A cold rain drizzled out of a black winter night. Icy winds swirled around the parked Ford Interceptors with Vancouver Police Department Markings. Their flashing red and blue lights gave the scene an unearthly air. Behind them crouched Vancouver police officers in their rain gear and tactical vests, fatigued scowls marking their 3rd hour waiting for the stand-off to reach some sort of finish. Further down the street waited an ambulance. It's crew also crouched down in the rain even though out of immediate line of fire from the source of everyone's irritation.

Beyond the police cruisers is a no-man's land of about fifteen meters surrounding a rundown house with a patchy yard. There two sprawled police officers lay motionless except for an occasional moan and twitch. These unfortunate men had been sent to mediate only to fall prey to...something. A spell or power of affliction that rendered them helpless. It was the first sign that there were more than drug dealers in this notorious spot for dial-a-dope pick-ups. Panicked gang members of the Independent Soldiers added to the chaos with an occasional ill-aimed shot at the police cruisers from the second story windows. The intermittent shooting had died down now into an almost dull routine of waiting.

Asa Helldottir: Your arrival is met by a Sgt Matthews, a bulky man who moves with purpose and a continual scowl under his rain hood. Peppery beard and florid nose paint a picture of a man who spends as much time at a desk as on duty. He looks the woman in front of him up and down before getting to business: "You Inspector Helldottir of the Special Investigations Unit, RCMP?"

You know that the local police resent outsiders intruding onto their business, even federal officers. But the active threat of a paranormal nature required a different approach and this sergeant knew it. Its why you were here after all. A known Scion was almost destined to this sort of job as far as most civilians and government officials were concerned. Of course it did occasionally leave you scouring the deep woods because of yet another farcical Big Foot report but those were the breaks of the job.

Anders Ohlson-Trygg: You sigh and cover your face from another burst of icy rain driven by a cold wind. Being an EMR, an Emergency Medical Responder, left you waiting on the sideline ready to swoop in and recover the downed officers when circumstances availed themselves. Your partner, Julia Mendez, chattered on about nothing. Nervous but seeking to hide it as she clutched the medical bag.

None of the police seemed to recognize you as a Scion but you  felt like maybe there was something you should do anyway. The Family looked upon action and initiative as something all its sons and daughters should aspire too. Yet thinking of family seems to have caused fate to start moving again on this stalled stand-off. A plainclothes car had arrived and a single figure had stepped out to speak to Sgt. Matthews. It was a cousin Scion...umm...Hellsdotter? Maybe it was time to see if you could help all unofficial like.
This message was lightly edited by the GM at 01:32, Thu 25 Jan.

There was something to a cold rain on a winter's night that spoke to something in the blood, conjured up the urge to be elsewhere laughing in the face of ocean spray and adversity in pursuit of adventure. She wouldn't have had to go far either with the numerous ports and docks reaching out into the strait and the North Pacific beyond. Maybe it wasn't the right ocean from a heritage perspective but a body of water was a body of water as far as any of the Aesir were concerned. Granted, for every stirring of the blood the rain brought... There was still the matter of it's bitter bite and the havoc it threatened as she held the umbrella over head to shield her face from it's make-up ruining wrath. They might know she was a scion but they didn't need to see the hallmarks of her heritage. Mortals hated that reminder of what was under the skin she found but it was sometimes a bit necessary to remind them and just what and who she spoke for.

Which brought the matter to the practical challenge that was barked at her by Sgt Matthews, his name gleamed off a quick glance at his badge before settling on his features. The audacity was admirable but then she wasn't here to pick a fight with him, just settle the mess that'd fallen into his lap so they could get on to warm drink and comforting food. She offered him a slanted grin then as her free hand dug into a coat pocket and snapped open her own symbols of office and identity. As if the fact this woman done up like she was heading to a business meeting with a length of angry looking steel at her hip wasn't a dead give away to at least something of her aspect. That her shadow danced, twisted, and prowled like a hungry wolf in the flashing lights of the assembled squad cars forming barrier to the scene only adding to it.

"On the money, Sergeant. So what's got your department reaching up and through E division to get someone like me here ASAP?" Asa asked with a voice that seemed accustomed to the mantles of leadership and grave expectation. Each note calm, concise, and expectant. A detail that was made all the more impactful by her uncommon, frankly heroic, stature. Every facet of fine and handsome features seeming plucked out of the pages of one epic or another and suffused, irrevocably, with the divine spark of her mother. For anyone with the nose for it, she smelled of burning amber, ozone, and deep, deep cold... For the mortal lot, they'd just have to settle on what their eyes and ears were telling them as the rain and winter washed just about anything away and she'd never been heavy handed with her favorite fragrances. They upset Gramr.

Sgt. Matthews eyes the RCMP badge before relaxing slightly. He gestures back at the rainy stand-off and replies in a business-like tone even if a hint of aggravation at the situation seeps through.

"At first it was just a standard bust of a Independent Soldier drug den. Usually a show of the uniform is enough to keep things quiet as we make arrests. But this crew...The two officers, Daniels and Red Cliff, were sent to the door when they were surrounded by some sort of light show. Spirits? Ghosts? You could make out faces in the light. The light faded and both officers were down. Some of the thugs inside opened fire but without effect."

Matthews shrugs,"I suspect that the IS brought in some magical help and are now regretting it. Normally this wouldn't merit a shoot-out and the IS knows it. But now that magic or whatever this is has been deployed its made things critical. We have about four or five individuals inside, possibly six, with an unknown magical threat, possibly a sorcerer. Since the gang is Asian the magical threat might be as well but you're the expert here."

While Matthews doesn't verbalize it he watches Hellsdottir with a hint of expectation. While its true that the RCMP's paranormal division had wide latitude and loose guidelines there was still some expectation to reduce bloodshed or property damage. This wasn't Detroit or New York.

It was an easy, practiced and utterly unconscious motion that saw the badge gently folded and returned to it's proscribed pocket. In that same motion, the hand came to rest on the pommel of the blade at her hip as Sgt. Matthews explained the situation. The expectation that had stolen into his eyes wasn't lost on her either as she took a light step to his left and let her mind wander over the scene before her to the tune of the failing rain. She was known as a voice for the dead, one who could hear and speak for those who could no longer touch the mortal world... but there were other facets to that nature as she stood, much like her mother, at the cross roads of such as a judge all her own. Truth, as a consequence, had a way of finding it's way to her so that she might inform each decision and stride boldly towards whatever destiny had in mind for her.

This was no different as her lips pursed and she her chin rose so that she could stare down the length of her nose at the scene of the unfolding crime. Her analysis indisputable in it's summation and mastery of the scene.

"I aim not to disappointment, Sergeant." the Daughter of Hel added with a sidelong glance in address of his expectation. She was a warrior, all aesir were warriors in their way, but she was also a guardian. A check and balance in the audacious and fatalistic pursuit of their destiny... and one who didn't like to make more work for herself by adding souls to the tally.


OOC:
Attempting to identify what happened via Occult. Correct me if I'm doing any of this wrong by the by. Still working to grok the system a wee bit.

Using indisputable Analysis to get an idea of the scene and sorcery involved as well:

20:18, Today: Asa Heldottir rolled 30 using 6d10 with rolls of 8,3,4,3,7,5.  Indisputable Analysis (Culture + Cunning)

19:53, Today: Asa Heldottir rolled 31 using 7d10 with rolls of 4,3,6,2,8,2,6.  Occult + Int (Sorcery).

Indisputable Analysis gives you a bag of Enhancements that you can use later in the scene on rolls for the investigation. Right now you have one Enhancement you can apply before a roll.

Your initial Occult roll can separate out possible Leads. You rolled one success against a TN of 8. Good enough!

Splatters of cold rain and a dismal crack of thunder greet the investigator as she turns toward the crime scene. The wind brings a scent of...incense? ...possibly something of the Deva pantheon? South East Asia at any rate which matches the gangs demographics. The poor officers lying the rain occasionally groan and twitch. From the Sergeant's description it sounded like a short lived curse meant to incapacitate. Dangerous if it takes affect but not lethal. Apparently a sorcerer, a dakun from Indonesia?

The drug house itself is sealed, windows on the upper and lower floor covered by closed drapes or blinds. Occasionally they shift as one of the gangbangers sneaks a glance. Maybe two on the top floor, the rest on the ground floor. The house sits upon a small yard. Plenty of cover to approach from the sides. Crossing the street directly is likely to mean getting shot or cursed...

She wasn't so foolish as to go charging up towards the door which left a few questions as to just how to get to the bottom of the matter and defuse the situation. There were more than a few rules and regulations on how big a mess she might make, which irked at some part of her brash heritage, but that suited her more than well enough for the fact she'd also have to speak for any dead she made and usher them on. Not to Helheim but probably else where if they died in battle against her. Her eyes drifted then to other side of the street, trying to pick out some sheltered approach on the measure and method of the holed up gang bangers and what they might tolerate... Of course, she could probably force a short cut of one sort or another but for now it was watch, listen, calculate.

Either way, they all knew how this might end and if it came to it... She could be a little more blunt for the fact.

"Wouldn't happen to have a megaphone in one of the cars?" the AEsir scion asked over her shoulder of the Sergeant, a hand rubbing gently at the pommel of the old, cold length of steel at her hip.


OOC: Hunting for a way to approach without getting lit up at this point. Otherwise, I've an idea.

Matthews gestures to a nearby man who hands over the white bullhorn and its battery pack. The sergeant watches the Scion absent-mindedly running a hand along her sword, of all things.

Asa turns a calculating eye upon the approaches. As she had noted before the most likely approaches was probably from the western house which shared a high fence, blocking sight lines. It would get Asa to within three or four meters. A small patch of open yard and then along the walls of the drug house. There were two first floor window. Not easy but probably the safest way to get to the west wall without being seen. There were even some waste bins and sprawling junk to give a little cover.

The Independent Soldiers did occasionally twitch a shade aside to check that approach but it could be done.

The Scion had a great deal to think on as she considered that approach but there was a poetic charm to the option of the front door, even if it wasn't the wisest of the option. For now, though, she had all the weapon she might need in hand as she takes the battery pack first, clipping it onto her belt and then the bullhorn itself. No use getting more soaked then she needed and showing to the world the more unnatural qualities of her divine heritage. She'd learned the lesson since that being partially transparent down to the bone was not a quality most found charming, comforting, or in anyway a positive. Make up did wonders to mask it but she had more than one reason to grumble about the sort of routine that required to match all the various tones of flesh and blood from one side to the other... in a subtle way.

"I'm sure one or two of you in there have an idea of who, or more importantly what, I am but for the sake of introductions... I'm Inspector Helsdottir. RCMP SIU. That I'm here means a certain someone among your ranks has decided to escalate the situation beyond what the fine folks of the local PD might manage on their own. Something we're both rather unhappy about." Asa said with a conversational tone, the typical bravado of the Aesir evident with a charming twist of both heritage both mischievous and monstrous. "Now, that doesn't mean we can't sort this out after a fashion. We're all probably wise enough to know directions this all can go in but humor me... How do you think this might go now that the hired on mystical support gone and incapacitated two officers after showing their nerve is just a little bit frayed? Doesn't quite seem worth the time or energy for the scale of operation I'm catching the scent of here but please, lets hear you all out."


OOC: Conversational but brash and audacious in the fashion of the AEsir, Asa's trying to nudge them towards surrender if only because there's no honor in dying on this hill for the twitch fingers of a sorcerer.

"Anjing inspector!", replies a voice from the upper level a few moments later in a thick Indonesian accent. "You run at the mouth for one of god-touched! Take your runts and leave! No one hurt...yet!"

Asa is taken aback at the fierce confidence in the voice. It must be obvious that this was a losing position in every way even to the dimmest Soldier. A suspician begins to form at the back of her mind that there might be more going on here then is apparent.

The voice calls out again,"Unless you want to find out what this dukun is about than come on in! I've got something for you!" The leer is unmistakable as shrill laughter echoes from the house.

Suddenly one of the windows cranks up, a gun thrown out, and a Soldier crawls out with arms raised. He is wide-eyed at the flashing police lights as he waits for Asa to react.

The corner of Asa's lips twitched upward at the challenge and twisted into a full smile as she saw the gun pitched out one of the windows and the man crawl out with arms raised above his head. Her hand remained balanced easily on the broad pommel of her death cursed blade. A subtle motion of her head telling the man all he needed to know to comply with her wishes and not invite the wrath of the AEsir... That left only to answer the challenge laid out before her. It was then that the hand left the pommel and held out into the rain at her side for a moment. The cold water stilling the little spark of anger and reminding her that it was all laid out before her. She just had to walk the path as brazen as her forebearers had. That thought in mind, she drew the water back and smeared away the make up on the right side of her face. The bright lights of the squad cars behind her scything through flesh and leaving only the grim, ghostly outline of the bones beneath.

"40 minutes or 40 years, Dukun? I told you who I am as a courtesy and you think to bait a wolf with the promise of rabbit's meat?" Asa taunted back, twisting and turning the insult hurled her way with a demonstrated and clear understanding of the language leveled at her. The power in her blood and soul surging as she got a sense of the weft and thread of the man's life and end. "Either way, I'll be seeing you. So, I'll offer it again. Surrender and the night comes to a quiet end or force me to do more than bark at fools in a house and walk the roads of Mother's Legend..."



20:10, Today: Asa Heldottir rolled 41 using 8d10 ((8,1,10,3,5,1,5,8)). (Forgot to enable show dice, can reroll if inclined)
20:12, Today: Asa Heldottir rolled 39 using 7d10 with rolls of 3,8,10,1,9,3,5.  Neither the Hour Nor Minute (Int + Occult).

Neither the Minute nor the Hour: You make a prediction about the details of your target’s inevitable death (which does not have to be true) and make an opposed Knack Skill roll. If successful, the target suffers a +1 Difficulty to all actions for the rest of the scene.

May drop one of the enhancements on that persuasion roll. Left off the negotiation specialty because she's being audacious and tempting his hand.

Something beyond mortal senses seems to twist as the weight of Fate shifts. The rain and the dark become thicker and more present as Asa's powers take hold. But it does not go unnoticed. The Dakun responds to Asa's meddling.

A short vicious laugh rolls across the street in response to Asa's challenge. The gang member nervously working his way to safety looks back at the house and quickens his step toward the police. It's the sudden scent of burning incense cutting through the rain that raises alarm in Asa's mind, the scent of stolen or borrowed divinity, and the hum of a temple chant. It's an alien divinity but Asa recognizes the power of the Deva, the pantheon that has great influence in south-east Asia and among the immigrant population of the city.

The Soldier hurrying across the street is not fast enough as a faint blue luminescence rises above him, a cloud forms the vague image of a thousand armed god, swords of glowing mist slicing down toward the man.

03:51, Today: All-Father rolled 24 using 6d10 ((8,4,1,2,7,2))

The Dakun rolled 1 success for Initiative.

Asa can roll her Highest combat skill plus her Cunning to determine her Initiative. Feel free to write up your response as well if you win.

The Daughter of Hel sighed as she drummed her fingers upon the pummel of the cold, old steel at her hip and shifted her grasp in preparation to draw the blade. She'd offered a glimpse of the tapestry, of the path that might lead them away to a brighter day and a better end, but the work of the Norns was a tricky and binding thing. After all, wasn't that the whole point? To rail and rage with utmost audacity against binding fate and laugh when it finally, inevitably, caught up? Either way, the situation was no complicated as she'd given her word after a fashion that any that bent the knee would be safe most explicitly from her but she wasn't exactly going to abandon a man to the treachery of a cowardly sorcerer.

Her shadow grew long then... Stretching out farther and farther towards the house in the light of the spotlights at her back and it twisted with every foot it gained from that of the woman to that of a great and savage hound, a wolf. The terrible shape familiar to any that cleaved to legends and myths of the AEsir but she doubted any present were too devote even. She wasn't ready yet to unleash the dread shadow of Gramr but it was there... and ready.

With a rasping hiss lost to the rain and clamour, Sulten Kaldt came free of it's scabbard. Any moisture touching it's exposed edges freezing instantly and forming a cold edge of frost on the otherwise naked, ancient steel. The runes gleamed with rich gold in the bright light that surrounded her now as she dropped the megaphone and traced the runes with a delicate finger. She was a daughter of Hel, Mistress of the Underworld, Monstrous Child of Loki, Ruler of the Cold and Dead. A spirit was nothing but an intruder between the realms and she aimed to force the gates closed to this sorcerer and it's conjured pet.



11:57, Today: Asa Heldottir rolled 33 using 6d10 ((8,8,2,7,1,7)).

Two successes on initiative.

Liminal Clash of Wills to banish the Deva temporarily via Flatlander.

Manipulation 4 + Legend 1 + 1 Momentum
17:43, Today: Asa Heldottir rolled 37 using 6d10 with rolls of 7,3,10,4,4,9.  Clash of Wills . – 37