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CHAPTER V: RESPITE.

HECATE’S DOMAIN, THE UNDERGROUND unknown — ONE YEAR AND FIVE MONTHS LEFT.

The Temple of the Triune, as the apparent worshippers that inhabit have taken to calling it, is filled with gothic architecture, with the accents of Ancient Greece about them. The statues, the rooms, even the numerous chandeliers and torches, they all feel as if the darkness was meant to cradle, instead of choke. LACHESIS has gotten the word out that RAGNAROCK will be cancelled—and it’s only the tip of the iceberg of things that have to be addressed. She has been fuming for an hour and a half, trying to contact someone, anyone so as to mitigate the damage, but has resorted to taking care of her sisters, to put her mind out of it. CLOTHO hasn’t woken up, and ATROPOS looks like she wants to smash her head against the wall every hour that passes inside. Things could have gone better, after all.

HECATE, in the flesh and still a little injured after the fight with the unknown entities, have called the gods to discuss what she knows. In a closed room, with dark chairs and darker moods, she shuts the door and tells the gods of old knowledge in a part of the Underground, that she had joined to her domain with the little power she had over the place, that had corroborated resources and postulates. There isn’t much to go on, just ravings and portents of someone that’s been in the Underground for too long. She looks to WODEN, for guidance but the confused, almost haunted look in his star-lit eyes only suggest that even he doesn’t know what’s going on, which is a definite first for him.

Nothing on the figure was known, and they certainly were not forthcoming about who they were, but what was apparent was they were a threat, and a dangerous one at that. HECATE does not know what they are, only that they exude malevolent energies by the ton, and that she would not want to meet them again. News topside has not been good, with the convention center being closed for repairs and public criticism from pundits and the Vox Populi condemning the gods for going through with RAGNAROCK even if it was a public hazard. A lot has happened, but she has tried to help, in her odd and indirect sort of way.

The worst news has come, however—they are trapped in the Underground, within its endlessly dark corridors, for the meanwhile. It took considerable energy for HECATE to send psychic visions, and much more for her to create a portal long enough for the gods to come to safety. It will be a few days before she will have the strength to open another one, in her current state. The gods are hiding for the moment, regrouping unless they have another catastrophe like RAGNAROCK.

HECATE suggests they go over the library, enormous and expansive, asking them with partners so as to glean any and all information that she may have missed: EROS with INANNA, BRIGID with SUSANOO, WODEN with SET, and LILITH with COATLICUE. She says to make themselves useful, but there is a small smile to herself as she says this. The chiding tone of someone that has longed to be with them once again, even at the eve of their destruction. It is clear that she had missed the gods that she had long wanted to break free from, and here in the halls of her power, she had no reason to keep up appearances, however stony she may have appeared to be.

OBJECTIVE: Learn about the enemy and recover from the attack at Ragnarock.

TIME ELAPSED: Unknown.

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CHAPTER VI: RETURN.

HOLLYWOOD, LOS ANGELES a new moon — ONE YEAR AND THREE MONTHS LEFT.

It has been a month and a half, more or less since the disastrous events at RAGNAROCK and there have been media circuses revolving around the destruction of the Los Angeles Convention Center, scratching and scraping, as well as the abrupt cancellation of the second day of the event. Headlines featuring the gods, peering into their mortal lives and where they could have gone were the subject of close scrutiny. It seems that their absence has not gone unnoticed. The gods' disappearance was a shock to the system, and for a while, it was the hottest story on the market.

That is, not until their abrupt return.

HECATE returned those trapped, as promised, as well as the other gods by opening a portal back to the surface through sheer force of will and effort. CLOTHO, still unresponsive, is tended to by LACHESIS, opting to stay in the Temple and promising to return when she can guarantee her sister’s health. There are specific instructions, she says, in her office on what to do and who to contact. Media outlets, heads of PR, reporters sympathetic to the gods. Whatever you say about LACHESIS, one thing is for certain: she’s damn good at her job.

The rest of them, however, return with HECATE and ATROPOS in tow—the former being too drained to create the portal back, and the latter returning to her duties as one of the primary bodyguards of the Pantheon. ATROPOS does not say much, but her steely resolve and the tightening of security around Olympus speaks for itself. Whether or not she’s willing to talk with her charges for once is up to them; she’s never been one for idle chatter.

This is clearly evident in a conference hall that has been set up—the evidence on the table all points to something that is obsessed with hunting down the gods. Locations of the next gods, possible incarnations, and even their current psychological profiles were all obvious points to target, but one thing eludes their grasp: PROMETHEUS’ GAMBIT. The text is shrouded in mystery and esoteric symbols, and whatever is left feels like the ramblings of a madman. Or someone drunk on power.

One thing is clear, however. They know who their enemy is, and what they want. Now, all that’s left is to find a way to stop them.

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CHAPTER III: DIVISION.

OLYMPUS, HOLLYWOOD a new moon — ONE YEAR AND FIVE MONTHS LEFT.

The recent attacks on the Pantheon has reached the news in record time, leading many to wonder if the upcoming convention for the gods, RAGNAROCK will still press onward. The gods reside on Olympus, either healing or unable to come to a conclusion on what to do. CLOTHO is sufficiently worried, almost doting on the wounded, as well as WODEN, who has slept through the hours with no sign yet of waking. Whether this is something sinister or not remains to be seen, but his wolves are not letting anyone to his room, protective of their master. With this in mind, CLOTHO wants the convention to be shut down, much to the irritation of LACHESIS, who had planned this event months in advance with appropriate security measures. It is the first time that the two of them have openly disagreed on an issue on the gods; the tension in the air could have been cut with a chainsaw.

This is what ATROPOS, accompanied by BRIGID see as they walk back into Olympus. After a long flight, and dodging paparazzi and nosy media outlets trying to get back to the spire, they reach a scene of hectic silence. It is something out of a soap opera. A prodigal daughter returned home, she comes to two of her family shot and two of the Fates engaging in a verbal sparring match—not exactly a picture-perfect welcome. But she’s here, and she’s home. And it wouldn’t be home without a little dysfunction, now would it?

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CHAPTER II, PART II: DISRUPTION

WILLOW VAUGHN’S MANSION, BEVERLY HILLS GATEWAY a waning cresent — ONE YEAR AND SIX MONTHS LEFT.

Against all odds, the gods are invited to a party in Beverly Hills, much to the dismay of the surrounding homes—it’s filled with stars, booze and wide open air to see the stars. As many stars as you can get with the light pollution, at least. Plenty of bigwigs in the industry, movie stars, famous singers and a couple dozen models were invited, and it would be remiss to not have the gods there. WILLOW VAUGHN, a rising star in the acting and theater world. Ostensibly a pedigree actress, she’s got bartenders on deck, and DJs pumping music through the mansion she’d invited everyone to be in. No press, no managers, no rules. Though, there might be some nosy little sneaks here and there, the bouncers can take care of them, no sweat.

While the party is in full swing, with the gods talking, flirting or downright fighting with any guests there, a sharp pain shoots through their heads, a lance of almost malevolent energy that tells them that something is wrong. HECATE appears to them simultaneously, though to varying degrees of success, a hiss on her lips. She warns them about an irreversible gambit to be played, leading to a great darkness that will consume them all. She has never known to be fierce, but the blazing fury in her eyes almost forces you to listen to her. None of the other patrons seem to notice, except for the other gods in their midst.

There is a bang, in the distance that only they seem to hear, and HECATE fizzles out, as if a signal to be interrupted, telling them to look for the truth in this den of lies. As they blink, she is gone, the words uttered growing still in the night air, only a look of panic in her face as she disappears.

Only to be shattered by the breaking of a window and the screams of stars everywhere.

It happened quickly, cleanly, two shots rang out, glass broke and bent over backwards to run. Security was fast, but it seems that the assassins were faster. WILLOW has been courteous enough to use her first-aid kit, and get them patched up, even offering to drive them, and subsequently disregard Los Angeles traffic laws; whether or not they intend to accept is up to the Pantheon—they have better contacts, surely, but what can be said about a free ride?

Skip to an hour later and WILLOW having words with her security team, it is clear that there has been another attempt on their lives, and while they all got off relatively scot-free, SET and INANNA have been injured by what seems to be high-caliber rounds from assassins outside. The bullets, thankfully, passed through cleanly and did not hit anything vital. It hurts, but gods heal quicker than mortals—they’ll be back to their feet in a few days or so.

The best thing to do right now is patch it up, sit down and try not to bleed over the leather couches. Who knows, maybe there’s a silver lining to almost dying in a Beverly Hills McMansion.

OBJECTIVE: Take a breather, and maybe find some clues.

TIME ELAPSED: Three hours.

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CHAPTER II, PART I: ACCOLADES.

MICROSOFT THEATER, HOLLYWOOD a waning cresent — ONE YEAR AND SIX MONTHS LEFT.

The gods were invited to an awards ceremony; they aren’t supposed to be headliners, but that doesn’t stop them from arriving in the Starlight Theater with the appropriate glitz, glamour and panache that the gods keep giving to their adoring fans. Media outlets and news anchors are clamoring for their opinions of their dead family. Even the stars of the night, a dim light next to the supernova of gods that appear, want answers, to which they give their own unique replies; whether they volunteer information is up to them. They’re gods, after all—they’re barely beholden to mortals such as them.

That said, the Pantheon has found the stars of the night—forgetting that they recently had beef with each other, amidst all of the horror that’s been going on. A few actors look at the gods with distaste, one of them being CARLISLE YOUNG, currently nominated for a few awards. They’re not happy being upstaged by them on what was supposed to be their special night. However, others, such as ELEANOR WU don’t even bat an eye and take pictures with them; fans are fans, even if they wore Armani. They have seats, they have unlimited booze, and they’re the talk of the town. It’s almost like it’s back to regular programming. The Fates are back at Olympus, searching for HECATE, and will call for the gods if anything comes up. CLOTHO tells them to go and be gods again, with a smile on her face—maybe they won’t heal yet, but they can certainly do something that wasn’t staring at walls.

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CHAPTER I: GENESIS.

OLYMPUS, HOLLYWOOD. the autumnal equinox — ONE YEAR AND SIX MONTHS LEFT.

Death hangs over the gods’ heads like a cloud. The gods have convened in the Pantheon’s headquarters, under the watchful gaze of the Fates, a month after the death of THOTH and HECATE’S disappearance thereafter. Even after trying to comb the Underground for any clues, they still haven’t found a trace of the missing goddess, effectively condemning her in the eyes of ATROPOS, her knife gleaming with intent and anger at the disappearance. Still, the gods try to rally and bring her in alive, even if the Fates say that the psychic backlash could very well be something of her own doing.

LACHESIS says that appointments for miracles and performances are still there, even after these set of tragedies, and it is up to the gods whether they will pull through or back out. She tells them that BRIGID has secluded themselves within their church, and they are refusing all contact. LACHESIS has thought that it would be out of fear, but she does not exactly know why. All she knows is that none of them can get through to her. They can search in the meanwhile, and perform, but she would rather have them where she can see them, in the confines of Olympus.

There is rest in Olympus, there is solace, but the skulls on the thrones of the dead are foreboding. It is tradition, CLOTHO notes, that those dead before their time are denoted with skulls to signify their passing. She does not tell you anything else, the grief from losing these three apparently putting a damper on her mood. The sisters are affected, that much is clear, but they do not seem to do much of anything except mourn. Gods die, and they are used to it, it seems.

For now, there is nothing to do except be on the lookout, perform at the residencies that the gods so dearly hold, and maybe find a clue or two in the meanwhile.

OBJECTIVE: Keep safe, and try to find some semblance of normalcy—whatever passes for that with what’s left of the gods.

TIME ELAPSED: Two weeks.

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