In Nomine: Los Angeles (IC)

[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

Spoiler: OOC

Show

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?"

Spoiler: Resonance

Show

For Colton's answer:
(2d6)[5] @ 8
(1d6)[6]

For when meeting that guy in the ring, and first responses from him
(2d6)[6] @ 8
(1d6)[3]

[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.

---

Spoiler

Show

CONDITION
Health 96 / 96, Essence 10 / 10

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

ACTIVE EFFECTS

1. 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.

Spoiler: OOC

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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. [b]”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.

”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.”

Spoiler: OOC and Resonance

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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. [b]"Oh! Oh yes!"[b]

She pulled her purse open and began to rumage around inside for something with a growing scowl.

"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

Spoiler: OOC

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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.

* * * * *


[i]TETHER of FLOWERS

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."

Spoiler: Combat & OOC

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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: (2d6)[6]
Damage: (1d6+2)[4]

Dodging:
Acrobatics TN 10: (2d6)[9]
Check: (1d6)[3]
Dodge TN for intervention: (2d6)[7]
Check: (1d6)[1]

Round 2
Fist/Kick
TN check for intervention: (2d6)[7]
Damage: (1d6+2)[4]

Dodging:
Acrobatics TN 10: (2d6)[8]
Check: (1d6)[4]
Dodge TN for intervention: (2d6)[4]
Check: (1d6)[2]

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

Spoiler: OOC

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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

@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.

Spoiler: OOC

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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?”

* * * * *

Spoiler: OOC to Seatyget and FailedPhantasm

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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.

Spoiler: Combat

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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: (2d6)[6]
Damage: (1d6+2)[6]

Dodging:
Acrobatics TN 10: (2d6)[7]
Check: (1d6)[1]
Dodge TN for intervention: (2d6)[3]
Check: (1d6)[5]

Round 4
Combat:
Fist/Kick
TN check for intervention: (2d6)[7]
Damage: (1d6+2)[8]

Dodging:
Acrobatics TN 10: (2d6)[4]
Check: (1d6)[4]
Dodge TN for intervention: (2d6)[4]
Check: (1d6)[5]

Round 5
Combat:
Fist/Kick
TN check for intervention: (2d6)[10]
Damage: (1d6+2)[7]

Dodging:
Acrobatics TN 10: (2d6)[7]
Check: (1d6)[4]
Dodge TN for intervention: (2d6)[8]
Check: (1d6)[6]

[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.’

---

Spoiler

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CONDITION
Health 96 / 96, Essence 10 / 10

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

ACTIVE EFFECTS

1. 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.

Spoiler: Resonance Roll vs Perception TN5

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(2d6)[5]
(1d6)[2]

[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?"

Spoiler: OOC

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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.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

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.

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.

Spoiler: Misc

Show

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:
(2d6)[11] @ 8
(1d6)[3]

[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.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

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.”

---

Spoiler

Show

CONDITION
Health 96 / 96, Essence 10 / 10

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

ACTIVE EFFECTS

1. 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.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

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.

Spoiler: OOC

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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.