Some days being a Demigod amongst men was awesome. This was not one of those days.<br/><br/>Yuriko Watanabe was in the garage. The afternoon sunshine came down bright on her as she worked on changing the oil in her enchanted motorcycle, all to the tunes from a nearby stereo. She almost didn't feel the polite tap on her leg until it became persistent. She pulled her head out from under the bike to see her tennyo lover standing there, eyes filled with warm concern. In the spirit's hands was a scroll that bore the Imperial Seal of Yuriko's mother Amaterasu and a first-class plane ticket.<br/><br/>Amy Kalder was out skiing on a remote mountain in the Swiss Alps, far from the routes any sane mortal would dare traverse. The daughter of Uller had no such fear of death however. She shredded the the nearly sheer peak like it was a bunny slope, pulling the sorts of moves that wouldn't look out of place in a Hollywood action flick. She came out of a 1080-degree spin off the side of the mountain and into a long, level valley at it's base, kicking up snow as she went to the sounds of clapping. When she looked up, she saw the legendary Beowulf leaning against a rock, attired in ski clothes and with a twinkle in his eye that did not match the somber expression on his face. He was holding a plane ticket in one hand.<br/><br/>Alexander Cabbot came home from another night on the town. It was just the usual: a night of celebration after bringing down a mobbed-up high roller who had been shaking down the casinos in Vegas. He'd cleaned the arrogant hood out, humiliated him in front of his past victims, and managed to get himself and the victims out right before the feds showed up to bust his high-stakes illegal tournament. The fact that a bunch of criminal high-ups and middle managers got nabbed in the sting was a bonus. Alex had spread the wealth generously during the following night of partying and walked away with a very nice cut. Now as he walked to the door, he saw that locks were undone. Suspicious, he crept in slowly, hand on one of his throwing knives, but there was nothing that his enhanced senses could find. A thorough search showed nothing gone or out-of-place. The only thing that was different was a sealed letter and a plane ticket on his coffee table.<br/><br/>Johan Hartmond was in his office, on the phone with a client, when the call came to him. This was not a call that could be handled by a secretary. Not too many secretaries could handle the ghost of a dead Spartan, in full battle regalia, appearing through the floor of an office. Most secretaries wouldn't know what to do when said Spartan saluted sharply and held out a box made of one solid ruby that bore the seal of the King of the Underworld on it. And most secretaries would faint when hearing the aforesaid Spartan address their boss as "Prince of Hades, Tartarus, and Elysium" while speaking of an urgent message from the boss's father in the box. All in all, it was best that Johan's secretary didn't field this call.<br/><br/>Luke Xiang smashed the lookout through the wall of the empty studio, stabbing the end of his Ru Yi Jin Gu Bang staff into the surprised jiang-shi's heart before it could even react. The rest of the jiang-shi and the chaos cultists that had gathered to bomb the studio where Luke was supposed to be performing tomorrow for a "Making Of" episode of the Invisible War (Season One coming soon to DVD!) dropped their bombs and charged, drawing knives and baring fangs. The action star grinned. Less than two minutes later the vampires were dust, the unconscious cultists were tied up in the stage lighting, and the defused bombs were lying in a pile in the corner. His personal Shen Long appeared through the skylight and warmly greeted the son of the Monkey King before opening a talon to reveal an official notice from the Celestial Bureaucracy and a plane ticket.<br/><br/>Cleopatra Selene was in her office at the university, working late. Being a demigoddess had some advantages, like the stamina to work through the night past the time most mortals would have passed out into their books. She had grants to overlook, and the last term papers from students to grade. She left most of the students' work to her T.A.s but she had to put in<em>some</em>academic work to justify her tenure to the fussy school bureaucrats. Most of it was mind-numbing tedium, but it got her the resources for her real passion: archaeology. She was sifting through the letters when Jubal fluttered down from a bookcase and insistently poked his beak at a letter. It appeared no different than any other letter but when she opened it at Jubal's prodding she found an authentic papyrus scroll, addressed to her and sealed with the mark of Horus, Pharaoh of the Pesedjet and her divine patron. In contrast was a very modern plane ticket.<br/><br/>Erin Somov was officially off the clock. After turning in her latest report to her publishers (with references to the mythological stripped out and convenient explanations for the strange doings of a group of Scions out in Dunkirk), she was on her way to a nice restaurant to unwind. Being an embedded reporter in the war against the Titans was not an easy task, but it was a necessary one. Unfortunately for her, it was a job that was never done. Just as she reached her car, a crow swooped in with a note and a plane ticket clutched tightly in its' talon and landed right on the hood. There was no question that the daughter of the Morrigan was getting a message for her mother.<br/><br/>Andrew Patterson was just finishing up a case that, while small by his usual standards, meant everything to those he had helped. He had been enjoying some downtime in a mall when a couple had snatched a child in broad daylight, right from his parents' arms in the parking lot. They had managed to escape the scene but these mortal kidnappers could not hope to escape the divine senses and speed of a son of Agni. He had been on their trail even before the cops had arrived at the crime scene. By the time the responding officer had filed the report, Andrew had already tracked the kidnappers to their home, beat the tar out of both of them, and had the shaken boy safely waiting on the curb for the cops he had called. As he finished giving his report and left the scene, a burst of wind and heat had come over him. It was there and gone in an instant, and in his hand was a letter and a plane ticket.<br/><br/>The respective messages each Scion received were worded differently for each of them but they all conveyed the same basic message: The Persian Godrealm is being overwhelmed by the Titans as you read this. The Yazata are fighting a last-ditch effort on the slops of Mount Hukairya but they have sent word that Azhi Dahaka, a three-headed beast Fated to destroy a third of the World, is on the verge of being freed. Yazata Scions have already tried and failed to prevent the unbinding and the Yazata have sent for any aid they can get. Since you've proven to be talented at handling unusual problems, you've been selected to go to Iran, find the cultists at their last-known location, and stop them. You will be met at the airport by other selected Scions and a contact from the Yazata who can guide you to the place where their Scions last encountered the Titan worshippers. It goes without saying that failing and allowing a third of the World to be destroyed is not an option. I wish you the best of luck."<br/><br/>OOC: And away we go! :) Feel free to have your characters meet up at the airport in Tehran, Iran or to detail how their preparations along the way. :)  The tickets are all first-class, naturally. Even in a time of crisis the Gods are sending their kids in style. ^_^<br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/>