Janus

James Alfero; Associated with the god Partunus

Male

Demisexual Homoromantic

Roman

Bouncer at a Strip Club during the night; Librarian during the day

A god of two faces, one which looks to the past with longing in his eyes, and one that looks to the future in hope and aspiration, Janus embodies the beginning and the end. Body cast in gold, Janus stands at an alarming seven feet, adorned in the robes of a scholar but with fine steel plate layered over. In his hands he holds both heads, which usually find a place hovering, yet connected to his neck. The left holds youth and glory, face a golden shine with eyes blue and glowing brilliance; this face looks toward the future of mankind. The other, held in the right, is one of wizened years, as it looks toward days passed. A lengthy beard of dull, white gold frames the wrinkled edges of his face, with a lighter, dimmer haze of blue radiating from his eyes.

Janus himself hovers off the ground, feet held within a middle ground between the sky and the earth. He is usually found presiding over doorways, especially those to his long dead temples. Not only that, but Janus is ever present for any change and transition, a god of passages, a god of the threshold.

Tall, though not as strikingly tall as his 7'0" godly visage, James stands at a nice 6'4"—a giant reigning over the average human. That being far from the truth, however, Janus carries himself with a humbleness and an ever attentive gaze. Though, sharp is his gaze, Janus chose a softer feature for his face, letting the edges of his jaw round rather than stick and the blunt of his nose glides gentle toward average lips, red and soft to the touch. Of all things, James loves smiling, lips found stretching over a row of brilliant, white teeth.

Often considered the most striking feature of his ensemble are James' ears; they're large and fold outward from his head. As well, they tend to move, or wiggle, to the movement of his eyebrows. That meaning, one can tell when James gets particularly excited, as his eyebrows tend to animate when he talks and his ears move along with them. Though, most of his emotions lay in the shine and glint of his green eyes. Though technically green, James' eyes vary in a mixture of color: green holds dominance in it's burst of warmth, though the majority of his iris holds a starburst of golden brown flecks, which dot the green in random pattern.

Regardless of his prominent features, James tends to vary on the average. Even boasting a tall frame with wide set shoulders and physique to fill out the majority of his clothes (he learned quick that, to be an intimidating bouncer, one has to bulk up accordingly), James blends in with the vast majority of mortal crowds. Maybe it's a god thing nowadays, but James doesn't much like bringing attention to himself. He feels deeply that his kind has brought too much trouble to the world of men and women.

During Rome's reign, Janus presented himself as an amoral figure in the Pantheon. Whereas Bellona thirsted for rage and war, and Venus love and promiscuity, Janus held himself balanced in the middle. He neither wanted nor gained from interference from mortals. Maybe impartiality is a staple to clairvoyant beings, but then again, maybe it had to do with the fact that Janus seemed so ubiquitous to the daily lives of his worshippers. Romans held a vast number of rituals dedicated to just Janus himself, at the start of a year, at the end of it. Even mornings fell in Janus' domain. Thus, it left Janus with little time for emotions, though he grew to care for the small rituals of each Roman citizen.

Present day Janus finds himself overwhelmed with feeling. Overwhelmed with guilt and disgust for his people, in particular and growing ever closer to the humans that used to doddle at his feet. Of course, having been partial for most the near entirety of his godhood, Janus doesn't particular know how to handle emotions. And neither does he know much of society itself. A god that looked toward the future and the past stuck in the present does not make a happy god.

Janus himself contains a vast intellect; his mind is a database of knowledge and facts. However, that does not make up for social knowledge. Most of Janus intelligence remains hypothetical. When faced with the challenge of practicality, Janus seems at a loss with what to do. Interacting with people, interacting with other cultures outside of Rome, all of it left Janus dizzy and with no desire to face the problem head on. For a perceptive god, Janus doesn't pride himself on being able to understand why certain things are happening, just that they are.

This accidental isolation leaves Janus in modern times with a heart weighed heavy by loneliness and a mind still boggled at the mystery of human nature. Maybe he should stay a scholar and philosopher, rather than an actual presence.

Unlike most gods, Janus lived in his own temporal bubble. Things went and passed without much interference from himself. Doors opened and closed, both figuratively and literally. Not many myths dealt with Janus himself, though the ones that currently do aren't necessarily accurate—he loathes his association with Cardea who he never once had much relations with. Though, his time spent with Saturn remained one he cherishes today, as he does with Camese. Janus himself didn't have much in the way of friendship, having mainly those two particular gods, as well as a close friendship with Juno, or Hera.

For years, nothing of note had occurred to the god, or that the god incurred upon others. Janus, wise as he may have been, staid much in the shadows and relished in the quiet of peace, when the doors to his temple closed. In terms of other gods, Janus hadn't much to do with them and felt content in his solitude. Only the recent agreement to denounce powers affected Janus greatly. However, it occurred at such a time that he likely would have vanished from memory to the begin with. Thus, Janus gave his powers willingly and went on to live the life of a wandering scholar, and often times a hermit.

Being more of an observing entity, Janus merely watched the ebb and flow of human life. It more so involved his unwavering ineptitude with societal interactions than wanting to observe in the first place. Thus, Janus stuck to the many libraries that dotted Europe and the many churches and cathedrals that hung their shadows in city squares. During this time, Janus took to books and knowledge, learning humanity, but never once truly living it.

However, one thing he did garner from his travels was the closeness he felt to humanity itself. Even standing from afar, Janus took to mortals more so than his own kind and grew ever guilty of the blood his people shed over petty desires and fruitless schemes. That wasn't to say he hated other deities, he just felt slightly biased in his opinion. That didn't quite stop his inquisitive nature and the loneliness he felt as the centuries passed by. Thus, Janus retained one power, extremely week in its ungodly state, like many of his own brethren, which Janus used to remedy his loneliness. Of course, being able to use doors as vocal points for teleportation never really gave him the desired outcome. None of his kind ever really paid attention to him, or found him annoying and rather too talkative, thus, most of his days were spent alone and with his nose buried in a book.

"It's nice to watch them. But, maybe I treat them too much like birds, instead of people."

Most of Janus interactions with humans could be explained in the span of an hour. This is taking into account centuries worth of interaction, which can only fill an hour of time. Most of these interactions were merely hellos, and accidental bumps, rather than in depth conversations, so they are quite numerous in quantity, but lack in quality. Whereas other, more social gods like Aphrodite, could spend years telling her tales of mortal men and women and inbetweens. But, Janus loves humanity, but he much prefers to watch, rather than participate.

Eros and Psyche

Well, Janus has a keen sense of perception and can tell various cues apart from each other. However, he can't exactly tell you why something happens, especially if it happens to be something social. That being said, Janus retained his vast depository of useless knowledge. Okay, it's not useless, but there's a lot of stuff in his noggin detailing the intricate chemical compound of yeast and both why and how it grows. Another ability he'd gained is how to tell what properties a door has, what kind of metal or wood it is, how old it is, how sturdy it his. He could talk for days about doors, if only anyone would ask.

Regardless, Janus is well read, well educated, and perceptive of various things.

Janus has always been able to travel through doors, just like Poseidon will always be able to talk to fish, though he doesn't really know why anyone would. They're dull creatures, aside from sharks, jellyfish, and shrimp. And it's not a normal traversal through doorways because anyone can do that. Janus, however, can pretty much pop up anywhere as long as there's a door that'll lead him there.

As his powers grow, Janus will gain his supernatural perception, which will grow into full blown clairvoyance, as well as foresight and hindsight. Thus, leaving him able to foresee various events in the future and pinpoint which path an individual is currently traveling on. Most of all, through these powers, Janus can tell the exact point a person's life will change, as well as end, sharing his ability with Hades. Of course, he doesn't know the exact date and time, just what the event will be. Of course, most of the time Janus doesn't like to spoil things for himself and would rather live the transition himself.

Lastly, Janus' combat capabilities lie in his utter control over portals which he can place and use anywhere between two points. The concept itself is pretty simple: Janus creates a portal beneath someone, they fall into, and are transported somewhere else... depending on if they're mortal or not, it's like out in space. Likewise, Janus can literally rip passages and archways into any concrete surface without harming the surface itself. So he makes doorways by forcing a surface open. This ability over portals will likely be the last of all of them to develop.

Eros and Psyche

Máni Mundilfärison

Emmanuel Welch

Male

Homosexual

Single

Norse

Mani has gone through several occupations, gone to college about twenty times. His most memorably time was when he went to Yale when it first founded to become a bishop for the local church. He found Catholicism interesting, but after a few years he tired of it.

Among the occupations and degrees he's gone through are: physics teacher, astronomer, bus driver, bartender, and manager at a Starbucks.

Recently, he's gone back to gather another Astronomy degree and currently works in an observatory for the University of Arizona.

Mani, unlike his sister, went to the skies without complaint and came, upon his chariot, shrouded in silver. It was said that the gods themselves felt hubris over both brother and sister, as their beauty radiated through day and night. So much so, that their father, Mundilfari, chose Máni, the moon, and Sól, the sun, as their names. Beautiful as they were, beauty only came as a curse and for their father's hubris they were punished. Before the fall of the gods, Mani shone bright in the sky while he glided around the moon in his chariot, a protector that the gods of the moon smiled at—and a companion to the ever lonely Chang'e, trapped just as he in endless rotations.

Other than his silver glow, a reflection of the moon, Mani doesn't differ much from mortals in his visage. He remains his height in both godly and mortal appearance (5'9"), as well as retaining the same physical build. His white curls fold under an iron viking helmet, with silver gilding along the eyes and down the bridge of his nose that shine with the dull grey of his irises. A matching torso of iron mail wraps around his chest, buttoned in clasps of jade given to him by the Chinese moon goddess. The ensemble fits together with his iron leggings and greaves, gilded and trimmed in silver along the edges and creases of the armor.

Sharp, like a bird with creases of stress that wrinkle his visage, Mani strikes a crude resemblance to his godly self, and the individual that drove the Asgardians to jealousy. Crooked nose dips into thin, pursed lips that slide over white teeth in a grimace. Mani's cheeks are made for smiling, with their height and prominence, rosy in complexion and rounded perfect by the jowls framing the corners of his mouth. The wrinkles end at his jowls and smooth into an angled jawline that curves toward a narrow chin to neatly frame his face in a diamond. The features of his face embolden in the frame of dark brown, considered long for short hair that fall along the top and side of his hair in a lion's mane coif. Of all the features, Mani takes the greatest pride in his hair, keeping it healthy and perpetually soft to touch; and does Mani appreciate a welcomed touch through his wavy locks.

Mani's skin radiates a fair glow, pale in complexion but not strikingly so, from days away from the bright burn of the sun. It leaves his body in a similar hue, over a lean, muscular frame that accents broad shoulders and a more prominent chest. Mani's posture accentuates the more conspicuous parts of his body, which bounds with a careful, thought out poise. Many of Mani's mannerisms remain stilled and calm with a gentle motion to them; most everything Mani does is deliberate.

A near blinding obedience used to shield the emotions loose in his eyes, a vibrant blue backdrop for complacency. However, these passing days a single-minded determination colors the hues of his iris a dark midnight. Coming through in different shades, darker and darker as it goes, the blue radiates from the pupil in an angry burst of color that layer over each other as they fall into the whites of his eyes. They're cold and distant now, more like the blackness he once found a home in, yet without the bright stars that dot the abyss or the moon to reflect upon the sun's glory. They're ice. They're the depths of the ocean and unfathomable in their dimmed glow. Much like Mani himself remains an enigma, though his cause has never been more obvious.

Prior to Ragnarok, as he and many other Norse gods call it, Mani took to his job with relative ease—Mundilfari always prided himself with an obedient son. Like the moon, Mani felt calm disposition lighten his veins, lessening the fear of being chased into eternity in an orbit around the celestial body. He supposes, he handled the situation a lot better than his sister ever did—or maybe worse? Sol had always expressed herself freely, let herself see the joys in life and they only ever saw each other in passing, when the moon's orbit brought it closest to the sun.

Looking back now, Mani feels more shame than anything. Why make excuses for gods driven by passion and hatred? That, of all things, Mani regrets the most. The moon itself isn't a cold being, not spiritually at least. Maybe lonely, as Chang'e and her Jade Rabbit were. Maybe disembodied like Coyolxahqui, betrayed by her family and a betrayer herself. Mani, though, of all beings trapped among the crude surface, felt the bond between he and the lunar body rip a part and the dread of impending oblivion sink in. Now, wandering earth in search of purpose, Mani only feels a cold hatred; ironic, as he was chased by Hati, the one who hates.

That coldness drives him further from the gods he sees now. No longer hindered by a filter of ignorance and willful naivety, Mani's hate runs for the deities that sent him to guard the moon in the first place. He shouldn't say guard. No, he was more bait than vanguard. And that hatred drives Mani, both further in his life and further into the ground. Somehow, it's okay, though, to be angry all the time. To just want to throw every piece of furniture out a 10 story window. Because anger feeds into determination, perseverance, a will to continue forward instead of going back or standing still. Mani refuses to remain idol, refuses to continue looking to the past, regardless of how much of it he holds on to; it's always forward for him and if he has to cut a few corners and run people out of his way, then Mani's more than willing.

Sól - Sister. Supposedly deceased. Killed by Fenrir.
Mundilfari - Father.

The sky is burning.

The sky is burning. Cold ashen rays from the sun to melt the ocean and the earth in slow waves. The sky was burning and he could do nothing about it, driving the moon from spiteful Hati. These gods and their wars, pulling him and his sister into a fight they would have taken no part in. But, obedient Mani had no qualms. Obedient Mani had seen the Asgardians as heroes and leaders, obviously their decision concluded after many hard nights of reasoning. Prophecies and jealousy and hatred. They took them from their father and they cast them in chariots to guard the moon and the sun, ever chased by Fenrir's ilk—Sköll and Hati. Until prophecy dictated the wolves catch their quarry and devour them whole. He should have listened to his sister's hateful spite.

Events didn't quite unfold that way, at least not for Mani. For his sister, Sol, Sköll hadn't been the one to catch her, Fenrir did the deed and ate her whole. All the gods reigning dominion over the sun never once looked twice at the stalwart protector as her chariot fell from the skies, a comet and tear to rip open the sky. Yet, Mani hadn't heard of her death until he'd gotten free himself—hadn't realized the comet that fell to earth had been her chariot. His quarrels ended when the Shinto god of the moon, Tuskuyomi, intervened in the battle and chase with one swoop of his sword. The wolf Hati, burned by the sword and without a left hand, turned and fled to his father's side to aid in his battle.

Left to wander the skies in search of his sister, rather than the surveillance of the moon, Mani came to find no solace in the stars he called home. The gods of the sun gave him no head and so he, enraged, fell to the earth to discard his chariot and leave the moon without a sentinel to watch over. Luckily for him, Mani's timing occurred nearly perfectly, as once he landed the gods, as well as he, signed a pact to relinquish their powers. Thus, Mani's chariot would have been forced from his care regardless of his decision and thus left to roam the earth again, after millenia.

With no real word on his sister, Mani assumed her dead by the hands of Fenrir and thus he spent the next century or so finding the likely downgraded wolf to enact some kind of vengeance. Being near-human, however, that search came and went and Mani soon found himself tired and lost as to what to do. Thus, he moved along with humanity, content to learn and study and occupy his time, but still as lost as ever. He staid away from most gods, loathing most beings for both casting them to the sky and letting Sol perish. The only gods he ever had any real contact, and contentment with were those in the Shinto dominion, as they came to his aid when he needed it the most.

Bouncing from country to country to eventually continents, Mani finally settled somewhere in Arizona with another astronomy degree (since one from the 18th century seemed slightly phony) and a yearning to look back to the skies.

"I live among them. I at least care a little bit of what happens to them, and likely won't bargain their lives away, but other than dire situations, I don't much care for them."

Mani's relationship with mortals, in general, is rather indifferent. Of course, he would side with them in a heartbeat if the situation threatened their well being, but most of the time Mani doesn't pay them much attention. Maybe that's because he's a relative introvert, preferring his solitude over much else, as well as his work. Most humans don't pay him mind, as he's often hunched over papers, books, or preoccupied with a telescope or computer.

With a drive and a purpose, anyone can do whatever it is their heart requests. For Mani, that meant quite a few things. The former god of the moon knows too much math for his own good, keeping himself routed in physics based calculus and graphing to aid in his astronomy work. Speaking of which, Mani would gladly discuss each and every one of the heavenly bodies, telescopes, satellites, how everything works out in space. He'll talk for days, if he's allowed to.

Aside from that, Mani is exceptionally skilled at driving, playing the piano, taking care of horses, horse riding, and coffee foam art.

Mani didn't have an arsenal of godly weapons at his disposal. To be honest, he didn't and still doesn't have much. Of all things, though, Mani has speed and will out race almost anyone that's not Hermes or Mercury, especially in a vehicle. He still kind of retains that speed and the ability of enhanced perception whilst traveling at an inhuman velocity, so his reflexes and thoughts are infinitely better in fast situations.

One power he will regain is superhuman healing when in the moonlight, as well as night vision, and enhanced strength, senses, and reflexes. There's honestly not much else besides that.

At the end of his shift in power, Mani will be able to summon his chariot, which travels roughly the speed of a jet airplane, but when given the space to do so, i.e. in space, it can travel at light speeds. He also regains his shield, able to hold off even Fenrir for but a short time.

Quetzalcohuātl

Q'uq'umatz
Kukulkan
Waxaklahun Ubah Kan
Ehécatl
As of now he refers to himself as Querida Castillo; goes by Reed for short, most of the time.

Genderless. Uses masculine pronouns

Gray-A

Single. Why would I trifle in meaningless affairs?

Mesoamerican

Reed, since the fall of the Mesoamerican pantheon and the subsequent fall of gods themselves, has been busy at exploring various jobs. So far, he's gone through construction work to being a CFO to a large oil company stationed in Texas during the 1900s. Recently, though, Reed has taken to playing the piano, a hobby he'd picked up at the start of his 'mortal' life and has since been honing for centuries. He's preformed quite a bit in the 1920s, stopped, and started up during World War II. After the 60s, he saved up all his earnings and took a vacation for a few decades before opening a small business. It started off as a coffee shop in the 90s, gave that up in the 2000s and opened a lounge/bar in San Diego that catered to an older era, aesthetic wise. He lets various artists preform there, most of them unknown and most of them he personally likes. On occasion, he'll sing and play piano.

Quetzalcoatl personifies fear, embodies it with every coil of his body and feather of his wings. Pyramids erected in his name, possessing exact time and day and sunlight, call to a beast of the wind and child of the heavens. Dwarfing even the dragons of the middle age, Quetzal more resembles the visage of the great king Ao Guang with his serpentine form. All sharp edges of green, turquoise, and gold, Quetzalcoatl's scales remind of the great Mayan pyramids with steps wide to the top

How would they appear as a mortal from day to day life? What are their striking features? At least one solid paragraph.

Who could be more of a snake than the giant snake himself?

Of all traits, Quetzalcoatl has always been known for his cunning. Of course, a lot of people like to call it assholery. Douchebag a la mode. Fuckboi with a side of asshat. Quetzalcoatl simply calls it, "I'm smarter than you." And, by leaps and bounds, Quetzal's intellect soars at great heights, maybe a little too great for his ego. Regardless, despite his usual pompous demeanor, Quetzal's mind looks at situations and issues more analytically than most people. His mind takes a problem and puts it in a database, catalogs it, and then searches for a solution all within the span of a few moments. That isn't to say he does this with every moment of his life and Quetzal has found that a lot of times, his solutions don't seem to fix the problem as a whole, but merely puts a tarp over it and calls it a day.

Supposedly, that leads to Quetzalcoatl's more relaxed nature. After so many years of strife, war, killing, sacrifices made in his honor, it's gotten to the point where Quetzalcoatl simply wishes to not care. For a while. For a good, long time. He's spent too long being serious and working up a persona that's far too exaggerated to resemble who he really is. And now, exhaustion seems to have caught him by the tail feathers and yanked him down into a weird complacency. A spot where Quetzal doesn't ever feel the need to exert his full effort or put his whole self into anything that he doesn't find personally enjoyable. Thus, Quetzal tires of things easily and people even more so. Many war gods (most of the Aztec pantheon, let's be real here) tend to attribute this to a lack of strife and battle, which he'll concede too because Quetzal isn't an argumentative person, even if they're entirely wrong. If he wants to win something, he'll do it his own way.

And then there's the part of Quetzalcoatl that shows just a glimpse of the great being he used to be. Not many people can match the vindictive streak that Quetzal has and will continue to pull off. Usually, the punishment fits the crime—or, at least it does so in Quetzal's mind. For too used to the cruel ways of the Aztec's, Quetzal's methods of getting back at someone can border on the sadistic and often leads to very nasty repercussions on his part. If a man is willing to mow down an entire nation back when he held the power, maybe it's not quite the best idea to get on his bad side. Because that's a lot of hatred to pour into just one person.

Tezcatlipoca

Huitzilopochtli

None were quite as revered as he, upon his throne of stone and golden rays. He was the sun and the moon; the stars shone in his name, beating like the hearts carved upon his altar. And yet, for a king he did not fall with grace. When he fell, he took the world with him—world swallower. The ruination of kingdoms.

In the years passing, whilst the Aztecs reigned in warfare in doom and the Mayans held their culture until the waters fled them, Quetzalcoatl became ever more content with his waning thirst. From rejoicing in the hearts of his followers to throwing their offerings in disgust. Quetzalcoatl grew far more than most of his Mesoamerican brethren aimed to. But, bloodthirst was never a staple for the serpent, even when it felt nice to sink his fangs into something sweet enough that it popped.

It was this that Quetzalcoatl had been betrayed for. And the temples in his name seemed like dust with the people raising their shouts and battle cries to the serpent coiled around them. He supposed he owed much of this to his dear brother, who looked upon his throne and saw only the green of his scales from those slit eyes. And the jaguar whispered his deceit into the ears of the Mesoamerican people, of the damnation their king would bring them.

At that moment, neither of them knew of the truth.

He supposed it didn't matter, when his brother took him by the wings and shred them with fangs and teeth and claws and tossed him to the sea. Living, it seemed, was his brother's insult, like he spat upon his grave and told him he wasn't worth it. Quetzalcoatl seethed. He raged and the seas cried in anger with him. From there he tore through the ocean with something more than just his pride to heal.

When he arrived upon the coast of Portugal, Quetzalcoatl took to blending with the mortals easily, as many gods had done in the years that had passed. From there, Quetzalcoatl ventured to Spanish and made a name for himself, until Quetzalcoatl became Hernan Cortes and his eyes were set to the coast of Mexico. From there, the snake readied his venom and when he set sail all his eyes could see was the red of flames as Tenochtitlan burned to the ground.

Upon making ground, the people looked upon him as their returned god Quetzalcoatl and they couldn't have been more correct. To know that these people expected him after his own flesh and blood brother threw him to the sharks, that made it all the easier to continue the charade. And from there, Quetzalcoatl would uproot the Aztec people and burn them to the ground. From here on out, Quetzalcoatl saw only in red and he found it easier to massacre his own people than to think about exactly what crimes he was committing. It wasn't until he gutted the current ruler, Moctezuma, and set the Aztec people alight with rebellion did Quetzalcoatl finally understand the horrors and atrocities he'd committed. But, he'd come this far.

After making a hasty retreat, Quetzalcoatl regrouped his men and turned their advance once more upon the island city of Tenochtitlan. From afar, with his back turned to the flames, his home came under siege and was finally brought to its knees. He claimed it for the Spanish and the Aztecs dispersed, the nation toppled, and the few remaining willingly bowing to their Spanish conquerors.

The memory, to this day, remains locked away in the deep orifices of Quetzalcoatl's mind. He went through various trials then, quickly shedding his title as Cortes and becoming a man of his own. Without revenge and vendetta plaguing his thoughts, Quetzalcoatl was free to do as the other gods had done. He made a life for himself, though he often hopped from here to there, working through jobs and the various enterprises, but mostly getting bored of them and the people.

He went from Mexico to the states in the early 1900s, quickly picking up the piano and finding a nice niche in the growing, industrial boomtown of New York City. He made something out of himself, lost his mind in the music, and eventually went through various tours, disappeared, and did the exact same thing under a new alias. It wasn't until he'd gotten tired of the constant travel and audience that Quetzalcoatl came up with the name Querido Castillo, finished out a great year for his career, and finally settled on a business that quickly turned into something big on the West Coast. Well, big for a small business. It was nice enough. Not too prestigious, but not too much of a hole in the wall that he was scrambling for money.

And now, he doesn't really know what he'll do with himself.

"Silly things, humans are. One moment they're willing to gut a man to appease a god and the next they're willing to stab someone to death to steal a wallet full of nothing."

Quetzalcoatl both appreciates human beings for what they are, but also looks down upon them. Of course, the latter part is often of the more subtle variety, since he's not the top to go flaunting his fallen godhood, but, for the most part, it's still pretty evident. Plus, they're gullible and mean and treacherous. Despite that, they'd have to do quite a bit to cause Quetzal to rain down his ire for a second time. It'd have to be big, but he doesn't doubt that they're capable.

Most of all, though, Quetzalcoatl has a deep regret for what he's done and if he should ever lose that control again, he's not quite sure he could handle being sober, much like what The Morrigan has become.

What skills have they picked up that lie outside the realm of their godly abilities? Also, what residual effects do their powers have on mortals? Aphrodite being attractive, Apollo being a great guitar player and so on.

While the deities begin to regain their powers, slowly, what is it that your character will be able to do/how can they influence the world in supernatural ways? Bear in mind these will be weakened forms to begin with. Eg. Zeus can’t reign down thunder and murder entire cities, but he can probably cast it at one person; Hermes can run at incredible speed, but not to the extent he could as a God...

Sleipnir

Stephen Lord

Male

Demisexual Homoromantic

Single

Norse

A written description of your character’s appearance as an immortal, or how they otherwise differed from normal humans. Some might even have taken an animal or animalistic form. Include traditional weapons or armor that have become their symbols.

How would they appear as a mortal from day to day life? What are their striking features? At least one solid paragraph.

What kind of person is your character? What are their motivations? How do they interact with people around them? Also include things like how they’ve changed ever since they’ve transitioned into mortal life. Have they gotten kinder? Meaner? Etc
Be sure to write in flaws! Absolutely no Mary Sues/Gary Stus

Loki - Father
Svaðilfari - Mother

Fenrir - Half-Brother
Jormungandr - Half-Brother
Hel - Half-Sister

Obviously a gloss on what they’ve done in human history since coming into existence. Must include what they were known for, how they reacted to the agreement to give up their powers, and what they have done since as a pseudo-mortal.

What do they think about other mortals, who have no knowledge of the gods? What do they think about being one of them – sort of?

[url=link]Song – Artist[/url]
_{”A few lyrics here, please.”}

What's your favorite story from any mythology or religion. If you don't have one, any book will do!

What skills have they picked up that lie outside the realm of their godly abilities? Also, what residual effects do their powers have on mortals? Aphrodite being attractive, Apollo being a great guitar player and so on.

While the deities begin to regain their powers, slowly, what is it that your character will be able to do/how can they influence the world in supernatural ways? Bear in mind these will be weakened forms to begin with. Eg. Zeus can’t reign down thunder and murder entire cities, but he can probably cast it at one person; Hermes can run at incredible speed, but not to the extent he could as a God...

Aphrodite

Ellen Dove
Venus in Roman cultures

Female

Pansexual

Mingling.

Greco-Roman

Fashion Designer - While Aphrodite is certainly sure she is pretty enough to be a model, she would much rather sit behind the scenes and etch out her own outfits for others to wear. While she isn't very well known yet, her works have made it into various small fashion shows, and some of her designs can be found in various indie fashion magazines and tabloids.

Aphrodite's, well, Ellen's appearance in her God form isn't much different then her in her mortal form. She definitely becomes much more God-like, gaining an air of pristine beauty and artfulness around her already lovely face, but appearance wise she remains the same. When it comes to armor, she gains a much older, Greek fashion, with her outer wear being replaced by pearly white robes and golden ornaments. Her girdle is situated under her robes, and as the legends go it is used to distract enemies from their goal with its desirable powers.

Gorgeous, dark-skinned, and always smiling, Aphrodite is the vision of beauty. She stands at about 5'6", and she moves with the grace a goddess should usually possess. She prides herself in her appearance, and while she often claims she doesn't spend too long in front of the mirror most know she is lying through her teeth. Aphordite enjoys looking at herself, making herself up, and even if she attempts to claim that she isn't vain most know the truth of her apparent narcissism. But, then again, why shouldn't she love herself?

Aphordite appears more doll-like than human, possessing a lovely, small face, large eyes and full lips. Her hair is light-brown and naturally curly, often surrounding her face in an array of kinks and curls, and her skin is dark and tans darker. Though her face is usually stained with makeup, below the concealer are an array of dark freckles that splay over her nose and cheeks. She possesses a slender body, one that moves as if it were always walking on air, and Aphrodite takes pride in keeping herself as fit and healthy as possible.

As for tattoos, Aphordite as an array of tally marks on the inside of her upper arms. When asked about them, she will simply say, "Oh, those are all the mortal hearts I've broken!". There are a lot of small, tally marks, as I'm sure you can imagine.

At first glance, Ellen Dove seems to be a friendly, touchy, and slightly air-headed girl. She moves with intention, often touching the arms of strangers and friends alike in a sensual way, and she talks with a light, inviting voice. She puts up an air of cheerfulness and generosity which most seem to believe, but it isn't until someone gets on her nerves that her true colors are revealed. The kind Ellen is merely a front, and the true Aphrodite reigns like a horrid serpent beneath her smiling demeanor. In reality, Ellen Dove is a spiteful, egotistical girl with a thirst for attention. She lives day to day wondering what she should change about herself to attract more lovers, and she is not afraid to steal the hearts of those already in love with a simple bat of the eyelash and sensual smile.

Ellen, to those who really know her, is a bratty woman. She is selfish as well as unfaithful, and relies on others watching her to feel powerful. Thanks to her narcissism, she spends most of her free time staring in mirrors or fixing her appearance, and she is not afraid to insult those she deems unworthy or annoying. Cunning, Ellen is a skilled liar and actress, and she is gifted in making devious plots to get what she wants. When it comes to her closer friends and family, however, Ellen acts slightly more... Motherly? Her regular, devious personality remains, but she uses her cunning to help those she loves and cherishes those who stick with her even after they see her true self. She especially loves children and small animals, thinking them to be "cute" and not yet tainted".

Ultimately, most of Ellen's wild behaviors can be considered cries for attention. Whether she really enjoys being the Goddess of love and beauty is actually a bit clouded. She claims to love her past, but flashes of disdain can sometimes be seen while she is admiring herself, and when discussing past romances a forlorn look can be caught gleaming in her eye. When around self-conscious or self-loathing people, she can't help but try and convince them to see their inner beauty, though her way of putting things may come off as a bit blunt or rude. Ellen, other than that, is a woman who loves beautiful things, and she is also very materialistic.

Has countless children, most are demigods but there are quite a few godly brats in there. She has sexed up a lot of Gods and mortals alike, and she had a passing marriage with Hephaestus.

Aphrodite, the Goddess born from sea foam. As the legends go, Aphrodite was a goddess of unmatched beauty. She started wars, cursed lovers, made lovers, all with the intention for having eyes on her. She was a petty goddess, though many myths tell of her matchmaking capabilities and wondrous ability to make anything beautiful. As her time in the past went on, however, Aphrodite gained a promiscuous image around the other Gods on Mt. Olympus. Hera, in an effort to quell her meddlesome ways, paired Aphrodite with the god Hephaestus, who won her hand by saying he 'worked till late'.

Of course, Aphrodite was an unfaithful wife. She bore the children of both mortals and Gods alike, and would gladly do it again despite the complaints of many of the other deities. Aphrodite was like a bird in a cage who never wanted to be captured, a flighty, sing-songy girl. She gladly escaped into the mortal world at times just to attract the hearts of lovers and cause a bit of mischief.

When the war between Gods came along, she did her best to stay out of trouble, but in the end caused quite a few conflicts with her sensual, seductive ways. When the idea of the pact came along, Aphrodite wasn't too keen on giving up her godly powers. Hera otherwise forced her to put her name down, and the unenthusiastic Aphrodite returned to the mortal world with her mind on one thing: Revenge. Revenge on the humans whom the other gods wished to protect, and revenge on the gods who made her lose her powers in the first place. Of course, after a few years of wallowing in her own rage she began to simmer, and even started countless lovely relationships with countless different mortals.

Aphrodite eventually took up the name Ellen during the middle ages, and though she stayed in the shadows for most of human history she did attempt to act as a matchmaker for very few scholars and scientists. In modern times she has managed to make herself known as a fashion designer, and she continues to sleep around with mortals, finding their heart-broken faces to be the most beautiful and amusing thing out there.

"They're so easy to trick, and just looove to like at me!"

Aphordite loves and hates humans. She loves the fact that they are so easy to trick and fall for her, but she hates that they are also able to see through her facade after a few conversations. They are ugly to her, well, most of them are, but she finds that the younger humans who look up to her beauty and powers are worth looking after and protecting. She adores children most of all and will gladly look after a few human children if she needs to.

Of course, Ellen's beauty is a skill that has seeped out from her God days. She is attractive, and she knows how to work it with makeup and fashion. Being a fashion designer, Ellen knows the tricks and trades of the fashion industry and is quite skilled at pairing outfits. Designing has also given her an edge with art, and she is a skilled sketch-artist and seamstress, and due to this is often makes her very own clothes instead of buying them at shops. Ellen is also knowledgeable on an array of gems and precious stones and metals.

To keep up her impressive body, Ellen exercises often and can be considered quite fit for a woman her age. She is a feminist, one who sees the world as a men-filled cesspool, and even if she despises the looks of a certain woman she will do what it takes to defend them from the harsher words of others. When it comes to "motherly chores" she often falls flat. Ellen is an awful cook, and is very disorganized, but when it comes to looking out for the mental state of others she is very delicate. Her words are soothing, though often sensual, and she almost always knows what to say in stressful situations.

Other than that, Ellen is charismatic and a gifted liar, and she often uses these skills to get into the beds of others. She can speak Greek, English, Gaelic, and French, though she has trouble with the three latter.

Though her skills have since been locked away, Aphrodite held an image that most mortals couldn't look away from. Her beauty was intoxicating, as well as ever changing to fit the ideals of a certain viewer's tastes. Seduction was her main power, but that does not make it her only skill. As she slowly regains her abilities, Aphrodite will regain her power over illusions. She can cast an illusion onto herself or others, making them more beautiful or ugly if she decrees it, and these mental images all depend on how perceptive her foe is. To most they appear too life like, but to others they may appear muddy or translucent, like ever-shifting watercolors.

Aphrodite was a skilled matchmaker back in the day, as well as a maker of potions that could harm or mend a relationship. With her hand she could give a poorly maiden or man extreme beauty, or take the beauty of another away, those these powers have since been downplayed to be mere illusions. Aphrodite is able to attract the minds of lesser monsters and manipulate them slightly, though of course this only works on beings with dumber minds.

Amaterasu and Susanoo

Huitzilopochtli (Hwit-zee-po-klee)

In order of most used: Hewitt Danford, Hugh Trommons, Hernando Alvadorez

Male

Heterosexual

Currently In Relationship w/ Persephone (BreakingMe)

Aztec

Operates a small international mercenary force, though he rarely participates in their "Activities" he mostly just organizes and plans for the semi-military unit, exploiting his vast strategic and tactical knowledge. Often, he uses this unit to his own whims, destroying things he deems oppressive and corrupt. In his long existence after the fall of the Aztecs, he has made a point of visiting as many great battles he could reach, though recently there's been a lull.

Associated equipment is the generic Aztec battle armor, generally of leather. It is not enchanted in any way as described by the legends, but Huit has poured a bit of his essence into it, making it indestructible. the Aztec Obsidian blade, the Macuahuitl, is a symbol of all the Aztecs, but Huit the most. His own blade can burn with the heat of the sun (not really, but really hot).

As Hewitt or Hugh, he generally appears as a 6' 1", incredibly well-built fortress of a man. Muscles ripple over his entire body, the muscles of somebody trained in hand to hand combat. He has dull, brown eyes, almost red in their tint. A short, but not buzz-cut mop of dark brown hair covers his head. A mouth that rests as a hard line of determination can break out into a wide, toothy smile or, more often, a vicious, menacing snarl. His body is covered in scars, mainly on his chest and back, though a long one traces along his right arm.

Huit (i'll use that for short) was originally a vicious, determined, and vengeful lord. He demanded sacrifice and honor from his people, in order to keep their world alive. His greatest focus was always being the best and strongest, and he fueled anger and hatred into this purpose. He had few friends among the Aztec pantheon, and as time has progressed, he has gotten most of them killed, either by accident, on purpose, or by his own hand. But, now that he has walked among mankind for over 500 years, he has learned to treat the humans with more respect. He has built a hatred of gods and people who behave like he used to, dominating an innocent population and forcing them to do as their leader pleases. He despises oppression, and yearns for the might to destroy it again. He has long desired for his powers to return in order to seek vengance on those who have wronged the world. He has a great interest in military history, and has enjoyed visiting great battles of history, though he often puts himself in harms way to accomplish something, either a better vantage point, or to help one side or the other. This has manifested into a full, violently reckless streak.

When interacting with others, especially gods, he treats them depending on the history he knows of them. If he remembers them as domineering, rude, heartless, or otherwise negatively traited (with the exception of violent, he loves violent), he treats them badly, and takes little pleasure in interacting with them. If they were good, or at least honorable people, he behaves much more like the royalty he technically is, and gives them much more leeway and kindness. Huit isn't exactly the best at making friends given his arrogance, but those he makes are drawn to him via his vibrant and exciting personality.

-Mother, Coatlicue, location unknown
-400 Brothers, the Centzonuitznaua, scattered as the stars (AKA. Dead, dead, and extra dead, with pickles on the side)
-Sister, Coyolxauhqui, the Moon, He thinks she's in Southeast Asia somewhere.
Huit fought and defeated his sisters and brothers to defend his mother, and in the times of old he was said to be chasing his sister, the moon, as the sun across the sky.
-Pet Dog/Serpent, Toxcatl (also the name of the festival day for Huit), a gift from his friend, Quetzalcoatl (the feathered serpent, a fellow Aztec god.). Toxcatl is part Guatemalan Bull Terrier (Reference), part Boa Constrictor Imperator (Reference)(He has a snake's tail, but that's it., Huit uses his limited power over light to hide the tail from mortals.)

Originally the god of war, sacrifice, and the ever-mighty sun, Huit was...not happy, when the gods agreed to surrender their powers. He sent the Aztecs to destroy their neighbors in a fit of rage. He then served as a shadowy puppet master of the Aztecs until the Spanish came, a group which he came to despise for destroying his people. Since, he journeyed throughout the world, finding new things and manipulating conflict. Huit was responsible for the failure of the Spanish Armada, the first freeing of Napoleon, and he had a small hand in igniting the Communist revolution (Which he came to regret, as he saw the Oppression it incurred). Recently, he has settled down some, and only interferes when he is exceptionally bored. He has also developed a relationship with Persephone, with the pair now living together.

Huit feels compelled to defend the innocent humankind from the Oppression of Gods or Men who believe they are Gods. And yet, he believes himself a greater being, despite their similarities. He feels humans are more like children or puppies to his full-grown adult, and he treats them as such, though he tries not to do it to their face.

Promethus and the gift of Fire

Has learned a vast majority of combat skills, given his war-relation. Always has a perfect tan. Is notoriously difficult to burn.Has learned to play electric guitar, though he admits he isn't excellent. Master strategist/tactician, and can memorize nearly any map. Incredibly athletic, does ridiculous workouts whenever he can. Speed Reader. Excellent Chef.

As Lord of the Sun, Huit's will travels along it's rays. At his height, he could travel anywhere in the world the sun currently shined, at the speed of light, which for all intents and purposes was instantly, though for now, he can only jump a few meters.

Likewise, as God of War, Huit is incredibly talented in combat, the more his power waxes, the more impossible to hit - and the harder he will hit back - he will become.

Unfortunatley, as the God of Sacrifice, Huit's strength and energy are increased when a person is sacrified, or makes a great sacrifice near him (similar to a regular person eating a good healthy meal, this boost will increase as his power does.) The range of the sacrificial strengthening will increase as his power does.

Nike

Nike (Greek), Victoria(Roman), Nicole Harrow(Mortal)

Female

Heterosexual

Single

She prefers Greek, but is technically also Roman.

Nicole is an athletic trainer, and in her last "life" was an Olympic coach. She mainly just trains regular people now, either in running, weight lifting, yoga, or swimming. She owns the small buisness, Win Big!

Reference Nike's Wing's and Sword both traditionally represent victory. Those wielding the sword are supposedly impossible to defeat at anything, whether it actually involves the sword or not, though this effect does not guarantee anything with non-mortals.

Nicole is attractive, not nearly as beautiful as Aphrodite or Persephone, but still very pretty. Nicole's long dark hair almost always hangs down, framing her face, and she only puts it up in an elaborate manner for fancy events. She has striking blue eyes, which often catch the light, and some people say they see flashes of gold when looking into them. Nicole stands a taller 5' 7", and her form is long, lithe, and well muscled. Nicole's mouth is full and pleasant, and a row of brilliant white teeth are often the subject of comment.

Nicole is driven, vibrant, and endearing. She will absolutely refuse to give up, at anything and everything. At the same time, she's happy, friendly, and bouncy (excited?). She loves helping other people almost as much as she loves helping herself. Nicole tries as hard as she can to engage others, rather than talk about herself, in order to get people to open up to her. She desperately wants friends and for people to like her, and she sometimes comes on too strong in her efforts. Nicole loves her daughter Alexa more than anything in the world, and would do anything for the girl.

Nicole is also rather apologetic, convinced that every time something goes wrong, it must have been her fault for not doing something correctly. Her stubbornness is often and issue, even the most simple things become a challenge if she doesn't get them right the first time. Everything must be perfect, and she must succeed. It often drives others to give up on helping her, which both infuriates her and pushes her to try harder. Often, she'll even try to press others to succeed, even if they don't think they will. It is both a blessing and a curse.

-Sisters Krata, Bia, and Zelus
-Adopted daughter Alexa, 15

Born from a Titan and a Goddess, Nike as a goddess was mighty, fearless, and strong. She championed the cause of the Olympian gods, and enamored their soldiers with strength, and rewarded them for their victories. Anywhere she went on the battlefield, success and glory followed. And then the Romans came. They diminished her, she was still valued, but she wasn't as important. But what she hated was that the Romans had no qualms about fighting dirty, and their concept of honor was not for each man, but for the soldier. She did her job, but she had lost the sense of greatness associated with it.

When the time came to surrender their powers, Nike gave in, one of the few times she did so without much of a struggle. She didn't love her job anymore. Once the gods had turned in their hats, she left. Disappeared into the world, hiding from the other gods. She didn't champion battles, none of the victories of the great powers were part of her assistance. She had no interest in the military. Instead, she explored the earth, looking for amazing things, victories of nature. And then, she studied biology, interested in how nature had accomplished these feats. Every time she "died" she would go back and learn it all again. It started with plants and animals, and then once Darwin was through, just animals. And then mortal anatomy. Which led her to healthcare, to see victories against disease. And all the way, she learned more about the mortals she had so long championed from afar.

Following the horrors of the second world war, Nicole finally settled down. She tried teaching, but found that without a professorship, she didn't enjoy it enough. She began to train people, and eventually it came to Olympians. She lived in Colorado training Americans, and in London training Englishmen. Then, she decided she would achieve a victory of her own, raising a child. So she adopted a girl, technically Russian. She moved to San Francisco, and began to raise the sweet little child. Nicole loved every second of it. Sending Alexa to the first day of school was one of the hardest things she ever did. She feels that Alexa is her greatest victory.

Nicole is enamored with Mortals. She finds them incredible, capable of so many great things. She loves them much more than she loves any of the gods, who she sees as greedy, arrogant, and dangerous.

Odysseus' final victory against his wife's suitors

Nicole is a master biologist, given all her time studying. She's also incredibly athletic from her more recent jobs, and she's probably capable of running a marathon or an iron man, though it's not really her thing. Nicole knows everything there is to know about travel at this point, given she only settled down 14 years ago, and spent the majority of the last 1500 years traveling the earth. Nicole also plays the flute, though she hasn't picked it up in ages.

Currently, Nicole can only inspire people to victory, giving them a sense that they will be able to win. As her powers return, she will be able to increase the odds or even ensure victory in mortals, and at least give immortals a boost to their chances. She cannot guaratnee the impossible though, the more likely the person was to originally be able to accomplish something, the easier it is for her to boost their chances.
Currently, Nicole has no wings, the only thing she misses from being a goddess. As her powers grow, so will her wings, though she'll be able to hide them. She will not be able to achieve full, wild, flight until she is at almost full strength, though she may be able to hover and glide sooner.

Anubis

Anapa
Andrew (Andy) Jackley

Male

Pansexual

Single

Egyptian

An embalmer, because it might be cliche but he really is good at it. Works at Hansen's Funeral Home.

Reference The most noticeable difference between forms, was obviously the jackal's head that he had. It had been a trend for all of them to have various animal heads, and thought it made it a bit harder to talk, it was quite striking. He did have a human body however, and his skin was liberally tanned from the desert. He didn't spend all of his time down in the underworld. He still had to watch over the mummification process. He wore golden armour that covered his neck, along with shoulder plates. Not so comfortable in the hot egyptian sun, but it made him seem very important.

Andrew stands at about 5'9" but has the worst posture you could believe. Always hunching his shoulders, you would believe him if he said he was 5'7". With dark curly hair and just a shade less tanned then he was when he had his godly formed, he's easily unassuming and blends into the crowd easily. He doesn't like attracting very much attention, and tries his best to go unnoticed wherever he might be.

Never one to pay that much attention to his physical state, he'll often take less then 10 minutes to be dressed and ready. Andy keeps his hair short to avoid having any trouble with it, and in the right light it can look coarse and clumped, much like a dog's. But then he'll turn his head and it'll just be messy hair once more. He has a small tattoo of an ankh on his upper right arm.

Andrew is good-natured, playful and loyal to a fault. Somehow, even after spending so long among the dead, he still manages to be optimistic. He works best in a small group of people however, and he can withdraw when faced with large crowds. He doesn't find it that hard to make friends, but very much harder to keep them. Flighty and easily obsessed with things, he can rarely stay still for very long. He claims that he had to stay still rather long enough whenever souls were being weighed to see if they were worthy.

Andy isn't a very good listener. He'd like to be, and he tries his best, but if he isn't required to say anything, he normally starts daydreaming and thinking about something other then whatever he's meant to be thinking about. Instead of tapping or jiggling his foot around when he's bored however, he normally starts humming, or whistling, which isn't a very good thing to slip into when he's supposed to be quiet. It's gotten him shushed angrily more then a couple of times, yet he can't, or won't break the habit.

If he does manage to properly make a friend however, they can be rest assured that he'll always have their back. He'll stick with you through thick and thin with no complaints, and there's no question about staying in touch. E-mail, texting, even snail mail won't stop him from at least checking up on them. It is a problem whenever he makes a human friend, because whenever they die, he makes a point of being the one to embalm them. Then he can be sure that it's been done properly.

Osiris-Anubis' father. They have a good relationship, Anubis having helped rule the Duat (Egyptian afterlife) for many, many years. He was often too serious for his own good and Anubis helped to balance that out, and get him outside once in a while, rather then just staying cooped up in the underworld.

Isis- Although she isn't his biological mother, he considers her as such. She raised him, and taught him how to use magic-although he was never good at it-and was a constant fixture in his life.

Ammit- Anubis' now pet lizard. She can't devour human hearts any more, only insects and mice on occasion. She keeps him company and sits on his shoulder most of the time.

Anubis, even though prominent in Egyptian culture, was never included in the stories and myths they told. He was just another minor god, and he was happy to keep it that way. People weren't afraid of him. After all, he was known for guiding people safely through the afterlife, at least, until their souls had to be weighed. But that was the price for eternal peace. You had to be worthy of it.

He spent a lot of times with humans even before he was informed they had to become one of them, although he'd never been friends with any of them. Anubis would disguise himself in a mortal form and simply walk among them. He enjoyed talking to them as they traveled through the underworld with him, calming them down past their hysteria. Watching over embalmers carefully as they prepared the bodies, making sure everyone got a fair burial. He agreed that it was for the best if they were reduced to myths and legends.

Truth be told, Anubis hadn't enjoyed the sudden increase of souls that he'd had to escort to the underworld. Too many people to care for, and not enough time had left him just trying to keep up with the flow and not leaving wandering souls on the earth.

He hadn't changed much as a human. Ammit had decided to stay with him, so he wouldn't be alone. They traveled a lot, and he made many friends and felt grief for the first time when one of his closer friends had passed. Frustrated and angry at his inability to guide them himself, he'd secluded himself for months, before realizing that even if he couldn't escort them himself, he could still give them a proper burial. So he learned how to embalm properly and gave people the most comfort he could in their passing.

"I like humans. They're always changing their minds and creating new things. They do go so easily though..."

Anubis makes a point to have a couple of human friends. It gets harder when they start to show more obvious signs of aging and he doesn't, purely because he likes the way he looks in this form and he slowed his aging down as much as possible anyway. He hates having to cut himself off from them, but it's easier that way. And besides, that doesn't stop him from keeping an eye on them. It's horrible when any of them die, and he hates it. He swears he can feel it, even though none of them even believe in him.

Zeus and Ganymede

Andy learnt how to play the cello before the violin, but preferred the latter, saying that the sound of the cello was far too gloomy for his taste. He has no qualms about the double bass however, as he loves the swing/jazz style music of the 1930's. He learnt how to fight with a bo staff on a whim, then got into it very quickly, as it was quite similar to the polearm that he used to fight with.

He also learnt how to sketch with charcoal sticks, loving the smudgy texture of them. Although he isn't a master at it, he enjoys sitting down and drawing every once in a while, as it's very calming.

Anubis used to be able to travelling easily between the afterlife and the world of the living, but his power to do that is more limited now. He can travel about half a kilometer by using the gateways between worlds, before becoming too exhausted to do it any more.

He was able to judge souls, and could see them in people as a kind of glow around them. The system was simple, light to dark, best to worst. He doesn't mind it, and it'll be easier for him to be a judge of character with this skill. He has some hesitation in thinking of seeing his friends souls however, and he hopes that they all are actually nice people. He will like having the power to guide souls through the veil however, as before he didn't know for sure whether his loved ones did move on properly.

He doesn't have that many powers that would be good for fighting, as he was always quite a passive god.

Jormungand

World Serpent
Midgard Serpent
Jordan Natter

Male

Homosexual

Single

Norse

An Underwater Photographer/filmer.

Reference Jormungand is a literal giant snake. He's mainly a muddy green colour, with a white underbelly. He has too many teeth then really necessary, and ridges along his spine. It would be an understatement to say he was large. Technically, he wrapped around the entire earth, so that might give you an idea. He wasn't biting his tail all the time by the way. It was just like when a kid bites their hair, or fingernails. He was bored, and there was nothing to do but eat the occasional shark, and even that got gross. Too much seafood to be healthy for sure.

Jordan is incredibly vain. He will spend hours making himself look nice, and preening whenever someone compliments his appearance. Outer appearance is really what matters in the world. First impressions are vital after all, and if you look dishevelled and like you've just rolled out of bed, what are people going to think? Unless you're an undiscovered genius, that doesn't really pass. He has a serpent tattoo that curls around his back and arm, that looks like it's going in and out of him. Tattoo

He has dark hair that's just a little wavy, and dark brown eyes. He has a swimmers body type, which makes sense as he's in the water almost every day for his job. He's quite tanned from being out in the sun, and frequently forgets to put on sunscreen. It's lucky that he isn't the type to burn. His facial expressions are almost comical in their extremities. Disgust, shock, happiness, it's all very visible. Which isn't to say it's just what he wants you to see.

Jordan has been described by many people as a sneaky bastard. He's got things he wants, and will do anything to get them. He's stubborn like that. If he wants it badly enough, there's nothing he won't do for it either. Aside from murder, but that is debatable. He's kind if it serves a purpose, and isn't if it's pointless. He's the opposite of socially awkward however, with a charismatic air about him that's almost irresistible to almost anyone.

He does have a volatile temper however, and he's very calm right up until he isn't. When he snaps, it's like a hurricane of emotions. He shouts and he smashes things, but he doesn't hit people. That's the one thing he won't do. If he does get that angry, he'll normally storm out of wherever he is, make a giant scene like the drama queen he actually is and drive to the nearest beach. He always has a pair of swimming trunks for situations like this, and he'll just let go for a while in the water.

Loki- His father, which explains his fiery temper, and his penchant for lying. He misses him, badly.

Hel-His older sister. She's considerably more calm then he is, to the point where it's almost scary how serene she is. She's managed to become really successful-god knows how-and is practically rolling in cash. But obviously, she's saving it. Responsibly.

Fenrir- His younger brother. If Jormungand has a temper, it's nothing compared to Fenrir. He's dog trainer. At least that's what he says. Jordan knows better. Fenrir isn't exactly the best at being sneaky, but he does hide it pretty well. He's always angry, and he's gone through 3 therapists already for anger issues.

Sleipnir- His oldest sibling, he doesn't see much of him at all. The last he remembers of him, is how he just stood there, Odin sitting high and mighty on his back and watching as he was thrown into the ocean, too young to fight back. It was a massive betrayal, and it still stings if he thinks about it. He's made no effort to find out about him.

Jormungand had a...difficult childhood. If difficult was being thrown into an ocean because you were prophesized to kill a god, and therefore separated from your entirely family was a difficult childhood. He was alone for a long time. His whole teenager faze went by under the ocean, just swimming around and being angry about generally everything. There were a lot of water related incidents those years.

He was psyching up to fighting Thor when the news came about turning everyone into humans. And he wasn't an idiot, he knew full well that he'd die when Thor did. There was no way he wasn't going to become a giant barbecued snake. Since that wasn't a viable option, because he did like being alive, and he was indeed a coward with no sense of courage at all, he chose to be a human.

The first most noticeable change for him, was actually having limbs. And being one of the tiny humans that he'd enjoyed terrorizing so much. Walking had been hard, he'd wobbled around like a newly born foal. But then he'd relished the chance to eat everything that wasn't something that lived under the sea. So a chef he became. Surprising career choice for a giant serpent.

Nowadays he works as a underwater filmer/photographer, and has a secluded house on a private beach.

The creation of Mjolnir

Jordan's had to learn to swim the human way. With arms and legs, and isn't that just so weird? He still prefers the butterfly stroke, because at least that's kind of how he used to move. He likes cooking, it's a nice variation from just raw fish all the time.

He's always shied away from combat, now he doesn't have strength and giant teeth to help him. He was thrilled at the invention of guns, but still learned karate. Fencing is in a word, useless nowadays, but it was fun while it lasted. Fancy twirls of the wrist and moving fast had been his strengths after all.

He had the power to create storms, whirlpools and earthquakes. His scales were also rock-solid, preventing virtually any harm to come to him, apart from Thor, obviously. He also had some grasp of magic, and could make himself invisible, which was particularly useful when tipping over boats. He could also disguise himself as something else altogether, but didn't do so regularly. His venom was also lethal.

Maximón

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.

Male

Greyromantic Pansexual

Single, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Mayan/Folk Catholicism

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.

Maximón, in his true form, 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.

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.

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.

Itzamná - 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.

Ixchebelyax - 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.

The Bacabs - 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.

Dorado - 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.

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 greater gods. 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.

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.

The Punishment of Loki

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.

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 despises the taste of vodka.

Persephone

Kora Amaryllis Black

Queen of the Underworld

Female

Heterosexual

Greek

CEO of all-natural/vegan cosmetic company Vanity

Reference. Persephone appears as a beautiful young maiden, just on the edge of womanhood. She was an incredibly beautiful young goddess (enough to attract the attention of Hades, who hardly ever left the Underworld). Persephone was described to be a tall young woman with long dark hair that floated and curled as if it were weightless, and her face was beautiful but deathly pale. She was so beautiful in fact, that Adonis had trouble choosing between her and Aphrodite.

Persephone chose to take on a human appearance similar to the one she retained as a goddess, although a little taller. She stands 5’ 7” - the perfect height to look into the eyes of her ex husband, Hades. She kept her milky white skin and long dark hair. It served her well in her former life, why change now? She has a slim, soft build despite her lack of exercise. She tends to favor loose, flowy fabrics with an obvious preference for floral patterns.

Persephone is lively, energetic, and loving. She finds value in all forms of life and hurts when they hurt. She is passionate toward conservation and animal rights projects, often putting her time and money into various organizations that promote vegan lifestyle and earth friendly resources. She often surrounds herself with as many plants as is appropriate. Ok, sometimes it's a little more than what's appropriate...

As far as her relationships, Seph can easily become possessive and jealous of those who are important to her. She is widely known as a flirt but doesn't have an unfaithful bone in her body. She, however, expects her men to be straight laced when in comes to other women - no flirting whatsoever. She is not judgemental in anyway and accepts everyone how they are. She makes friends easily and keeps them as long as they'll have her.

While her previous marriage can get her down at times, she is generally a very happy and content person. Overall, she is laid back but has a strong work ethic and enjoys spontaneity and adventure. She gets bored easily and never seems to run out of energy, especially when she's invested in a project. She has a tendency to jump into life with both feet first and has no regrets.

(Ex)Husband - Hades (Lord of the Underworld) - Although they divorced on relatively good terms, Persephone holds some resentment for him not fighting harder to keep her. She did fall in love with him despite their less than standard betrothal.

Mother - Demeter (Goddess of the Harvest) - Persephone hasn't heard from her mother after Seph's decision to "remake herself".

As the story goes, Persephone was kidnapped into a marriage with Hades. But what the story doesn't tell you is that Seph fell for Hades. Hard. He worked so hard to make her happy that she saw the man he was beneath his gruff exterior. He brought a darkness to the surface within her that she lavished, and to this day, never gave up. Then, one day a millenia ago, the inevitable happened. Hades realized the error of his ways and released Persephone. She never told him but she was heart broken. She had nothing left in the world at that point - everyone she once loved had abandoned her to the Underwold. So, she decided to remake herself. She wouldn't be the lowly maiden who was taken advantage of anymore. After her godhood was lost and humanity was thrust upon her, she educated herself in business and started an all natural, vegan cosmetic line called Vanity. It quickly rose in popularity and currently sits in the #3 position for all cosmetic lines in the world.

In all honestly, Persephone is apathetic when it comes to humanity. She sees the value of humans and hardly holds godhood over them. With that being said, she finds them incredibly easy to manipulate, most likely due to her obvious beauty.

*Natural green thumb
*Strong leadership skills
*Can invoke passion in other people, specifically toward vegan and environmental causes
*Can easily pacify tense situations

Chlorokinesis: She has absolute control over flowers and other plants.

Plant Transformation: She can turn anything (even people) into flowers or anything related to flora.

Geokinesis (limited): She can manipulate the earth.

Orpheus & Eurydice

Fenrir Lokison

Wolfgang Reinhardt
Fenrisúlfr
Hróðvitnir
Vánagandr

Male

Bisexual

Single

Norse

High Class Dog Trainer...or at least that's what he does publicly; he's secretly a mule, smuggling contraband across borders (mostly weapons and drugs)

The demon wolf stands thousands of feet tall, his massive paws able to destroy trees with a swat and a single tooth longer than a man. Fenrir possesses coarse, shaggy brown and black hair that is tangled and mussed every which way. His jaw stretches to impossible lengths, his long elongated teeth connected with thick, frothy saliva. A long, squirming prehensile tongue lolls from his mouth, slobbering with a blood lust echoing in his beedy amber eyes. Miscellaneous organsims have begun to grow on his body, moss greening his teeth at the gums and mold began growing in the corners of his eyes. A huge halberd is pressed into his mouth, the point of the sword digging into a yellow, infected wound where insects and maggots crawl. The hilt of the sword is shoved into the softness of the roof of his mouth, surrounding by a black, painful bruising. Large, thick cobwebs have formed in his ears, with hundreds and thousands of spiders crawling around in their new, permanent home. Pure white bone barely peeks out from his fur, glimpses only seen through his rippling hair and seemingly bulky muscles. Spit and blood mix together, gathering in his mouth until it spills to the floor and his claws are jagged and rotting, holes eating away at the once sharp weapons. A thin stark red ribbon is wrapped tightly around his legs, tying them together, where he is forced to lay until free. The circulation has nearly been cut off by gleipnir, his ribbon-entrapment, and if anyone were to peer at the skin clinging to bone and exposed muscle beneath his fur, they would see a blue-grey hueness that rivals the dead half of Hel.

Fenrir forsaked his monstrous wolf form for a more human one in order to fit into human society. He is most known for his curly hair that ends at the nape of his neck and is usually pushed back from his forehead - it tends to appear oily, no matter how much he washes it, and the grease tends to drive him crazy. He's considered handsome by most that he comes across, especially with his apathetic piercing eyes, sharp chin features with respectable cheekbones, and the perfect set of lips which are not too thick and not too thin. When amused, he has a tendency to smirk and furrow his eyebrows, causing a crease in his forehead, but adds to his enigmatic and dangerous allure. It is not so rare for him to fully laugh, and when he does, it reveals prominent two front teeth with a miniscule gap in between and a villianous-esque shape of his grin. He's of average height, standing at six feet, with a lean yet muscled body. He does have a bit of body hair on his chest and he tends to have stubble over his chin, remnants of his wolfish coat. Another example of evidence left after his fall from the Demon Wolf, is a scar on his tongue as well as slightly cracked nails. He has a tattoo on his shoulder, featuring a wolf staring at the viewer through the tears in his bicep flesh; one half of the wolves is white, and the other is black - the two wolves represent his two sons, Skoll and Hati, for which he is extremely loyal to.

When it comes to his clothes, Fenrir tends towards the badboy, "I couldn't care less" line. He enjoys wearing hoodies and leather jackets with t-shirts, sometimes with lower necklines, or plaid shirts, with simple jeans and boots. He does, however, wear his favorite brown fingerless gloves and several silver rings on his fingers. Due to having spent most of his human life in Ireland, Fenrir has an Irish accent that he is quite proud of and believes makes his prospective lovers swoon on their feet. He hates wearing heavy cologne, but will spritz a bit on here and there when he sees fit. It is often hard to tell what Fenrir is thinking, though his face isn't passive and expresses his emotions, it often appears rapidly and is hard to analyze as one emotion or the other.

Fenrir is incredibly hot-headed and has a tendency to destroy things when mad. His ire is easily evoked and he tends to hold a mean grudge. He especially holds a grudge towards the Nordic gods due to them locking him up – and biting off a guy’s hand isn’t enough retribution for him. He isn’t the type that goes seeking for revenge, but if an opportunity appears, he would take it in a heartbeat, no matter the cost. His years of loneliness have left him bitter and perpetually angry inside, though he often hides it with a laidback attitude and snarky comments. Because of his harsh treatment, Fenrir can often be apathetically cruel and ruthless – he will do anything in order to get what he wants, being rather determined, and he is exceptionally petty. From his outermost layer to his innermost core, Fenrir is a criminal – if there’s a law about it, he most likely committed it (excluding bestiality and incest; though he has tried cannibalism, but it wasn’t quite his thing) – and rather lacks any morals. Not only is he a criminal, he is a heartbreaker as well; Fenrir has problems with commitment, whether it’s his fear of being betrayed once again, or his preference to not being tied down figuratively like he was once physically, is unknown. Though he does quite like sex and happens to have one-night stands habitually and constantly. His flirtatiousness and bad boy charm makes it relatively easy for him, too. Guys and girls just can’t resist him, it seems. Despite his rather strained relationship with his father, Fenrir is family-oriented and tries his best to protect them to the best of his ability, even if it means staying away as to not involve them in his criminal activity. However, though he’s extremely loyal to them, Fenrir does value himself overall and might use them here and there if he sees no other way around it. He doesn’t believe in heroics, but he does believe in sacrifice in order to protect your children, and Fenrir would do anything for his two sons, even if it means standing idly by as they live their immortal lives as common mutts.

Fenrir is unbelievably curious and believes in trying everything once. As such, he is rather adventurous and has an exhilarating, living-on-the-edge lifestyle that often attracts others to him – though not for a very long time, as if he stays with them, they typically leave him after a couple of weeks due to the recklessness that comes along with it. When with his current special someone, Fenrir has the ability to make them feel special, like precious diamonds, and like no other person in the world. Whether it’s from his carefully chosen compliments or his abandonment of his common bed-rule, people flock to him if only to have that above-the-world feeling. Though he sleeps around a lot, he would never treat his lover wrong, and is quite the gentleman and romantic; he always treats week-longs with nice, expensive dinners and one-nights with sweet candles and rose petals.

Hati - Fenrir's eldest son. He chased after the moon god, Mani, for most of his life; whenever he almost caught him, the Shinto moon god cut off his left hand. When it was time to give up their powers, Hati chose to remain as a wolf and Fenrir now takes care of him as his wolfdog. Because he is a regular dog rather than a god, he doesn't remember his life as a god or he doesn't possess the high order thinking that he had before.

Skoll - Skoll is Fenrir's second son. He used to chase Sol until Fenrir supposedly ate her; when it was time to give up their godly abilities, Skoll chose to remain as a canine to be with his brother and protect him now that he was missing a limb. Because he is a wolfdog now, Fenrir takes care of him at his house and pretends that he is his pet when mortal are around. Due to his lack of high order thinking, he doesn't remember his life as a dog which, in turn, has a horrible effect on Fenrir, who is distraught at seeing his sons like common mutts.

Loki - Fenrir's father. Fenrir is angry with his father and claims to hate him passionately because he never did anything to save him whenever he was tied up. However, he doesn't want to confront his father in fear of disrupting and breaking the family, and so he tends to avoid Loki and, when he does meet him, keep the interaction brief.

Sleipnir - Fenrir's older brother. Fenrir and him have a slightly tense, neutral relationship due to Sleipnir being the personal pet of Odin. Fenrir believes that it was degrading and is disgusting that Sleipnir subjected himself to such things. However, Fenrir doesn't typically voice this opinion unless he is incredibly mad at or frustrated with Sleipnir. Not only this, but his allegiance - whether it be reluctant or not - to Odin enrages Fenrir because of Odin's destruction of the family.

Hel - Fenrir's older sister. They do not typically talk as Fenrir's afraid of getting her and her family involved in his criminal activities. However, his worries typically don't stop him from coming to visit her whenever he needs something (working at a funeral home makes it convenient for her to hide bodies for him) and her loyalty to the family usually resolves in her reluctantly doing it.

Jormungand - Fenrir's older brother. They're on fine terms, visiting each other here and then - he's an underwater photographer now. Jormungand sort of knows that Fenrir is up to something, as Fenrir isn't exactly trying to hide it, but he rather his brother not know the specifics

Fenrir was born to Loki and the giantess Angrboda. However, when he was just a boy, Odin received a prophecy that Fenrir would kill him in Ragnarok. Not wanting to die, Odin confined Fenrir into a cell in Asgard, where he was kept from the light of day. The only person willing to feed him was Tyr, who pitied the wolf, and during the time, Fenrir even began to trust Tyr. However, Fenrir was growing too fast too quickly and Odin decided that he could no longer keep him in Asgard. They brought him to the forest in which they tested out many chains in order to hold him – Tyr lied to Fenrir, telling him it was a testament of his strength, and because he was his friend, Fenrir believed him. Every chain they brought to him, Fenrir broke, until Odin called to the dwarfs and asked them to make him a chain strong enough to hold Fenrir. The dwarfs made a small ribbon out of impossible ingredients (the sound of a cat’s footsteps, the beard of a woman, the roots of stones, the breath of a fish, the spittle of a bird) and thus would be impossible to break. Fenrir became suspicious when Tyr presented him with the small, light Gleipnir, as it has been named, and suspected that Tyr was betraying him. So, he declared that the only way that he would place Gleipnir on his wrists was if one of the gods placed his hand in Fenrir’s mouth as a sign of good faith. No one agreed, knowing that they would lose their hands, until Tyr finally volunteered his hand. He placed it between the jaws of Fenrir (who was only the size of a horse at that moment) as they bound Fenrir’s legs together, making it nearly impossible for him to stand. Fenrir tried with all his might to break Gleipnir, but he couldn’t, and when he ordered Tyr to release him and he refused, Fenrir ripped Tyr’s hand off, swallowing the hand so it could never be reattached. Tyr was rushed away and to the goddess of healing, and he never returned to see Fenrir again. Out of anger, the gods placed a sword in his mouth, forcing his jaw to stretch impossibly and his tongue to forever be cut. And then they left him to rot.
Fenrir lived centuries alone in the forest, and only received food when the gods were feeling particularly giving (and when they were they were feeling even more so charitable, they came to bring a bigger and sharper sword to place in his mouth). Lonely, Fenrir became bitter with the gods – and especially his father, who he had expected to come save him. To make matters worse, Fenrir was still growing – soon, Gleipnir began to cut off his circulation, and mold and moss began to grow on him. The open cut on his tongue became infested and infected and the roof of his mouth horribly bruised, perhaps even with some internal bleeding. He was in pain constantly, and many times he wished he could have killed himself, but there was no possible way that he could have. He felt betrayed by everybody he loved – no one was coming to save him. Why weren’t they coming to save him? - and anger possessed his being, boiling inside of him.

When he was finally able to break Gleipnir, Fenrir was in a delirious state. He killed everything he saw – carnage of animals appeared left and right – and, unfortunately, his eyes laid on Sol. He attacked her in a feverish rampage and almost even attacked his son, though he was finally able to snap out of it. When he did snap out, Sol was gone – maybe she fell. He couldn’t remember any of the events that had transpired, but when his son told him that he had killed the Sun goddess, he couldn’t find himself to particularly care. Instead, he left, going searching for Odin. However, when he arrived, he found himself out matched. Before Odin dealt the killing blow, Sleipnir stepped in and stopped Odin. Fenrir has been angry at Sleipnir for stopping Odin, wishing that Odin would have just killed him right then and there, believing that there could only be Odin or Fenrir.

When it came time to give up his powers, Fenrir was reluctant to give away his powers, but ultimately decided to do so in order to start anew. When his sons decided to remain as sons, Fenrir was heartbroken and distraught at having to see his sons as mindless beasts, but he ultimately promised them he would take care of them with the best of his abilities. Living as a mortal came naturally to him – he started out as a hunter, and even had jobs such as being a boxer and a martial artist, but throughout his life on earth, he had always been a criminal. He lived mostly in Ireland, but he hated settling in one place, and would often move to a bunch of other places; he is currently residing in Ireland again and is a dog trainer on the side of his criminal business.

Fenrir adores mortals - he finds them refreshing and honest, hardworking, good people. He loves their presence, especially over the gods, and finds living the life of a mortal as exhilarating. He believes in the capabilities of mortals and of the mortal world and supports their endeavors. However, he would never sacrifice his life for them.

Thor crossdressing to get Mjolnir back

Now living as a mortal, Fenrir only has a residue of his heightened senses left and a little bit of tracking knowledge. Even now, though, his senses can't even rival that of a dog and his hunting might even be worst than normal human hunters. Despite this, though, he has become an amazing liar and can track down any human through technological means as well as an expert gunman and collector, with an added bartering skill. He can cook a mean meal, too.

As an oversized wolf, Fenrir had ungodly strength, able to crush bones with a simple press of his nail, and destroy mountains with a simple pounce. The only thing that could hold him down was Gleipnir, a ribbon fashioned by the dwarfs out of six nearly impossible ingredients. His senses were heightened to the point in which he could see smells and taste scents; every person that he came across, he would instantly memorize their smell forever and could find them, no matter where they went. He was an excellent tracker and hunter and loved the thrill of the hunt. His speed was hilariously fast for such an ginormous thing - though he was nowhere as fast as other gods, he could give normal, or even abnormal wolves, a run for their money.

Hel Lokisdottir

Helena Hansen

Female

Demisexual

Married, in the process of divorcing

Norse

Owner of Hansen's Funeral Home as well as head funeral director there

As the goddess of the underworld, Hel was most known for her coldness. Not a cold personality, but a cold appearance of gaunt beauty withering away. The only thing that softened her weary appearance was her attractive smile. While it wasn't the most wide, it was a subtle, graceful smile that had a way of making eyes look soulful and empathetic. Her hair was the next more notable; it was a thick nest of flouncing, glossy brown curls that fell to her waist. She usually kept it twisted into a half-updo with stray curls framing her face; long, diamond-encrusted barrettes followed the length and curve of the semi-French braided locks. Hel was tall and slim, with not much curves to boast for, but a quiet, commanding elegance that brought attention to her whenever she walked in. Her skin was a sickly white, with every dip and nook enhanced with prominent shadows, making her face appear gaunt and deprived. Her eyes were a light, sky blue, that seemed to have such a profound depth that one could swim in them. Hel's makeup was kept simple: a dark red lipstick applied aptly to every curve of her lips, enhancing the thickness; her eyes were shadowed with brown and thick, black eyelashes made her small eyes appear bigger. However, this wasn't what disgusted her patrons or fellow gods and made her a pariah to be avoided. Half of her body was composed of dying, stretching skin with thick, post-mortem wrinkles. The lid of her eye was missing and the full, glassy white orb could be seen portruding from the round eye socket. Her arm was skeletal and skinny, mere flesh clinging to bone with no muscle in between and blue veins pulsed visibly up and down her arm.

To distract from her ugly half, Hel often wore an Empire, layered dress that was floor length and accentuated her graceful, slim body. The sleeves were connected to the dress, as if to appear as a shawl, with a slit from her underarm all the way down; the sleeves fell into the length of the dress. The boat neck emphasized her height and the thinness of her neck. The most impressive aspect of her peach-tan dress was the sown-in diamonds that clustered around the top gradually lessening as they travelled downwards; pure gold lace was embroidered in streaming lines to add depth to the dress. Hel hated to wear shoes, and instead wore lacy embroidery on her feet, secured with silk ribbons.

Living as a goddess, Hel was known for her ugliness which has left her very insecure. Now, as a mortal, the dead half of her body had been removed in order for her to blend more into the world. But that wasn’t enough for her – Hel has gone under much plastic surgery in order to appear as beautiful as she is now. She has gotten surgery on her eyes, to make them appear wider, as well as a nose job to look more refined. Her lips have mostly been untouched, though she has gotten a chin implant to make her face look more feminine that it was previously. She has received liposuction multiple times and has work done on her breasts – though she will never admit it – to make them appear more full (not so much big, but round). She had plans to get rid of the bags that appear under her eyes a lot, but unfortunately had to cancel in order to finish some business with Fenrir. She cut her once long hair and uses a lot of hair products in order to keep it flouncy and alive rather than flat and she gets a perm every now and then due to it not maintaining the beautiful curls it had when she was a goddess. She typically spends hundreds of dollars at the spa every Sunday while her kids are at the babysitter’s.

Hel takes careful attendance to her makeup, usually placing a lot on her skin, but has become such an expert at making it appear completely natural on her body. Every morning and night she performs a skin regiment in order to make her skin silky and perfect rather than the dead and wrinkled skin she is terrified of possessing again. She wears fake eyelashes all the time and will never be caught without being made up entirely. Her choice of style can be called as sophisticated and elegant, choosing to wear clothes that seem professional and modest, but flattering and attractive. Hel only wears clothes and makeup healthy for the skin and always takes care of her body. She habitually works out in order to keep her body toned and she is on a strict diet – she only allows herself to eat chocolate every now and then. She does not drink at all because of the damage it does to liver and because she doesn’t want to look prematurely aged. She avoids medication as much as she can, too, because she doesn’t want any bad side effects to take place physically – though she does take vitamins. Hel has a hard time sleeping which would show in bags under her eyes, if she did not hide it.

Living as one of the, if not the, ugliest deity in the Nordic pantheon, Hel has developed a severe insecurity of her appearance and a fear of becoming old and getting wrinkles (despite being immortal). It has gone so far that she has developed an addiction to plastic surgery and is obsessed with her physical image. However, her physical appearance is not her only obsession, as Hel gets obsessed easily – whether it be with a man or a song – and tends to focus on that one thing for years at a time. Currently, Hel is obsessed with the idea of a family, leading to her adopting an excessive amount of children (three) in the span of six months. Her maternal personality may also add to this obsession of hers because of her kind heart when it comes to the young and frail. But when it comes to wrongdoers and douchebags, Hel can be extremely ruthless and callous when dealing with their fate. Outwardly, Hel appears calm and collected and can be eloquent and clear-headed. She seems like the perfect ruler of the underworld, objective and fair to those who cross her threshold. She believes in justice, but her idea of justice is quite skewed – she believes in the idea of an eye for an eye, a hand for a hand, a life for a life. Though she can be hypocritical considering her and her family’s misdeeds. As such, Hel can be pretentious, believing herself above the law because of her importance as a goddess and a handler of death. She can come off as aloof and detached, even when she is very much attached to the subject at hand, and she has a strict, businesslike personality.

Hel can be quite protective of her loved ones, even bordering on possessive, and gets jealous easily. She is often paranoid of her lovers, believing them to be cheating on her because of her insecurity (though she was not wrong in her husband’s case). However, her fatal flaw is her envy of other women’s things, such as riches or love, but most especially their beauty. When she is like this, or having to deal with something carefully, Hel can be manipulative and uses her cleverness to succeed (an apt example would be her deal with Frigga in order to resurrect Baldr). Nevertheless, Hel does have a sense of humor – albeit morbid and inappropriate – and can is exceptionally responsible. Hel is remarkably observant when it comes to people’s intentions, though she can be tricked when it comes to love because of her already inset paranoia, and is faithful to whoever she is currently committed to.

Mistletoe - Hel's loyal pet owl. He is addicted to nesquik and likes to steal sponges from the neighbors.

Loki - Hel's father. She emulates her father and idolizes him because of his loyalty to the family and his mischief towards the other gods. However, she is able to admit that her father has made mistakes in his lifetime, some irreversible.

Sleipnir - Hel's older half-brother. Despite him only being her half-brother, Hel treats him just as well as she treats her other brothers. She pitied him as the mount of Odin and makes it a point of keeping Fenrir in line if there is ever a fight. Hel hasn't talked to Sleipnir in a while, having been preoccupied with her own problems.

Jormungand - Jormungand - Hel's younger brother. While she is not particularly close to him, she is extremely protective of him. She sees him as the weakest link among the family and thinks it is her duty as his older sister to protect him. Of course, in recent years, she's been rather lacking and hasn't spent too much time with him.

Fenrir - Hel's youngest brother. Hel is closest to Fenrir, though it isn't by choice. His criminal activity worries her and she has warned him to not involve her in any of it, though every now and then he'll convince her to let him hide a body in her cemetery. They have become close because of his visits every now and then.

Kent Hansen - Hel's husband. They are currently in the process of divorcing after she discovered he was cheating on her with his secretary, Miranda (a twenty-one year old blonde who flunked out of college and had a failing modelling career). Hel has been assured that she will be receiving everything because of the evidence of his adultery and she plans to rob him of everything he has, even his visiting rights of the children, if she can.

Lacy - Lacy is Hel's biological nine year old daughter, whose father is Kent Hansen. She has an obsession with origami and owls. She is very close to her mother, but not very close to her father, and her mother affectionately calls her Birdie.

Eden - Eden is Hel's adopted four month old baby girl. Ezra is her younger twin brother. Hel started the adoption process when Eden was just a couple of weeks old; however, it looked as if she wouldn't receive Eden and so she sought out a pregnant woman whose recent surrogacy plan fell through.

Ezra - Ezra is Hel's adopted four month old baby boy. He is the younger twin brother of Eden. Hel started the adoption process when Ezra was just a couple of weeks old; however, it looked as if she wouldn't receive Ezra and so she sought out a pregnant woman whose recent surrogacy plan fell through.

Oakley - Oakley is Hel's adopted month old son. When Hel was afraid that she would not be able to have Eden, Hel found Oakley's mother who was a surrogate that fell through after the couple got a divorce and she was left with the baby.

Not much can be said about Hel’s life. As a goddess, she was incredibly ugly, dejected, and lonely. She spent most of her time in the cold Helheim with no one to keep her company except for the souls of the dead. However, she did get her kicks every now and then when a god came to beg her to bring someone or other back to live – one of her favorite times is when Frigga came to visit for Baldr and Hel had her laugh over making a nearly impossible and ridiculous deal (she even named her owl after the whole affair). She yearned to see her family often, but she really only got visits from her father, Loki, every now and then as her brothers were pretty occupied in their own exiled life. Hel gladly gave up her life as a goddess in hopes of starting anew, with a fresh, beautiful face.

She had her first plastic surgery in 2006 and has been addicted to plastic surgery ever since; but she has pretty good doctors, and so she doesn’t worry about coming out looking like one of those failed surgery-women. She settled in France where she became a lowly mortician assistant to a man named Hector Hansen. During a Christmas Party, though, she met his multi-millionaire son who made his money off of a big company, and fell in love. They married a year or two after dating and started a life together. They even had a daughter, named Lacy, and had an adoption going through. However, their marital journey was cut short when Hel walked in on his secretary on her knees in his office. Hel could stand much, but adultery was not one of them, and so she drew up divorced papers and hired the best divorce lawyer money could buy – she plans to rob him and get full custody of her new three babies and Lacy.

She's neutral to them. She owes no allegiance to her fellow gods or to the humans. She believes that, like the deities, humans have the capability to do good and to do evil and believes that wrong is wrong, no matter if you are a god or a human. (Ironically, considering the family she comes from and the secret murdered bodies in her cemetery.)

Baldr and the Mistletoe

The only skill that has been carried over to her everyday life is her intimate knowledge of the human anatomy. Nowadays, she makes her living putting makeup on dead people - quite well, mind you - and selling coffins to fragile-minded people. She's a rather good saleswoman, too. Though she has become an excellent fashionista as well as an art-collector and has apt knowledge in the history of art and fashion throughout the ages (especially because she lived through some of it).

Hel will regain her ability to know how someone is going to die, though it is always subject to change depending on how they change their path in life, and she will never know when or the circumstances surrounding it.

As a death goddess, Hel always instinctively knew when someone has died and their identity. She had the ability to bring dead gods back to life, but not mortals because of their fragile bodies and psyche.

Freyja

Valfreya
Mistress of the Slain
Heidi Olsen

Female

Heterosexual

Single

Norse

Elementary School Teacher

[Used for Reference Only]

Freyja's appearance is one of a mythical nature. She often takes the appearance of a young blonde woman with pale ivory skin with eyes rimmed and outlined in kohl. Her long golden blonde tresses flows freely down the ornately design steel breastplate she wears on her upper torso. A leather corset follows the breastplate, covering her abdomen. A design of Nordic origins can be found engraved prominently on the steel tasset she wears at her waist. The bottom half of her outfit is a billowy skirt resembling the bottom half of a ball dress. Her legs and feet are encased in a set of steel greaves and sabatons. Depending on the situation or her mood, she may decide to wear her hands bare or in a pair of ornately designed steel bracers. Around her neck, she wears the famous necklace known as the Brísingamen. It is a indescribable piece of beauty made out of pure gold bearing one or more pieces of jewels that shone like the morning sun. The jewellery is a popular symbolisation of her brilliance and beauty.

The jewels in the necklace is special and unique to Freyja, linked personally to her, similar to how Mjölnir is uniquely linked to Thor. On her head, she wears a steel helmet ornately design in the same fashion with a pair of grey miniature wings spreading out with its sides. However, those aren't her most prominent feature. As the Goddess of Battle and Mistress of the Slain, she rode among Odin's Valkyries, sporting a set of large enveloping grey falcon wings sprouting from her back. She has a giant boar called Hildisvini which has a mass of glistening golden bristles. In the times of old, she used to ride it into battle, earning the boar the nickname, the Battle Boar. Another alternative mode of transportation is a chariot she has that is pulled by a pair of cats. A goddess can never have too many modes of transportation. The boar and cats are animals closely linked to Freyja and thus all pigs and cats are sacred to her.

Standing at 5'6", Heidi's appearance is both equal parts alluring and ravishing. She is a epitome of the word beauty, definitely one would associate a goddess with. Her silky tresses are a shade of golden blonde, extending down to chest level, complimenting perfectly with her lightly-tanned complexion. Their would appear to be neat and clean, perfectly radiant, as if they were spun out of yarns of golden strands. The roots near the top of her head are significantly darker, a darker shade of chocolate brown, with similar colours for her delicately-shaped eyebrows. Her perfectly-shaped oval face comes with a strong jaw and a slightly pointed chin.

Her features are adorned with a pair of almond-shaped eyes that are a gorgeous shade of hazel green, sparkling with an intensity of serenity and determination. They are incredibly striking, and are by far her most prominent facial feature. Her thin but luscious lips rest easily on her face, ready to break into a smile at a moment's notice. Her pert nose is thin and pointed, simply adding to the list of striking features which contributes to a rather comely appearance. Her skin is smooth and unblemished, devoid of any ink or tattoos. She tends to favour a variety of blouses and skirts, with the occasional sun-dresses and smattering of pants.

They are often in pastel colours, those being her colours of choice. Her rather modest clothing is attributed to her profession as a teacher, the school ensuring that all their teachers are dressed to look presentable yet appropriately. The only types of headwears she can seen in are sunhat in the sunny seasons and a visor beanie in the snowy seasons. With her clothing restricted by her profession, Heidi tends to wear as little clothing as she can whenever alone, simply wearing an over-sized shirt over her undergarments.

Freyja is the goddess that women want to be be and women want to possess. She is completely comfortable in her own independence, her own ferociousness, and her own sexual power. She does not need anyone, but yet desires them all, with a shamelessness that would make a stripper blush. She is her own lady, bringer of love, fertility and mistress of battle and death. Radiant and cheerful, her smiles are ever present and entirely bewitching, especially to those of the opposite sex. One of the most powerful goddesses of the Norse pantheon, her might is similar to that of Thor and her divinity equal to Frigg, Odin's wife. A highly passionate and lustful goddess, she portrays exuberance in ample amounts, and is known for her kindness to all. Freyja loves to judge. Not be mention being picky.

After all, She gets first pick of those slain to enter her beautiful luscious field of a multitude of greens, Fólkvangr, where her majestic afterlife hall, Sessrúmnir, is located. It is that that she treats her chosen exactly like a great host should, with never-ending beverages hot and cold and mouth-watering delicacies. She can be incredibly temperamental, cynical or sarcastic when she wants to, or be on the opposite end of the spectrum, being entirely too sweet and innocent like honey when she wishes to, simply like a flick of a switch.

As a human, Heidi is a much, much subdued version of Freyja, and then some. Her lustfulness and flirtatious demeanour is toned down a considerately lot, but it is still somewhat ingrained into her human personality as well. Heidi still flirts, but no where as much as or as far as Freyja would go. Heidi also retains a set of morals and conduct that makes her quite the contrast compared to Freyja. She, however retains the same kind-heartedness and exuberance from the goddess, and is polite and gracious to boot. Warm and friendly, it is needless to say that she is very much a people person and is extremely sociable. She has a great sense of humour and can often be seen laughing at jokes cracked by other people. She is an optimist and idealistic, a firm believer of hope and positivity.

When it comes to the matters of romance, Heidi differs from Freyja quite a fair bit. The main point being the fact that she prefers to stick to a loyal partner, whereas the goddess desires all and flirts like its nobodies's business. I guess you can say that the two of them are simply two sides of a coin. She is utterly faithful, sticking to a single partner and a real sucker for romance, and it is not uncommon for her to be seen involved in doing romantic things and carrying out other acts of romance for the one she truly fancies and loves.

Freyja has two daughters from her late husband, Óðr. Hnoss is the oldest, followed by her young sibling, Gersemi. Due to Hnoss being old Norse, upon being relegated to humans, Freyja decided to give her the name, Hilda. Being Freyja/Heidi's favourite, Gersemi tends to be the more doted upon child, often leaving her older sibling snarky and jealous of her younger sibling. Gersemi is a bubbly ball of exuberance and sunshine, very much like her mother, which could possibly be the reason she loves her so much.

• Hannah
• Gersemi

In the tales of old, Freyja was born in Vanaheim to a Vanir god, Njörðr. He was father to both deities, Freyr and Freyja. Her father was commonly associated with the sea, seafaring, wind, fishing, wealth, and crop fertility. The world of the gods were dominated by two main groups, the Aesir and and the Vanir. When a pact was signed between the two groups and an alliance was formed, the two groups exchanged hostages, and the Vanir who came to live with the Aesir were Njörðr and his two children, Freyja and Freyr. Freyja grew up to be a stunningly beautiful goddess who rules after her heavenly afterlife field Fólkvangr in Asgard. Within Fólkvangr is her hall, Sessrúmnir, a majestic structure so wide and magnificient, rows and rows of chairs could be placed for the the host of the chosen to dine with never-ending mouth-watering delicacies and beverages. As Goddess of war and death, and Mistress of the slain, Freyja rides together with Valkyries of Odin, having her first pick of the slain, before the other half goes to Odin, the all-father in Valhalla.

It was there in Asgard, that Freyja rose to power. Freyja makes her own choices regarding sexual partners, and shares her favours freely. She eventually grew to the highest rank, second only to Frigg, Odin's wife. Odin's warriors in Valhalla was trained daily to combat the rising danger that is Ragnarok, and Freyja task was equally important. Her duty was to help and guide these warrior-spirits to help her to create life anew in the new world after the battle was done. Not only warriors were permitted though, as various women of nature were also selected by Freyja after their death to join the ever-growing host in the afterlife.

Freyja met her husband, Óðr and two of them had two lovely children. Óðr was a free-spirited individual who loved to travel and go onto adventures on Earth, and often left Freyja and their two young children alone on Asgard. When he went missing and did not return to them, she cried tears of gold, grieving for the loss of him. As a symbol of fertility, Freyja was absent from earth during the autumn and winter seasons, a departure that caused the leaves to fall and earth to wear a mourning cloak of snow.

Despite being a goddess of death, she was never once considered or seen to be a terrifying deity, for her Scandinavian believers knew her more to be one of a sexual nature. As a goddess, she was utterly promiscuous, and engaged herself in alot of affairs, and was well known for her sexual affairs. When she left Asgard, to come down to Earth after the loss of her powers, she decided to leave most of her old persona behind, especially ones of promiscuity. She took on the name of Heidi, and decided on a most faithful and loyal personality. Taking her children along with her, she started a new life, with the traits of her former personality that she loved.

"Ahh..mortals! One life ends and another begins!"

Freyja loves mortals. She treats all of them like her children, watching over them as she overseas their daily activities. She blesses the farming community with her gifts of fertility, when pleas get to her ears, and in days of long past, when wars were fought with swords and the Vikings, she would swoop down on the battlefield, resplendence in abundance, as she selected those who she felt deemed worthy to tread upon her field and halls in the afterlife. Apart from being approachable, she often took an active role in contacting those who needed her help. She was glad to be one of the few goddesses served in almost equal numbers by men and women.

As a mortal, Heidi remains able in all manners of combat, and is knowledgeable in the arts of war. Highly proficient in the martial arts known as Karate, she is also no stranger to firearms. Possessing strong leadership skills, she is a natural leader. She also has green fingers, and is exceptionally good in farming and gardening. Because of her sexual nature as a goddess, she is also great in bed.

As a goddess of love, fertility, war and death, Freyja is able to do a wide variety of things within those domains. To the farmers that pray and plead with her, she is able to bless their lands and crops with the gift of fertility, ensuring they get a bountiful harvest. She brings spring and summer into the lands, rain and sunshine, amidst buds and blossoms across the land. As a goddess of war and death, and the mistress of the slain, she is able to retrieve the spirits of those who die, but not of old age or disease, sending those she chooses to her own heavenly domain, away from the clutches of her fellow goddess, Hel. As the one who gets the first pick, she is allowed to be picky, and you can be damn sure she'll pick whoever she wants.

Thor and Mjölnir

Hermes

Mercury
Jack Mercer
Robin Hood (Just kidding....Or am I?)

Male

Bisexual

Single

Greco-Roman

Hermes is a hard person to find, because he’s always on the run. When he’s not delivering messages for the gods, he’s running a telecommunications company, an express delivery service, and every other type of business you can imagine that involves travel. Did you have a question about his activities as god of thieves? Leave a message. He’ll get back to you in a few millennia.

Reference. Even in his godly form, Hermes is mostly human, albeit with a stature and size greater than most mortals. He was occasionally known to take the form of a hawk. This bird was beautiful and held a noble bearing. While Hermes wasn't known for wearing armor, his winged boots became synonymous with the messenger god. He also carried a caduceus staff, which was a gift from Apollo.

Jack/Hermes is a very good looking man with chiselled features and piercing eyes that seem to shift in color from hazel to green. His hair is thick and dark and is usually kept short. He usually sports a light dusting of stubble across his face. Physically, he stands at about six feet and is very fit with a muscular yet slim body. He keeps in good shape but doesn't feel any need to overdo it. He has a runner's body.

Hermes is a mostly happy-go-lucky kind of guy who's always on hand with a joke or some smartass comment, even when it's completely inappropriate. He can be somewhat annoying at times but this isn't usually intentional. Unless of course you make him mad, in which case he will often go out of his way to be as annoying as possible. He has developed something of a Robin Hood type personality over the years and will literally steal from the rich to give to the poor. He's fond of playing pranks on others but while it's usually in good spirits, he has been known to go slightly over the line in the past. He also has a tendency to be impatient. To someone as fast as the messenger god, everyone else often seems to be living in slow motion, which can become very aggravating. If anything has changed between Hermes and Jack Mercer it's that Jack has become far less arrogant than he once was. His humanity has humbled him...at least somewhat.

Apollo - Apollo and Hermes, half brothers, always had fun together. Even if Apollo was a little uptight. They're close...but don't mention that cattle.
Artemis - By virtue of being Apollo's twin sister, Hermes always felt somewhat protective of Artemis. Not that she needed protecting of course. Hermes ultimately ended up just getting in her way most of the time.

Hermes got started young as a troublemaker. When he was one day old, he sneaked out of his crib and stole some cattle from his brother Apollo. Apollo probably would’ve blasted the young tyke to bits, but fortunately Hermes appeased him with a new musical instrument he created called the lyre. Apollo liked it so much he forgot all about the cows. The lyre made Apollo very popular with the ladies, which was more than he could say about the cattle.

From that point on, Hermes went on to do great things, as you would expect from a child prodigy. He invented many types of racing and the sport of boxing. He became the patron of athletes and thieves. He became the messenger of the other gods. An envoy to humanity "and just an altogether great guy". Damn it Hermes, stop interrupting.

As the messenger of the gods, Hermes became privy to many of the scandalous secrets flying around Olympus, which is probably where he gained his love of soap opera style drama. But Hermes was more than just a messenger. He was a skilled warrior as well. Not only did he rescue Persephone, at least temporarily, from the clutches of Hades, he also slew the hundred-eyed giant Argus Panoptes to rescue Io. Not to mention all those times he helped the mortals like Perseus and Odysseus. All in all, Hermes life as a god was a fun one.

When the time came to give up his powers, Hermes was admittedly somewhat reluctant. But he was nothing if not loyal to his family and so agreed.

From that point on, Hermes seemed to wander from place to place and job to job, never really staying in the same place for long. He had many, varied jobs. Including travelling salesman and thief...Which were actually very similar. He was a street musician and a teacher...Which paid about the same. For a time, he also led a band of thieves and bandits to notable success. In recent years, however, Hermes has at least somewhat stopped wandering. With the advent of modern communication technology, Hermes saw a way to make his whole messenger schtick a lot easier. Quicksilver communications quickly blossomed into one of the most reliable and profitable telecom businesses around and remains one of the leading brands. The company has evolved to include all kinds of modern communication and remains on the cutting edge of modern technology. It has even produced its own phones, computers and tv's. While Quicksilver may be Hermes greatest success, his restless nature has also led him to set up several smaller companies including several gyms, a bike messenger service (A personal favorite. It brings back memories.) and even a small flight school outside of New York City.

Despite all of his success, Hermes still kind of longs for the adventure and excitement of days gone by. He throws himself into extreme sports with reckless abandon, simply for the adrenaline rush. As much as he likes his life, he would much rather have his full power back.

Hermes finds humans funny. They amuse him when he's bored. Their antics are occasionally ridiculous. It's like watching a group of monkeys in a zoo throw their own poop at each other. He knows he probably shouldn't laugh but he can't help it. But at the same time, he kind of admires them. He admires their spirit and their passion. And while he would never admit it...they inspire him.

The Odyssey ("I taught Homer everything he knows")

During his time as a god, Hermes never really needed a weapon. But since becoming a mortal, he has become quite proficient in their use. His favourite is the staff and the bow. He gained a new respect for Artemis after trying to master the bow. He has also moved with the times and is skilled in the use of modern firearms. While he is also skilled in the use of his good old fists, he generally prefers not to get into a fight at all and will generally talk his way out of trouble. He's rather skilled with words.

As a messenger, Hermes was particularly impressed by the invention of email. Such a thing would have made his old job far easier. When he figured out how to email, he also gained an interest in computers and technology in general and has become quite tech savvy.

He is also a talented musician, preferring stringed instruments. He did invent the lyre after all. ("And on the day I was born...Yeah, it's okay to be impressed.")

As a god, Hermes often acted as a bearer of souls to the underworld. Lost souls still occasionally find their way to him and end up causing paranormal activity in the area.

Hermes can run at incredible speed, but not to the extent he could as a God...What a conveniently placed sentence. He will slowly regain much of the speed he possessed as a god and will likely annoy everyone in the process.
He also occasionally still sees spirits wandering here and there. This ability will likely also increase as he regains his power.

Alexei Monroe

Bacchus, Alex

Male

Pansexual

Single

Greco-Roman

Playwright, and if the mood strikes (which, with Alexei, there's always some kind of mood) he DJs at a few clubs. A fiction novel may be on the horizon

Dionysus's godly form isn't very different from that of his human form, minus the simple but luxurious relics he wears. A sash of gold-embroidered linen adorns his slim, slightly muscled torso, connecting to a belt of gold that leads into a cloak of thicker cloth covering his lower extremities, stopping just above his leather sandals . The embroidering on the cloth, and the pattern pressed onto the belt, resemble winding, shimmering vines. His chiseled, somewhat bearded face is the same, save for his eyes taking on seemingly shifting maroon hue, like his irises refuse to sit still.

His head is adorned with a wreath of vines, small leaves still bright purplish-green against his dark earthen hair. Dionysus is always seen with his opulent grail, which is never empty, and his thyrsus, a staff adorned with a pinecone wrapped in ivy. The pinecone, when he wills it, drips with honey. A simple appearance for a god, but Dionysus has always believed that there was never much stock to be put into material adornments. After all, the most fun is had when the clothes are sparse...

Alexei, outside of the clubs, is a clean-cut, yet relaxed young man, appearing to be in his late 20s, early 30s. His hair, colored like fresh earth, is almost always kept in a short, slightly messy style, though he does slick it back ever so slightly for professional appearances. He's of a decent build, healthy at least, his skin has an alluring sun-kissed hue and looking into his round eyes is like looking into polished sapphires.

His dress could possibly be described as a little too young for his age, as Alex tends to wear V-neck band shirts and skinny jeans most of the time, with plain running shoes. Some days may come with a suit or other formal dress, but to him, they are atrocious. Seriously, how are you supposed to do anything in that tight-ass fabric? Although, it has it's uses...

From an appearance standpoint, Alexei is incredibly approachable. His posture is straight, powerful, but his light smirk and soft gaze is enough to make nearly anyone feel comfortable talking to him. Seeing him alone is rare, indeed.

For Dionysus, it's never come down to nice, mean, good, or evil. He's always lived for fun. For the sheer sake of living, and recognizing that living brought with it unspeakable pleasures. He's a magnet for trouble, and boredom simply can't be found in his vocabulary. Mostly because if it's there, then he's not drunk enough, there aren't enough people, not enough unpredictability. This has led to someone that's got a tongue of silver, who will always whisper what you want to hear. And oh, by all things Divine, are his promises sweet. Sickly so, dripping with honey that's more often than not turned to thin air. Alexei does not normally commit. Whatever he says, its to illicit a reaction, to rouse an emotion, to start a riot. To follow through with such assurances would be to shackle himself to a certain outcome, and that's not something the God of Revelry is ready to do.

However, violence is not something he'll readily resort to. Alexei is diplomatic, in a politician's sense, and will talk his way out of problems far before he'll fight his way out. There is always something to say to get out of a sticky situation. That's not to say he wouldn't trick or lure someone else to do it for him, though. He treats people in much the same way, like tools or weapons, never really forming lasting bonds and moving from bed to bed. There are some he'd fight for, but they're either long gone or find better company than he. While still bitter over his descent, something in Dionysus accepts that this is reality and that his reality is a human one. And that while he is still at least mildly superior, people are things he's gotta learn.

And then, there are his plays.

These works that he pours his soul into, words and characters, they are his true lovers. He wakes to them, spends every hour with them, and takes them to bed. Those he casts must fit perfectly, though can they really? Who, in all the world, knows these creations better than Alexei Monroe, Dionysus, the God of Theatre? Dozens walk onto his stage, dozens leave with "Sorry, love. I don't think you fit. Next!". Each play he creates must go off without a hitch, but there will always, always be an infinitesimally small flaw that gets under his skin. Such things produce a perfectionist complex as he works, and can make him intensely and unusually irritable. Add that to his already present disposition to use and misuse people, and you've got yourself an incredibly manipulative man on a search for perfection in the imperfect.

Because once everything you are is taken, when the revelers stop chanting your name, what is there left?

Zeus: Father...mother? There was a thigh involved, and Alexei is not fond of it.
Semele: "Mother", though you can't really mother a son when you're dead.

And more lovers and children than should be counted...

Since the first imbibing of wine, Dionysus has been invoked in revelry and performance. Was, at least. His role in liberating the Greeks from their social constraints was nearly as intoxicating as the wine he bestowed. Thousands submitted to his gifts, the mania and ecstasy found in hidden revelry. However, once the parties became too much, the freedom too sweet, his followers were cracked down on and Dionysus was left without the hymns and chants of those who partook in his Mysteries. In a way, his loss of godhood felt as though it began far earlier.
Though when the time did come, and the gods and goddesses were all asked to hand in that which made them, them, Dionysus felt betrayed. Weren't they above mortals? What he gave, he gave for the sake of amusement. Blessings he gave were given to entertain himself. Humans were just vastly amusing creatures that were incredibly gullible.

After handing in his godhood and descending to the mortal plane, Dionysus simply cut contact with the rest of his pantheon. There were still plenty of ways to have his fun, even if it meant dealing with an infinitely infuriating mortal body that couldn't hold its liquor. It took several years for Dionysus to even begin to change his stance on mortals, but after being one it was getting harder and harder to objectify them. Of course, he still did most times, he just acknowledged what he was doing was most likely morally wrong. Dionysus took on the moniker Alexei Monroe, after living off the grid was getting impossible and flowery names seemed to work wonders on those he charmed. Life in New York City led to studying at the city's University, getting a Bachelor's in English, specifically screenwriting. It was about time to start reclaiming what was his, anyways.

A few years pass and his plays hit the mainstream. They're critically acclaimed, praised, and Alexei's name was spread throughout the thespian world. Word also spread about his insane cast parties, his sexual deviancy, and every other wild tale under the sun. And what did he do? Owned up to it, of course! It was an honor to be known for his spheres of influence once again. And as long as his shows kept breaking the box office, no one really cared. Now, one of his best works is reaching it's final stages, nearly ready for the spotlight.

Things are turning up, and the drink has never been sweeter.

Alexei hates the powerlessness, being brought down to such a level, and even though his lineage involves a mortal, he's not one to acknowledge that. Initially, they were nothing more than tools and pawns. For the most part, they still are, but he hates to admit that he takes a shining to a select few. Then proceeds to stamp it out with cheap sex, great wine, and a "call you later" that never comes.

Alexei has become a great writer, coming up with all kinds of stories from romance to action-packed fantasy. He mixes a mean-ass cocktail, paints in the autumn, and can hold a conversation about nearly anything. His intoxicating aura from godhood somewhat manifests itself in his irresistible charm, able to sway even the hardest hearts. Alexei tries to stay fit, running every morning (that he's not a vegetable, which really isn't often) and learning to cook decently at home. He's a fantastic entertainer, and is known to use said skills to get information that he wants.

Once his powers begin to return, Dionysus's blood alcohol level is left to his whim. He can be as wasted or as sober as he pleases, as long as he has at least a couple drinks in his system to work with.

More interestingly is his power over wine. He can alter it's strength, from dollar-store vintage to knock-you-on-your-ass, without altering taste. It's the flavor bouquet, not the booze, that you want to taste, after all. Not very useful against gods and such, but humans cave pretty damn quickly. And, with a touch of honey from his thyrsus, which comes closer to his higher power, the drink can inspire hysteria and maniacal revelry that only Dionysus can control. His own personal procession.

In regards to combat, he really doesn't have much in the way of direct fighting potential. He does have some control over vines, but that's really only in places with plant life.

Isis hunting down Osiris' body