(IC) It's been awhile and boy are we screwed

Nothing quite like blithely walking into a trap. Oddly enough, the trap wasn't for me. I've been continuing to work on my original mission as I keep getting sucked away to deal with the weird stuff. This Ixion guy and Mr. Sunshine are all tied up in the goings on in Tooele. After a more weirdness involving giant snakes and dwarves, we managed to lose Ratri in a fight with a giant of some kind. She made a bad tactical decision, but sure as hell went out with a bang.

Everyone was a bit shook up after watching a battle buddy explode into a hundred pieces. I think the cleanup was worse for some of them. When folks went to go talk to their crazy sky-parent, we all found ourselves in for a spin. Nobody got real contact, for the first time. The entire group received some gifts along with notice that dad/mom was gonna be busy for awhile.

We took Ratri home for a proper Hindu funeral. All in all it was a decent trip. I ran a quick job for side cash and we had a fun filled afternoon of Bollywood combat in the streets. Yes, there was singing.

After our adventures in Bollywoodland, we came back to Utah. Sophie got herself a warning letter from Rosie the Riveter telling her to stay out of Tooele. That was like raising a red flag to me. Johnny Reb kept going on about some traitor in their "family" and found a fascination with this Occupy crap going on. Camps of hippies all over America are getting financial windfalls while the world goes to hell in a hand-basket.

We decided to go ahead with the scout out of Tooele. It was surprisingly easy to get in. That should have been warning sign number one. The actual source of the oddness was easy to find. That should have been warning sign number two. Nope, we didn't collect our $200. We bypassed jail and went straight to hell. Really! American hell is apparently a giant nuclear wasteland. Our way out caved in behind us, trapping us in the caverns connecting some of the hells to each other.

Now; we've picked up a Greek, are traveling through Hindu hell, have really been gone for two weeks when it's felt like 4 days, Sophie's wanted for treason, her husband is hiding in a mine, I'm wanted for questioning, and Tooele is now a crater. Wonderful career I have...

(IC)Tehran, Cults, Fires, Not so Secret, and Ixion

I need to remember to write in this journal more often. All of the craziness that has been going on has made me forget my writing. The pure fact that I think about magic now in a concrete manner and have almost gotten used to the fact that monsters are real is a sign of the haze of war. When a soldier stops being horrified by the gore, he's ripe for mental issues after deployment. I need to find a shrink that won't put me away for what actually happens in my life.

Quick break down of the conclusion of the stolen materials incident. We figured out that it got on an Iranian sub and was headed into the Black Sea. I pulled some contacts and got a NATO pickup out of the Libyan war zone. We hooked up with some Turkish personnel, who ignored my nationality in the interest of their U.S. allies. After a really messed up, time dilated, monster combat we waded through a riot and managed to get a boat. Our little tourist boat got us to the Iranian fleet and we managed to get our objective and get out before we got caught. The Turks are pissed since we got it back home and they didn't get to join any clubs.

When my assignment to Utah first became known to my colleagues, the only things that came to mind were winter sports and the crazy religion based out of the area. The religion got more traction than the sports. The Mormons do not have a good reputation in Israel. They desecrate our dead with their rituals.

There really is a crazy cult operating out of Utah, and it isn't the Mormons. It seems that our sun based foe is trying to take over the Mormons, though. He has a pretty significant cult in Utah. After a less than pleasant encounter with one of them torturing the magic giant cat to death. (Turns out that it was a person with some minor magic powers and a few items. I don't see any of us getting naked to turn into a giant cat any time soon.) My companions and I broke into one of their safe houses. Apparently cults have the same shitty security as most religious sites. They won't be making me forget entire days anymore.

In addition to this cult, we've had a little fire giant problem. I think they're tied together, but haven't been able to prove it yet. This fire giant is somehow tied to these "tasks" that Sophie keeps getting assigned to her. He decided that her first week as a full fledged member of the FBI would be a great time to set most of Salt Lake City on fire. It came down to him holding Sophie's husband hostage and setting bombs to go off in the main fire station. I had my hands full getting fire trucks out of the building, so that they wouldn't explode and kill all of the rubber neckers. The others rescued the surviving firemen and doused the fire, while Sophie and the giant duked it out. She managed to pound him down. I got all of the trucks out except one. It exploded half way into the street, with me in it. To say that it stung would be an understatement.

Sophie got called in on the incident and ended up having a chat with her boss. This chat resulted in the entire group getting outed to her boss. I am now also assigned as a liaison to the U.S. government through Sophie. So, it looks like I'm staying here for awhile. As my work at the base winds down, I'm spending more time in Salt Lake City. I guess it's time to house hunt. A nice rental in the Chabad neighborhood will be great. My only other real option for a place of worship involves an odd mix of hippies and liberal doctors.

Now that things have slowed down a little, we decided to do some investigating. We took the tracker collar from one of the mutant creatures we killed and set a trap. We didn't manage to catch anyone important, but we did catch some information. Apparently modern day centaurs are motorcycles. After one heck of a fire fight, we got Ixion's name. I have the not so sneaking suspicion that he's based himself out of Tooele Army Depot and that he's working with mister sunshine. Weird stuff is going in there. It's where the materials used in Israel came from. The security there is unnaturally good. Too many coincidences makes for not really a coincidence.

Now, where is that shrink's number again..?

(IC)Rich people and bedouines oh my!

I met Tiernan's family. Unlike many wealthy families, they at least seem to have a real emotional connection for the kids. They're nice people, but they really don't live in reality. Their money shields them from the rough things of the world. They live in one of those multi-home compounds and ride around in limos. I honestly think that raising children in that environment is actually damaging to the children. I doubt very highly the kids ever had to do chores for money, or even clean their own rooms. Even the King of Thailand made his kids mow the lawn for their allowances and required them to get real jobs or at least spend a real job's worth of time doing volunteer work. Tiernan seems to have come out fairly well adjusted for someone from that environment. We just need to get him dirty more often and make him eat survival supplies.

Ratri's still a hippie. I don't care what she claims. When you study your own belly button lint, smell like nag champa and talk about personal spiritual harmony... you're a hippie. We finally got her a weapon with more punch than a purse gun. She keeps asking for combat and tactical training. I wonder what kind of demand there would be for pagan deity kids' boot camp? That sure would take one hell of a course.

The three of us went to Israel to get those forbidden books from my dad. We happened to save the lives of everyone on board our plane in the process. This did include Secretary Clinton. I'm really getting sick of this Fate crap. I have a cousin named Horace. Yeh, original, I know. He's an old style wild west sheriff type. I think he's gonna fit in with the "family" about as well as I do. We tracked him down and I got to chat with him. We also managed to pull a rabbit out of our hats and get a chat with our respective divine parents. Horus seems pretty down to earth. Amun's still kind of a douche, but less so when he isn't in a hurry. I'm still not gonna worship his ass. Only one G-d get's my worship.

We also discovered that Mr. Bad Touch can spy on you as long as sunbeams can get into where you are. The only way to stop this is to inscribe the symbol of a sun deity on the windows. Amaterasu's getting some love from the Israeli government right now. Her symbol's the least like to raise the eyebrows of the religious conservatives.

"The talk" was less painful than I thought it would be. Though, I think that had more to do with my dad being in shock than anything else. He got me the hook up on the books. Apparently they're a scroll and have magic wards that keep them from leaving their home, unless the right person takes them out. It seems I'm the right person.

Sophie and Shara figured out a cool teleport trick and came to Israel to join us. We had to track down some stuff that got stolen from Israel and headed off to Egypt, using this teleport thing. Once in Israel, we got a lead on the theft and a lead on Horace apparently having been busted at the Libyan border. We got us a desert truck and headed out. By the way, let's give Tiernan the Oscar for playing a mute retard.

Look sand, lots and lots of sand... oh, a military camp...

(IC)The Mick and the Dybbuk... Betrayal

Ghosts exist. What with everything else going on, I should not be surprised. Even more... Tiernan can talk to the things. He's apparently good at pissing them off too. Let's see, what weirdness have I encountered in person so far...

Pagan Deities - Imagine Kim-Jong Il in a golden skirt.
Children of Pagan Deities - Normal people with extraordinary abilities.
Native American Giant Troll - Tough and dangerous, also very literal.
Ornithes Areioi - Paper tigers. Disgusting, deadly, but go down fast.
Valkyrie Wolf - Tough and dangerous, also can fly.
Ghosts - They really do have tantrums and throw stuff.

As I've put in a previous entry, my government knows about me. So does the American one, now. We have a leak and it needs to be plugged. If needs be, I'll plug it myself. The FBI apparently has staff that knows about such as us and we are in contact with them. It seems they, like my people, have a hands off policy so long as we aren't knocking over buildings or robbing the national mint.

I also should spend some time privately learning my limits. When I fly and fail to realize that I am doing enough Gs to turn a normal person to soup, I give myself away. There is no excuse for being that sloppy. I need to find a place with the right kind of equipment where I can learn my limits and gauge them to normal limits, so that I can curb my abilities in public to the appropriate level.

(IC)Media, Governments and Conspiracy Theories

Well... nothing like going from being a complete unknown to being the talk of FOX News. The little incident down at the camp site became a political issue. It was no longer the local government trying to decide what to do with me. It was the American national government and mine negotiating what to do with me.

After a little prep with Tiernan, who is a law student, I was able to handle the inquiry. Under some real obscure state law, I am not only allowed to shoot people who are attacking other people, I am obligated to do so. It also helped that they were all illegal immigrants who were members of a known violent gang.

The fact that I am a foreign soldier, the body count and the immigration status of the dead has made me the talk of the pundit circuit and the American Congress. This "Tea" party group has made me a cause celeb while the bleeding hearts demonize me. Some guy name O'Reilly offered me a lot of zeros to talk to him. My... lawyer... politely declined. Zeros are nice, but the media is terrible. Can I please just go back to being an unknown?

It shouldn't surprise me, but my superiors know about people like me. What does surprise me is the fact that they are fine with it. Apparently the ones who aren't in active military service aren't considered military or civilians. My superiors are so fine with it that I've been asked to involve my new companions on the primary mission. They weren't even implying that I secretly use the group without it's knowledge. I am to openly approach and involve them.

I've already spoken to Tiernan and Ratri about it and they're interested...

(IC)Fate or Punishment

After the previous evening's excitement, we decided the day was best spent being tourists. The morning's paper had news of befouled waters and dead animals, but I largely ignored it as typical American corporate greed. I met up with Sophie and Tiernan to see the sites. I only wish I remembered doing so and seeing the sites. My phone is full of great pictures of the Mormon temple grounds, Capitol building, some place called suicide rock and Antelope Island. My memories end with reading the paper and walking to the base gates for pick up. They start up again in a bar with only one beer in front of me.

We all started tracking back through our phone records to determine the events of the day. Tiernan noticed that there was an unnatural bird in one of my pictures. According to what he knew of it; it should be extinct as Hercules was supposed to have wiped them out, they are unnaturally destructive and are probably the cause of the pollution and dead animals, and they will attack anyone or anything in their territories. Again, so much for a normal day. Anything capable of causing such a lapse in us and that is as destructive as the legends paint this thing needs to be destroyed. We resolved to track it down the next day.

We drove back out to Antelope Island and tracked for it. We had to resort to renting a boat, as it wasn't on the main island. Tiernan decided that we needed a much fancier boat than would be my choice. Sophie's talking dog, Izzy, helped us track to a nest with one egg. After waiting to see if it would return to it's nest with no results, we destroyed the egg and went in search of the creature itself.

Izzy managed to scent us to where I spotted not only one, but three of the things. Rather than rush up on them, I decided that firing from range would be the best option. All three of us got shots in and managed to kill one and incapacitate the others before they reached the boat. Sophie decapitated the two that weren't killed right off. Their smell was foul enough to make my stomach a little uneasy, but Tiernan doesn't appear to have too strong a stomach. He became ill and Sophie decided to start describing the smell of charred human flesh to him just to mock his lack of constitution. By either of our standard, the poor fellow is a greenhorn.

Interesting discoveries include the fact that all I have to do is think about what firearm I want and my weapon becomes it, I tried a non-firearm once and it didn't change at all. I also had a very unpleasant chat with Tiernan and Sophie. Apparently Tiernan has been doing a lot of research. It seems that there is this quality called Fate that surrounds those of us with our parentage. This Fate means that we really are magnates for the odd. If Sophie gets called to a fire, she will discover that a bored fire elemental set it. If I go on a mission against a typical terrorist foe, I will discover a Djinn. If there is going to be something extraordinarily odd, we are the types of people drawn to it or it is drawn to. This means that any normal people who are with us will be in more danger than if they weren't with us. The others have hero stories to follow. Apparently Ra's culture doesn't have heroes. It has their deities and prized intellectuals.

Oh Hashem... please guide me in how I am to approach my superiors with this? I shall endeavor to be as Job under this test.

(IC)The Godfather's Kidney

I'm on temporary suspension. The local, state level government is debating whether to push for action against me or not. It is no surprise that the leftist, pro-Palestinian factions within the local population are pushing the hardest against me. I did shoot and kill several civilians and seriously injure others. Whether they are involved in criminal activity or not, I am officially a member of a foreign military. To the American people this is tantamount to invasion. The only thing that has saved me from public lynching is the fact that my targets were illegal immigrant criminal gang members in the process of attacking an American citizen. Until this is resolved, my training as a pilot of the new F-35 is on hold.

My actual superiors are less than pleased, but understand why the action happened. They're running into more blocks than planned in Tooele and are debating the order for me to go in, rather than more low key operatives. If I get called in, things have really hit the fan. Until I get called to the military review board, I'm just to stay out of trouble.

I figured the best way to do this was to be a simple tourist and follow through with my plans to teach the civilians I found myself lumped in with how to fire their weapons. Safe, non-combat firing range time and touring the sites would keep me out of trouble. Did that ever fail.

It all started with finding out at the firing range. The police using the range around us were talking about the gang member I didn't kill. Apparently the guy woke up at the hospital and swore to "get the people who did this to him." Sophie, Tiernan and I decided to look into this, as it was us they would be targeting. We had no idea what Ratri was up to and Shar was in Chicago, at a medical conference.

A few hours later, we were a trio of "cholos" getting the word on the street. Turns out it wasn't us they were after. It was Shar's fiancee. They were still hot for his kidney. Sophie and Tiernan warned the fellow, while I staked him out at the hospital in the guise of a drunken Native American. I never want to drink that much free, bad coffee again. The other two went off in search of the computer records held by the now dead medical student that had been working for the gang.

The computer records trip paid off. Shar's fiancee was specifically targeted by a Mafia family out of Chicago. About the time I got the word of this, three stereotypes walked into the hospital. Apparently the Mafia really does look and act like they do in "The Godfather." They killed a receptionist and used the desk system to call Shar's fiancee down for an emergency. He had the awareness to bolt and lock doors behind himself as soon as he saw the Italian goons.

Since I had messaged the others as soon as I saw the goons, the three of us broke in on the goons from different directions. We managed to take them down and get out with the unconscious leader before the police showed up. There are a large number of older, unsecured cars in a hospital parking lot. Utah police will be looking for a drunk Native American with Ninja training, a blonde bimbo with a huge axe and a really cute frat boy.

The Mafia group leader talked. The judicial application of electrical stimulus does wonders. Apparently Shar's fiancee was a perfect donor match for a Mafia boss who was in hiding. The boss' family would not give up on saving their leader's life. I left him in a place for the police to find, as he still had the death of a receptionist to pay for. The car wasn't damaged in any way. So, as soon as the courts are done with it, the owner will get it back. With the news gathered, we got Shar's fiancee to leave town.

Interesting discoveries include that I can't get lost, I can jump yards instead of feet, and I feel compelled to act against disorder more now than ever. The rot of their infrastructure seems to upset me more about the Palestinians than it should. You would think that discovering that I am a thing out of legend would make me break from tradition, but it doesn't. It somehow seems more important to maintain the ancient traditions of my people.

(IC)My New "Friends"

I have names and deities now. The fact that these references becoming almost normal is the worst part...

Mrs. EMT - Sophie - Uncle Sam (American Pantheon)
Mr. Hollywood - Tiernan - Angus (Irish Pantheon)
Ashram escapee - Ratri - Ganesha (Hindu Pantheon)
Ms. Doctor - Shara - Anahita (Persian Pantheon)

Apparently, according to all our "parents" (except mine, he neglected to mention this amidst all his showmanship) we are supposed to work together to save America thus saving the world. I have the distinct feeling I've heard a version of that phrase somewhere... not pulling it up right now.

In addition to the Pagan deities running about and screwing up peoples' lives, we have monsters. I have to say, I kinda already knew about the monsters. Nothing specific, but in the field people run into stuff that doesn't always involve AK-47s or IEDs. Talk has spread around the offices about stuff from legend being real; field folks being lost to them, losing body parts to them, and just plain stories of weird sightings. Unlike the U.S. Air Force and their pilots seeing U.F.O.s, we take it seriously when our people show up with a Djinn story.

The big, Native American, liver eating monster turned out to not be a demon at all. It's an ogress or giantess. Yes, it's a girl. According to the walking libraries, otherwise known as Ratri and Sharra, it was cornered by 3 tribes of Native Americans and trapped a long time ago. Apparently some drunk teenagers and their car let it go.

After tracking down what happened to the Native Americans hunting the thing, we hiked up to have a look. I really need to teach these people how to be quiet. I may as well have been taking a herd of elephants (fitting, considering Ratri's heritage) onto a stealth mission. We also need to leave the "civilians" at home. I'm not talking about the research scientist or doctor or actor. I'm talking about the untrained family members of our odd little group. They can't contribute much and will die fast once hit. It serves no purpose to endanger them.

It wasn't particularly surprising that the ogress tried to sneak up on us. Her method was pretty disgusting. She was wearing the skin of a Native American, lucky for us she wasn't wearing it completely right. A few of us noticed that the movements weren't matching and managed to open fire. The battle was chaotic and fast, as is normal for most firefights. I managed to get Sophie's husband out of the line of fire. The ogress surrendered and agreed to only hunt murderers, rapists and pedophiles. I'm fine with them losing their livers.

I missed my ride back to base, so Tiernan gave me a ride. Of course the American personnel made fun of it, implying an inappropriate relationship between us. That's normal behavior from them. Tiernan and I actually took the chance to talk. Seems he comes from a very wealthy, happy background. Think Kennedy's without all the bad press. For some reason, he thinks that being the child of a Pagan deity is a good thing and is adjusting to this whole mess disturbingly well.

Tiernan's asked for firearms training. Since his weapon has enough punch to do what is needed, he just needs the precision to make it effective. I agreed to teach him and the others basic combat procedures and firearms skills. Sophia seems to have things down with her axe. Yes, she hits monsters with a fancy fireman's axe. Very manly of her. I half expect her to don a metal bra and start singing Wagner one of these days. Ratri and Sharra are pretty useless in combat roles. They're egg heads, so that's to be expected. Sharra's the team medic, so she serves a good support role. Ratri is a theoretical scientist, not sure what to do with her other than wrap her in bubble wrap and keep her out of combat.

(IC)Hashem Before Ra

I hope Ra realizes that I'm not gonna give up who I really am just to fit in better with his shiny new varnish. I have been and always will be a warrior for my people. The traditions that I was raised in by my family are the traditions that I will always keep.

Apparently being a Mamzer comes with a few, odd benefits. I don't need a scope or night-vision goggles anymore. I can see perfectly fine at great distances, in pitch dark and in fouled conditioned like fog or a dust storm. My general physical and mental prowess also seems to have improved. Ra, you have given me physical rewards. Something much greater awaits me as a servant of Hashem. To clarify, Hashem... not the corruptions of this Aten creature.

Sh'ma Yis-ra-eil, A-do-nai E-lo-hei-nu, A-do-nai E-chad.

Ba-ruch sheim k'vod mal-chu-to l'o-lam va-ed.

V'a-hav-ta eit A-do-nai E-lo-he-cha b'chawl l'va-v'cha u-v'chawl naf-sh'cha, u-v'chawl m'o-de-cha. V'ha-yu ha-d'va-rim ha-ei-leh, a-sher a-no-chi m'tsa-v'cha ha-yom, al l'va-ve-cha. V'shi-nan-tam l'-va-ne-cha, v'di-bar-ta bam b'shiv-t'cha b'vei-te-cha, uv-lech-t'cha va-de-rech, u-v'shawch-b'cha uv-ku-me-cha. Uk-shar-tam l'ot al ya-de-cha, v'ha-yu l'to-ta-fot bein ei-ne-cha. Uch-tav-tam, al m'zu-zot bei-te-cha, u-vish-a-re-cha.

OC Translation of the Hebrew Transliteration:
Hear, O Israel, the L-rd is our G-d, the L-rd is One.

Blessed be the name of the glory of His kingdom forever and ever.

You shall love the L-rd your G-d with all your heart, with all your soul and with all your might. And these words which I command you today shall be on your heart. You shall teach them thoroughly to your children, and you shall speak of them when you sit in your house and when you walk on the road, when you lie down and when you rise up. You shall bind them as a sign upon your arm, and they shall be for a reminder between your eyes. And you shall write them upon the doorposts of your house and upon your gates.

(IC) I Am Not What I Thought

Why did I have to get the American assignment? A small job in Iran or even in the chaos of Syria would have been so much more preferable to what seemed a cushy assignment in America. It was all so innocent, to start. I went camping with some of my American hosts. We were going to hike, a boat and drink was all. It sure didn't stay that way.

Then the prospect of a little side adventure sorting out organ stealing, Mexican thugs drew my attention. That got a little hotter than was good, but the local sheriff just played along and ignored the brass. He seemed to blow the incident off as "soldiers will be soldiers" and a few dead illegals weren't as issue. Nice place... remind me to carry my papers around here.

It all went South when I saw the "thing." Some sort of faceless, Native American, liver eating thing. I like a little chopped liver as much as the next guy, but this thing just took the liver right outta people. Somehow the other vacationers saw it as well. If it had just been me, I could roll it out to stress. When a doctor and an EMT see it as well, it's really there. Somehow a Hollywood pretty boy and some sort of ashram refugee got involved too.

That was the tame part. Did you know that dogs can talk? Not YouTube fake talking, seriously have a conversation about the health value of belly rubs with you. Yeh? Neither did I. Somebody better buy that bean recipe before the dog gets busted. Did you know that my mother ran off and had an affair? Yeh? Neither did I. She apparently had the hots for egotistical Egyptian guys. Did you know that the Pagan deities are real creatures that run around ruining peoples' lives? Yeh? Neither did I, till now that is.

Seems that the doctor, the EMT, the ashram escapee, Mr. Hollywood and I are all the products of the Pagan deities ruining peoples' lives. Here's a new fact for ya... Uncle Sam (yeh, the guy in the cheesy posters) is apparently a Pagan deity. That should make the fundamentalist Christians fly right off the wheel. Ms. EMT has Uncle Sam for her daddy. Ms. Doctor has Anahita for a mommy. Mr. Hollywood has Angus for a daddy. We don't know which 8 limbed thing out of India gave us Ms. Ashram yet.

I drew the short straw and got Ra, somehow. At least I'm still a Jew, even if I'm no longer a Levite. For this to happen, Hashem has to have a reason. Right? You have a reason... something better than whatever was behind the duck billed platypus, please?

I Am a Child of Ra

Parody Lyrics: Erin Ruston
Original Lyrics: Naomi Ward Randal and Darwin Wolford (I Am a Child of God)
Original Tune: Mildred Tanner Pettit (I Am a Child of God)

I am a child of Ra,
And he has sent me here,
Has given me this magic gun
With bullets strong with fear.
Lead me, sight me, missile guide me,
Help me find the foe.
Show me who that I must kill
To be with him aglow.

I am a child of Ra,
And so his needs are great;
Help me to implement his plans
Before it grows too late.
Lead me, sight me, missile guide me,
Help me find the foe.
Show me who that I must kill
To be with him aglow.

I am a child of Ra,
Vast Titans do we fight;
The outcome is far from assured
Ours is the side of right.
Lead me, sight me, missile guide me,
Help me find the foe.
Show me who that I must kill
To be with him aglow.

I am a child of Ra,
This great war we must win;
We battle not just for the gods
We battle for our kin.
Lead me, sight me, missile guide me,
Help me find the foe.
Show me who that I must kill
To be with him aglow.

NOTE: This was inspired by a post game conversation about Scion RPG character concepts. When I expressed interest in playing a scion of Ra who was a Mossad sniper, one of my friends piped up with "I am a Child of Ra." The first verse popped into my head just about whole cloth as I was crawling into bed after.

Called to Action

Parody Lyrics: Erin Ruston
Original Lyrics: Grace Gordon (Called to Serve)
Original Music: Adam Geibel (Called to Serve)

Called to action, break the bonds of chattle
Chosen e’er to struggle against retreat,
Far and wide we fight the holy battle,
Far and wide our foes defeat.

Forward, pressing forward, as we battle for our homes;
Forward, pressing forward, as we battle for our homes;
Beyond, ever beyond, as clam’ring battle rings
Worship our power; thrust beyond ever,
Called to fight our war.

Called to guide the people of this the world-
Sons and daughters, children of the gods-
Strong of soul, fury and vigor hurled,
Triumph against all the odds.

NOTES: Filk song inspired by the Scion RPG.

I’ll Be a Weapon

Parody Lyrics: Erin Ruston
Original Lyrics: Nellie Talbot (I’ll Be a Sunbeam)
Original Music: Edwin O. Excell (I’ll Be a Sunbeam)

Amun wants me for a weapon,
To kill for him each foe;
In ev-ry way try to kill them,
In shine, in rain, in snow.

A weapon a weapon,
Amun wants me for a weapon.
A weapon a weapon,
I’ll be a weapon for him.

Amun wants me to be cunning
And kill all foes I see,
Showing how rapid and ready
His righteous wrath can be.

A weapon a weapon,
Amun wants me for a weapon.
A weapon a weapon,
I’ll be a weapon for him.


NOTE: Filk song inspired by this PC.

Stereotypes of the Cultures of the Pantheons

Aesir (Norse): “They are greedy, jack booted thugs. 6 million of my people were a means to an end. How do you like coming back to a pacifist society guys? Revenge is a bitch, ain't it?”

Amatsukami (Japanese): “They have to be raving fanatics about something. If it’s not Empire building, it’s Hello Kitty. I wonder what the death cry of a Hello Kitty kamikaze attack would be?”

Atlantean (Atlantis): “Who?”

Azlanti (Aztecs): “Feather skirts and throwing bloody corpses off pyramids, right? At least that sounds a little scarier than big hats and throwing your cousin across the border.”

British: “They’re all symbolism and show. There’s no real power there. Hell, a pacifist in a diaper kicked their asses.”

Devas (Hindu): “If these guys bothered to get organized, they never would have been conquered. Do you know what I could do with a few extra arms?”

Dodekatheon (Greek): “Talk about hedonists who follow whatever leader looks strongest at that minute. You need to get your heads out of each others' asses.”

French: “Who did they surrender to this week?”

Loa (Voodoo): “Really? Dancing in circles, drinking booze and killing chickens is actually a religion? Sounds fun... until you get to that whole possession part.”

Pesedjet (Egyptian): “I am not and never shall be their slave.”

Shen (Chinese): “It sure sucks when your own people are required by the same system of law that you helped to establish to stop worshiping you. Ya might wanna look into that.”

Soviet: “These assholes can go get eaten by a Titan.”

Tuatha da Danannan (Celtic): “I normally root for the underdog, except when he turns around and bites me. Pay close attention to who your real allies are.”

Yankee: “I forgive you for Twinkies and Sarah Palin.”

Yazata (Persian): “It’s about damn time that you guys re-surfaced. Persia never should have fallen to sand dune fanaticism. You guys want my help wiping out some mullahs?”

Background Story

The Alhakim family are ultra-Orthodox Sephardic Jews, originally from Morocco. They were a line of scholars and Rabbis. The patriarch of the family, Saidon Alhakim, had only one child, a daughter named Merav. Saidon loved and doted on his daughter. He even gave her the academic education that was usually reserved for a son. The fact that Merav wasn’t a son, meant she couldn’t become the next in their line of Rabbis. She had to marry one. Saidon kept a close eye on the boys in his yeshiva in the hopes of finding one who was a great enough scholar to be his successor. He eventually found what he was looking for in Racah Shuraqui.

As was customary, the marriage was arranged between the parents and then youngsters were given the chance to meet and refuse match. When the two met, Racah fell in immediate love. Merav decided that the choice could be worse. Racah, unlike many men amongst the observant, was willing to allow her to pursue an academic career. Neither of them had to serve in the IDF, as they were in exempt categories. Married women and Rabbinical students were both exempt from compulsory service. While they both continued their studies, Racah in day classes and Merav in night classes, they started their family. Merav happily pursued her career in biblical Archaeology with her family’s full support. When Merav’s studies took her away from the home, her mother and father stepped in to help out with the children.

It was while on a dig that Merav met the man she would forever view as the love of her life. He was a stately Arab antiquities expert named Anwar Bakhum. Merav secretly carried on an affair with Anwar when she was away from her family. They would conduct “research” together. Anwar would somehow always have enough work done ahead of time for Merav to produce to explain their time together. The affair went on for several months before Merav found that she was pregnant. Having had sex with both Racah and Anwar, she had no idea who the father was. Since Sephardim looked like Arabs or North Africans, the child’s ethnicity wouldn’t be a giveaway either. The implications of the child did cool Merav’s passions. It put the laws of her faith front and center. Anwar wasn’t distraught or bothered by Merav’s decision to cut off ties. He did giver her a small, gold amulet of the cartouche of Atum-Re for her to give the child that he insisted would be a boy.

For the first time, Merav had a difficult pregnancy. She had to take leave from work and remain at home under the care of her family. When the child finally came, it nearly killed her. The doctors couldn’t explain why. All they could do was work to save her life. Merav managed to survive, but in an extremely diminished capacity. When she set eyes on her son, she immediately knew who the father was. The infant had the elegant features of Anwar, not the solid ones of Racah. She named him Asher, for how happy his father had made her. His status has a Jew was not in question, as that came from the mother. So, Merav raised him the same as any of her other children.

Asher was a rambunctious child. His mother couldn’t keep up with him, as she spent much of her time bed ridden. Asher also disliked the world of books that his parents and most of the ultra-Orthodox community lived in. While his brothers and sisters loved to study Torah, Asher learned just enough to get his prayers and rituals correct. Knowing that they didn’t have a yeshiva student on their hands, Asher’s parents let him spend time with the less intellectual and more militant members of the community. It was amongst these men than Asher’s brilliance would shine. The boy took to firearms in the way the most boys took to their books. They could recite Torah and Talmud from memory, while Asher could recite the capabilities of every piece of military equipment that the other boys had ever heard of and some that they had not.

As Asher grew from a child into a teen, his differences from his Racah became more apparent. Racah was a short, frail man. Asher was a tall, athletic teen. There was no height of any note on either side of his family. Asher literally stood head and shoulders above the entire family. This caused Merav to worry that the community would wonder where he got it from. The worry caused her health to spiral downwards. Merav passed away in Asher’s 15th year.

Racah asked the children each choose something of hers to keep as a personal memento. Asher didn’t expect to find anything in her stacks of books and academic papers, but looked anyway. He decided that even if he didn’t find anything interesting to him, he’d keep a small item. Asher found himself drawn to a small envelope in the central drawer of her desk. The small, gold amulet inside called to him. Racah was shocked at what it was. Why would Merav keep an amulet of a pagan deity rather than giving it to a museum? Racah let his son keep the amulet on the condition that he not show it to others in the ultra-Orthodox community. Asher agreed and wore the amulet under his clothing from that day forward.

Since he wasn’t planning to pursue a higher education, Asher didn’t wait for compulsory service. He volunteered to join the IDF a year before it was required. He signed up with the 97th Battalion, as it was the only completely Orthodox unit in the IDF.

Asher’s skills brought him to the attention of the special forces and he was quickly recruited to the Maglan unit. His appearance would make it easier for him to operate behind enemy lines. Despite them not being an Orthodox unit, Asher leapt at the chance. Not only did Asher meet expectations in his Maglan training, he exceeded them. Having finally found something that he both excelled at and enjoyed, Asher pushed himself to succeed. He was the best marksman, ran the fastest and drove the most aggressively. While others were washing out or barely squeaking by, Asher was breezing through.

The unit commanders had never seen anything like it. Neither had the Mossad agents who frequently worked with the Maglan unit. Asher received additional training with the Mossad, since he didn’t seem to require some of the lessons that his fellow Maglan did. The Mossad taught him stealth by blending in, not just sneaking around. They drilled him in several languages and gave him flight training normally reserved for the Air Forces.

It didn’t take long for Asher to get completely co-opted by the Mossad. With him, they could get an agent into places where the typical mid-30s Ashkenazi Mossad agent would stick out. Asher’s Sephardi ancestry meant that he could pass as a local in most Arab, Turkish, Persian or Berber controlled countries. If his English was good enough, he could pass as any one of several ethnic groups in the United States.

Initially, the Mossad used Asher in a more direct role. He would sneak into enemy territory with Mossad or Maglan teams and fulfill the role of sniper. A few terrorists found the end of their careers through one of his bullets. When the Arab countries began to suffer unrest, Asher was sent with teams to make sure that anti-Israel fanatics didn’t take over leadership. The teams didn’t wear identifying markers. That way, if they got caught or were killed, Israel could deny involvement. Asher didn’t give up his amulet, even though he was mocked for it.

While Asher was on a mission into Egypt, his team was nearly caught. A group of Bedouins came upon their encampment. The Israelis just played like they were young men from Cairo avoiding the insanity. The Bedouins didn’t believe them and it boiled into a confrontation. When the leader grabbed at Asher, he got a hold of the amulet instead. Staring at it, he waved his kinsmen off. He handed it back to Asher, apologized for being disrespectful and led his kinsmen away. Asher was never mocked for wearing his mom’s jewelry ever again.

A chemical attack took place in a small kibbutz in the north of Israel. It wasn’t publicized since the kibbutz in question was actually a Mossad cover. Somebody knew that it was a Mossad cover and specifically targeted it. It had no other military, religious, economic or political value. They managed to take the chemical signature of the agent apart and traced it to agents that should have been destroyed at the Deseret Chemical Depot in Tooele, Utah in the United States. As it wasn’t exactly politic to ask the United States if they weren’t reporting missing chemical weapons, it was decided to send in an espionage team.

Hill Air Force Base, in Layton, Utah in the United States, was going to be hosting the joint training exercises for the new F-35 fighter. As the identities of Israeli fighter pilots were always kept secret, it would be pretty easy to sneak a pilot and flight crew onto the legitimate training. Pilots didn’t even know each other unless they flew in the same wing. The Mossad “pilot” and his team would just come from a wing with no pilots selected for the trip. Asher was selected to be the pilot as he not only spoke English and had the skills, but he also had the youth and military background. To the United States government, he was the young hot dog IAF pilot Seren (Captain) Asher Halevy.

Asher had never been on a military base that wasn’t at a constant state of war alert before. He and his teammates found the security to be distressingly lax. The Israelis got a taste of what a nation who didn’t truly fear invasion was like. Simple ID checks got you off and on base. The Air Force Security Police just wanted to have a casual peek in your car windows, to ensure that you weren’t sneaking equipment off base or people on base. They even made nervous jokes about jet engines.

The laxness was to their mission advantage. Asher wasn’t to be involved in the operational end of the mission. He was the distraction. While all the Americans paid attention to the gregarious, young, hot dog pilot from Israel; the “ground crew” had members who could disappear and look into the chemical weapons problem. The other Israelis ignored anything out of place, as the IDF had to have a reason for everyone included in the training.

Mechanical failure served to make their mission even easier than planned. The F-35 that Asher was to train on suffered a critical engine failure and needed a couple weeks downtime for repair. Asher and his crew were given the choice of returning to Israel for the time or remaining in the United States. If they remained in the United States, they would be allowed to take the time as leave. Not surprising to either the American or Israeli authorities, they all chose to remain and see the sights. Asher’s crew split for “Vegas.” Some of the American pilots decided that Asher needed to see how they spent leave. So, they dragged him down to a place called Scofield Reservoir for boating, drinking, four wheeling, and more drinking.