[hider=Maximón][hr][hr]
[center][img]http://i1148.photobucket.com/albums/o567/flaywright/4b443ef6-7b0b-4b9f-add4-c0a33e49c6c2_zpsqgqalz6c.jpg[/img]
[img]http://fontmeme.com/embed.php?text=Maxim%F3n&name=DawningofaNewDay.ttf&size=70&style_color=F7E98F[/img]
[color=F7E98F][i]God of Merchants, Travellers, Fertility, and Revenge[/i][/color][/center]
[hr][hr][center][color=d3d3d3][h1][u]Basic Profile[/u][/h1][/color][/center]
[color=F7E98F][u]|Name|[/u][/color]
[indent]Maximón[/indent]

[color=F7E98F][u]|Alias(es)|[/u][/color]
[indent]San Simón, to his worshippers, and before the Spanish Inquisition, he was known simply as Mam, the pan-Mayan term for “grandson” or “grandfather”. In recent years, however, for the sake of blending in with humans, Sebastian Morales has become his alias of choice.[/indent]

[color=F7E98F][u]|Gender|[/u][/color]
[indent]Male[/indent]

[color=F7E98F][u]|Sexuality|[/u][/color]
[indent]Greyromantic Pansexual[/indent]

[color=F7E98F][u]|Relationship Status|[/u][/color]
[indent]Single, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.[/indent]

[color=F7E98F][u]|Pantheon/Faith|[/u][/color]
[indent]Mayan/Folk Catholicism[/indent]

[color=F7E98F][u]|Occupation|[/u][/color]
[indent]On paper, he’s a salesman at a company in Anaheim selling agricultural implements, but off the books, he runs a secret, moonshining business out of his own basement.[/indent]
[hr][center][img]http://49.media.tumblr.com/7b76a300fd1d36dc447830d458565de0/tumblr_no65nhWhHC1u6fjyao1_540.gif[/img][/center][hr][center][color=d3d3d3][u][h1]Appearance[/h1][/u][/color][/center]
[color=F7E98F][u]|Godly Appearance|[/u][/color]
[indent]Maximón, in his [url=https://45.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_mbnlc6lVDy1r6bjjqo1_400.gif]true form[/url], is rather nondescript. A humanoid figure, tanned skin and dark hair suggest a Hispanic background, but his face is perpetually obscured by a churning curtain of smoke, emanating from the cigar between his lips, like ripples on the surface of a pond. Much like his effigies, he is most often dressed in the style of 18th-century nobles, colourful garlands of summer flowers draped around his neck.

But, of course, the first thing everyone notices is the blood.

Under his clothes, it’s quite a ghastly sight. The flesh around his shoulders and knees are gashed with angry, red lacerations that never seem to heal completely, blood and ichor oozing from the wounds. They were souvenirs from his his transition into his current incarnation, in which he’d gotten ripped limb from limb by a mob of angry husbands. Even the slightest movement causes him no small amount of pain, and his gait often comes off as stiff and mechanical.[/indent]

[color=F7E98F][u]|Earthly Appearance|[/u][/color]
[indent]Maximón looks to be a man of Hispanic roots in his mid to late thirties, olive skin stretched over a tall, leanly muscled frame just a shade off of 6’1”. His hair is dark - thick, curly locks the colour of midnight haphazardly mussed, and when the situation calls for it, teased or slicked back into a pleasing coif. Under his neatly trimmed beard (he’s barely ever clean-shaven), you’ll find a near-constant smirk, full of placid insouciance; revealing his perfectly straight teeth when it inevitably stretches into a grin. The same flippancy can be seen in his eyes - deep, brown orbs forever sparkling with levity, the beginnings of crow’s feet marring their corners.

To say that Maximón dresses to impress would be an understatement He is always immaculately garbed - all dress shirts, and made to measure slacks - even in the most casual of situations. Whenever he’s out in public, you’ll never see him dressed down below the threshold of “smart-casual”, something he accomplishes through sheer force of will, and more tangibly, clearance sales at retail stores. Taking his not-at-all stable income into consideration, it’s almost miraculous that he manages to dress the way he does without digging himself into a bottomless hole of debt.

As is befitting of his drawling, whiskey-fugged persona, Maximón always smells faintly of tobacco, alcohol, and incense. The scent seems to have seeped through his clothes, sticking to his skin like a tattoo, and even scalding hot showers don’t do a thing to get rid of it completely. It’s just as well, he thinks, since he spends most of his free time getting drunk at nightclubs, but more often than not, he finds the whole affair an inconvenience.[/indent]
[hr][center][img]https://49.media.tumblr.com/bde55ec60983ca556ee9a61a086d14f4/tumblr_noggpjTnSG1u6fjyao1_540.gif[/img][/center][hr][center][color=d3d3d3][h1][u]Who Am I?[/u][/h1][/color][/center]
[color=F7E98F][u]|Personality|[/u][/color]
[indent]Maximón isn’t a benevolent god - far from it, actually. To his worshippers, he’s known as a bully, one that demands regular offerings, and their undying piety, lest they incur his wrath. Of course, he is not without any redeeming traits. For all his lies and trickery, he is damned good at what he does, and never makes a promise he does not intend to keep. Depending on which day of the week you catch him on, he can either be your best friend or your worst enemy. To his subjects, he’s always cordial, almost sickeningly sweet, giving them exactly what they want, each and every time they come crawling back.

As for those he has no need of, however, they often find themselves put off by his hostility. Going from Prince Charming to little shit in about two seconds flat is a specialty of his. He doesn't abide by the rules, he doesn't play fairly, and he certainly doesn't let anyone think they can get one up on him. Naturally venomous, aloof, and even distant, he is used to putting on a variety of faces to achieve the means to an end. He won’t hesitate to mock a person’s stupidity and praise it all in one breath. Never assume that what he says is what he truly feels - it’ll be the last thing you ever do.

Interestingly, while he has a rather obnoxious habit of grandstanding, he has very little tolerance of the habit in others. Maximón frequently admonishes others to get to the point. But with a keen wit, a penchant for absurdism, and a horrifyingly macabre streak, you get the sense that Maximón always has a snicker hidden at the corner of his mouth, even if everyone around him is a little afraid to join in. Unlike his kin, however, Maximón isn’t overly confrontational. He’s really no good in a head-on fight, and the only way he can ever hope to win is through underhanded means, which fortunately, is something he has no qualms about.[/indent]

[color=F7E98F][u]|Family|[/u][/color]
[indent][i]Itzamná[/i] - The creator of Maximón and his three brothers. None of them have seen him since their creation, and even after the fall, his whereabouts remain unknown. Any information is scarce, made up of carvings and inscriptions scattered across South America.

[i]Ixchebelyax[/i] - Itzamna’s wife, and Maximón’s mother. Much like Itzamna, little is known about her, and she is but a vague memory in Maximón’s mind. 

[i]The Bacabs[/i] - Maximón’s brothers, literally. All four of them were brought into existence by Itzamna, from the interiors of the earth, and tasked with holding up the four corners of the sky. While they used to be on good terms, the Spanish Inquisition put a stop to it. The four brothers argued for days, weeks, months about what was to become of them, now that Catholicism was beginning to take root in the minds of their people, and when a consensus couldn’t be reached, they ended up parting ways. Maximón hasn’t heard from any of them since, though he often finds himself worrying about what became of his brothers.

[i]Dorado[/i] - A fat, ginger cat that spends its days basking in the sun, doing absolutely nothing of value. On a whim, Maximón decided to adopt a cat from a local shelter. Perhaps he’d hoped Dorado would aid him in ridding his home of rodents, but it quickly became evident that the feline was extraordinarily lazy, and now, Maximón finds himself stuck with a furry, whiskered parasite. Of course, he could just throw him out, but he’s developed quite a soft spot for the cat (not that he’d ever admit to anyone).

Finally, the countless children he has fathered. Maximón doesn’t know any of them, and he doesn’t much care to. The day he agrees to pay Child Support is the day the world ends.[/indent]

[color=F7E98F][u]|Strengths|[/u][/color]
[list][*]Adaptable
[*]Charismatic
[*]Discreet
[*]Efficient
[*]Shrewd[/list]

[color=F7E98F][u]|Weaknesses|[/u][/color]
[list][*]Amoral
[*]Capricious
[*]Domineering
[*]Egocentric
[*]Indulgent[/list]

[color=F7E98F][u]|Likes|[/u][/color]
[list][*]Tequila
[*]Cigars
[*]Cats
[*]Warm weather
[*]McDonalds
[*]PDA[/list]

[color=F7E98F][u]|Dislikes|[/u][/color]
[list][*]Liars
[*]Winter
[*]Prudes
[*]Vodka
[*]Locusts
[*]Children[/list]

[color=F7E98F][u]|History|[/u][/color]
[indent]Maximón can barely recall the days prior to the Spanish Inquisition. To the Mayans, he was known as Mam, a facet of the Bacabs, a four-faced god tasked with holding up the corners of the sky. Countless millennia were spent this way, watching the moon rise and fall over the horizon, until Itzamna and Ixchebelyax, with their immense power, created the first humans from a golden field of maize.

As it had been prophesied, the falling of the sky would cause a cosmological upheaval that would bring about the destruction of the world. Maximón and his three brothers never left their stations, but when the first ships landed upon the shores of South America, they knew that things would be changing. The Maya abandoned many of the cities of the central lowlands, or were killed off by famine. A series of prolonged droughts, among other reasons, is thought to have decimated the Maya, who were reliant upon rainfall. Slowly, the Mesoamerican Pantheon faded, losing their influence over the people, replaced by thoughts of saints and martyrs.

Maximón supposed he was one of the lucky ones. Instead of wiping him from existence, the advent of Catholicism changed him into something else entirely. Unlike his brothers, he never was one for letting fate run its course. He found a niche in the villages of rural Guatemala, where poverty and starvation ran rampant. It was easy enough to capitalise on the opportunity - they desired something better, and in exchange for a few offerings, he was more than happy to oblige.

The humans created effigies, crude representations of him made from wood, shrines dedicated to Maximón springing up across the country like toadstools after rain. He had prevented his own demise, and for a while, he was perfectly happy ignoring the ceaseless quarrels of these so-called [i]greater gods[/i]. They could’ve torn each other to shreds, and Maximón wouldn’t even have bat an eyelash.

But they just had to drag him into their mess, didn’t they?

Despite his non-involvement, Maximón was strong-armed into giving up his powers after the war. To say that he was angry about it would be a gross understatement. Why did he have to suffer the consequences when he’d stayed neutral? It burned under his skin, the injustice of it all, and his resentment for the gods who caused it grew, day after day.

Still, as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t just sit around all day, sulking. For a long, long time, he was a merchant, travelling from continent to continent upon galleys to trade in spices and fabric. Then, he was a conman. Ease with words had always been something that came naturally to him, and during this time, he earned a sizeable fortune off the naivete of giggling, Victorian heiresses.

The dawn of the 20th century brought Maximón back to the shores of America. Unfortunately for him, however, he soon realised that humans weren’t as stupid as they used to be. He’d gotten used to an extravagant lifestyle, squandering his fortune on things that had simply been given to him centuries ago - cigarettes, booze, and anything else that inhibits the senses. But like any businessman worth his salt, Maximón decided to carve out his own path in the world.

To this day, the moonshine operation that Maximón ran back in the 1920s is still operational, albeit on a much smaller scale. It’s just a little something to supplement the unimpressive commission he earns as a salesman, but recently, he’s been looking to obtain a license to sell his booze topside.[/indent]

[color=F7E98F][u]|Opinion on Mortals|[/u][/color]
[indent]Maximón doesn’t have anything against them, since, you know, they’re the ones who had given him offerings - but this isn’t to say he feels any sort of affection for humans, either. It’s more of a business arrangement than anything; they indulge his vices, and in return, he provides the means to indulge theirs.[/indent]

[color=F7E98F][u]|Theme Song|[/u][/color]
[indent][url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qI-95cTMeLM]Lazaretto – Jack White[/url]
[sub]“My veins are blue and connected
And every single bone in my brain is electric
But I dig ditches like the best of 'em
Yo trabajo duro, como en madera y yeso.”[/sub][/indent]

[color=F7E98F][u]|Favorite Myth|[/u][/color]
[indent]The Punishment of Loki[/indent]
[hr][center][img]https://49.media.tumblr.com/bfa176bc91fd713d5bf4a7554a291766/tumblr_n7cblkn4Ce1r6zm9ao1_500.gif[/img][/center][hr][center][color=d3d3d3][u][h1]Mortal vs. Immortal[/h1][/u][/color][/center]
[color=F7E98F][u]|Mortal Skills/Abilities|[/u][/color]
[indent]To be frank, in his countless years of existence, Maximón hasn’t applied himself all too much. His endeavours are often half-hearted, and he considers giving up halfway to be inevitable. Thus far, the only activities that have managed to capture (and retain) his attention are singing, and playing the guitar. Perhaps it reminds him of home, but he thinks it an asset, as much as it is a hobby. With a few carefully placed arpeggios, it’s almost too easy to enthrall his audience; and while he isn’t the type to whip out his guitar in the middle of a bar for an impromptu rendition of Wonderwall, he can’t say that he doesn’t like the attention.

As is befitting of his patronage, Maximón is a keen businessman. Consequences, both long and short term, never escape his perception. There isn’t a moment he acts without having thought about it twice, and courtesy of his innate ease with words, he always manages to strike up a favourable bargain.[/indent]

[color=F7E98F][u]|Immortal Skills/Abilities|[/u][/color]
[indent]Maximón is known to be a link between Xibalbá (The Underworld) and Corazón del Cielo (The Heart of Heaven). Those in poor health visit his shrines in Guatemala to seek help, and through his priests, Maximón is able to tether their souls to the mortal plane, at least temporarily. When the likes of Anubis or Hades come calling, however, there isn’t much he can do to dissuade them. In the whole scheme of things, he can be said to be one of the weaker deities, and his dominion only extends throughout a portion of South America.

Additionally, Maximón also possesses the ability to bestow good fortune. Those blessed by him find themselves almost infallible, everything seeming to go their way, and for farmers - his most traditional clientele - a bountiful harvest come winter. But keep in mind, this effect isn’t permanent, nor is it all-powerful; walking straight into the path of an oncoming train is still going to turn you into jelly. To earn his favour, one must offer up regular gifts to Maximón in the form of money, alcohol, and cigars - but let it be known from this day forward that he [i]despises[/i] the taste of vodka.[/indent]
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[hider=Maximón’s Relationships][center][img]http://fontmeme.com/embed.php?text=Maxim%F3n&name=DawningofaNewDay.ttf&size=70&style_color=F7E98F[/img]
[img]http://38.media.tumblr.com/aad910f53c35de69038d9e68c4d0fb66/tumblr_mycl8wnZt31rvebhro2_250.gif[/img]

[i]“This tastes like a bachelor party gone wrong.”[/i][/center]
[hr]
[center][b][u][color=F7E98F]James Alfero - Janus[/color][/u][/b][/center]
[center][i]“You’ve gotta stop breaking into my house, man. Get your own damn cat.”[/i]

He doesn’t know Janus very well, even if he sees more of him than he’d like. A majority of their encounters are rather superficial, with most of them occurring after midnight. Here’s how things usually go: Maximón returns home from a bar with his quarry for the night only to discover a massive, 6’4” man sitting on [i]his[/i] living room floor playing with [i]his[/i] cat. Of course, his plans are pretty much ruined after that, so he finds himself with plenty of time to chase Janus out of the house.

How does he keep getting in, anyway? Maximón swears that by now, he must’ve changed his locks [i]at least[/i] a dozen times.[/center]

[hr]
[center][b][u][color=F7E98F]Umiko Ryudo - Ryūjin[/color][/u][/b][/center]
[center][i]“A little too high-strung for me.”[/i]

Maybe it’s how she carries herself, or perhaps it’s the way she talks, but Maximón has always found Ryūjin’s icy demeanour a little tiring to deal with. Even before the fall, the two have never seen eye to eye, and that one time he’d gotten thrown out of her palace for indulging in “unsavory activities” with a servant girl certainly didn’t help things.

Now that they were all on the same level, however, Maximón hopes that she isn’t as uptight as she used to be. You had to let go of the past [i]sometime[/i], and if there’s one thing he couldn’t stand, it was those who took themselves too seriously.[/center]

[hr]
[center][b][u][color=F7E98F]Hadrian Pryde - Hades[/color][/u][/b][/center]
[center][i]“He’s not here, is he?”[/i]

Maximón is more than a little scared of Hades. He’s pretty much convinced that the former God of The Underworld is out to get him for prolonging the lives of those that had been due to cross the River Styx. Of course, logic would dictate that the guy probably had better things to do than chase after a lesser deity who centuries ago, saved a relatively insignificant number of lives, but to Maximón, that’s all just a big “what if”. No matter how much he tries to believe that there’s nothing to be afraid of, he still finds himself checking under his bed for Hades.[/center]

[hr]
[center][b][u][color=F7E98F]Amane Mikami - Benzaiten[/color][/u][/b][/center]
[center][i]“Mm? Oh yes, what about her?”[/i]

Maximón doesn’t know a whole lot about Benzaiten, though it mostly stems from the fact that they tend to gravitate amongst very different groups of people. Judging from the scarce encounters they [i]have[/i] had, however, she has since proven herself pleasant company. All easy smiles and polite small talk - the famous Japanese hospitality, he supposed - but truth be told, he has never found found Benzaiten terribly interesting. While you’d find Maximón doing jello shots in a bar, she seemed the type to spend her Sunday nights at home writing haikus, or something. It was no fault on her part, of course, just that their polarising personalities make it kind of difficult for any meaningful interaction.[/center]

[hr]
[center][b][u][color=F7E98F]Ellen Dove - Aphrodite[/color][/u][/b][/center]
[center][i]“¡Ay, mami, tú tan caliente!”[/i]

Maximón’s opinion of Aphrodite is very, [i]very[/i] superficial. To anyone with a working eyesight, her beauty is undeniable, and he isn’t ashamed to admit his own physical attraction to her.

Still, he can’t help but feel a little unnerved by her presence. It’s rather hypocritical; that in spite of all his trickery, Maximón hates being lied to. There’s something to be said about Aphrodite’s ability to bewitch even the most prudish of individuals, and the fact that she’s one of the hardest people to read isn’t exactly a comforting thought. He is, however, rather intrigued by her. Her willingness to use her more feminine assets to her advantage is something he can respect.[/center]

[hr]
[center][b][u][color=F7E98F]Hewitt Danford - Huitzilipochtli[/color][/u][/b][/center]
[center][i]“Pinche culero.”[/i]

To say the two of them can’t stand each other would be the understatement of the century. Countless years inhabiting the same continent provided ample time for nerves to chafe; their opposing doctrines only seeming to add fuel to the fire.

Maximón thinks that Huitzilipochtli’s whole [i]holier-than-thou[/i] shtick is the absolute worst thing about him, with his explosive temper and penchant for violence coming in a close second. Granted, Maximón hasn’t done much in the way of reaching out to Huit, but he’s not sure he wants to risk a broken jaw. It wouldn’t be the first time a conversation with the Aztec God of War turned ugly, that’s for sure.[/center]

[hr]
[center][b][u][color=F7E98F]Andrew Jackley - Anubis[/color][/u][/b][/center]
[center][i]“...Yeah, I don’t think we’re on the best of terms.”[/i]

He’ll never admit it, but he’s kinda terrified of the guy. Much like Hades, Anubis used to be in charge of collecting the souls of the dead, and Maximón [i]does not[/i] fancy his chances facing off against either of them. He’s willing to wager that all those years he’d spent prolonging the lives of his subjects did nothing to put him in their good books, but it wasn’t his fault that his job came into direct conflict with theirs, was it?

Of course, he hasn’t yet had the [s]misfortune[/s] pleasure of encountering him after the fall, so he really has no idea what to expect. For now, the best he can do is cross his fingers, and hope that he has enough foresight to run when Anubis comes to settle a score.[/center]

[hr]
[center][b][u][color=F7E98F]Jordan Natter - Jörmungandr[/color][/u][/b][/center]
[center][i]“Nice threads. Not sure I appreciate the tantrums.”[/i]

Jörmungandr’s a pretty cool dude - up until he isn’t, that is. Maximón thinks that hanging out with him is like standing right next to a ticking time-bomb. You don’t know when it’s going to explode, but one thing’s for sure; it’s gonna be ugly - all blood, guts, and shattered bones.

...Okay, so maybe he’s exaggerating, but Jörmungandr has one of the worst tempers known to man, and after being in his company for a while, Maximón can’t help but feel a little skittish. He has seen firsthand the whirlwind of destruction that heralded one of Jörmungandr’s “episodes”, and every single time, he’s glad he wasn’t the target of his rage.

Still, he has to admit, he actually kind of likes the guy when he isn’t flipping out. Jörmungandr’s pragmatism is something he can respect, and hey, where else is he going to find someone who’s willing to go clothes shopping with him?[/center]

[hr]
[center][b][u][color=F7E98F]Regan Macguire - The Morrígan[/color][/u][/b][/center]
[center][i]“She can hold her liquor, I’ll give her that.”[/i]

Theirs is a relationship built on a shared love of alcohol, and while one might assume based on first impressions alone that their clashing personalities and backgrounds would cause more than a few problems, the opposite is true. Needless to say, they do have their disagreements every now and then, but who the hell didn’t?

One often finds that their meetings spur a rapidly escalating - sometimes dangerous - series of dares. It’s all in the name of friendly contest, of course, with both of them possessing a clear, competitive streak, though it’s undeniable that they bring out the [i]‘hormonal adolescent with something to prove’[/i] in each other.[/center]

[hr]
[center][b][u][color=F7E98F]Kora Amaryllis Black - Persephone[/color][/u][/b][/center]
[center][i]“Lighten up, florecita. Life’s too short to worry about commitment.”[/i]

Maximón doesn’t know how she stands Huit. Granted, he doesn’t know her very well - partly due to her past association with Hades - but he finds it a little hard to believe that anyone could actually fall in love with the guy. To him, Persephone had always seemed out of her element; a fish out of water, if you will. The Goddess of Spring in The Underworld? One had to admit it sounded like the beginning of a bad joke.[/center]

[hr]
[center][b][u][color=F7E98F]Sable Almasi - Bastet[/color][/u][/b][/center]
[center][i]“Five cats is a little excessive, don't you think?”[/i]

Maximón finds Bastet extremely easy to read, and as far as he’s concerned, someone who wears their heart on their sleeve has a special sort of integrity you just can’t say ‘no’ to.

While they’re not [i]technically[/i] friends (or maybe they are, he doesn’t really know, to be honest), their occasional conversations go pleasantly enough, with cats and the newest Internet memes being the most common topics of discussion - which is probably the best for everyone involved. Maximón isn’t sure he’s ready to be the target of one of Bastet’s mental-breakdowns-slash-existential-crises.[/center]

[hr]
[center][b][u][color=F7E98F]June Fallon - Nemesis[/color][/u][/b][/center]
[center][i]“Batman? Is that you?[/i]

Maximón thinks the whole vigilante thing is a little ridiculous, but they get along well enough. Her brand of dry, sarcastic humour is something he can appreciate, and admittedly, it also helps that she isn’t put off by his rather blunt manner of speech, when he inevitably gets tired of putting up a facade

It’s a comfortable relationship, to say the least, with neither of them expecting too much from the other, and he’s thankful for it. Maximón doesn‘t do friends, but he considers Nemesis to be something close to one.[/center][/hider]