Realistic or Modern GODCARD: Act One - Resurrection of the Gods (ALWAYS ACCEPTING!)

[Safety Hammer]

Life sucks, don't it?

You get up every morning and go through every step of the same boring routine. Wake, work, and sleep. Only to wake up tomorrow and do it again. Morning fades into evening without much of a change. You sit back at your dead-end job, and do what you can do earn money, but all it does is fuel the cycle. Don't you want an escape? Don't you deserve it?

Perhaps you have the chance to change it all. To finally break the chain. Exit the loop.

One day as you walk home you find it. The location doesn't really matter. Whether it was tossed onto your desk by a stranger, placed in your mailbox by an unsuspecting mailman, or if it found its way onto the windshield of your car. Whatever way it came into your possession, you find yourself holding a black and gold envelope with your name on it. Inside is written this:

Dear Lucky One,

We have noticed your exceptional qualities and characteristics, and you have really caught our attention. You have been selected to participate in an experiment that could change the course of humanity for better or worse. Enclosed in this box is a god's name. Once you have picked up the contents within this box, you will be granted the powers of a god. We want you to use this power any way you wish. We will be observing you and your actions. We are sure you won't disappoint.

Please enjoy our gift.

With great prospects,
~ M


You open the box and find a small, simply designed, sleek, black card. On it is an golden image of a symbol of some sort, and a name underneath it. A series of strange symbols and letters that you had never seen before was bordering the edges of the card. They clearly weren't written with any existing language you know. However, as you run your fingers over the card, you see small instructions written on the back in plain english.

"Flip my card face out and decare my name. With this, I grant you my everlasting power, card bearer."

 

[Safety Hammer]

• Jude Deckland
• M

• 
  
  
  
  Mentioned: n/a​
  
  "Alright, you're sounding better, hun, but let's take it from the top just one more time, baby. This one's the one, I can." The woman in the recording studio managed to say, the crackly voice coming through the microphone and into the sound booth, before a rather angry Jude Deckland overhand threw his headphones into the soundproof glass. "Son of a bitch!!! I've already done eight bloody takes of this fuckin' song, how many goddamn times do you need it?" He screamed, before clutching his head. Oh yeah, there it was. Fuck, hangovers hit waaaaay worse when you're screaming. "Mel, I ain't doing another fuckin' take." He groaned as he dropped his head, motioning for the lights to be dimmed or something. "Its not even like it's a song that I wrote or anything, it's a fucking cover for christ's sake."
  
  "Jude, baby, we've talked about this nearly a thousand times." The producer said, sounding rather exasperated with the volatile attitude of her client. "If you wanna make the money and stay relevant, you're gonna wanna put all you can into this album, honey. No cutting corners. Cuz you and I both know that'll get you nowhere. So let's just take it from the top for one last time, put it all out there, and then if it's good, baby, you can go wherever you want for the rest of the day."
  
  The blonde man sighed stood there, just thinking for a hot second, as if thinking about all of the life decisions he made ro get to this point. But then again, reason really seemed to win in the end, and he signalled for the music again, putting the rather banged-up headphones back on his head. As the melody began to play through those speakers, he closed his eyes and slowly pictured that he wasn't in this stuffy booth. That he was really just alone. In the void. Without any hangovers.
  
  "Drove downtown in the rain
  Nine-thirty on a Tuesday night
  Just to check out the late-night record shop
  Call it impulsive, call it compulsive
  Call it insane
  But when I'm surrounded I just can't stop"
  
  
  
• 
  
  View attachment 568278
  Eight-hundred fliers. Five-hundred leaflets. All of these had been distributed throughout Manhattan Island. Through all of the boroughs and to nearly every New Yorker who had the mental capacity to read them, everyone knew about the cards. And even worse, everyone knew it was because of M. And few things could infuriate them like being exposed.
  
  "This is a disaster." One man said as he tore a flier from a telephone pole and crushed it in his hand. Frantically digging into his pocket and retrieving a phone, before quickly dialing a number.
  
  "Sir, we have a massive problem."
  
  

 

[Churl]

There was a thick envelope. That wasn’t so strange in of itself but what was was that it was addressed to him. He hadn’t ordered anything, he rarely did. Maybe it was from a university or something? But that didn’t answer why he found it taped to the underside of a trash can lid.

Mick Cassian inspected the envelope and gave it in idle shake. Nothing happened. Who would give him something like this? It wasn’t addressed to his parents, but him specifically, and he wasn’t a noticeable enough figure to be the go-to victim for a prank by someone from school...

He considered just throwing it in with the trash but this was a pretty weird thing to just happen out of nowhere. With a sigh, he pulled out a penny and flipped it. He didn’t need to call anything, he knew his rules by heart: Heads, he did something, Tails, he did nothing. He checked the coin. Heads.

Without a second thought he brought the envelope inside and headed up to his room. He sat on the wooden desk chair, before frowning. There wasn’t a return address... could there be anthrax or something inside? Well, he was already committed to opening it, but maybe he should write a quick note explaining what happened if he dropped dead. He flipped the coin. Tails. Might as well not risk wasting the effort, then.

He tore open the envelope, and pulled out the card and the box inside. His eyes skimmed the card. Okay, this had to be a prank, or some weird religious thing. Mick knew well enough to know he was not exceptional in any way. Still, he might as well see what was in the box. Opening it, he had to admit the card looked pretty professional. He pulled it out to better investigate, but the moment his fingertips made contact with the card he stilled. Was it... colder in here? Lifting the card intensified the feeling, and added to it. Mick checked around his room, but he could not find the eyes he felt on him.

‘Face out and declare the name, huh?’

Flipping the card over, he reached for his penny once more before hesitating. He might as well try it. Remove any doubt once and for all, and not let his imagination conjure unnecessary things. He opened his mouth.

Throughout the neighborhood, dogs were howling.

“Fenrir.”

He blinked, and waited. And waited. Maybe he said it wrong? This was a Norse thing, right? He could have mispronounced it, or maybe it really is just a useless piece of-

The symbols on the card were glowing, and he could hear it. He heard a voice that wasn’t human muttering in another language, then that same voice growling so deep the vibrations sunk into his bones. A roar that spoke of hunger and rage and fire and death. Chains snapping. He felt cold, as if he had been pressed against the ice for centuries. Then, he felt the burning. So desperate to warm himself he set it all on fire and relished the heat. The world was shaking, the air choking with poisonous gas. The dead were marching. A man stood in the center of it all, shrieking obscenities at the heavens as he cackled and futilely tried to wipe the poison off of his face. Then, it was war. Then darkness. Then pain pain pain pain pain

Mick opened his eyes and realized he was on the floor. The card was still clutched in his hand, not having bent even in his pressing grip. He looked at it.

“Well,” he began. “This is a thing.”

In his mind, a monster howled in agreement.

 

[Gaius Danius Griinia]

"Scoured the place and even asked the locals. Nobody saw a thing, Boss" said the uniformed man as he flinched under the gaze of a young looking man. The CLINK of a teacup could be heard tapping against the porcelain saucer on the mahogany desk that practically took up most of the room. "A mysterious envelope tucked in to the muffin I took my eyes off of for a SECOND? Dear me we must be having one of THOSE days" replied the young man as he held up the envelope in question. He already had his contact on the force check for prints, nothing. Whoever planted this in his breakfast must have some serious skill. Jack Nimble was not a man that one could impress easily. However planting a card on something he looked away from for but a moment was certainly a step in the right direction. Which brought them to the matter of the card inside of said envelope.

"Leave me... I need some time to ruminate on this" said Jack as he whipped a roll of cash into his subordinates hands. Left alone with nothing but his thoughts and a mysterious card promising him godlike power. All Jack could think to do was spin said card between the tips of his two pointer fingers. If the card was to be believed, which was what he was going with. Jack simply needed to utter the name of the deity listed on the card to inherit their powers. Although he did have reservations against trying such a thing. Ignoring the card seemed a bit wasteful. However if it DID grant some kind of supernatural god powers. He'd have to wonder why he was given THIS card specifically. The deific figure listed on the card was neither a picturesque divine nor a saintly being. Needless to say, he was picked to assume powers best thought of as tyrannical and chaotic in nature. Perhaps the test was to see if Jack would literally make a deal with the Devil for power. Smiling at the potential fun to be had with such an experiment occurring on a city level at the least. Jack had his answer...

"Angra Mainyu"

 

[Funnier President]

As Hikaru opened his door, expecting his books delivery, he was hopeful. The books he ordered contained some..... important things to say the least, and he was eager to open them. However, all that was there was some..... card?

picking up the card, Hikaru maneuvered to his room, which had books everyone on it, and flopped down on the bed, staring at the card. He was honestly surprised that someone had sent them this, maybe it was a birthday invitation? Whatever it was, Hikaru decided to just open it, and carefully opened the card, feeling someone nervous for some reason

Hikaru looked closely at the card, double checking if it was some kind of joke. Most likely it was- like, who would give him of all people this card? Apparently, it would grant him some godly power, and he had to ponder what that would mean.... would he have the ability to destroy the world? Mentally slapping himself to remind himself this was most likely a joke, he looked carefully at the card, then at the figure on it, which was... surprisingly Frey. Hikaru had always figured himself more of a Odin guy, but whatever- this wasn't real, right?

He was starting to feel a warm feeling, and shrugged it of as he decided to say the name. At worst, this was a bomb that would blow him up, but that wouldn't happen-

Well, here goes nothing

"FREY"

 

[Nephalem]

"Here you are!"

Nastya flinched, startled awake by the overly merry voice of a barista. Her heart thumped wildly against her chest as the soft hum of the world returned to her. She had lolled off the sleep while standing at the pick-up counter of her favorite cafe. Luckily, her sunglasses-indoors combo left the employees none the wiser. "Thank you," Nastya said softly, her thick Russian accent protruding through each word. She reached for the cup placed upon the counter before her. A pleasant shiver traveled through her as the warmth of the cup spread through her palms and fingers. Nastya was about to make her way back to her seat when the same barista that awakened her sheepishly caught her eye. "I see you here all the time and just wanted to let you know that I think you're so pretty!" said the barista, followed by an embarrassed yet nonchalant laugh. Nastya raised an eyebrow from behind her sunglasses. It was a genuine compliment, just unexpected. "Thank you," Nastya said once again, this time with a soft smile, "you are pretty as well".

After another moment of smiling at each other, Nastya turned and made her way back towards her seat. She placed herself elegantly into the plush leather chair before abruptly slumping down and placing her head onto the circular table. She stayed like that for a moment, her forehead resting upon the tabletop as she groaned mentally. She was so tired. Midterms were rapidly approaching so she had been spending most of her nights and early mornings studying. Nastya lifted her head to cast an anguished look at her backpack, which was leaning against the bottom of her seat. She had come here to continue studying, hoping that the change of environment would inspire her. With a deep sigh, Nastya lifted her head and gathered the thick black binder out of her bag. This binder was her holy grail. It held her textbook, decorated with hundreds of colorful tabs marking important concepts, her notes, hand-made illustrations, and formulas. She placed the binder onto the table and flipped through her textbook to her next target chapter. However, instead of the chapter objectives, Nastya found an envelope addressed to her.

Aside from the mystery of its presence, the quality of the envelope surprised Nastya. It was an entrancing shade of black with shimmering gold trim. Nastya glanced around the cafe for anyone that could be responsible for the letter. Aside from the staff behind the counter, Nastya was the only individual present. "How curious," she thought as she delicately broke the seal of the envelope. She plucked the letter out and carefully unfolded it. After reading it Nastya searched into the envelope once more before pulling out a small black card. The instructions left her confused, yet intrigued. She didn't like spending her time being unproductive, but nothing like this had ever happened to her before. She pulled her phone out and googled the name on the card. She scrolled for a few minutes, reading several mythological articles explaining the tale of Long Mo. Nastya looked back at the staff of the shop. They were talking amongst themselves and restocking supplies for the upcoming rush. Suddenly, the bell of the front door chimes, marking the entrance of new customers. It was a group of five, all speaking quite loudly amongst themselves. The noisy distraction wouldn't last for long. Feeling pressured, Nastya seized her opportunity and spoke:

"Long Mo"

The sudden rush of noise, color, and smell winded Nastya. Everything was suddenly so loud, so bright and so overwhelming. She placed her throbbing head in her hands and shut her eyes tightly. It was as if someone dialed her five senses from a one to a ten. Waves of emotion crashed through her. Anger, love, saddness, pride, all swirling through her, evoking memories she never experienced. For a moment, Nastya saw the figure of Long Mo, draped in billowing robes, as she reached out and cupped Nastya's face. The gesture was one of such pure, intense love that tears squeezed out of Nastya's closed eyes. Long Mo smiled warmly at her before withdrawing as the vision faded out.

Nastya stood hastily, as if it would somehow bring the goddess back to her. Her action caused her chair to screech loudly as it flew backwards. Both the staff and group of customers turned to look at Nastya, startled by the unanticipated sound. She flashed them a smile and awkwardly adjusted her bold red hair before shoving her binder hapazardly into her bag, scooping it up and rushing out the door, clearly embarrassed. She grasped the black card tightly as she made her way out into the crowded streets of Manhattan.