I... I don't know." After a moment's pause, he remembers and says, "She was told to stay home from school today. I thought she was okay. Sorry." He turns to Hanna, speaking softly, "Let's get you home," trying to help her to her feet once the vomiting ends.

With one hand supporting her, he reaches the other into his pocket and tosses a few twenties on the table, hoping that makes up somewhat for the unpleasant work that'll be required. He also eyes the vomit for a moment, his faint suspicions in the back of his head eyeing for the celestial form of a Shedim.

Whatever did this to her, he'd make it pay. In the back of his mind, a small part thinks, if she is some demon playing him, then that fiend will definitely pay.
He doesn't focus on it, though. Concern for the girl, confusion at what's happening, and frustration at things he can't punch away--that is what fills his mind.


If he does see the celestial form of a Shedim, he pauses to put some napkins on the vomit and whispers, firmly with frustrated rage, "Let's talk outside."

I forget if demons understand Celestial or not. If they do, he says it in the angelic tongue. If not, whispered English.
I also forget what the roll is to see Celestial forms. Please feel free to roll it for me, if needed.

[XIII]

"I'm surprised they pay their bitch-boys. Of course you'd threaten them and not us, not enough balls to come at me, eh? At least you're not too brain dead to realize your place, it would take more than a wet-around-the-ears errand boy like you to entertain us. Run along now, Sparky." Khalil smiled at the thought of watching the Calabim burn, it kept his rage at bay. It would be a slow burn.

"I agree, Jerichael. We should warn everyone else nonetheless, vermin are most dangerous when cornered. Whatever they're up to, it's big enough to get them anxious." Khalil spoke hurriedly, not wanting to lose the trail of the Calabim. "I'm going to find out what I can, I'll try to stay out of trouble. Excuse me my friends." Unless they stopped him, Khalil was in a hurry to shadow the filthy servant of Belial. The time would come to burn him, but this was about collecting intelligence.

Khalil pulled out his phone, before heading out the door and sent a group text.

Sarah and Harry
[Disturbance was an attack. Many casualties, one of ours down. They threatened to target Bright-Lawyer and Flower Girl next. Be safe, stay vigilant. Madman, I'm on the hunt.]

Khalil hated texting, it made his paranoia go off. But it was quick and easy, he didn't want to lose the Calabim

[Anyr]

Sarah had been to the courthouse plenty of times. She walked its august corridors almost by rote. Today, though, her steps were quick and impatient. There wasn't time to bask in this place's comforting atmosphere. The visit was just a distraction from her other responsibilities. But when the Triad summons you, you answer. Adam was empowered to demand the attendance of any Angel in the city. Sarah just wished that he'd stop abusing that privilege.

The encounter with Louis Dancourt didn't help. As Sarah walked past, she had trouble meeting his eyes. Serial killers had their own special kind of sickness. Many were the products of Infernal meddling; While others were just exercising their God-given free will. Either way, their Needs tended to be far from pleasant. Sarah really didn't want to see inside this man's head. But she looked anyway...and immediately regretted it. Sarah cared deeply for humanity. It genuinely hurt to see a human so defiled. Dancourt practically oozed with the most vile of influences. With a visible shudder, Sarah committed all she'd learnt about him to memory. The knowledge might prove useful to Harry and the others. Besides, she wanted to believe that that horrible experience had some kind of upside.

After that, Sarah hurried even faster to her destination. Despite her worsening mood, she made sure to return each friendly greeting she received along the way. These employees bore no blame for her troubles. They deserved a friendly smile to help improve their day: Especially if that day included a visit to Adam's office. Sarah felt the pressure skyrocket as she crossed the threshold. The whole room was in desperate need of a makeover. How did fostering paranoia and discomfort aid the cause of justice? Sarah had a hunch that Malphas would approve of this decor. She gave a respectful nod to Adam, and his unexpected companion. Rezzael was here too? Maybe this meeting really was important; Not that that was necessarily a good thing. At Adam's prompting, Sarah took a seat in front of his desk. She mentally braced herself for whatever would come next.

"Reporting as instructed. What do you need?"

[Erulasto]

BRIGHTON HOUSE

Khalil Dhali

Jerichael and Solomon both nod, and offer gentle farewells before stepping away together, muttering to themselves – no doubt planning, and strategizing.

The Calabim watched the fire burn for another ten or fifteen minutes, polishing off nearly as many cigarettes in the same amount of time. Eventually, he flicked the last stub of a cigarette away and shoved his hands into his jacket pocket before beginning to walk away from the smoldering wreck of Brighton House’s library, and towards a heavily wooded park a few blocks away.


Please give me a Move Silently test. If you don’t have it – I don’t recall if you do or not, and I don’t have your sheet in front of me – it’s Agility based with a default of -1.


* * * * *


DUNKIN DOUGHNUT

Haralambos

The vomit appeared to be just that – vomit. Lots of it, mind you, but nothing more.

As Harry tosses the twenties onto the table, the cashier is left with a strange expression on their face. One part a cringe of disgust, and one part surprise at the rather hefty bribe for the clean-up.

Hanna, however, seems to sink into his side as he wraps a comforting arm around her shoulder. The young woman seems distant, with a glazed, vacant expression. Something was seriously wrong with her. Harry may not have been exceptionally knowledgeable in human ailments, but he knew that this didn’t appear to be a simple stomach virus, or upset tummy.

After a moment, body wracked with shaky breaths, the fugue seems to begin to lift and Hanna glances up at Harry weakly.

”C…Can you…take me…home?”


Is Harry planning on watching over Hanna all day, or will he tuck her into her own house and head out?


* * * * *


ADAM’S OFFICE

Sarah

After Sarah voiced her compliance with Adam’s request, there was a stretch of silence while Adam continued to type away on his keyboard. The silence stretched just long enough that even Rezzael looked frustrated, and was just opening his mouth to speak when Adam abruptly stopped his work and turned his attention to Sarah.
He stared at her with a smile that didn’t meet his deep, dark eyes.

”And Judgement appreciates your punctuality.” He leans back in his leather chain, and steeples his fingers together in a languid show of thoughtfulness.

”Your service to your Word and, in your own way, the War has been exemplary, Sarah. You stand in a most fortuitous position, at the moment. It seems that Judgement has need of your services. In return, we are prepared to give your our official backing in any…bids you may be seeking to make for advancement. How does that sound to you?”


[roll0]
[roll1]
Edit: Success.


He rises from his desk, and makes his way to one of the curtains before shifting it slightly to peek outside – allowing a bright lance of sunlight to pierce the gloom.

”We have reason to believe that there is a traitor among us. They have been feeding information to the Fallen for some time, but have managed to stay beneath our notice. Until recently. This is, ultimately, the reason I was sent here to Los Angeles. Dominic trusts my ability to….discover those Outcasts who are damning themselves, and us.”

He turns the dark gaze back to Sarah, and a slow grin spreads on his face.

”Tell me, Sarah. How close are you really with Adele?”

[Anyr]

Every second of theatrical silence grated on Sarah. She had better things to do than sit in this office. When Adam finally deigned to speak, his opening remarks put her immediately on guard. He phrased them in a way close to both her Choir and Word: As a deal. That was a bad sign. Adam usually didn't bother with deals. He just expected people to obey. In other words, he knew that a simple instruction wouldn't be enough this time. As he continued, the sense of foreboding grew. A possible traitor within the ranks? No wonder Adam had sweetened the pot. Sarah would naturally be averse to siding with Judgement against a comrade. Who was it? That nervous tech expert, maybe? The dreamer?

Then he said the name. Then Sarah's world froze over. No. No no no no no. Not Adele. Anyone but Adele. Sarah didn't believe it for a moment, of course. Judgement had made a mistake. But that'd be small comfort for the prey in their sights. Was Adam really so deluded as to suspect Adele? Sarah dearly wanted to say that aloud: Preferably while shaking Adam by his collar. With great difficulty, she suppressed that urge. Her purpose was to find the path of greatest good. For her dear friend's sake, Sarah had to maintain a dialogue. Maybe with some diplomacy, she could dissuade Adam from this insane hunt.

"...Very close. May I ask what evidence has caused you to suspect her?"

That's it, Sarah. Stay calm. Staaayyyy caaaalllllmmmm.

[Siegemonkeys]

HOLLYWOOD ARTS HIGH SCHOOL
10:00 AM

Ramiel

Mrs.O’Donnell gives a pleased hum of acknowledgement at Sam’s quick-thinking concern for his friend, and simply waves a hand towards the door before returning her attention to the classroom and continuing her lessons for the day.

Ramiel would catch a glimpse of stilted rage and interrupted malice upon Agatha’s face as she glares proverbial daggers towards him, but it is likely of no real concern to the Cherub.

When the two of them make their way out of the classroom, Malcolm leans heavily upon Ramiel’s shoulder for support – and he can feel the tremors wracking the students body as his mind and body rebel against the hideous sight he’s seen.

Malcolm ends up sitting on the floor, back against some lockers with his head buried between his knees. The Cherub can hear the ragged breathing begin to slowly calm as Malcolm sorts through the traumatic experience.

”Thanks dude.” He whispers hoarsely after a few moments. ”What the **** was that, man? Like something out of a nightmare…..but I’m not sleeping, am I? This **** is real?”


If Ramiel wants to tell Malcolm the truth, go for it. If he wants to be deceitful or try and spin the tale into something a little different, please make a Fast-Talk roll (or the appropriate skill default otherwise).


Sam shakes his head. "No, you're definitely awake. But you're safe now, so just take a sec to calm down, alright?" When Malcolm was relatively calmed down, or at least not on the verge of passing out from fear, Sam sighs and runs a hand through his hair in exasperation. "Alright, so...where to begin? This is actually the first time I've ever had to explain this stuff to a...well, first, I need to do me a favor here, alright? I'm gonna tell you what's going on, but you gotta promise to hear me out. Cause what I'm gonna tell you is probably gonna sound crazy." He takes a deep breath, trying to collect his thoughts on where to start. He looks left and right, making sure they were still alone before he continues. "Alright, so. By any chance, are you religious? Cause if you weren't before, you're gonna be now, cause that thing was a demon and there's a lot more of them out there in this city. Most of them don't walk around looking like that though; Most have a vessel to blend in and look human. That particular kind of demon doesn't follow the normal rules though; Instead it's kind try to possess people to get the same effect. Considering how it was inching towards Mrs. O'Donnell, it was probably going to possess her. Now, before you start freaking out though, take a second and realize that if demons are real, that kinda means angels have to be real too, right? Cause they're out in the city too, and they also walk around in human disguises. I'll guarantee you've met them already and never even realized it. Sometimes they're that nice old lady that runs a bakery, sometimes they're that traffic cop that lets you go with a warning if you promise to slow down...And uh, sometimes they're that new kid that transfers into class and sits at the desk right next to you." He says, a bit of a clumsy way to admit to what he was, but then again he didn't exactly have a lot of experience telling humans what he was. "Now, before you start calling me crazy, remember what you just saw and remember how nobody else seemed to see what you and I saw. I saw it cause it's normal for angels and demons to see each other in their true forms. Normally, humans can't see us at all when we're like that. The fact you can see us in our celestial forms is part of the reason I'm here, and it also means I've actually gotta try and explain to you all this **** while trying not to sound like a crazy person. How am I doing on that so far?"

[JeenLeen]

Harry nods to the girl, helping her walk out the door. He walks in a path to avoid walking right by the flophouse Lee was killed in--if that adds an extra block or so to come around the other side of the block, so be it.

Thoughts race through Harry's mind. She's worse than he thought, with something strange. It sounds like Shedim had her uncle, but no Shedim he ever heard of looked like that. And her lies... it seemed like she didn't realize she was lying. Could a demon mess with a human's memories? Harry vaguely recalls that Blandine's dreamers could do that sometimes. Maybe the Princess of Nightmares could as well?
Or was she really a girl named Hanna? If demons were watching her -- he was sure they were to some degree -- was it her 'mother', or that cop uncle, maybe? Or just nightmare demons that Thatch and Blandine's guy in tweed were talking about.

His eyes show worry. So much harder when he can't just punch it.

Once inside, he helps her to her room and get into bed, saying, "Rest, but, um, try not to sleep. Nightmares would probably be bad now. Hanna, I don't know what's wrong with you, but I think demons did something. Did you see anything odd, or talk to anyone, after leaving me before meeting in the donut place?" If she can't answer, he doesn't press her. After she responds, he asks, "Do you have a phone book?"

Once she's settled, he looks up the number for Mercy's flower shop. Michael said Novalis' group wasn't bad, just kinda not pulling their weight. Well, he'd helped her out when needed in the past, and maybe she knew something.
If Mercy answers, he says, "Mercy, it's, um, Haralambos. I feel odd calling you, but you know about protecting life. I'm pretty sure I found one of the Five. Hanna, who that Louis Dancourt tried to kill. He killed her parents, and she lives with Louis' sister now. I don't really understand the family workup. But something's wrong with her..."
Harry describes what Hanna saw, her nightmares, and how she reacted to his noticing her inconsistencies. Including how she came to the flophouse after his fight with Lee, but seemed to be making up why--like she didn't really know the reason and had to rationalize it. "Don't humans do that when Shedim make 'em do something? What if she was possessed and followed him? But she wasn't lying when she told me about what she saw." With embarrassment, Harry admits his Seraphic senses burned out at that critical moment in the diner, when so much more was said, but he feels she wasn't lying so much as... messed up in the mind.
"Have you heard of something like that, either if that is a type of Shedim, or what could make her react like that? I'm afraid to leave her, but I don't think I should be here when her adopted mom gets home."


I realize a few things may interrupt my narrative. Just truncate it as needed if, say, we don't actually get inside.

EDIT: if he doesn't reach Mercy, I guess he calls Jerechial and says basically the same, just adding that he grabbed Lee's phone & keys in case that's helpful to anyone and can drop them off at the Howlitzer later.

[Erulasto]

ADAM’S OFFICE

Sarah

Adam leaned forward, a thin-lipped smile on his face. ”Of course. You may ask anything you wish. We are being…candid here, of course. It would not do well for business partners to hold out on one another, would it?” Again, Adam seemed to push the idea that partnering with Judgement in this regard could lead to all sorts of advantages for Sarah.

”We know Adele has been talking to Inanna. If she has dealings with an Ethereal…” he nearly spits the word, disgust coloring his tone. ”…and she’s hiding them, it stands to reason she is hiding other things.”

Adam reaches into a drawer on his desk, and pulls out a large manila envelope. From within, he draws a half-dozen large photographs of Adele either outside, or just within the Babylon Club. One final picture shows Adele sitting at a table in the club itself, across with a woman whose exotic beauty put Selena to shame. But, as much of a shock as this may have been, Sarah did know Adele. The expression on her face and the body language in the pictures is….wrong somehow.

”I realize this may come as a surprise to you, Sarah, but Adele could be dangerous to us – to you – in such a…politically unstable time period. Tell me. Has she…done anything out of the ordinary recently?” The smile that Adam is wearing is like that of a hunter who has just about lured his prey into the trap. It’s incredibly self-satisfied.

And to top it all off, Rezzael is looking rather stricken. It’s like this whole interaction is leaving a sour taste in his mouth.

* * * * *


HOLLYWOOD ARTS HIGH SCHOOL

Ramiel

Malcolm spends most of the monologue just sort of staring at Ramiel with a look between disbelief and horrible realization. When Ramiel alludes to being an Angel himself, Malcolm actually cracks a weak smile and chuckles softly.

At the end, he groans and wipes his hands across his face with exasperation.

”Well, **** man. That’s a bit heavier than I was expecting. I thought…maybe like…Aliens? Or rogue government experiements? But literal ANGELS and DEMONS? ****.” Malcolm shakes his head, and looks back to Ramiel with a strange expression.

”So…why can I see all this? What’s got a Demon and…I suppose and Angel….interested in me?” He reaches into his bag with a shaky hand – though the tremors are beginning to subside a bit – and pulls out a handful of granola bars. He offers one to Ramiel, before ripping one open and taking a bite of his own.

”And….maybe I’m just running my mouth here…but is your name really Sam?”

* * * * *


HANNA’S HOUSE

Haralambos

Hanna is easily navigated back home, and seems to relax somewhat when Harry helps her tuck into her room. She crawls into bed, and while she doesn’t seem to be ready for sleep, she pops earbuds in on her iPod and begins listening to music while curling up into a ball, sniffling softly, and trying to settle the last of her nerves. She doesn’t really give Harry much of an answer to his questions, just a slow shake of her head.

When Harry asks about a phone book, she finally speaks up, voice a bit hoarse, and softly murmurs. ”On the kitchen counter.” And goes back to the state of near-catatonia on her bed.

The phone book is exactly where she said it would be, and after a quick ring on the telephone, Mercy answers with a bright and cheerful. ”Hello! Mercy’s Flower Shop, how can I help you?”

Mercy offers a friendly greeting to Harry when he lets her know it’s him, but otherwise remains silent while he explains the situation.

After he’s done, there is a pregnant pause on the line, a soft humming being the only sound for a moment.

”I’m no expert, Harry, but it doesn’t sound like she was a Shedim’s host. They’re usually not happy to be in and out of a host, especially since they need to make attempts at corrupting a host a little more each day. I’m loathe to say it, but she doesn’t sound like that kind of victim. If I had to guess? Maybe she was the target of a Song? The Song of Possession lets anyone ride along, and it doesn’t have the same….limits…that the Shedim do. Maybe if she was hosting a Demon, it was a temporary thing? Or maybe someone did something to her memories? There are Songs that could do that as well, and the resonance of some Demons are good at mixing up how a human see’s the world.”

She sighs wistfully. ”I’d keep an eye on her if I were you, Harry. Especially if you think she might be one of the Five. But be careful. Everything is a mess right now, and if a Demon thinks you’re protecting her, you may find more than a little trouble. In Hanna’s case, it seems like Hell’s answer to her was to send Louis to kill her. At least he’s in jail – for the moment. They may not be ready to make any further moves against her yet. I know you’re solid in a fight, Harry, but please…be careful.”

[Erulasto]

A FEW BLOCKS FROM BRIGHTON HOUSE

Khalil Dhali

The Calabim cuts down an alley that runs parallel to the park he was heading towards, ducking out of the line of sight of regular folks passing by. One one side of the alley is a fire escape that leads up the side of a six story apartment block, and the other side is filled with heavy, metal security doors for a line of fast-food restaurants - their trash piled up just outside the door in overflowing dumpsters.

If Khalil follows the Calabim into the alley, he finds him leaning against a dumpster puffing on another cigarette.

[JeenLeen]

"Thanks, Mercy. I appreciate it." Harry sighs. "One confusing thing is that, when we first talked, she said she'd be killed for not singing. Then later she'd be killed so she couldn't sing. I think the demons want her alive, at least for now. ...with Louis, have you ever heard of Shedim making their host look like that?"

Harry checks on her again, telling her he's going out but will be back later today, if he can. He also tries to listen for a hint of what she's listening to, in case it's something odd like Malcolm's music. He mentions that he can turn into a pigeon, so a pigeon is probably him. A raven is probably another angel. But that some demons have animal forms, too.

Then, reluctantly, he leaves. He goes a few blocks until he's not seen, then sends the martial angels (Khalil, Jerechial, Solomon, and van Graff) a message.
[Heard Khalil tracking fire. Going to try to help. Any hints at where at? Pigeon going to listen for noise.]
He places his phone on the ground, assumes the shape of a pigeon, then flies towards Brighton House. ff he sees Solomon or Jerechial, he stops to get a direction, then continues flying. He stops and checks texts that come, if any, but is on the lookout for flames, gunshots, or the sound of Essence or celestials fighting.


I figure this is best for the next bit.

In case it matters, based on anything he senses or gets clues about.
Perception @ 8 [roll0]
Tracking @ 10 [roll1]

And if he does come upon his friend in a fight--pigeon diveball!
Fist/Kick
TN check for intervention: [roll2]
Damage: [roll3] (+1 due to ambush from above?)

[Anyr]

If Adam was expecting these photos to be undeniable proof of treason, he'd be disappointed. Oh, Sarah was certainly shocked by the revelation. She'd had no idea that Adele was involved with Ethereals. And the more she examined the pictures, the more questions they raised. The Adele captured in them seemed somehow different to the one she knew. Sarah peered into the memory of her friend's eyes. The Need she saw within them didn't make sense. Why would Adele have such a desire?

But none of these curiosities shook Sarah's faith. She was certain that Adele had an explanation for all of this. Adam was being lead astray by the long-standing enmity between Judgement and Wind. He didn't understand how important Janus' Servitors were to the world; And how important Adele was to Sarah. Of course, trying to explain the essential nature of freedom to him would be a waste of time. It'd be like explaining astrophysics to a fish. Sarah had to talk in a way that he'd understand. She knew the rules of dealing with Judgement. Rule one: Don't refuse to answer their questions. Rule two: Don't lie. Rule three: Don't seem evasive. Rule four: It's still possible to fool them while following all the rules.

"Out of the ordinary? Adele doesn't exactly do 'ordinary'. Servitors of the Wind are supposed to be spontaneous. How are we supposed to tell if someone's acting strange, when they always act strange?"

No stonewalling; No lies; No blatant evasions. Just a reasonable, honest answer. And yet, Sarah hadn't actually told Adam anything. While (hopefully) seeming to cooperate, she continued nudging the conversation in a more reasonable direction.

"Anyway, I agree that these photos raise some questions. But you've yet to show me anything treasonous. Talking to Ethereals isn't a crime. And Adele isn't obligated to inform us of her every conversation. Do you have any solid evidence of her being a traitor?"

If such negotiations were really a crime, then Marc himself would be public enemy number one. When Angels and Ethereals wanted to make a deal, they all knew which Word to contact...

...So why had Adele gone to that meeting alone? Oh God, please let her be safe...

[seatyger]

The picture of Thachael and his Red Lady still sat on the bed, atop the covers, looking as if someone had tossed it there out of hand. Upon closer inspection, the frame had been broken as well, and the corner of the picture jutted out precariously as the whole thing threatened to come undone at the slightest nudge. What really drew his eye, however, was the thin white stripe of a folded piece of paper jammed into the back of the frame to be hidden between the picture itself and the cork backing of the frame.

As Malchiel approached, his foot clipped something solid hidden just out of sight under the bed and obscured by dangling sheets and comforters.
Maybe the forensic team hadn't done such a good job after all.

The Angel of Eli paused, then took a step back and leaned over. Moving the comforter and sheets, Mel leaned down to inspect the "solid object." He first just visually looked it over, including whether its placement under the bed was haphazard or informative. Then, once satisfied, he pulled it from its hiding place and lifted it onto a surface (preferably level and not dotted with blood).

[XIII]

Khalil follows the wretched Calabim from a distance, using all the P.I. tricks he had learned in his short years. He kept his distance as much as possible, using people, parking lots, and street vendors to keep him hidden. He would use mirrors and glass storefronts to keep an eye on him, burying his face in his phone with the brightness turned down to obscure his face. Of course the camera was on so he could see where he was going and more importantly, zoom in on the Calabim while taking videos and pictures. He also made sure his phone was completely silent, because that would be downright embarrassing. Khalil kept an eye on the smoke when he couldn't see him. He

Khalil texts Harry his exact location to the best of his ability. [Hurry, I need your birdbrain. He's in an alley smoking. Chinese, Mohawk, suicide vest. Can't miss him.]

Khalil couldn't risk going into the alley blind, he'd scope it out from across the street.

[JeenLeen]

Khalil texts Harry his exact location to the best of his ability. [Hurry, I need your birdbrain. He's in an alley smoking. Chinese, Mohawk, suicide vest. Can't miss him.]

An odd sight for any onlookers (though there shouldn't be any): a pigeon, hearing the buzz from the phone it carries, alights upon a building roof. It puts down the phone, looks at it, does a few pecks, then flies off, again holding it.
Not the most obvious clues... but alleys near Brighton House, or near the proximity... well, he'd be on the lookout for celestial noise or the sounds of a fight.


Just realized (a while after writing the above) that XIII probably meant Khalil texted the location + the actual text in red, not that the text in red is the "exact location to the best of his ability".
I reckon it still takes Harry a little time, so I'll let Erulasto say when I arrive. I got pretty good on Tracking and Perception rolls, but I realize low Int & Precision should probably add a bit of time.

I am going to strive to not check the forums tonight, since I have a final exam tomorrow and need to sleep. So probably checking tomorrow afternoon if no developments before I leave work today.

Also, if Harry finds them, he does put his phone down on a roof before diving in or checking in with Khalil. He'll land near Khalil to take his lead on action if no fight has started yet. Feel free to RP either 1) Harry landing near Khalil and following his lead, but being willing to ambush-peck OR 2) Harry seeing Khalil & Cao fighting, and diving in to attack. Or, I hope not... 3) Harry finding a burning crater with a hopefully-alive Khalil, then diving in to help defend his friend :smallsmile:
I hope he's not immune to fire, but I suspect Cao Shen probably is.

[Erulasto]

ADAM’S OFFICE

Sarah

Adam pursed his lips at Sarah’s explanation of Adele’s strange behavior as a matter of fact. It wasn’t the answer he was obviously hoping for, though if she looked, Rezzael was stifling a small grin. It seemed even the Malakim of Judgement was a bit more inclined to want to believe in the Ofanim’s innocence.

”Yes, yes, yes…” Adam said, almost dismissively. ”I’ll grant that the Servitors of Wind are…erratic by their very natures, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t point out that they don’t, by and large, associate with known Enemies of Heaven.” That may have been a stretch, but the prejudice of Judgement was shining through, bright as day – and it was obvious that Adam shared his Superior’s opinion that Uriel should have been allowed to finish his Purity Crusade rather than allow any Ethereals to still exist on any realm.

When Sarah asked about solid evidence, Adam scoffed – the scowl rising to prominence on his face. ”Is it not that much of a stretch to assume that Adele associating with a…creature…such as Inanna – one who openly flaunts her so-called neutrality between Heaven and Hell – is only one or two steps away from find herself on the wrong side of the War?”

Adam sighed heavily – perhaps it was a tactic to elicit some sympathy – and leaned back in his chair once more. ”Mayhaps, if you are such close friends with Adele, you may want to try and help her, help herself. If she is toeing the line, would it not be the responsible thing to do to help her save herself?”

Rezzael was frowning by now, and turned his back on the conversation with a soft growl and frustrated shake of his head. Adam seemed to catch the gesture, a frown of his own replacing the calm demeanor he had been trying to achieve, though he said nothing of the Malakim’s snub.
Instead, his attention was returned to Sarah.

”We will suspend our investigation into Adele…for the time being. Especially since no one has any idea where she is…save perhaps her Ethereal friend. But…..I expect you will be forthcoming if you find any information that we can use to shepard a wayward member of our flock. ”

With that, Adam turns back to his computer and resumed working on whatever he had been upon her arrival – fingers dancing across the keyboard. An obvious dismissal, if Sarah had ever experienced one.

* * * * *


THACHAEL’S LOFT

Malchiel

Beneath the bed sat a heavy, leather-bound book. It was several inches thick – likely close to a thousand pages – and was almost a foot in length down the spine. The old leather was a faded flesh-tone, capped with rusted iron clasps and bindings. It was covered in dust, but Malchiel noticed several scratches along the surface of the wooden floor beneath the bed. If it had been here originally, someone had slid it along the floor to bury it deeper out of sight of casual observers. It reeked of intent.

When Malchiel touched the leather with his fingers, he felt a thrum of essence from within that caused the tips of his fingers to tingle like he had touched a spark and yet leave a strange, numbing cold behind. The book was frighteningly heavy as he hefted it out from under the bed, and onto a level surface. It was exquisitely made, his craftsman’s eye told him, but the creator was not a pleasant thing – for it was now revealed that the old leather was, in all likelihood, human skin. In fact, it was a face. The lips were sewn shut, and the eyes and nostrils pinned closed with thick iron rivets.

It appeared to be locked, though the metal clasp had no key hole – instead, it held a small indent with a rusty metal pin sticking up. A cursory glance would levy the assumption the indent would fit a fingertip perfectly.

* * * * *


A FEW BLOCKS FROM BRIGHTON HOUSE

Halalambos

Mercy hummed thoughtfully, and mentioned the potential use of the Song of Form, or various Numinous Corpus that could alter a host – or a vessel – in any number of ways, including making one look like someone else. But it was all speculation on her part. She told Harry she’d put some thought into it and ask around, see what she could find out for him.

When he leaves, Hanna barely acknowledges his departure – simply relaxing and listening to Prayer by Bon Jovi.

The text he gets while he’s flying from Khalil spurs him to swifter flight, and soon he’s circling above the aforementioned alley while Khalil watches the Calabim speaking to two men and a rather tough looking woman.


Khalil Dhali

The Calabin simply stood there smoking for a few moments, before abruptly banging on one of the thick metal security doors that led into the back of a restaurant. It took a moment or two, but eventually the door popped open and a trio of individuals stepped out. One was a thickset man, somewhat short, in biker’s leathers. The second was a tall, athletic woman with a hawkish nose and sharp, narrow eyes. She was wearing a heavy overcoat, and an obvious Kevlar vest bulged beneath. Her jaw-length hair was worn scruffy beneath a burgundy touque. The third man who stepped out was immediately – and terrifyingly recognizable to Khalil. It was the black-eyed man in the turtleneck from the Oblivion Club the night before. He was still in the turtleneck, though this one was a pale, charcoal grey. His slacks were black still, and his long hair (still shaved at the sides) was tied back into a small man-bun. He was distinctly taller than all the rest.

The Calabim grinned widely as they stepped out, and began talking to the three of them – though the tall man in the turtleneck wasn’t joining in on the conversation. The other two seemed quite amused by the story the Servant of Belial was regaling them with.

Khalil Dhali and Haralambos


I held off on applying Harry’s dive-bomb as I wasn’t 100% sure you were going to watch to leap into a brawl here. But effectively the two of you are now together in the scene.


As Khalil lurked just out of sight on the other end of the street from the opening of the alley, he heard a sudden fluttering of wings as a rather surprisingly healthy looking pigeon desceded to land upon a nearby car. He recognized the patterns of feathers as Haralambos.

This evened the odds somewhat.

[JeenLeen]

Yay. Just in time before logging off from work. And, yeah, if Khalil not fighting yet, Harry waits. Save that roll for if Khalil wants me to jump in. I like the idea of attacking while he'd have to fry his allies to do his suicide vest.

Harry flies down and quietly chirps, with jovial feelings of the hunt he's previously shared with his friend, "Hiya. I put Lee down earlier, and I should get back to Hanna soon, and I might be killing one of the Lebedevs later on tonight. That Cao Shen? Should we put him and his buddies down, too? Um, my Seraphic senses are fried right now, but I can still fight.

...or you need to investigate more? Your call, buddy."

[XIII]

"Hey, Harry." Khalil greets him with a smile, but speaks in hushed tones. "Good stuff, sounds like you've been busy doing good works, I might want in on that action later. We have much to talk about, lets focus on the task for now. No telling if any are left inside or how much attention we'd draw here..." Khalil's mind wandered for a split second, thinking of how Gabriel would smile warmly upon him if he turned that murderer's device against him and his allies. "Hey... Could you get on the roof and drop the heaviest thing you can find on mohawk? It almost pains me to give up all the glory, but watching them all explode would be worth it, Gabriel forgive me. If the bomb is legit, that'll potentially solve our demon problems." An interrogation would be nice, but Khalil would make do with going through what's left of their pockets and then raiding the building. IF this Hannah-Barbara plan worked, of course. "If that doesn't work, we do my favorite thing: play it by ear. That always works..."

[Anyr]

Sarah studiously ignored the room's obvious tension. Best to get out while the getting was good. She just stood up, and politely said her farewells.

"Thanks for keeping me informed. I assure you that Adele's well-being is very important to me."

The Truth of that sentence resonated clearly. Her thoughts were already a swirl of worries. The dark clouds followed her out of Adam's office, and through the well lit hallways. Judgement's concerns about loyalty were obviously wrong. Adele was absolutely on Heaven's side. Her smile alone could ease the burdens of a weary soul. But she also had burdens of her own. Why hadn't she told Sarah about any of this? Why hadn't she asked for help? Maybe because she didn't want to involve a friend in her problems. That kind of foolish move was...exactly the kind that Sarah did too. If she were in serious trouble, wouldn't she also try to keep those she cherished away from it?

The timing here could hardly be worse. Sarah was stretched so very thin. But this was Adele. If Sarah didn't at least check on her, the anxiety would grow and grow. Back in her car, she extracted her second phone yet again. Her finger shook a little as she dialled Adele's number. 'Shepherd a wayward member of our flock', indeed! Adam would never understand.

[JeenLeen]

Harry hops back and forth in anxious expectation at the plan.
"Sounds good. Hmm... heavy... I guess I can just tear off a chunk of something if I don't find something.
If he doesn't go boom, be ready to charge in fighting.

Um, you have any idea if those others are human or demon? I guess they clearly work with him, and the demons already killed innocents, so killing a few demon-friends is okay today."

After the answer, Harry flies up to look for something to drop. With all his celestial might funneled through the tiny body, this is of course far greater than a pigeon should be able to lift. Once an appropriate weapon is found, Harry drops it on Cao Shen. Hmm... those motorcycles look nice. Maybe one has diabolical patterns on it.


I guess I'll use that attack roll from earlier now. I'll let Erulasto decide what skill, penalties, defaulting, etc. applies to dropping a large something on top of someone as a pigeon.

This is a crazy idea, but could I lift a motorcycle? Given the thug-ish area, I reckon a motorcycle is within an easy block of here, and that's large, has gasoline, and is bulky enough to do some real damage but not so huge it'll clog up the alleywall (like a car might.)
I reckon a bodybuilder could lift a motorcycle, and Harry is well above human peaks, so seems reasonable.

I don't want to tip them off via the noise ripping a chimney would make.

Lastly, how does damage from things like a huge explosive work? I can see Harry having seen such in his original mission, so in short does he have an idea of if a block of C-4 can one-shot him or not?

EDIT: my attack roll was a 5 (so should work with Throwing of TN Agility - 1, if that's what's appropriate), with damage of 5 (+ motorcycle Power?). I guess surprise and attack from above might help my TN, if it matters.
Errata Question: in the rulebook, it looks like Large Weapons covers all heavy weapons. Unlike Small Weapons or Firearms. But in the FAQ or errata, I forget which, it says you specialize with Heavy Weapons, too. Wanted to check what your ruling is.
As an in-between, I could see it fair to say that you get your skill bonus when using what you train in, but you don't get the defaulting penalty if using a non-specialized weapon. Also for small weapons & firearms. A dude who knows rifles well might not be especially good with a pistol, but it seems he'd be better with a pistol than someone completely untrained in firearms. ...but default rules are fine. I just dislike it when you have to put points into multiple skills to use whatever is at hand.
I'm also picturing my pigeon form wielding a motorcycle as a weapon... but that seems too absurd. :smallsmile:

[Erulasto]

THE BURDENS OF A WHITE-COLLAR ANGEL

Sarah

Rezzael gave Sarah a brief nod as a farewell, meeting her gaze for but a moment before she slipped out the door. She hadn’t made it more than ten steps away when she heard the muffled shouting begin. Tension was, perhaps, an understatement. It appeared the local Triad of Judgement had some in-house problems that needed to be sorted – and it was a sobering thought when the Malakim wasn’t trusting in the Seraph’s judgement. Now was not the time for this sort of interpersonal conflict.

Not now, anyhow.

She sat in her car, staring at the number on her phone before dialing.

It rang once. That was normal.

Twice. Adele always answered by the second ring.

Thrice. As tension and worry knotted in her gut, the line was answered.

”Sarah.” The voice purred across the phone. It wasn’t Adele.

The Bright Lilim couldn’t place the woman’s voice – she had never heard it before. The voice was thick with a foreign accent that Sarah couldn’t immediately place, though it held reminiscent tones of the old Persian tongues, and it was sultry. Not in the same way that Selena’s voice dripped with sexuality, but more…cultured perhaps? It held a musical lilt to it, and it was warm and friendly, but Sarah could sense a sharp undercurrent.

”It is so good to finally speak with you. Adele has told me so much about you.” There is a mirthful laugh buried within her words. Whomever this strange, exotic woman was, she was thoroughly pleased with this development.

* * * * *


[b]BIG TROUBLE IN LITTLE….LAKEWOOD

Haralambos and Khalil Dhali

It seemed that, here and now, the first significant engagement of a revitalized War in Los Angeles would take place. Tucked in an alley between an apartment complex and a Boston-style Pizzeria.

As Harry looks about, he perceives a rather sleek looking motorcycle painted a pearlescent red and black and bearing an engraving of a pentagram on the gas tank. It’s fantastic construction, looking like it drove right out of a show room and certainly not looking like it should be just sitting by a park near a pizzeria.

The man in the turtleneck leaves the trio and slips a bit further back into the alley and both Khalil and Haralambos hear the musical tone of essence being spent. The man in the turtleneck begins to unravel as he sheds his corporeal vessel.



Okay. Here’s what we’ll do.

1. Harry has a strength of 11. I’d say that since this is listed as exceptional even for a Celestial, that you could lift a motorcycle. It may be a bit awkward, but you could do it. I don’t recall there being any actual tables relating carrying capacity to strength, but I only did a quick glance at the Errata and FAQ’s.
2. If you want to throw it at them, it’d require a check against your Throwing skill, or whatever the default is. You can just drop it on them, if you want, but in that case I’d give them a Perception roll to see if they notice the motorcycle floating above them. Heh That all being said, your prior roll would allow a hit if the throw is the direction you choose to go. If not:
3. You can keep your prior roll to attack (the one you listed as a dive bomb) for a future attack, if you’d like.
4. I’m fine with what the FAQ or Errata say about being able to specialize in Heavy weapons as well. I’m okay with the individual specializations like that overall. I like to think I’m pretty lenient.
I hope this is considered a fair ruling.
If you’d both remind me of your agility – alas, I don’t have an opportunity to check your sheets at the moment.

On a side note, I looked into the damage for explosions and couldn’t find anything on my first glance aside from a derivative site of the Steve Jackson games website with what appeared to be some house rules. The rule of thumb on there was 6D6 damage, with the damage reduced by 1D6 for every range increment of the explosion past the initial ground zero. This was for things like TNT, or whatnot – it’s likely that the dead-man’s vest will be a more significant explosion than that. But it’s going to be really noisy on both a literal and Symphonic level.

Hope I covered everything.

[JeenLeen]

Big Trouble

Fitting to destroy that vehicle, ideally along with a demon.
The pigeon flies down at stark speed, clinging the motorcycle in its talons as it quickly ascends, hoping to avoid onlookers. Perhaps any who notice it will just put it to shock after whatever happens next.
At the feeling of essence being spent, Haralambos hurries on delivery, hurling the motorcycle at the Demon of Fire and his lackeys, aiming for the Calabim's head.

Harry's sad to see that the turtle-neck guy left. A shame one more won't meet their end.


All that sounds cool, and thanks for letting me know before deciding on how to choose my roll. I'll go with Throwing, to avoid letting them dodge it (or so I hope).
Agility 9. And pretty sure Khalil has Agility 4.

I'll also add a divebomb and a dodge, should the explosion (if any) not need things. If it's possible, Harry flies down and then back up as he prepares to dodge, but as I understand it the combat rules do not all a dive-by attack. So I'm fine with the pigeon form zipping around the enemies.
While I can see my dive perhaps getting some element of surprise, definitely not a surprise round after a motorcycle flies on top of them.

Diving Peck
TN check for intervention: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]

Dodge (ignore acrobatics if he's shot at, right? Ooh... maybe even if the Calabim is immune to fire, his gun is still busted up by any explosion)
Edit: I rolled acrobatics in the OOC thread, since I forgot it here. Check digit of 1.
Dodge TN for intervention: [roll2]
Check: [roll3]

Feel free to roll additional dodges for me as needed, or count my result for all attacks against me this round. Whichever you prefer.

[seatyger]

THACHAEL’S LOFT

It appeared to be locked, though the metal clasp had no key hole – instead, it held a small indent with a rusty metal pin sticking up. A cursory glance would levy the assumption the indent would fit a fingertip perfectly.

"Blood," the angel noted of the "key" to unlock the unique clasp, the construction materials indicating an infernal origin to the tome. Perhaps Jathiriel knew of it?

Setting the thought aside for a moment, Malchiel picked up the broken picture frame and carefully removed the folded paper, disassembling the frame as necessary. He inspected it before unfolding, ensuring there was nothing concealed within it that could fall out.

[Anyr]

Sarah kept telling herself that everything would be fine. In just a few seconds, she'd hear Adele's voice; Maybe accompanied by the sound of raucous partying in the background. Then that cheerful whirlwind would disperse all of Sarah's worries. And the Lilim would feel silly for letting herself fret so mu-three rings? The phone never got to three rings! Oh God, why wasn't she answering?! Wait wait, calm down. The call had connected. Adele must have just been a bit slower than usual...

...That wasn't Adele. Sarah's already overtaxed reserves of calm finally ran out.

"Where is she?!"

Her voice lacked all its usual tact. She didn't even try to be diplomatic. There was just the desperate anxiety of someone fearing the worst.

[Siegemonkeys]

"Hey man, I'd say aliens would be way heavier than this." Sam jokes, taking the granola bar offered to him. "Still, I'm surprised you're accepting this so easily. To be honest, I was worried you'd freak out more or call me crazy. If it's not obvious, we don't normally let humans know about all this. It's kind of an unspoken rule between both sides to keep things a secret, normally you could get in a lot of **** for breaking that rule but...well, they broke it here first so that's on them. I doubt Michael's gonna get mad over it considering the situation...Oh yeah, that's right. Suppose I should introduce myself for real." He takes a bite out of his granola bar, then continues. "The name's not actually Sam, no. It's Ramiel, I'm a cherub working for Archangel Michael. And, as of a couple weeks ago, your guardian angel."

"As for why you can see us...Well, that's something we're wondering too. I can't say for certain, but I do have an idea, and it's related to why I'm supposed to keep you safe. If I had to guess, it's got something to do with that song you've been dreaming about. You don't know it, but that song's part of something much, much bigger than you're probably thinking, and it's possible it might tie into something big." He looks around yet again, still worried about being overheard. When he finds nobody, he finishes his granola bar and crumples the wrapper up to stuff in his pocket. "I can't get into all the details right now though, if I take too long Mrs.O’Donnell's gonna start wondering where I ran. Not to mention someone might overhear us. I promise I'll tell you everything later, but here's not a great place for it. Call your folks, tell them you're gonna be hanging out with friends after school, we'll talk more after classes are over. Take some time to rest in the clinic and relax in the meantime. Don't worry about what you saw, he's not gonna be coming back. And if he does, he's gonna regret it. They didn't send me here to keep an eye on you cause I'm a good student." He jokes, offering a hand to help him stand up.

[XIII]

"Turtleneck is a demon bouncer or at least a bouncer for demons exploiting kids. I've never seen the others, but it's a safe bet at this point that they're at the very least very bad people. If I go in, I won't save you any, you've had enough glory today.

Khalil forwarded Solomon his location with the simple message, [Trouble]. He watched for Harry with great anticipation. Either he was about to witness one of the greatest things in his life thus far, or be thrust into a fairly unfair fight: 2 vs 4 + suicide vest. Khalil made sure he was near some cover for when the ball dropped, so to speak.

[Erulasto]

THACHAEL’S LOFT

Malchiel

Malchiel couldn’t really make out where Jathiriel was, though he knew the Balseraph had entered into the bathroom to see what he could find inside.

In the meantime, the tome set aside, and the folded paper in hand, Malchiel was immediately taken by the quality work in his hand. The paper wasn’t really paper – it was a high quality parchment, likely from animal skin. One edge was frayed, as if it had been torn from a book or something similar – though it did not match the paper within the large tome; it was too small, and too new. Regardless, it was still relatively old. The ink on the page was a little faded, and it wasn’t the kind of ink you’d find in a ball point pen. Instead, Malchiel thought that he could smell a whiff of tannic acid and iron gall, indicative of a style of ink called India Ink[/b] primarily used in China in the fourth century, BCE.

The words that were scrawled across the parchement were in a strange language, and it was accompanied by all sorts of strange diagrams and geometric shapes. Upon first glance, it was strikingly reminiscent of what stereotypical magic looked like. In fact, the whole thing looked like it could have been pulled from a fictional wizard’s book of spells.

And yet, he felt the power in the page beneath his fingers. There was something real here.

* * * * *


INTERVIEW WITH A GODDESS

[i]Sarah

The laughter that flowed melodiously through the line at Sarah’s outburst was warm and, Sarah thought, syrupy in how it seemed to fill all the jagged, anxious cracks in a manner of speaking.

”She said you were a passionate one. I believe her exact words were: ’She’s so good, and honest, and kind and it shines like a fire. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was a Servant of Gabriel.’” The purring voice intones, an inflection similar to Adele’s manic manner of speaking teasingly applied.

”She is safe. For now.” The woman offers. ”And before you begin a tirade of threats and implications, darling, rest assured that I am no threat to her. Or you.”

There is a brief pause. ”You can come and see her, if you like. She is…sleeping…at the moment. It makes her confinement…easier to bear.”

* * * * *


HOLLYWOOD ARTS HIGH SCHOOL

Ramiel

Malcolm does indeed take what Ramiel is telling him remarkably well. He’s still showing signs of some shock, and still a little pale – especially at the mention of the song that’s been stuck in his head. When Ramiel offers him a hand up, he takes it and brushes himself off a bit when he stands.

”Well….’Sam’ I suppose it’s good to really make your acquaintance.” He chuckles weakly, and fishes his phone out to call his parents.

While the call was made, a loud cacophonous racket shuddered through the Symphony. Something big just happened. From a window at the end of the hall, Ramiel could make out the rising plume of thick, black smoke on the horizon. It was far enough away that he didn’t feel any corporeal signs of it, but it would likely echo through the Symphony for a while.

Malcolm eventually finished his call, and moved to stand next to Ramiel as he looked out the window.

”All good. I told my folks I was heading out with a friend and that I wouldn’t be home late.”

* * * * *


THIS WAR AIN’T SO COLD NO MORE


So to clarify, the vest will still explode when his vessel expires – but Zhangarmal is probably the strongest enemy Harry has engaged in the game thus so far. So, I promise I’m not trying to snub your plan – but he’s not down just yet. It’ll be messy when he does go down though.
From a mechanic perspective, Zhangarmal took enough to stun him and his buddy – a Soldier – is as good as dead.


Haralambos and Khalil Dhali

No one expects to be hit by a motor vehicle.

It would stand to reason that it’s even less likely to expect a souped up stunt cycle to hit you – especially an airborne one.

The sound of bones snapping and grinding metal fills the alley as the motorcycle hits the Calabim and the other man square on. It’s accompanied by a scream of pain, and a guttural grunt.

When the chaos of the initial strike passes, the Calabim is laying on the ground with the bike on top of him. His legs – which stick out from beneath the motorcycle – are bent at strange angles, and fragments of splintered bone are poking through his pants as red stains spread across the fabric.

The other man is twitching as he lays half-buried in a pile of rank garbage bags. There is some wet-sounding, heavily labored breathing coming from somewhere within the pile. He’s likely down for the count, if the spreading blood on the pavement is any indication.

The woman however, with wide-eyes and shock coloring her face, pushed back and ducked down behind a dumpster while pulling a pistol from inside her jacket.

She shouts with voice heavy with an Eastern European accent. ”Who the **** are you?! ****! Cao! You mother ****ing idiot! You were tailed!”

She popped out from behind the dumpster and raised her gun, seeing only Khalil at the end of the alley. She was about to take a shot when a flurry of feathers suddenly erupted in her face and she felt a sharp beak pierce the flesh under an eye. She screamed and flailed scrambling to the side to get away from the feathered assailant.

With blood now streaming down her face, she brought the pistol up again and took a shot down the alley.

”Get up you fool! Get the **** up!” She screamed at the pinned Calabim, who seemed to be dazed from his sudden meeting with the motorcycle.



Harry (Agility 9)
Female Demon (Agility 6)
Khalil (Agility 4)

The surprise round occurred with the bike impacting. I assumed that Khalil wanted to hold back that round to see what happened. If that assumption is wrong, feel free to put your action into a spoiler at the start of your next post and I’ll make adjustments as necessary.
First non-surprise round – Birdy Dive Bomb which wasn’t dodged, and a pistol shot at Khalil.

I don’t see the Dodge skill on my copy of Khalil’s sheet. Please let me know if I’m mistaken and we can reroll if necessary.

Pistol [roll0] TN 10
CD [roll1]

EDIT: The Demon's gunshot is +3 power for a total of 7 damage.

Khalil Dodge! TN 4
[roll2]
CD [roll3]



The spectacle of the flying motorcycle was perhaps just distracting enough that Khalil wasn't as fast to respond to the gun shot that suddenly impacts painfully into his left thigh. In the grand scheme, it was a minor ache, but the Demon had the audacity to bloody him and that....that was unacceptable.

[Anyr]

One word stood out from the rest. Its implications pushed Sarah to even greater heights of panic.

"'Confinement'?! Do you understand what that will do to Adele? Being imprisoned is like torture for her!"

Some things go against an Angel's fundamental nature. Practically any Ofanite found restraint frightening. Sarah could scarcely bear to imagine its effect on an Ofanite of Wind. Adele's sanity was in danger of total collapse. And even if she did somehow manage to cope, Dissonance would eventually overwhelm her. Suddenly, Sarah could feel the tick of every second that passed: Because now she knew that each of them marked a new sliver of her friend's agony. She repeated the question that still hadn't been answered.

"Where. Is. She?!"

[JeenLeen]

All's good. I figured Cao would survive even the vest exploding, either from HP or Attunements. So, a real fight begins. Awesome! And I laughed at the divebomb at the female demon. :smallsmile:
All in all, I don't mind the explosion not having happened. (I don't exactly understand how the vest works, but neither would Harry.) To be honest, if we KO him but don't kill him, getting the body somewhere less public before explosion would be good... but I realize we can't count on that.
Also, do we see the turtleneck guy's Celestial form? Be good to know what Band he is, and his form should reveal that.

@XIII: I don't know if you can run and get in melee range in one round, but you could run & activate your flaming fists. Though I honestly don't know if that's smart against servants of Belial.


Anger fills Harry at seeing his friend's injury, but, then again, Khalil was as tough as Harry in most forms and tougher in his current vessel. He could handle more than a couple bullets.

Seeing the twitch in Cao's body, Haralambos redirects his attentions from the female to the servant of Belial. This body could lift a motorcycle; perhaps it could tear through a leg.


Dodging:
Acrobatics TN 10: [roll0]
Check: [roll1]
Dodge TN for intervention: [roll2]
Check: [roll3]
edit: with those rolls, I kinda hope one of 'em attacks me. Also, seeing two bolded 6s had me nervous for a moment.

Combat:
Legbreak Peck at Cao Shen
TN check for intervention: [roll4]
Damage: [roll5]

[seatyger]

THACHAEL’S LOFT

...In fact, the whole thing looked like it could have been pulled from a fictional wizard’s book of spells.

And yet, he felt the power in the page beneath his fingers. There was something real here.

Taking care with the ancient sheet, Mel folded and slipped it into his shirt pocket, ensuring it was well hidden. He then returned his attention to the tome, drawing his cell phone from a pocket, he dialed Jerichael. When the Cherub answered and identified himself (by voice or name), Mel wasted no time on pleasantries. "I need a vehicle and escort at Thatch's apartment, immediately. I found something."

[XIII]

It wasn't the fireball of glory Khalil had hoped for, but the battle had only just begun. There was still hope for fireworks. Khalil cursed himself for allowing his moment of admiration at Harry's work as the bullet buried itself into his thigh. "Cowards..." The word came out through repressed rage and gritted teeth. Khalil looked at the thing that had shot him with crazed eyes, full of righteous fury. The old man broke into a dead sprint and prepared to sing the song of Corporeal Form... Finally, an outlet to the fiery rage, praise Gabriel in the highest.

[Erulasto]

WHERE THE WIND BLOWS

Sarah

Traces of amusement that once flowed through the phoneline with the strange womans voice seemed to flicker and die, replaced by a dangerously silent pause after Sarah's outburst.

After a moment, the woman - voice now stilted and perhaps seeking to contain a snap or outburst of her own - replies, rather icily.

"She is with me. You may see her, if you wish. I am not the one she has to fear. Come to the Babylon Club. At your leisure, of course. From what Adele has told me of you during her rather adorable ramblings is that you are something of a...hmm...workaholic, I believe the word is."
She's not being uncivil, but the frosty tone never leaves her voice now.

"I'll leave your name with the doorman - Duke - and he shall ensure that you have free access whever you're ready. All I ask is that you don't try to bring any weapons into my establishment, hmm?"

* * * * *


WHAT'S BLOOD GOT TO DO WITH IT?

Malchiel and Jathiriel

The Cherub answered right away with a gruff sounding grunt as his only acknowledgement to Malchiel.

His attitude was gloomy it seemed, and from the heavy groan he expelled at Malchiel's request, it was easy to see this news wasn't making his day any better.

"I'll send Roman with one of our...sturdier....vehicles. Will that be enough, or are you expecting something a little more troublesome? The Demons are more active....and hostile...than we've seen in a while and I'd rather be safe then sorry. Do you have the Renegade with you still?" In between his question, and waiting for an answer, Malchiel could hear Jerichael shouting something at some of the Soldiers at the Howitzer, and a few shouted replies.
In the meantime, Jathiriel stepped out of the bathroom holding an exquisite hairbrush sealed inside a small zip-loc bag. Even from there, the golden shimmer of errant strands of luxurious hair could be seen. The Balseraph seemed a bit shaken by something he'd seen in the bathroom.
A quick glance through the open door and Malchiel caught a glimpse of blood-splattered sigils and apocryphal markings across the inside of the shower walls reflected in the bathroom mirror - cracked though it may have been.

Between the book, the scrawlings on the folded page and this? Malchiel had an unpleasant notion that perhaps there was even more going on than they had originally thought.

[Anyr]

"Got it. Goodbye."

That's all Sarah said before hanging up. Seconds later, her car sped off towards Club Babylon. If the woman (presumably Inanna) had hoped for some playful banter, then she'd leave disappointed. Sarah wasn't in an indulgent mood. It took little provocation to dry up the fake vocal syrup of Adele’s tormentor. Good. The newly revealed ice beneath was much more appropriate. She shouldn't expect any smiles from Sarah.

Duke the doorman, however, would get a smile. No matter how angry Sarah became, she refused to take out that anger on innocent people. After lingering briefly in her car to compose herself, She approached Duke with her usual friendliness.

"Hello, my name is Sarah. I believe I'm expected?"

[seatyger]

WHAT'S BLOOD GOT TO DO WITH IT?

"I'll send Roman with one of our...sturdier....vehicles. Will that be enough, or are you expecting something a little more troublesome? The Demons are more active....and hostile...than we've seen in a while and I'd rather be safe then sorry. Do you have the Renegade with you still?" In between his question, and waiting for an answer, Malchiel could hear Jerichael shouting something at some of the Soldiers at the Howitzer, and a few shouted replies...

...Between the book, the scrawlings on the folded page and this? Malchiel had an unpleasant notion that perhaps there was even more going on than they had originally thought.

"I do, and he has been helpful," Malchiel said, nodding appreciatively at the Balseraph as he walked toward the scene in the bathroom to get a better look at the sigils. "I don't believe we're in any immediate danger, but I also don't want to risk public transportation at the moment. One should be sufficient. Whom are you sending?"

Rotating the phone's mic upward, away from his mouth, he told Jathiriel, "Look out the window; see if we're being surveilled." When the seneschal responded with the name(s) of the Soldier(s), Malchiel added, "I have his number. Thank you, and I'll see you at the bar."

With a quick goodbye, he hung up and opened the camera app, taking pictures of each individual sigil and marking, and then the group of them together.

"See anything?" he asked the renegade.

[Erulasto]

THE BABYLON CLUB

Sarah

The Babylon Club was a monolithic structure, despite only being a few stories tall. It appeared to be about three stories tall, but it was hard to tell considering the exterior was shaped like a ziggurat of polished black marble bricks. It looked incredibly expensive. It even had an outdoor patio on the side that was fenced off by a tall wrought-iron fence. Each of the fence posts were black stone obelisks and soft light filtered through the fence from paper lanterns strung up across the patio.

In front of the club, about mid-way up the building was the word: BABYLON in bold black letters. LED lights shone from behind the letters, making them pop against the blackness of the building.

When Sarah pulled up and parked in the attached parking lot behind the club, there was no line for admittance. While the club was open, it usually catered to a more low-key crowd during the day.

Standing next to the door, leaning heavily against the doorframe was a huge man. His face was regal and he was strikingly handsome, with sharp cheekbones and brow. His black hair was somewhat wild and bore a hip, disheveled look. His arms were thick, corded muscle and strained visibly against the black silk shirt he wore – the top few buttons undone, and revealing more of the dusky complexion of his skin. He was smoking a cigarette as he leaned against the doorframe, and looking something over on the cellphone in his hand.

As Sarah approached and introduced herself he raised his hand in a one moment gesture and he adopted a brooding scowl, cigarette held between his lips as he cast a glance off into the distance before snapping a quick selfie. The moment the camera issued the snapping shutter sound to notify him the picture was taken, the brooding look dropped and he turned to Sarah with a wide, boyish grin.

”Sarah!” His grin was….disarmingly charming. ”He offered a wide, strong hand to her. [b]”Yes! You are expected. My apologies about the brief delay there. Humans and their little toys are so much more…inventive and amusing than they once were.” If Sarah really looked, the man – Duke, apparently – radiated an almost palpable aura of power and nobility and held himself with a regal bearing, despite his boyish grin and strange demeanor.

”I’m sure you are in a hurry to see your friend. Go on inside. But…” He paused for a moment, the grin faltering for but a moment. ”Don’t let Inanna get to you.” The grin is back, and he waves her through before looking back down to his phone with a chuckle.

* * * * *


PARANOIA IN SUITE 314

Malchiel and Jathiriel

”Well…I’ll be. Fancy that, hm? A useful Demon.” Jerichael chuckled grimly. ”I’m sending Roman. I believe you met him at the door when we had our meeting yesterday. He’s good in a fight, if need be, and has a sharper with than most of the other Soldier’s who’re available at the moment. He’ll be there in…..fifteen?”

Jathiriel had made his way over to the window with a shallow nod to Malchiel, and peered cautiously around while trying to get a good view of the street below and the goings on amid the sea of humanity thronging below. After Malchiel was done snapping a picture of the various sigils and symbols in the bathroom, Jathiriel turned back to him and shook his head warily. ”No. Nothing out of the ordinary. It seems….almost too quiet.”

And he was right. Even the usual undertones of the Symphony that flowed in the background when he opened his senses to it were…muted.

* * * * *


THE EXPENDABLES?


Haralambos and Khalil Dhali


So, as established in the OOC thread, you can’t Sing and run at the same time. So I’m going to assume that Khalil manifest the song during the first round (I’m a generous sort) while the motorcycle was turning a Soldier into paste. So in that regard, Khalil would be able to run and attack if he wanted. I’ll proceed with the scene as normal, but when Khalil decides what to do with his action during that round, go ahead and make your attack roll (if you want to attack) and I’ll put the reaction to that in the next post. It works, since Khalil also has the lowest initiative of the lot left alive.


Zhangarmal shrieks a hideous sound as the beak rips through muscle and tendons and chips the bone beneath. He thrashes about, still pinned beneath the motorcycle in a rage before his hands clamp down on the bike and with a snarling roar, he heaves the motorcycle with all his pit-borne strength. If he’s going to go down, he won’t die to a ****ing bird while laying on the ground like a wuss.


[roll0] Strength check to move the motorcycle
CD [roll1]


The motorcycle flips over, clattering to the pavement with another rippling groan in the Symphony. It wasn't a spectacular act of freedom, but it was enough to get the Calabim free.

The female Demon wavers as she perceives the bloody, righteous fury in Khalil’s face and she takes a step back – the pigeon all but forgotten. An enraged Malakim is not what she signed up for!
She raises the large caliber pistol and fires again, but even she isn’t stupid enough to think it will stop him. Even at the initial distance, Khalil can see the conflict in her eyes. To stay and try and kill an Angel, or to run the hell away.


Bang Bang! [roll2]
CD [roll3]


The bullet would strike true again, perhaps inspiring the Demon to higher acts of valor - or perhaps worrying her more that she's just making the Malakim angrier....


Khalil would take 4 points of damage, minus whatever armor you've got. You're going to need to put this demon down. Hehe

Just a reminded, you can roll for 2 attacks. One from last round, which I'll edit the results into in this post, and one for this round.

[JeenLeen]

Despite his friend's injuries, Harry was having fun. It would've been more amusing if the pathetic demon hadn't managed to heft the motorcycle off of himself -- looks like he almost failed -- but, well, a challenge was fun, too.

With a loud chirp -- deciding to avoid his human voice for now -- Haralambos flutters upwards, twirling around the pizzeria's exterior, before diving for the Calabim's eye. He wasn't much for eating in any form, and flesh wasn't to a pigeon's normal sensibilities, but the tasting soft issue of a demon's eye would be an experience that seemed fitting. He hopes his beak hits true.


Dodging:
Acrobatics TN 10: [roll0]
Check: [roll1]
Dodge TN for intervention: [roll2]
Check: [roll3]

Combat:
Eyeball Peck
TN check for intervention: [roll4]
Damage: [roll5]
edit: urgh, my damage rolls have stunk so far. Glad the motorcycle did as much damage as it is

Damage Taken: 0/66
Essence 8/9 (spent 1 to go to pigeon form before the fight started)


Is there any way, if the vest starts exploding, Harry could abort his action to cast Song of Shields, to try to deflect the explosion away from the apartment complex (and ideally include Khalil in the shield)? If yes, I'd like to spend 2 Essence to boost the TN from 9 to 10.

ORIGINAL MORE COMPLICATED ASKING
Based on ordering of events in the rulebook -- Songs/Attunements first, then physical actions, and actions declared from lowest to highest but activated from highest to lowest -- I was wondering if, in the round the vest starts to explode, Harry could forgo whatever his prior action was to try to Sing the Corporeal Song of Shields, to protect the apartment complex (and, if close enough, Khalil) from the blast? In short, if it looks like the vest will blow or if the Calabim does something to start to activate it, I'd like Harry to break off his attack to quickly Sing. I'd spend 2 Essence, to boost the TN from 9 to 10.
I realize the spherical shape of the shield, and wanting to make it small enough to exclude Cao Shen himself, means that some damage would still happen, but I'm hoping the Shield would absorb most of the damage so that the inhabitants aren't injured.

Alternatively, if I did Song of Shields to contain the firestorm to myself & the demon(s), would that almost certainly kill me as the shield would bounce the energy back onto me instead of it dissipating outwards as explosions tend to do, or would it just do its normal damage?

My thinking is that, in the normal method of tabletop, it would be feasible. Maybe I'm wrong, and feel free to say otherwise -- no hard feelings. But I wanted to ask.

[Anyr]

Normally, a place like this would make Sarah feel inappropriately attired. The décor was tuned more for daring dresses than business suits. But Babylon wasn't just a club: It was a neutral embassy. Angels and Demons alike left the War behind when they visited. This was a place for enemies to meet in peace. Marc's Word was strong here. What a shame that Sarah's first visit would be under such terrible circumstances.

Duke certainly did his best to dispel the bad vibes. Sarah liked his friendly, sympathetic manner; And his fascination with human gadgets. Technology really had gotten fun lately. Sarah wasn't exactly in the mood to chat about it, though. For the moment, she had to file Duke away in her 'people I'd like to know better' drawer.

"Thanks for the tip. It was nice to meet you. Maybe in better times, we'll get a real chance to talk."

Then she entered the club itself. As she crossed the threshold, her senses were alert for any metaphysical changes. Babylon had an artifact that forbade Songs and Celestial forms. Good place to keep an Angel imprisoned: If, that is, you didn't mind destroying your carefully cultivated neutrality. Why would Inanna take such a risk? And more importantly, where was Adele? Where where where where where?

[Erulasto]

The BABYLON CLUB

Sarah

Duke smiled, and dipped his head in a small acknowledgement. ”I’d like that. I’m usually around the club. Feel free to stop by one day, if you’d like. Drinks are on me.”

When Sarah stepped through the black, frosted-glass double doors into the Babylon Club she could feel the change in the very air. It wasn’t stifling, like one would imagine from a potent artifact that suppressed the celestial, but instead felt like there was an energy-filled storm on the periphery. She could almost feel the metaphysical wind pulling at her. It was like a whirlwind that would sweep any essence away as one tried to utilize it. The thought was a bit uncomfortable, and Sarah was sure she wouldn’t want to experience that storm in her celestial form.

The inside of the club was positively decadent. It was large and square, like the ziggurat it appeared to be on the outside. It had an old world vibe to the décor. The outer portion of the club – at the level she entered – was filled with tables and booths along the walls, and on either side of the entrance were two large, well-stocked bars. There was a second level, slightly depressed within the surrounding sitting area that held more tables – though these were taller, and without chairs. Likely a place to stand and socialize. All the tables were covered in plexi-glass, and illuminated from beneath with pale lights that offered a soothing blue-white glow to anyone who was around them.
This second level, like the first, had a black railing that prevented easy transit between the depressed levels aside from the four sets of stairs that sat in each cardinal direction. The final level was even further depressed, and was a wide dance floor. It, like the tables, was illuminated from below by lights – though these ones were brighter, and slowly faded in and out in strange, rhythmic patterns in time with whatever music was played by the DJ who would have sat in a small raised dias at the north end of the dance floor. It would have given him a perfect view of the club.
The last thing of real note, was the large alcove in the north-western corner of the room. It was here that an oval-shaped table sat, surrounded by low, but comfortable looking couches on either side. At the head of the table, accessed from a small walkway behind the couches, was a large-backed throne of polished lapis lazuli and padded with down-filled throw pillows. It was positively archaic, and gorgeous. The edges were all capped in gold, and the head of the throne held a gold claw. Within this eagle-like claw sat an unevenly cut crystal of rainbow hue. It was from this crystal that Sarah could feel the potency of the celestial storm originating.

Lounging on the throne, was a woman whose beauty put Selena to shame. She was like a Goddess given flesh. Her skin was the dusky bronze of Persian descent, and her thick, luxurious hair was black as pitch. Almond-shaped eyes over sharp cheekbones were the same shifting coloration as the shard held above the throne. She wore a positively scandalous dress of nearly diaphanous silk and gauze, and her slender ankles and wrists were adorned in jeweled bangles and bracelets of gold and lapis lazuli. She sat with one leg casually tossed across the arm of the throne, reclining lazily, while her bare, painted toes idly toyed with the deep maroon tie of a suited man who sat next to her. He seemed content to let her play, as he sipped a coffee and made some scribbled notes on a legal pad that sat in front of him next to a rather overflowing briefcase. A quick glance confirmed that it was accounting and book-keeping notes.

While the man didn’t register Sarah’s approach, the woman did, and her full lips twisted into a pleasantly amused smile.

”Welcome to Babylon, Sarah.” The voice purred, and now – standing before Inanna – Sarah could feel the power held within wash over her. It was very likely, Sarah suspected, that the stories of Inanna were entirely true. Lounging before her, very likely, was the Ethereal Goddess of Ancient Sumer; Inanna – Ishtar – Goddess of Love and War.

[Anyr]

Sarah fidgeted slightly as she entered. Her vessel suddenly felt more like a shelter than a disguise. It shielded her from the raging winds outside. She'd had no plans to assume Celestial form any time soon. But being unable to do so was still a bit unsettling. Putting such worries aside, she continued onwards.

The club itself was well designed. It had an open layout, which directed the flow of movement in a natural way. Sarah could certainly picture herself having a good time here. However, the building seemed like a junk heap when compared to its owner. Angry as Sarah was with Inanna, she couldn't deny that the Goddess made quite a first impression. She had the kind of aura that could command hordes of worshippers. Sarah's eyes took their full measure of her host's lounging form. From an aesthetic standpoint, she had to admire it. But that was as far as her admiration went. She sensed precious little of a quality that Innana supposedly represented: Love. So far, there had only been cold condescension. Someone like that could never be truly beautiful.

The visiting Lilim made an effort to be polite: Albeit a very brief one.

"Thanks for inviting me. It's quite a place.

Now, where is she?"

[XIII]

Khalil waited until the last moments of operation motor drop to sing his song of corporeal form and charging the survivors. Lazy green flames had begun to randomly flicker in and out of existence, dancing across his skin. The first shot had angered him, the second had only prompted him to fall deeper into his rage. The demon would pay for her compounded insults against him. As he neared his target, Khalil's hands burst into green holy flame and he bellowed a warcry: "FOR SOPHOLAEL! FOR GABRIEL!!!"

I believe it's just 1 armor from the song. I'm unsure if I need damage rolls or what they are for unarmed. I think it's -1 accuracy and +1 fire damage?

1st flaming fist of fury
[roll0]

2nd pious punch of power
[roll1]

Sorry for holding things up

[Erulasto]

BURNIN’ LOVE

Khalil Dhali and Haralambos


Khalil: It’s all good! Growing pains of your first fight in a new system.
As Anyr said in the OOC thread, your damage is calculated by adding the Power of the attack (in this case, based on the OOC math +6) and the check digit of the d666 roll. So, that means that Khalil does anywhere between 7 and 12 damage a hit with just a fist. That’s intense.


The first of Khalil’s powerful blows catches the Demon in the jaw, and the Malakim feels the hungry green flames rejoice at the taste of Demonic essence. The Demon staggers back a step, blood pooling and spilling from split lip, recoiling savagely in an attempt to get some distance.

Khalil steps into the Demons space again, not allowing any further retreat and offers a righteous right hook that catches the Demon – once again – in the jaw. This time, the grinding sound of something breaking within accompanies the blow, and as the Demon brings her arms up to try and find some shelter from the storm of blows, Khalil can see the blackened, blistering flesh left behind from contact with his blazing punches.

Meanwhile, Harry’s piercing beak struck against the mirrored shades that the Calabim wore, and with a a sharp snap the glass broke under the impact – flecks and slivers sprinkling into his eye alongside the brutal beak.

Zhangarmal howled in rage, and Harry could feel a sudden, overwhelming heat rising in the air and within his body. Sudden realization dawned, the Calabim was invoking its Resonance and trying to unleash entropic fire onto his vessel.


Calabim of Belial Resonance
[roll0]
CD [roll1]

Calabim of Belial add double their Corporeal Forces plus to Check Digit in body hits on a successful attack, and it doesn’t disturb the Symphony.

Haralambos Strength Test to Resist
[roll2]
[roll3]

I’ll be editing this post once I see the results. Stay tuned.



Harry feels the flames lick at his feathers, singing and stinging and hungrily seeking to consume him. But, somehow through immense will and resolve, and perhaps some furious flapping of wings, the resonance is resisted, and the Calabim wails in defeat.

The lady Demon drops the gun to the ground with a heavy, metallic clatter and pulls a switchblade from within her jacket. Khalil can feel the malign will on this blade, which has been heat-etched with profane symbols.

She lunges at the Malakim, swinging wildly – more to keep him at bay, then to do any real damage.


I’ll Cut you, B*ITCH!

[roll4]
CD [roll5]



* * * * *


THE BABYLON CLUB

Sarah

Inanna fixed Sarah with a rather intense stare, and the Bright Lilim could feel the weight of ancient majesty and power behind it. But, after a moment that seemed considerably longer than it likely was, Inanna seemed to deflate a bit and sighed melodramatically.

”Fine! Fine….” She stopped toying with her accountants tie, and shifted scandalously on the throne before she rose on bare feet, and padded nimbly and very gracefully towards a door half-hidden by hanging silk curtains that had obscured the area behind the throne.

”Come along…and be quick about it, since you are apparently in too much of a hurry for pleasantries.”

The door was heavy, and old. The wood actually looking like it had been imported from some biblical hut or hovel from millennia ago. It was….in remarkably good repair, considering.

Beyond was a narrow staircase, that was only illuminated dimly by pot lights in the ceiling every few feet. At the bottom of the stairs was a second door, this one looking just as ancient – but it appeared to be one from a temple of sorts. Lacquered wood, jewels inlaid in gold and electrum and from beyond, a heavy, cloying incense that seemed to seep into the pores themselves.

The room beyond was circular, unlike the common areas which were all sharp edges and hard lines. It held another throne at the far end, this one even more opulent and ostentatious if it could be believed. The floors and walls were all granite and smooth marble, and hundreds of tallow candles flickered – offering the only illumination in the room. A small electrum brazier sat in the center of the room, a mass of dried leaves and unguents glowing as embers slowly consumed them and released the heady, intoxicating smell into the air.

The last thing of real import, was the fact that the entire eastern side of the room was a beautiful grotto-like pool that was fed from small dragon-like statues carved of precious stones that perched upon the walls and pool-edges. The entire white marble floor of the pool seemed to shimmer with its own luminescence and gave the water a transcendent quality.

And there, floating just beneath the surface with eyes closed was Adele. The soft caress of the water around her framed her pale face with a halo of her blonde hair. She was stripped down to her underwear, but her clothes were folded neatly on the side of the pool. Eyes closed, Adele seemed to be just as Inanna said – asleep.
The most striking thing, however, were the strange symbols that seemed painted onto her skin. Like henna, but thicker and distinctly pagan in theme and nature.

”See?” Inanna said, as she walked to the edge of the pool and knelt down to dip her hand into the waters. ”She is as safe as she can be. For now.”

[XIII]

The smell of the demon's burning flesh invigorated Khalil, justice was being served. The feeling of it's broken bones giving way under the weight of his strikes was euphoric, this is what he was created for. He heard the Calabim's wail and assumed Harry was doing spectacularly on his own, he dared not look away from the accursed switchblade. Khalil chuckled menacingly at his opponent's despair, no doubt accustomed to being on the other end of things. He kept his guard up and tried to move around the blade to deliver another punishing blow, and would continue until the demon moved no more.


Do you prefer two rolls and then the check digit, or can I continue doing all three at once?
Dodge
[roll0]
Attack
[roll1]

[JeenLeen]

If a pigeon could smile, Haralambos would be smiling. The demonic wave of chaos and heat was, of course, unpleasant, but the Forces Michael had given him easily prevailed against that assault upon his body.

In the corner of his eye, he sees Khalil's fists sear the demoness. Excellent. It looks like Khalil had things under control, so Harry could focus on the Calabim.

He dives yet again for the fiend, this time aiming to tear the hand off -- or at least rip some tendons. It was... disappointing how little damage his pecks had been doing thus far, but perhaps that'd keep the Calabim from realizing it was facing a Seraph of Michael instead of some familiar or one of Jordi's warriors.


No harm in the wait. Wow; Khalil's fists are powerful; awesome. I'd be surprised if his max damage roll (post before mine) doesn't stun her. Cool.
I'm skipping the acrobatics roll, since the Calabim seems focused on firearms or using Attunements--neither of which are helped by acrobatics.

Dodging:
Dodge TN for intervention: [roll0]
Check: [roll1]

Combat:
Handpeck
TN check for intervention: [roll2]
Damage: [roll3]
Edit: max damage. That's more like it!

[Siegemonkeys]

Ramiel gives Malcolm a reassuring smile, leaning against a locker and crossing his arms while his charge calls his folks. The loud disturbance in the Symphony, however, nearly makes him jump as he looks out the window, towards the plume of smoke. He frowns, wondering to himself what on earth just happened. He was half-tempted to leave and look into it, but...well, he couldn't risk just running out in the middle of classes, let alone leaving Malcolm alone after he just saw a demon for the first time. Being a student had more constraints than he expected.

He's snapped out of his daze when Malcolm tells him he's called his parents, to which Ramiel looks sideways at him. "Alright, good...Hey, just to check, did you hear anything weird when...Ah, crap, nevermind. We'll talk about it later, for now I gotta get back before the teacher gets suspicious. You take yourself to the clinic, I'll meet with you after classes and we'll talk more then." He says, seeing his ward off.

Walking back to class, Ramiel takes a second to check the email from before, knowing that the teacher won't let him look at his phone once he's back. As soon as he's finished reading it, he heads back inside the classroom and gets back to his seat, whittling away the time until school was over and staring out the window towards the smoke for most of the teacher's lecture.

[Anyr]

Sarah journeyed eagerly into the club's depths. The whole area was like a monument to a bygone age. Understandable, of course. Ethereals tended to be nostalgic for the 'good old days'. Sarah certainly sympathised with their plight. Between the rise of monotheism and Uriel's crusade, the old gods had suffered greatly. But sympathy didn't blind her to reality. Innana's opulent thrones were likely a symbol of her deepest Need: To have the whole world bent in worship to her. Pagan deities possessed an insatiable hunger, that had to be kept in check.

None of that mattered right now, though. Sarah's eyes barely registered the opulent chamber around her. The magnificent throne, statues and decorations scarcely received a glance. She was searching for one particular thing. And when she found it, everything else faded into the background. With a cry, Sarah rushed for the pool's edge. She only just stopped herself from diving into it.

"Adele!"

She'd never seen Adele in such a sedate state. It seemed so wrong. That girl was meant to dance; To sing; To drive through God's creation like a maniac. Watching her sleep like this was cause enough for panic. The pagan symbols covering her made that feeling even worse. Meanwhile, Innana had the audacity to pretend that this travesty was fine. Sarah wanted to give a resentful glare. But her eyes refused to leave Adele. Her voice, however, was free to direct itself.

"'Safe'? This isn't safe! This is a violation of her fundamental nature! It verges on dissonance! Do you really expect me to believe that you're doing her some kind of favour?! I last saw Adele yesterday. She was fine! We talked and laughed together, just like we always do. What possible reason could there be for...for...this?"

[Erulasto]

IT'S GETTING HOT IN HERE, SO TAKE OFF ALL YOUR...VESSELS!

Haralambos and Khalil Dhali

The female Demon swung at Khalil, the accursed switchblade scoring a small line across his chest. The armored skin he had assumed mitigated much of the blow, but an angry looking wound split the flesh of his chest regardless. It caused undue discomfort in the Malakim, and he could feel the pulse of Infernal essence upon the wound.

Another burning punch struck Khalil's opponent, and she reeled with a grunt - the blood from the impact and a couple teeth immediately ashing as the holy green flames consumed them. She staggered, a hand pressed to her face and wobbled unsteadily upon her feet.

She was stunned. Khalil didn't know for how long, but it was an opening the Warrior Angel couldn't pass up.



The switchblade caused 5 points of damage after the armor. Regardless, Khalil is faring much better than this Demon. She's stunned from the force of his attack.

Suddenly, a deep resonating voice bellows: FINISH HER!



Zhangarmal swung a hand out to swat away the celestial pigeon, frustrating painting his actions and making them erratic and uncoordinated. He had broken bones, and was missing an eye. Things were not looking good for this Servant of Belial.

The point was driven home even further, when he felt the pigeon suddenly latch onto his swining arm and the sudden, searing pain of its beak piercing the soft flesh on the inside of his wrist. Tendons snapped and he felt them literally roll up his arm as they were severed. The hand was useless and numb, but despite this it only took a moment for him to realize that it wasn't just the tendons and ligaments that were severed. That warm rush across his fingertips? It was blood, pumping freely at a heightened pace from his adrenaline-fueled heartbeat. His radial artery was open....

The Calabim, at that moment, knew he had well and truly been burned. In a moment of frightening clarity, he felt the last vestiges of strength ebbing from his body with each pulse. His good hand made a scrambling gesture - trying to unlock the dead man's switch from his body. But it wasn't a one handed job, and even if it were, his vessel was fading far too quickly.

He felt darkness closing in on his periphery, senses shutting down, but he could still feel the heat from below as Hell yawned open to his senses, preparing to welcome a wayward child home.



The Calabim as about one round before he bleeds out. For all intents and purposes, that peck finished his vessel off, but I wanted to go for something perhaps a bit more cinematic.

As soon as that heartbeat stops, the bomb is going off. With the She-Fiend stunned, she's not going anywhere fast except back to Hell with Zhangarmal.
The vest has about four pounds of C4 strapped across it. Damage equals 1d per quarter pound. So you're looking at an explosion dealing 16d damage. The damage will decrease by 2 points (not 2d) for every two yards the explosion travels until there's no damage left. This is going to be a big, noisy explosion.

I took a look at the Corporeal Song of Shields, and it certainly would be able to mitigate a great majority of the explosion from damaging the apartment - but I don't think it'd be big enough to protect the whole thing. Based on my math, even at minimum damage the explosion would be about 16 yards in diameter. So, be my guest Jeen and manifest that Song. You'll save a lot of people and property damage with it, but it wont be a perfect solution. Good thinking though!

I had a partial write up already done when the apartment building came down from the explosion. :smallbiggrin:

One full turn for both Khalil and Harry to act. Do what thou will, gents, but be cool!



* * * * *


HOLLYWOOD ARTS HIGH SCHOOL

Ramiel

The rest of the day passed without much commotion - which was nice, in a way, but the Cherub could feel a tense anxiety in the air. It was like the electical charge that seemed to energize the wind before a big thunderstorm - though in this case, the storm was still raging on just South of the city and Los Angeles didn't likely have a repreive from the inclement weather in sight.

When the bell finally rang at 3:05 PM, he felt a rush of relief as he wasn't tied to the immediate requirements of his Role for the rest of the day. No class meant he could start dealing with the important things.

He had gotten a single text message from Malcolm earlier letting him know he had made it to the clinic safely and was chilling until Ramiel was ready. He'd been able to surrepitiously check his phone without the teacher noticing.

He'd had the day to ponder the details that the Servant of Blandine had provided. It was a bit of a hot mess of information. Some conflicting, but all dutifully recorded by the Angels of the Marches. It would require a fair bit of reading and deciphering to put much of use together, but the general theme he was starting to see was the presence of one sorrowful maiden, one looming shadow with curling horns and a wicked grin, and five humans who could sing a Song of such power that the Symphony would change according to their whims.

* * * * *


The BABYLON CLUB

Sarah

"She asked for this!" The Goddess spat, patience seemingly coming to an end and the facade of disinterest falling away to reveal the wild energy and power that came from being a disgraced Ethereal Deity.

"It was this, or she suffer even further. She asked me to track down a friend in the Marches for her. Hobus is his name. He's not an easy creature to find." She huffed, and stomped to the throne in a rather childishly indignant manner.

"She has been geased, Sarah. I'm sure you of all people should understand the potential severity of such a thing?" Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "The story is not all mine to give, but she was caught in a web she had no idea she was even wandering into. One of your Sisters closed the trap without our sweet Adele even realizing what had happened. I imagine she felt the Geas settle on her sometime last night. I imagine it was quick the moment of panic for her. From what she told me? The geas was simple. Stay put. Don't move. Don't leave the greater Los Angeles metropolitan area."

Inanna sprawled across her throne, and sighed longingly. There was, perhaps, a moment of vulnerability beneath the indignant, selfish facade the Goddess wore.

"Hobus has trinkets that can help her stave off the effects of the Geas. At least, that is the plan. I put her into a form of...suspended animation...if you will, so her being forced to remain in a single place wouldn't be so unbearable on her. Believe me. I was not to keen on the idea myself, but she insisted. Said she had friends who would help her...but she needed to find a way to at least mitigate the worst of it."

As if life couldn't be any more complicated for Sarah. The tasks ahead of her seemed daunting, especially with the newest revelation. Her friend - dearest Adele - had fallen victim to another Lilim. One who certainly did not have Adele's best interest at at heart.

[JeenLeen]

To Fry or Not to Fry?

Harry's mind pauses a moment, but fortunately the adrenaline of the fight has him moving quickly. The Calabim's fiddling... and Khalil's warning... no... oh no!

With a mix of fear, sorrow, and determination, Haralambos' talons grab the body of the Calabim by the shoulder and fly upward with speed greater than most birds of prey.

Once he clears the roof of the building, Harry releases the corpse as the Song of Shield erupts from his beak and his feathers move in a protective warding. He watches with dread as the body careens above him, safely beyond the reach of the human habitations.

He feels the protective field emerge from his vessel as he sees the flames begin to erupt above him.


Harry's mind pauses a moment, but fortunately the adrenaline of the fight has him moving quickly. The Calabim's fiddling... and Khalil's warning... no... oh no!

The angelic pigeon kicks the corpse towards the pizzeria, yelling with all the sound he can muster, "Bomb in the alley! Get cover!", hoping the humans heed his warning. He flies, centering his body so the protective sphere will include his friend and much of the apartment complex. If he can fit the demoness, very well. The wings and beak move in a graceful, if somewhat alien, motion as, God-willing, a protective wave of energy emanates from the vessel.



Um, if the Song fails, Harry flies away as fast as he can, adding a "RUN!!!" to Khalil.
Given the intensity of possible death, spending extra essence to boost the TN to 11. (1 essence to cast + 2 to boost TN from 9 to 11.) That's a 1 in 36 chance of failure...

So (3*4)=12 foot radius Sphere or instant death?
[roll0]

Essence Left 5/9

[Anyr]

The situation was even worse than feared. Adele had been caught in a truly insidious trap. The heat of Sarah’s anger quickly dissipated: Leaving only cold horror. She sank to her knees beside the pool.

“...If she's really resolute, she might manage to last two weeks. But we can't rely on her even holding out that long. First she’ll become Outcast. Then she’ll...she’ll...”

The thought was too terrible to contemplate. Sarah stared helplessly at her friend’s sleeping form. When viewed on the Celestial plane, Geases usually took the form of chains. The chains around Adele were heavy enough to drag her down to Hell. The Tempter who'd crafted them had done a great job. In the old days, Sarah would have found it praiseworthy. Now it just sickened her. She knew plenty of ways to counter a gambit like this: But nearly all of them had to be done before the Geas took hold. Once those chains manifested, your options became extremely limited. Sarah's desperate mind was already going through the list. Even the most promising plans on it were almost hopeless. Hard as it was to admit, she lacked the power to save Adele alone. Thank God she wasn't alone.

Her gaze finally shifted back to the goddess. Until now, Sarah had viewed Inanna as a callous tormentor, who took pleasure in other people's desperation. But maybe there was a heart concealed behind all that arrogance and egotism. And maybe Sarah hadn't made enough effort to reach it. Still kneeling, the Angel of Trade let her better nature reassert itself.

"I'm sorry for being so curt. Concern and fear made me jump to conclusions. I'm grateful for your efforts to help my friend. Please forgive me for misjudging you.

C-Can these Artifacts really save her? I've never heard of such a thing. Even the Song of Freedom could only suppress this Geas for a few hours. But if Hobus is the key to Adele's salvation, then I'll do what I can to help you find him."

[Erulasto]

The BABYLON CLUB

Sarah

Inanna was still reclining on the opulent throne, a pensive look seeping through the cracked façade of the majesty she was used to revealing.

”All is forgiven, Child of Lilith.” The Goddess waved a hand gently, dismissively, before cracking a small – if a bit sly – smile. ”Our Ofanim friend is very lucky to have you, if you would storm the haven of an Ethereal Queen with such fire and indignance for her.”

There was a pause, before she rose and padded across the dark stone floor towards the edge of the pool and Sarah.

”Hobus is a master at what he does. I daresay even your wayward Angel of Creation would be hard pressed to outdo him in his craft. If anyone can break the chains placed upon Adele, it would be he. Though…” She drops down, sitting on the edge of the pool and allowing her legs to dip into the comfortably warm water.

”Hobus’ services have never been cheap. I am calling in a few…favours….to even find him. He suffered greatly during the Purge and has been in hiding since.” Inanna trailed a fingertip through the water, motes of essence and power flaring in the depths of the luminescent pool at her touch.

”I have considered also an…alternative solution. If we can track the Lilim that did this to her….perhaps you could Geas her into releasing Adele? I am not intimately familiar with how your kind….work….but it may be worth an attempt, no?”

[XIII]

Khalil did not relent, with his hands still aflame he grabbed the demoness by the sides of her head and drove his thumbs into her eye sockets. The flames cast a green glow over Khalil's face, contorted in rage as he pushed in his thumbs with all his considerable might.

Sorry, I've been the center of attention at work. It's horrible.

I'm not sure if I need to roll, or what I should roll on for a grapple?

[roll0]

[Anyr]

The 'fire and indignance' that Innana praised was a double edged sword. Sarah's passion gave her the strength to keep fighting; But played havoc with her objectivity. People like Jason, Selena and Bethany were so much more than jobs to her. Their Need to be saved shone like a beacon. And above those beacons, Adele now shone like a sun. Sarah found it harder and harder to stay restrained. Even as she talked quietly with the Goddess about plans and possibilities, a desperate voice in the back of her mind was screaming 'savehersavehersavehersaveher!'

"I was going to ask the Angelic grapevine about Hobus; But from the sounds of it, Angels searching for him might do more harm than good. So unless you know some way I can help, I'll leave that search to you.

As for Geasing the Geaser, I've already thought of that. It's on the top of my 'nearly hopeless plans' list. The Lilim would have to be an idiot to let me hook her now. Even if I'm lucky enough to find a strong enough Need in her and fulfil it, she'll probably see me coming a mile away. The plan is almost certainly doomed to failure.

...But as you say, it's worth trying anyway. And all my other ideas are even worse. Do you happen to know anything about her? I don't want to disturb Adele's sleep."

[Erulasto]

WE’VE GOT EXPLOSIVES!

Haralambos and Khalil Dhali


I’m going to run this out of initiative order. Because reasons.


In the alley, out of the corner of Khalil’s eye he sees the frantic scrambling of the Calabim, one good hand fumbling at the straps that hold his vest on. He knew that something was up, but the shrieking fiend before him held the more immediate concern as he felt the righteous fury of Gabriel’s fire in his veins.

When his hands gripped the female Demon’s head the flickering green flames began to sear through the flesh. It began as idle wisps of smoke, but swiftly changes to rather voluminous plumes of stinking smoke. The heat burst the Demon’s eyes, and the shrieking intensified – body thrashing and struggling in futility as Divine Wrath burned her away. There was no blood, as it evaporated with the heat before it could even spill.

The demoness stilled abruptly, only an errant twitch indicating the final death spasms of her vessel.

Another Fallen cast back into the Pit.

When Khalil’s attention finally drifted from the brutality of his latest kill, he noticed immediately that Haralambos was not present any longer. Nor was the Calabim.

Above, the ringing chime of essence erupting into the power of a Song flared in the Symphony. Harry’s mad flight up into the sky was frenzied and driven by the desperation of knowing that the final act of Belial’s Brood would cause untold devastation and be a cataclysmic disturbance in the Symphony’s perfection.

It was a mighty heave by a diminutive form when Haralambos released Cao Shen and invoked a buffeting wall of wind. The Calabim’s howl was fueled by impotent rage and hate and he knew somewhere in the depths of his black, black heart that his time was up.

The explosion was deafening.

A massive shockwave ripping through the air above the apartment followed by a ball of roiling, churning fire.

Haralambos’ quick thinking at elevating the living bomb Cao Shen had become had prevented a great tragedy, but there was still some effects.

As he fluttered in the air, surrounded by the manifestation of the Song of Shields, the heat of the explosion warmed the currents of air that swirled around him – sparking and creating a miniature vortex of fire in the heart of the conflagration.

He could feel the Symphony distort as the shockwave cleaved around him. Shingles and tiles were torn from the nearby rooftops and air vents were slagged by the heat. Glass shattered. Car alarms began to wail all down the street. People screamed, some tumbled to the ground as they felt the vibrations shudder beneath them.

Below, at ground level, Khalil saw what could be described as a manifestation of the Word of Fire in a pure and ravenous form. Had it not come from the designs of a Demon, it would have been a beautiful thing. The Malakim felt the heat. Felt the gusting winds buffeting him from its force.

And when, finally, the smoke cleared, the alley was plunged into silence.

There was minimal damage; mostly superficial. But a fireball blossoming in the sky was not something to go unnoticed.

There was no trace of Cao Shen – the Calabim’s vessel ripped to insubstantial pieces by the force of the explosion. It was likely the accompanying fireball wouldn’t have affected him much.

The demoness was still limp upon the ground, much of the flesh of her face burned off – two blackened hand prints scored into the bone and what little meat remained on the sides of her head. She would be identifiable, but many would wonder at the gruesome method of her demise.

Next to her lay the switchblade. It thrummed with Infernal potency still.

The Pigeon-Harry fluttered down to land on a nearby dumpster, feathers looking a bit singed but otherwise remarkably whole, all things considering.

A handful of old, greasy napkins fetched from the dumpster provided an adequate barrier between the flesh of the Angels and the infernal relic, and with it in tow, the two Angels fled the scene even as some curious onlookers began to cautiously swarm the area to see if there was any indication as to what happened.

Even as they departed, the distant sounds of sirens were growing louder and louder.


So Jeen had indicated that he was going to see if his Servant Jimmy could take a look at Khalil’s wounds. I’m going to assume that Khalil would be okay with such a thing.

Medicine Skill
[roll0]
CD [roll1]

EDIT: I don't have Jimmy's sheet in front of me, but I'm sure Khalil doesn't want to spend a whole day being treated, so I'm going to count it at a level 1 check regardless. This means Khalil heals his strength in body hits. Plus one body hit per sunrise.



SENTINEL INVESTIGATIONS

Haralambos and Khalil Dhali

A quick phone call to Jimmy had him meet the two Angels at Khalil’s residence where he proceeded to take a look at the Malakim’s injuries and patch him up as best as he could.

He didn’t ask questions. He was good like that.

The two Angels parted ways when they were done.

* * * * *


The BABYLON CLUB

Sarah

”Only bits and pieces, I’m afraid. They are named Evexiel, and from what I gather they have been very active for long, long time. Supposedly Evexiel has ensnared more than our dear Adele here in their webs.” Inanna shakes her head slowly. ”I will do what I can to track them down, but my only lead is a Mercurian of Wind that Adele knows. This Angel is the last one to have had any real dealings with Evexiel prior to Adele’s encounter. Give me a day to find some information for you, would you? I imagine you have enough on your plate. Allow me to ease some of your burden, darling.”

Inanna smiles softly, and for but a moment, she seems far more mortal than the inscrutable deity of old that she presents.
”After all, if my neutrality is going to be jeaperdized, then at least it should be for a worthy cause…..and, I owe Adele, so a friend of hers….is a friend of mine.”

It’s around this moment that, once again, the discordant sounds of destruction rip through the Symphony on an astounding level. Twice in a single day as the Celestial world impacted the Symphony in such a distinctive manner. Even Inanna’s eyes widen in shock.

”There will be open warfare in the city soon if this continues – assuming there is not already!” The Ethereal Goddess seems rather unnerved by the idea of the War coming to her chosen home.

[XIII]

I trust Haralambos.

The singular thought was enough to refocus all of Khalil's attention comfortably on his opponent.

The old man rushed the demon, gripping it's head in both hands. "Sopholael is avenged three times over." He didn't know if he could hear her, and he didn't rightly care. Khalil watched her burn, a sense of righteousness filled his chest.

After it was over, his rapid and heavy breathing slowed, calming gradually. The flames around his hands danced wildly, as if searching for their next victim. Khalil hadn't realized he'd been smiling until his cheeks started to cramp up. "Harry?" The old man mumbled to himself and began looking around frantically for his ally as well as enemies.

He never took his eyes off the explosion. He hated that he appreciated anything about it. It was perverse, an aberration. He tried not to enjoy the heat wave.
"Thank you, Jimmy." Khalil settled back into his office chair wondering if Solomon was going to be pleased or not. He called and would try to explain how he did not mean for things to go the way they did, but three demons including the one responsible for Brighton House were back in hell and we had also essentially given Belial the bird. Praise Gabriel. Khalil would try the joke on Harry later, he hoped Solomon would appreciate the humor. He would also have to explain that turtleneck got away, and there was probably no way he didn't notice what we were doing. Although he found it strange that he wouldn't jump into a 3v2 especially in his celestial form. Perhaps the motorcycle dive bomb technique had scared him off. After whatever came from Solomon, the old detective would get an update from Justin on his sister's condition.

[JeenLeen]

I... I'm not dead. It worked! Yes! Praise God, Glory to Him and Archangel Michael, thought Haralambos as the firestorm flared around him, the protective winds of his Song protecting him.

As the fire faded, he looked sorrowfully at the damage wrought. He heard the smashing sound against the Symphony, but at least it wasn't the same of humans dying. All in all, this was a grand success. Moreso when he saw Khalil had slain the other demon and claimed some relic from the armies of darkness. Before departing, Haralambos made sure the Soldier was indeed dead.

---

"Yes, thank you, Jimmy. You really are helping God and mankind by your skill" said the pigeon. "It sounds there might be more violence soon. Try to stay safe, but if you hear of anyone unusual needing patching, let me know. It might be a demon or their servants looking for a doc. Also, um, I might go after the Bloodhounds soon, so if you hear anything about them, let me know, but no need to go asking. I don't want their attention on you."

---

"Be safe, Khalil. That was... well, man, that was glorious and fun. I never got to hurl a motorcycle at a demon before. I'll give Jerechial a call to let him know the noise was us, see if van Graff can get Cao Shen or the demoness' roles destroyed. I'll be a pigeon a while more, but I got my phone, so call me if you need me."

After a bit of jovial congratulations, the excitement fades from Harry's voice. He describes to his friend what he knows about Hanna and the strangeness he saw with her. He doesn't like to think about dying, but, if he dies, he wants at least one angel willing to fight to know that Hanna needs protecting.

---

Feeling somewhat close to being able to rest, Harry flies to Hanna's house and peeks into her bedroom window. All in all, he wasn't gone long, and hopes to find her pleasantly resting.


IF Hanna is resting and everything looks normal, Harry waits until his Seraphic senses recharge to talk to her. Even if she wakes up, as long as she seems okay, he just observes for now. (She hasn't seen him as a pigeon yet.) He'll go to the roof to call Jerechial and explain, somewhat apologetically but also sounding excited, about the fight, and ask for him to pass on to van Graff about the demons, targeting their roles.

When his senses refresh, assuming they can chat, he pecks on a window or door, then introduces himself as Haralambos in another form, and touches her to activate his senses.

"Hanna, I know this is probably hard for you, but I want you to try to tell me again why you came to the apartment you met me at, and what you did after we parted until we met at Dunkin Donuts. Don't worry if the details or whys are fuzzy in your head, just try to explain as best you can." With some distaste in his mouth, he adds, "Even if you aren't sure, say something true or false, and I'll better know what's true. It's an angelic thing, and it'll help me know more so I can better protect you. But, first, I want you to answer me a simple yes-no question, that I'm sorry to ask: are you human?"

If that goes well, he follows up, "Were you possessed or influenced to talk to me?" and, lastly (due to chance of freak-out), "Tell me again what your uncle, or the thing in your uncle, said to you about Singing." If she's still okay, he adds, "Tell me any nightmares or strange dreams you've had."

He may take some notes on paper, probably look

ELSE... well, let me know what's strange happening and I'll see what Harry does.

he may have some follow-up questions, but i figure that's the best given his roll. hope this combo post is okay

[Anyr]

Evexiel? The name was unfamiliar. Even the Sisterhood's network couldn't keep every Lilim informed about every other. And Sarah wasn't about to waltz into the Guildhall for fresh gossip. Thankfully, she had a new circle of friends in her life: One that might have just grown again. Sarah returned Inanna's soft smile. Once you got past the Goddess' outer shell, she was surprisingly likeable. Sarah took comfort in this touching moment of empathy...

...which really was just a moment. No sooner had Sarah begun to relax, when the Symphony erupted. She leapt to her feet in panic. Oh God, what now?! She'd apparently lingered here long enough. The world was calling her back to it.

"I...I think that's my cue to leave. I need to help stop whatever new disaster made that noise. Thanks so much for looking after my...our friend."

There was another farewell to make before she departed; Not that Adele would hear it. Sarah cast a last long, desperate look at the floating sleeper below her.

"Please hold on. Please don't go. We're doing all we can to make this right."

Then (unless Inanna stopped her) she left the grotto behind. No time to rest beside the Angel she cared for so much. Her car would soon be speeding towards the latest in a long line of crises.

[XIII]

Khalil laughed, "And most of it goes to you and Michael, I can't deny that. You sent two of them back to the pit on top of saving so many lives, including my own. You were magnificent. Unfortunately, I don't think we've seen the last of Zhangarmal. Luckily, he doesn't know who you are, so if anything he'll come after me one day. I might have me a nemesis, imagine that? The demoness will surely remember me, but may have the sense to stay away. Stay safe as well, Harry. Call me if you need me. And thanks again for coming so quickly to my aid, I probably couldn't have managed that without you. I'll contact Solomon and give him an update."

Khalil listened to Harry intently, "I see. My talents aren't very useful in this case, reach out to the others for help in determining the exact nature of the weirdness. But, should something happen, I will watch over her for you. Funny, I have my own ward as well." Khalil tells Harry about Justin's request to find his sister, the events at Oblivion (including his first sighting of turtleneck and the fact that he works there), and his plans to get her on the right track. Gabriel demands this of Khalil, and it is only right. "I only ask the same, if I am to experience my first death then please keep that girl on the right track. Nothing weird, just a girl that mixed in with the wrong crowd. At some point, I'm going to try to get into that building they were using and snoop around. I'm not hopeful, it would have been better to do it before we dispensed our indiscriminate and righteous justice."

[JeenLeen]

Khalil listened to Harry intently, "I see. My talents aren't very useful in this case, reach out to the others for help in determining the exact nature of the weirdness. But, should something happen, I will watch over her for you. Funny, I have my own ward as well." Khalil tells Harry about Justin's request to find his sister, the events at Oblivion (including his first sighting of turtleneck and the fact that he works there), and his plans to get her on the right track. Gabriel demands this of Khalil, and it is only right. "I only ask the same, if I am to experience my first death then please keep that girl on the right track. Nothing weird, just a girl that mixed in with the wrong crowd. At some point, I'm going to try to get into that building they were using and snoop around. I'm not hopeful, it would have been better to do it before we dispensed our indiscriminate and righteous justice."

Harry pauses for a long moment, his pigeon head tilted sideways quizzically. Khalil probably recognizes it as his friend thinking something over. Then he speaks.
"Um, yeah, I can try to look out for her. If you get a chance, I think you should ask if she's having strange nightmares. Or maybe ask her brother, so it doesn't freak her out like Hanna freaked out. Things seems... well, destined or fated... Maybe God's Symphony is somehow leading us to the Five, and she's one of one. To most humans, it'd seem I first saw Hanna by chance, but part of me doubts that."

Less solemnly, he adds, "You saw turtleneck at Oblivion. Hmm... I was asked to talk to the Lebedev sisters there today. After I killed that Soldier of War last night, the older one asked me about a job. Gonna turn it down, but figured it'd give me a chance to see if her younger sister is a demon or serving one. By the way, the older Lebedev is not a demon but I sensed some sorta demonic influence or working with 'em."
Harry steps back and forth a moment. Sarah probably wouldn't want him mentioning Selena to his friend, but it felt bad not to. "I know a bit, but gonna look into it more."

With a laugh, he then adds, "But with how busy things are, having the Russian mob trying to kill me would be annoying. If I see turtleneck, though, I might try to end him. Oh, and I figured with us taking out some martial demons, I might try to get Haroon Sadat dead. You're welcome to come, but I know I'm better at dodging bullets than you, so probably best if you sit it out. But if you hear noise at Oblivion or Bloodhound turf tonight, it's probably me."

With some hesitation, he asks, "Do you have a jolt or two of essence you could spare? I'm not low after that fight, but it definitely used up a good bit, and I should at least become the Madman again later."

[XIII]

"Stranger things have happened, but so far there hasn't been anything to indicate anything other than her being a troubled teen. I plan on getting closer to the family to watch over her anyway, I'll keep it in mind. Careful with the mob types, taking them out can result in power vacuums and other consequences as other groups move in when they smell blood in the water. Anyway, call if you need help. I'm sure I can manage busting through a wall or something. And yes, I regained more than I even needed from that fight, take some." Khalil closed his eyes and extended his hand to Harry as three green flames snaked from his skin and made their way lazily to Harry. They burned far brighter than his hands or armor did.


Even though he's a pigeon, being as Harry's has the social grace of a baseball bat, would Khalil be able to tell (or roll) for Harry withholding info like that? He's become very good at reading pigeon body language :smallbiggrin:

[Erulasto]

SOMEWHERE NEAR BRIGHTON HOUSE

Sarah

Inanna did not stop Sarah from making her way out of the club like the Hounds of Hell were set upon her, but the Lilim did catch a smile and wave from Duke as she passed.

The trip from the Babylon Club towards the latest cacophony was quick at first, but inevitably stalled as Police and other Emergency Service personnel had begun to close off various streets to keep the people away. In the distance, she saw the black plume of the Brighton House disaster beginning to become wispy and indistinct as the collective efforts of rain and fire fighters had finally put the blaze out and now, smoldering wood was now simply belching up what last bit of smoke it could offer.

As Sarah got caught in the obstructed traffic, she caught the tail end of a news broadcast when she flicked on her car radio to see if there was any news.

”….following the explosion that rocked the esteemed Brighton House Academy in downtown Los Angeles, a second bomb was set off just north of the initial site. While this bomb somehow exploded above ground level, thus limiting damage to surrounding buildings, it still caused immense superficial damage to the neighborhood. Two individuals were found dead at the scene. Police have thus far refused to name the deceased, though insider sources claim they were previously known to them. Police Chief Isabella Woodridge has issued a brief statement, claiming that there is no evidence that this was an act of terrorism or was connected to the Brighton House Academy disaster early this morning. She advises the public to remain calm. Hopefully, we will have more tonight at 6:00 pm. In other news….”

The broadcast was interrupted by Sarah’s cell-phone ringing.

It was Mercy….

* * * * *


The DANCOURT RESIDENCE

Haralambos

After Harry and Khalil had parted ways, the call to Jerichael went remarkably well. The Angel of Stone was incredibly pleased they’d put down not one, but two Demons, but he did caution Haralambos to ensure that he and Khalil didn’t go too far. While this could be claimed as a justifiable retaliation against the killing of Sopholael, they still had to ensure there wasn’t an uptick in outright hostility. If the war came full-force to Los Angeles, it would be very likely that the Five could get caught in the cross-fire somehow. Jerichael promised he’d pass the news along to all the other Angels, and bid Harry luck and good fortune.

Eventually, the Seraph made his way back to the Dancourt residence to check on Hanna. The immediate thing he noticed as he approached was the extra vehicles in front of her house. A police car, along with the car that belonged to Elizabeth – Hanna’s foster mom. There was a murmur of voices floating through the front door, which had been left open – only the screen there, allowing the cool rainy breeze to filter into the house.

Through a window, Harry saw Elizabeth and Hanna sitting at a table while a tall man in a beige overcoat leaned against the nearby kitchen counter. He wore a badge around his neck on a lanyard, and despite his slightly rotund belly, he seemed quite nimble of his feet and unusually graceful.

”…listen to reason….”
“…know what you want me to say….”
“..st tell me who…..”
“…Hanna…..please…”
“You don’t…..in here and…..I WAS THERE!”

The conversation was disjointed at best, but based on the escalating volume of Hanna’s voice and the anger that seemed to be palpable from the body language of both her and the police Detective, it was not a pleasant conversation indeed.


I’m going to save the conversation you wrote up with Hanna for when an opportunity presents itself, if that’s okay. Unless inspiration strikes you for something else.


* * * * *


SENTINEL INVESTIGATIONS

Khalil Dhali

Eventually, both Jimmy and Harry left Khalil to his own devices. There were a few messages blinking on his desk phone tied to his official work line. Maybe some more offers for work?

In the meantime, Khalil felt substantially better – despite having offered essence to Harry and taking a few shots from the Demoness. Jimmy certainly knew his trade well.

Sitting on the desk in front of him, half-remembered but certainly not forgotten, was the switchblade that seemed to resonate with dark purpose and power. The whole blade was covered in small engravings, and the handle was warm to the touch and crafted to fit in the palm of the hand in an ergonomic fashion. It was a quality blade, high-grade tempered carbon fiber and titanium. It was likely incredibly expensive as well.

A sudden thought occurred to Khalil. If it was so specialized and expensive, it was also very likely able to track it down.

[Anyr]

Another explosion, so soon? Brighton House hadn't even stopped smouldering! Sarah waited impatiently for the traffic to clear. According to the news, at least two people had died in that attack. She prayed that they'd somehow both been Demons. The loss of yet another good person (whether Angel or human) would be horrible. The sound of Sarah's phone ringing yet again made her tense up. Would this be even more bad news? Preparing herself for the worst, she answered.

"Mercy! I'm en route to the explosion site now. What in God's name is happening?"

[Erulasto]

NEAR BRIGHTON HOUSE

Sarah

When Mercy came over the line, she chuckled and sighed seemingly all in one breath.

"Harry and the Malakim - Khalil - hunted down the Calabim who was responsible for Sopholael's death and the destruction at Brighton. Seems like it was a Servant of Belial. Had a vest rigged with explosives. When they sent him back to Hell, it set off the bomb." The Servant of Flowers seemed remarkably calm in describing more violence, but Sarah picked up on the undertones of sorrow in her voice.

"Jerichael said that Harry called him when it was done. The left another Demon and a Soldier dead, and there apparently...wasn't anything left of the Calabim after the bomb. I'm happy that Sopholael and the students hurt got justice...but....it feels like the War is shifting. More active and that doesn't bode well for anyone."

There is a pause on the line. "Sarah, please be careful. I knew this whole Prophecy mess was going to change the dynamic in the city, but I'm terrified it's going to get out of control and now I can't reach Jason or Malchiel. They were going to check out Thatch's loft and went radio silent an hour ago. Have you heard from either of them?"

[Anyr]

Sarah breathed a sigh of relief. She'd been spared another reason to mourn. The explosion had been the result of Harry and Khalil doing what they did best: Dispatching Hell's minions. Sarah was a big believer in Redemption. Like Mercy, she preferred to try kindness before resorting to violence. But she was willing to bet that kindness would have been wasted here. Demons who torched entire libraries generally weren't on the cusp of Redemption.

Nonetheless, Mercy was right. All this mayhem was a bad omen. No wonder she was worried about Jason and Malchiel.

"You be careful too. There's no telling who and what will be threatened next. And no, I haven't heard anything from those two. Do you want me to go check on them?"

[Erulasto]

UCLA DEPARTMENT OF COMMUNICATIONS, ROOM 103

Katriel

”Sorry I’m late! Mr.Langford was showing me his new e-cigarette and got a little carried away!” Mr. Barton swarmed into the classroom, Hawaiian shirt flapping in the wind to reveal the grey Iron Maiden wife-beater beneath which stood in stark contrast to the beige khaki pants he was wearing with a pair of Crocs. Barton was a bit of a rogue element in the Communications Department; a self-styled hippie and the head of the Los Angeles Inquest online news service.

The room he entered was filled with a handful of journalism students who were earning some extra credit by officially working at the student-run news forum.

Jackson Bryte, the T.A who was handling the group of students until Barton arrived smiled warmly, and stepped aside with a flourish to give the Professor the floor.

”Right! He said with a wide grin, ”Let’s talk news! We’ve got a story about the new Aviary opening up in Laguna Beach. We’ve got a story about Dancourt maybe-kinda-sorta getting out on a technicality and we’ve had a lot of requests from the student council to do an expose on the night life around the city. Any takers?”

There were a few students present who immediately started volunteering for the aviary story; they weren’t in it for the journalism, but for feel-good puff pieces and, of course, the extra credit. A few students even seemed interested in doing up the story on Dancourt.

One student raised his hand – Daniel Brugga – to do the story on the night life of the city.

Barton took one look, and frowned. ”You’re not going to see how awesome the party is, Bro. You’re on duty. Put your damn hand down.” Daniel, looking a little crestfallen at being called out, lowered his head.

”Oh yeah! I snagged an interview with a couple of big names for whomever takes this one. The owners of the Babylon Club and the Rhapsody in Red! That’ll certainly look good on someone’s resume. Maybe even make a friend or two?” His grin is so wide it seems to split the fluffy beard he has in twain.

No one raises their hand.

”Come on! Where’s your spirit of adventure?”

* * * * *



NEAR BRIGHTON

Sarah

”Only if you’re not busy, Sarah. I was going to ask Solomon but he and Jerichael are meeting with Gaspariel about upping their security on the Tethers. I’ll text you the address. I’m really sorry to ask. I know how busy you are. But I really appreciate it. I guess I’m just a bit nervous about Jason. He’s come so far to even be helping us now, and I’d hate to see that hard work ruined.”

[RossN]

Katriel

The newest (yet also oldest not that she looked it) student in the class had had to bite her tongue to stifle a giggle at Daniel Brugga's expression. Truthfully she felt a bit sorry for him getting shot down in front of everyone but he just looked so downcast at missing a chance to party that it was funny. She'd definitely tease him later (in a friendly way of course...)

Kat blinked as she realised she'd lost her train of thought while Mr. Langford was still speaking. Then his words hit her brain and she quickly raised her hand, waving it around eagerly. 'Adventure yes! I can do it Mr. Langford! I can make friends! Pick me!'

Kat's smile was ablaze with enthusiasm and she was practically bouncing in her high heels as she waved her hand in the air. She seemed almost afraid she would be invisible if she didn't make herself known. This was unlikely. True she was only 5'3 but the shoes, the near blinding red top, skirt and beret and sheer attitude would have made her obvious in a far larger group.

Club Babylon... it had been long, long time since Kat had been in LA but something about that name seemed very familiar if she could just put her finger on it. She was very curious to see just what that vague twinge in the back of her mind meant. Besides, if she was being entirely honest she wasn't too different from Daniel Brugga. She wanted to see the clubs again, to drink in the sheer life taking place in them.

'I just have to remember to be more careful this time,' Kat silently promised herself. 'Remember that!'

She waved her hand even harder.

[Anyr]

Of course Sarah was busy. Jason was far from the only desperate soul who needed her help. He wasn't even the only Demon! But when he or his guardians called, she'd answer.

"I'm on my way. Stay safe, Mercy."

[JeenLeen]

Harry's relieved that Jerechial is happy, not ticked, about the disturbance. He figured he'd be, but, well, it's a relief in tricky situations like that.
Reluctantly, Harry mentions he'll try to remember not to get too noisy. He says he'll try to remember not to kill anyone at Oblivion that'll rile up the mob, at least unless it'd be dissonant not to or it's obviously a bad demon, like turtleneck. He also mentions his thoughts on the Ghostbloods, but says he'll wait a bit unless the other militants think it's a good idea.

--
Haralambos is a bit frustrated at seeing Hanna so disturbed, but it's better than a lot he had considered: her gone, or dead, or acting out some dark rite. He was also frustrated he couldn't make out all they were saying, and his Seraphic senses were still too frazzled to help.

He tried looking in a window to get the name of the officer, then hopped to the roof, where he stashed his phone.
A quick call to van Graff... hopefully the explosion didn't have the Chief too busy.

If he reaches him, he says, "Hey, it's Haralambos. Um, do you know anything about the officer assigned to the Dancourts' place right now. Or her... uncle Ryan, I think his name was, her adoptive mum's brother, I guess. Hanna's really upset at whatever the cops are saying. You know if they're trustworthy?" Recalling a touch of how the detective moved, he adds, "Or you know if they're really human?"
He also asks van Graff his thoughts on Harry attacking the Ghostbloods, figuring there's much ill blood between them.

If he doesn't, he leaves a message to call Haralambos, but notes it's "not urgent urgent".

Otherwise, unless Hanna leaves or something bad happens to her, he just waits and observes, trying to listen as he can.

[XIII]

The old man sat down in front of his boiler room furnace. He pulled out his phone and sent a simple text to Justin asking if everything was still ok. Khalil dug through his memories and would open his personnel files to determine where the best place to start was. Who did he know that was capable of this infernal craftsmanship, or would deal in such items? He stroked his mustache pensively as he bathed in the waves of heat...

How does to the conversation between Khalil and Solomon go?

For detectiving?
[roll0]

[Erulasto]

THACHAEL'S LOFT

Sarah

It took a while to arrive there, and Sarah had to park a considerable distance away due to the throngs of humanity from lower income brackets that made their way through the neighborhood; picking their way through open-air markets, streetside vendors and others trying to make their way in the world.

The smell of kiosk food; hot dogs, kebabs and noodle bowls filled the air along with the occasional whiff of exotic tobacco or shisha.

By the time Sarah had made it to the block that Thatch's loft sat on, the perpetual rain had begun to abate and spears of sunlight lanced through the breaking cloud cover to shimmer like liquid fire in the puddles that lined the streets.

A middle-aged black man with wild dreadlocks sat next to the entrance to the building, strumming upon a ukulele the opening chords to Somewhere over the Rainbow.

As she approached, the playing abruptly stopped and he offered her a gap-toothed smile, coils of smoke from his pipe escaping past his parted lips.
"Sun comin' out finally. Bringin' wit it summore hope for th'day. Y'got eyes like th'sun, Miss." The man spoke, weathered fingers plucking at a few errant strings. "I betcha lotsa folk see th'hope when yer around."

* * * * *


UCLA DEPARTMENT OF COMMUNICATIONS. ROOM 103

Katriel

Professor Barton made a big and grand show of looking around the room for a volunteer, making a point to pass over Kat with every sweep of his gaze.
There were a few groans from other students at Kat's exhuberance, but most of them seemed happy that someone else was willing to take it upon themselves.

Eventually, Barton snickered and stopped his wandering eyes on Kat. "Alright Miss O'Brien. The job is yours." He turns to his briefcase, and flips it open before shuffling around inside for a few moments. A moment later, he's turning back with a small scrap of paper torn from a notebook. Upon it, in his signature scrawl, were the addresses for both the Babylon Club, and a time: 9:00 pm sharp. Underneath it was the scribbled name Miss I. Akkad.

Handing Kat the scrap of paper, his smile falters somewhat. "Your other appointment is with Madison Rourke at the Rhapsody in Red. In her case, she was very insistant that you could come whenever it fit your schedule. She said something about....making time for you."

* * * * *


DANCOURT RESIDENCE

Haralambos

Jerichael believes that if Haralambos decides to go after the Ghostbloods, he certainly can if he's sure. But if killing Zhangarmal and the female Demon weren't bad enough right after Lee, going after a hot-bed of Infernal control might warrant a direct response from Bethrezen. It would be like attacking his power base. A direct affront to his authority.
-
The yelling was escalating, the actual words beginning to degenerate into simple sounds of intense frustration and, it seemed, rage.
When Gaspariel answers the phone with a curt grunt, he listens to Haralambos' inquiries thoughtfully.

"Ryan? Yeah. He's a good lad. Solid. Dependable, and entirely human.....But....hold on...." There is some typing and shuffling on the other end of the line. "Ryan is on a call down in East Compton. We don't have an officer at the Dancourts right now. What's he look like?" Gaspariel seems a bit exasperated.

"As for the Ghostbloods? Cr*p on a stick, Harry. They're like gnats. You can put dozens of them in the ground and they'll just pick up more, and usually from the low-income kids that the rest of the city forgets. I'd be really leery on bringing open war to them. Sadat ain't the only Demon who'se got his nasty little eye on them. But...if you're going to hit 'em a couple times, give me a heads up first and I'll make sure we get some annonymous tips to be in the area for clean up duty."

* * * * *


SENTINEL INVESTIGATIONS

Khalil Dhali

When Solomon answered the phone, Khalil could positively hear the wide smile on the Cherub's face. It seemed a tangible thing.

"Khalil my friend. What can I do for you? I heard some...disturbances.....and prayed that you were not involved. You are well, yes?" There was some concern in the voice, but like usual, Solomon was fishing for information. Few people had faith in Khalil's ability to put Demons down like Solomon did, and considering how many notches Khalil was earning in his short life, that was saying something indeed.

Around this time, he received a short text back from Justin as the heat from the furnace seeped comfortingly into him.

<Caitlyn sleeping soundly. Got up 2 go 2 washroom but went back to bed after. A-OK.>

[Anyr]

Sarah normally enjoyed neighbourhoods like this. Humanity's energy thrummed through the busy crowds. Being among them was exhilarating. And so much of their activity strengthened Marc's word. Trade wasn't confined to stock exchanges and boardrooms. It dwelt in every enterprising kid, selling trinkets on a street corner. It dwelt in all the simple stalls that Sarah now passed. She could easily spend hours shopping in such a place.

Not today, though. Today there were higher priorities. Comrades needed her help. Sarah skipped all her usual browsing and sightseeing. She made it through the whole neighbourhood, having only bought one bracelet. The girl selling it had been so hungry and desperate. You can't just ignore a Need like that. With the new accessory around one wrist, Sarah reached Thatch's earthly home.

She was greeted by the building's unofficial doorman. He paid her a compliment that should have been cheesy; But had the ring of sincerity. He seemed to be genuinely speaking his mind. She paused briefly to return his kind words.

"That's nice of you to say. I'm sure you've brightened many days yourself."

What a shame that she had so little time to linger. Her mission soon pushed her past the ukulele player, up towards Thatch's loft. Poor Thatch. He was beyond any help that Sarah could provide. But she could still help the people he'd cared about. His last message had asked her to take care of Jason; And the woman he loved. Sarah would do everything she could to honour his final wishes.

[RossN]

Katriel

Kat smiled perkily as she plucked the slip of paper from Professor Barton's hand. 'Thanks Prof, I won't let you down!'


The names meant frustratingly little to Katriel, one of the disadvantages of being the new girl on the block. Still, one didn't need to be a Servitor of Jean to be smart enough to know any club with a name like 'Rhapsody in Red' probably skewed diabolic. The Distingushed Opposition loved sly winks like that. As for Madison... well, Kat couldn't let an invitation like that down could she?

Also red was her favourite colour. Maybe that was a good sign?

As her fingertips brushed the Prof's hand Katriel invoked her Resonance, hoping that she might get some clue on the Prof's discomfort about Madison.

Okay first time, so I hope I'm doing this right!

Katriel has a Perception of 7 and if the + 2 for physical contact applies I guess that is a target of 9 (though maybe just brushing fingers doesn't count.)

Resonance Roll: [roll0]
Check Digit: [roll1]

[JeenLeen]

"...well, if I do go after the Ghostbloods, I wasn't planning on killing any. Maybe I could just find some and ask for Sadat? Kill him, then leave? A punch or two should leave any of the thugs on the ground.
But Jerechial seemed... well, thinking it might get the demons too active if I did.." He ends that thought with a disappointed sigh. He knew he should defer to the smarter angels about some things, but it did annoy him not to go demon-killing. A playful thought arose that he might as well wait until tomorrow, so the rite of dueling a demon could again work. The thought of killing a demon to regain essence and strengthen Michael's Word made him happy, amidst his concern for Hanna.

Haralambos describes the officer as best he can, giving the name on the badge if he saw it.
"Um, hold on. They're shouting louder. My phone's on the roof, so I'm gonna fly down. Please stay on the line if you can, but I'll call ya back if you have to hang up. I'll try to get a better look at his face, too."

He flies down to hear and watch better, looking in through a window. He regrets not telling Hanna he could turn into a pigeon. He'd like to give a comforting peck at the glass right now.

Would I take hits if I flew through a window?

Alternatively, do they have a chimney? I reckon not, based on the earlier descriptions, but Harry could possibly fly down it if he's worried a maybe-demon cop is taking Hanna.

EDIT: alternatively alternatively, any windows happen to be open?
Harry could try to scare off the cop, if he does something bad, by spending essence to show an angel is nearby. But Harry ain't subtle (It is hard for me to RP his low ethereal stats, but I'm a-tryin' :smallsmile:)

[Erulasto]

THACHAEL’S LOFT
2:15 PM

Sarah

The smile the little girl had given Sarah when she bought the bracelet was so wide and so bright it was blinding. She thanked the Bright Lilim, and stuffed the cash into the pocked of the small canvas bag slung across her back.

The ukulele player’s smile faltered a bit at Sarah’s response and he chuckled somewhat sadly. ”Maybe…maybe I did.” As Sarah passes and enters into the loft, the refrain of Somewhere over the Rainbow filters through the door behind her.

There’s a sudden sound from several floors up, a trio of sharp pops, followed by a loud thump that sends some dust fluttering down from exposed portions of the roof above her.

There wasn’t any disturbance of the Symphony, but something in Sarah’s gut was warning her that something wasn’t quite right.

A number of footsteps began to descent the stairs from a couple levels up; not in any hurry, almost languidly. She heard a masculine chuckle, and some soft murmured voices from whomever was on the way down.

* * * * *


UCLA DEPARTMENT OF COMMUNICATIONS, ROOM 103
2:15 PM

Katriel

Barton nodded, still wearing his grin. ”I know you won’t Kat. Just…uh….do me a favour okay?” He peers at her with a sudden intensity to his stare. There is a pregnant pause as he just…stares at her….as if trying to impart some ancient wisdom to the young woman.

”Remember….” Barton says, ”…..Spell-check is your friend.” The sudden grin, and quirked eyebrow break the severity of his initial countenance. There is a small chuckle that ripples through the class good-naturedly.

With the scrap of paper in hand, the skin-on-skin contact allowed Kat’s Resonance to flow between them easier, and her perception of Barton unfurled before her.



With a Check Digit of 3, Kat has revealed to her the following: Barton thinks he’s a good man with a drive and ambition to promote integrity and truth in the media. Unfortunately, Barton also realizes he is a bit of a coward and doesn’t have the gumption to go after the hard hitting stories himself, so he lives by the idea that Those who can, Do. Those who can’t, Teach. Most of the teachers like him (even some of the old stodgier ones, as he’s quite funny, and he’s popular with a lot of his students as well. His close friends call him Bart, or Barry (his first name), and while he is Caucasian he grew up in Hawaii with his parents and the Luau way of life followed him to the mainland. He’s got a hobby that involves conspiracy theories about supernatural beings walking among them, due to a close encounter he claims to have had.



* * * * *


DANCOURT RESIDENCE
2:15 PM

Haralambos


I’d say it would depend on the check digit of your strength check to bust the glass. Knowing Harry, I don’t think he’d take much – if any. On that note, however, the windows and the door are all open and just covered by a screen mesh which you could rip through rather easily.
No chimney, alas.

And you’re doing very well with the Low-Ethereal focus. :smallsmile:



”Sadat is a big fish, Harry. He’s not going to just show up ‘cause you asked him to. Best way to get to him is either through his cronies in bulk or to do it through legitimate business. He’s been known to meet with people looking to do business with the Ghostbloods.”

Gaspariel grunts his assertion that he’ll wait on the line for Harry to take care of whatever business he needs to.

The Detective is leaning on the doorframe of the small kitchen, his arms crossed over his chest in a very closed off physical presence. His face seems tight, drawn and focused: eyes narrowed as he stares at the two women.

Both of the women are in the throes of intense, furious anger. Their skin is flushed, and eyes reddening to a bloodshot appearance. Elizabeth is leaning over the smaller girl, a finger thrust in her face while she screams – spittle flying from her lips. Hanna’s posture is tight, hunched, fists balled at her sides and shoulders shuddering with each enraged breath she takes.

The Detective doesn’t seem to be doing anything about the escalating aggression between the two women.

The two women who love one another, and want to protect each other and who all of a sudden seem very likely to be on the edge of coming to blows and degenerating into physical violence.

[Anyr]

Oh dear. That didn't sound like Jason. Sarah quickly sought out a suitable hiding place: Preferably one that'd let her see whoever was approaching.

[RossN]

Katriel

Kat winces in mock distress before breaking into a grin of her own. 'I prefer my other friends but I understand Prof. Thanks again!'

She slips the note into her purse thinking on what she had received from Prof Barton. Not much of it was surprising, though that encounter with the supernatural is definitely something she'd have to follow up for curiosity if nothing else. It was what Lois Lane or Brenda Starr would do!

'Uh did this Madison Rourke dame leave a phone number or should I just call the club?'

[Erulasto]

THACHAEL’S LOFT

Sarah

It was perhaps Divine providence, but there was a janitors closet at the landing of the stairs that Sarah was standing on, and it was open. The inside stunk of mildew and old cleaning chemicals. It was filled with a wash basin and coiled hose to fill a non-existent mop bucket and an old broom with fraying bristles.

The door didn’t actually have a lock, or a handle for that matter – but it would give a perfect spot to observe anyone coming down the stairs without offering much of a chance of being spotted herself.

As she slid inside, the footsteps got louder, eventually cresting as a pair of people appeared at the top of the stairs directly before her.

One of the pair that appeared was an older woman with greying black hair pulled up into a severe bun, and wearing a dark maroon business suit that was well-tailored and a white blouse. She wore a heavy amount of make-up, and the fingernails on her hands were very long and painted a deep, bloody red.
The other was a thickly built man in a sky-blue button down shirt and a pair of black slacks. He had a leather jacket folded over one arm, and a pair of fitted leather racing gloves on his hands. One of them held a sleek looking black pistol, while the other was flipping through a cellphone while he grinned down at it – a cigarette held lightly between brilliantly white teeth. His blonde hair was short and gelled to a faux-hawk, and his blue eyes were framed by a pair of sterling silver spectacles.

”I’ll handle Jason. Sue, come on! Work with me! You let the Boss know we got the Elohim, and I’ll handle the runaway.” The Man begged, the wide grin never leaving his face – twisting it into a near-rictus.

The woman scowled. ”Fine. Don’t f#ck this up! Without the compass-maker, it will be harder for anyone to find the damn thing. Just because we’re getting ready to make a move on a couple of them doesn’t mean we can afford to lose the others. Bethrezen said we’re getting a visit from some dignitaries soon, and we need to make sure everything is perfect. Do you understand me?” Her voice held a British accent and was hard and cold as ice.

The man howled a laugh as they passed the closet and began descending further down the stairs – their conversation consisting entirely of the man trying to placate the woman – Sue.

* * * * *


UCLA DEPARTMENT OF COMMUNICATIONS, ROOM 103

Katriel

Barton shakes his head slowly. ”She just said come to the club whenever you’ve got time and she’ll make it work.” Barton sighs a bit. ”Just be careful Kat. Miss Rourke is very…influential….and she’s not overly fond of sensationalist reporting. Stick to the facts and…uh….try not to mention any of the stories that ran last year about her being accused of peddling drugs. You really don’t want her as an enemy.” He turned back to the class, and pulled out a small stack of folded papers.

”For the rest of you, come get your assignments. Too bad you missed out on all the good stuff!” he laughed, attention now on the rest of the class as they rose to shuffle forward and accept their duties from the Professor before leaving the classroom.

[RossN]

Katriel

Kat smiled with (for her) solemnity. 'I understand Prof. I'll be careful.'

She left the classroom, an uncharacteristically thoughtful expression on her face. It made sense to head straight out to see Ms Rourke and get some sense of who (or more likely what) she was. Kat ducked into the nearest restroom to see if she was wearing interview appropriate attire and touch up her makeup. Even if Madison was a demon that was no excuse for showing up sloppy (and her later appearance in the evening in Club Babylon probably demanded glamorous attire and make up.)

Satisfied with her look Kat made a beeline for her beloved if painfully slow cherry red moped. She could feel her heart hammering away in her chest and there was a glint of excitement in her hazel eyes. Even if she'd just been a normal student this was a big deal, but she wasn't normal and neither (probably) was Madison.

'This is so a trap,' a small part of Kat's mind said. 'Well duh, but that doesn't mean we can't have fun,' the rest replied.

[JeenLeen]

Rage flushes through Harry as he sees this. Love of family, shattered. He saw it happen to kids and their folks back in Greece. He had heard rumors that Factions had influence here, but... oh, he wanted to tear that demon's face off!

But that... urgh... that call to keep mortals in the quiet. Well, there's more than one way.

The pigeon hurls itself through one of the mesh screens in a nearby window, landing on the kitchen table between the women and the 'cop'. If fury could show in its eyes, it would. It looks at Hanna, and a voice erupts sounding like someone really mad trying to sound like the caricature of a cartoon parrot.
SQUAWK! Might be a demon! He then turns his eyes to the cop and says, still similar but the angry tones coming through more clearly, End up like Zhar-gar-meel! SQUAWK!

He hopes Gaspariel understands being left on hold.

[XIII]

"Thank goodness, I thought you would be a bit cross with me. What with the-" Khalil explained the entire debacle in detail, giving all glory to Haralambos and the motorcycle bombardment technique. Khalil retold the end of the demoness like a proud child seeking approval from it's parent. "Ideally, the motorcycle would have just killed him and set off the bomb in front of his friends. I now count my blessings it didn't. I did not realize the filthy heretic would pack so much power into the vest, I will not make that mistake again. I'm unsure if turtleneck saw any of it or took off in his true form." The part about the actual explosion still sickened Khalil. The scene replayed in his head. Where others saw an explosion, Khalil saw so much more. He saw for a moment the 'other' side of the Word of Fire unleashed.

After speaking with Solomon, Khalil acknowledges Justin's text. [Ok, thanks. Don't let any of those degenerates show up and drag her back into the muck. Keep me posted, you need anything just ask.]

The old man sat in front of the boiler room furnace, his hands clasped in player as close to the fire as he could be without injury. Gabriel, we sent three to the pit today, Harry and I. He is a good friend. He managed to completely humiliate and even prevent a servant of the vile Belial from destroying buildings and taking many innocent lives. Of course, this was in retribution as he had already taken Sopholael and other innocents from us. I managed to burn flesh off the skull of a demoness, and Harry crushed the third foe with a tossed motorcycle. I hope this pleases you. The explosion was unsettling to me, forgive me for being weak and unsteady. Please give me the mental and physical strength I need to help Caitlyn and to continue the crusade against Hell. In your name, I pray.

Khalil eyed the switchblade with disgust as he thought of where to start his investigation into the blade.

Who sold it? Who forged it? Did the same person who forged it imbue it with unholy power? Was it ordered by the demoness or was it a gift? From who? What are the materials? What happens if I touch it? Better not, chest still hurts. What if I burn it with my flame? Not yet, may need it around. How to transport it? Need a box. Holy box. Catholic church may have something. Do I have something? How to deal with Caitlyn... I don't even know this girl, what if she resists me? Getting off track, concentrate on the knife. Who was going to get a visit from Old Khalil today?

[Anyr]

Sarah hid quietly in her new haven. For all its janitorial imperfections, it did the job well. She just had to take care not to brush against anything; Or step on anything; Or smell anything. Peering out, she observed the two descending intruders. Definitely Demons. Worse still, they worked for Bethrezen. When he got involved, things got serious. Their conversation was worrying, to say the least. They'd 'got the Elohim'? Malchiel! Had he been captured? Forced back to Heaven? Or (God forbid) something even worse? Every time Sarah found a source of comfort, the world gave her something new to dread.

Now that the pair had...dealt with...Malchiel, they were already moving on to their next target: Jason. Or so they thought. Their schedule was about to be knocked off track. If Harry had been the one standing here, his solution would probably have involved lots of punching. Sarah preferred a more subtle approach. Once the Demons had moved far enough away, she'd slip back out of her hidey-hole. Then she'd follow the laughing man, as discreetly as possible. He seemed very confident in being able to find Jason. A Djinn, maybe? It didn't matter. Whatever tricks he had up his sleeve, they wouldn't be enough. Sarah would do whatever it took to keep Jason safe.

[Erulasto]

ONCE MORE INTO THE BREACH, DEAR FRIENDS

Sarah

When the pair exited the building, they paused for a moment. No words were spoken between the man, and the woman called Sue, and they seemed to simply….take a moment. Sue glanced down at the ukulele-playing man with a grimace.

”Go play somewhere else, wretch.” She sniffed disdainfully, though the man didn’t move save to give her a perfunctory once-over, and returned to his music.

Sue opened her mouth to respond, when the music suddenly stopped. ”Y’know, th’best time o’day to find th’light is sunrise, lady. Dawn always helped me t’find my way. Maybe y’should try it sometime.” He rose with a pleasant smile, after picking up the crushed velvet top hat that sat in front of him. It jangled and clinked with accumulated change. Tucking both it, and the ukulele under his arm, he gave the two a brief bow and began to wander away, taking the time to wave and offer hello’s to the people he passed.

Sue seemed taken aback, and shook her head in disbelief. Her mouth gaped like a fish, and she seemed on the cusp of some sort of anxiety attack when the male clapped a hand on her shoulder – startling her from her moment.

”Forget him! Go do your bloody job, woman. I caught his scent.” The grinning, blonde haired man tapped his nose with a finger. ”Call you later. If I get him before you tell the boss, next round is on you.”

Then, they parted ways. Sue maneuvered her way through the thronging sea of Humanity, heading towards a nearby parking lot.

The man, however, looked around for a scant few moments before starting off in the other direction. He had tucked his pistol into the waist of his slacks, and pulled the leather jacket on as the sun still flickered through the abating storm ahead.

He made his way towards the subway, and once he had crossed the street he cast a pensive glance around him, before beginning his descent.

She would find him leaning against a vending machine on the platform below, puffing on a cigarette and staring blankly down one of the tunnels.

* * * * *


FINDING RHAPSODY

Katriel

When Katriel had finally made her way outside of the UCLA campus, the sun was beginning to finally pierce the gloom that had settled upon the city for the last few days. A Servant of Yves would likely make a vague statement about there always being a dawn after the dark, but from the rumours and whispers that were heard throughout Heaven, Los Angeles was likely in for more dark before it could truly enjoy the dawn.

While the road was filled with puddles, Kat was confident she would be able to navigate to the Rhapsody without getting totally soaked before her meeting.

The trip was uneventful, though pleasant. The spears of sunlight had begun to warm the chill from the air, but it battled with the strong sea breeze and created a tumultuous wind that kept hair fluttering and air fresh.

The Rhapsody in Red stood like a diamond in the rough. The exterior was reddish-orange brick, and had a very Bohemian style to its architecture, and seemed like it was pulled from the Pulp Novella’s of Prohibition-era Speak Easy’s.

It had a large, double door of weathered old wood, and polished brass handles. In bright red neon lights, a flowing script proclaimed it the Rhapsody in Red and the few windows on the main floor were filled with faded old posters of live bands and various musical talents. The door wasn’t being watched by any bouncers, or attendants, but the soft sound of music whispered from within past the heavy doors. The sign next to the door said Open in neon green, but as it wasn’t even time for the dinner rush, it was likely the establishment wasn’t very busy.

The inside was shaped like a large horseshoe, curving around a center stage surrounded by claret velvet curtains and several bright spotlights shone down on a sleek black grand piano that sat front and center. A Hispanic man in a while silk shirt – sleeves rolled to the elbow – and black slacks played a soulful, moving melody. Sitting atop the piano was a waifish young girl hailing from somewhere in the Middle East. She was wearing a sparkling, ruby red dress that shimmered with each movement from the sequins and rhinestones studding it. Perfectly styled hair – black with streaks of various shades of brown – fell effortlessly around her shoulders as she belted out a sultry song to the man’s melody.

There were several people scattered around the small, circular tables that clustered around the stage – though most of them seemed to be too engrossed in the song to pay much attention to the new arrival.

A large bar sat to one side, and a man in a tuxedo straight out of the 30’s stood behind it, polishing a martini glass. His perfectly waxed mustache and hair made him look like he was a throwback to a bygone age, but regardless of his rather thematic appearance, he smiled as Kat entered and set the glass aside before leaning on the bar top.

”Let me guess, doll. Manhatten. Two olives. Dry. Am I right?”

* * * * *


DANCOURT RESIDENCE

Haralambos

With a mighty tearing sound, the mesh screen of the window became ribbons at the Seraph-turned-Pigeons furious entrance. Small rippling disturbances in the Symphony fluttered out before fading into the omnipresent background music. The sound was abrupt, and out of the ordinary enough that the arguing between Elizabeth and Hanna fell to stunned silence.

The two women gaped at the Pigeon as it spoke through strange squawking sounds. Elizabeth looked on the edge of fainting as the surprise showed on her face. Hanna seemed to handle it with a bit more grace, though Harry could still see the rage beating in every pulse, dilating her eyes and nostrils flaring. Fists clenched and body shaking with barely contained urges of violence.

The Detective seemed a bit taken aback by Harry’s entrance, though he seemed to be recovering unnervingly quickly.

He smiled pleasantly, and shoved his hands into his pockets as he leaned back against the wall.

”Zhangarmel, huh? Did that fire-bug finally get burned by his own foolishness?” The Detective asked, quirking a brow curiously. ”Can’t say I’m not a little relieved. It’s such a waste to just…burn everything, am I right?”

* * * * *


SENTINEL INVESTIGATIONS

Khalil Dhali

Solomon chuckled as Khalil relayed the story. There was some underlying tension in the tone of his voice – he was obviously concerned about the violence that had begun to overtake the city – but it wasn’t often he got to hear about flying motorcycles, and exploding Demons. The Cherub of Faith was a warrior still, first and foremost, even if he’d taken a bit of a back seat in Los Angeles to help Jerichael orchestrate the offensive and defensive abilities of the various Angels in the city.

”If this turtle-neck you speak of did see your engagement with Zhangarmal, then it would be prudent to think that the rest of the Demons in Los Angeles are aware that you and Harry dispatched two of their number. Being known threats poses an interesting predicament, Khalil. On one hand, it means that you and Harry are likely to be targeted more frequently in an attempt to stop your Crusade. On the other…” Solomon laughs softly. ”Well, let’s say there are few Angels in the city who are better equipped to deal with Demonic kill-teams than you two.” It went unspoken that Jerichael and Solomon would be counted among that number, however, it was foolhardy to attack them as Solomon was always on the move and Jerichael spent much of his time at the Tether of the Sword.

When the call ended, and Khalil was ruminating about the Infernal relic as he basked in the heat he felt the soothing presence of Fire as if she was there, cupping his cheek with a strange grin. In his mind’s eye, he saw her; radiant and burning with hair like tongues of fire and skin like molten metal. In her flickering corona of light, the switchblade seemed to shrink in upon itself as it seeking some shelter from the intensity of Fire.

In its seeming terror, the firelight glinted off a singular mark tucked in the shallow crease by the blade’s tang. It was a clock – a pocket watch, to be more precise.

The ringing laughter that seemed to flutter through his ears – there but not really there – seemed pleased.

[RossN]

Katriel

There were few things better than a cool sea breeze to clear one's head and though some would say Kat's head was a bit too clear to begin with the trip left her refreshed and ready for whatever lay ahead.

The Rhapsody in Red was not what she had expected and Katriel was momentarily caught of guard. It was like being flung back in time to the good old days, drinks and all.

Well almost. No one would have called her doll back then.

Kat took a seat at the bar and smiled perkily at the bartender. 'Thanks, that sounds divine.'

She noticed she hadn't been asked for ID.

Her eyes flicked around the room, lingering longest on the singer before returning to the bartender. Resting her elbows on the bar she leaned in. 'Lovely place here. Uh, I think I'm expected. I'm Kat O'Brien.'

[JeenLeen]

Haralambos ***** his head, the quintessential look of a confused pigeon. Well, he hadn't meant to, but he guess he did break the silence between humans. If the demon was talking to him, then he guessed he could talk back. He speaks in his normal voice, hoping Hanna recognizes it from before.

He keeps his eyes on the demon, but speaks first to Hanna. "Hanna, you two are probably fightin' because of him. Some demons can cause hatred. It should fade. Try to get cover in case he starts shooting, or worse, but stay nearby."
Then, turning straight to the demon, and bristling his feathers in... well, honestly it probably looks slightly comical, but Harry is going for threatening. The tone of violence in his voice sounds completely serious, not pleased with the demon's facade of pleasantness.
"You Kashtiel or Kuschiel? I killed Cao Shen not long ago, and I'd be happy to send another demon back to Hell. Tell me what you want with Hanna. And hands where I can see 'em, no Singing."


Well, or I'll just save this for the first round of combat if when it happens. (Unless he is really persuasive or goes celestial, I don't see Harry letting him leave alive.)

Dodging:
Acrobatics TN 10: [roll0]
Check: [roll1]
Dodge TN for intervention: [roll2]
Check: [roll3]

Combat:
Peck
TN check for intervention: [roll4]
Damage: [roll5]

I'm guessing my Seraphic senses are still fried, albeit close to coming back.
Also, if/when combat starts, let me know if you want me to modify my TN or damage due to armor the dude has (if any). Hoping he's not packing kevlar, but I could see standard police uniforms being the equivalent of heavy clothing.


EDIT: the filter put the asterisks into my post. I meant Harry did that thing where a pigeon tilts its head sideways.