Itâs been too long. I know that. In all these years I wish I had found you sooner. Every year I wished to write this letter. But now that ink is hitting paper, I am finding myself at a loss of words. You must hate me. Feel that I have abandoned you. I cannot express in words how much I wanted to find and visit you. Even before the Colossus wretched us from our godhood. But I believe, in my heart, that the Ăsir would not have allowed it. But that is not the sole reason. I must confess now that while my heart yearns to see you, we should not meet. I will confide in you, JĂśrmungandr. I am afraid. Truly afraid of the long winter that will come. That is why we should not see each other and I hope you can forgive me for that. And I hope you can forgive me for all of my other failings.
So how have you been? I hope you have found your little corner in this admittingly small world. Being a mortal, a man no less must truly be strange to you. Did you find your twist in Seattle? How were things in Washington? And everything before that? I am sorry, I have a hundred questions that shouldâve been asked over a thousand and seven-hundred years. But I hope, truly, that you will write me back.
A shadow fell over Hathor, together with a slight breeze. Looming over her was Hel. Dressed in her coat. Having fled the scene of the Conclave as well. She couldnât bear the sight of her friend suffering. Even when she was in the hands of Bastet it tore her heart out through her chest. So when Hathor fled, Hel followed. Though when she finally found Hathor plopped down in a grass field of the university, the goddess of Helheim didnât really know what to say. Gods were much harder to comfort than dead mortals. Yet they seemed to need it the most. Hel knelt beside Hathor. âThat was very kind.â Hel finally managed to say, only hoping it was the right thing to say. It was kind, what Hathor did to Hera. It was kind and brave and Hel doubted the proud Grecian Queen would ever fully realize what Hathor did to herself just for her. Even Hel could only guess through what suffering Hathor went through. Made probably only worse by Aphroditeâs mist.
Dark eyes slid their attention from the clouds drifting on the breeze to the woman that knelt beside her, one of the many she had just been thinking of. She hadnât thought any of the others would follow her, at least not to comfort her and more to escape themselves. A small smile made its way to her lips at Helâs words, trying to fight back the raging emotions so that her friend didnât have to worry about her as much. Her voice however betrayed most of the pain she spoke weakly, almost gravily when replying,âThank youâŚ.I just couldnât sit by and watch her suffer, not when I could help.â She wanted to add that she has not been prepared for Heraâs intense emotions but kept it to herself. She had never had a child let alone lost one but now she grieved as if Hephaestus as if he was her own but it also had her own emotions of indifference which was conflicting. Hathor turned onto her side, looking to Hel and letting her mask slip a bit more, feeling strange being the one to need someone to talk to or distract her.âCan we talk about something else? Anything else? Like, how are you doing? How have you been?â, she asked.
Hel lowered her head, looking down at her own knees and the grass. âNot well.â She finally admitted. Letting her own mask slip a little as well. She didnât want Hathor to worry or feel bad for her though. The Egyptian goddess had far too much to work through already. Hel said that because she wanted to show Hathor she wasnât the only one going through stuff right now. Though she didnât want to betray what was gnawing at her in the past few years now: RagnarĂśk. With every passing year she felt it come in closer. Worse, it kept her away from her father and brothers. A lot of people couldâve been fooled by the icy embrace she gave Loki back at the Conclave. In truth she wanted nothing more than to hold him close and never let go. The absence of Fenrir stung deeper still. She kept sending letters but never got a reply. There had been days she wanted to visit him. But no, that was too dangerous. Yet her heart ached with mortal weakness. For a second she pursed her lips. Trying to bite away the sadness in her chest. She wouldnât talk about it. It was her pain. She would bear it alone. Always alone. So with a little sniffle and a weak smile as she looked, Hel changed the subject again: âSo howâs the club going? I heard your DJ skills are getting pretty good.â
Hathor could tell from Helâs body language that she had hit a sore spot before she had even answered. She instantly felt regret in asking, the distant look of being lost in her own thoughts making her feel sorry but she didnât voice it. Instead, she sat up, tucking her legs to her chest and placing her arms onto her knees, waiting for her to speak again since sometimes it was good to work through your own thoughts without interruption. She would still be there to support and listen to her friend even if she had turbulent emotions stirring within her. They were similar creatures when it came to guarding emotions and who they let see them. âIt is a nice change from the Lounge Bar. I wasnât sure when Tlaz first approached me about it but sometimes you just have to take a chance. It is nice to be working with a friend and I feel like I am more free to let loose and it helps me cheer up on a bad day. Iâm starting to get better at DJing but itâs not quite up to par with my impeccable bartending but Iâll get there. You should really come by sometime, even if it isnât your usual scene.â
Clubbing not being her scene was the understatement of the century. When the night called for Hel, as it did often, it called from the graveyard. Never the main streets or from the flashy lights of a club. She probably didnât even have any real clubbing outfits. Still, the idea was intriguing. She hadnât gone to a good party since⌠well too long. But then again⌠so many people. She wasnât comfortable amongst so many living, breathing mortals. Especially when they danced. Hel couldnât dance. Not even a little. It would be an embarrassing display of flailing arms and weird moves. But she still wanted to see the club. She still wanted to let go and distract her friend from what just happened.
âLetâs go then!â The goddess of Helheim suddenly said, sound a bit more excited than usual. âYou got a key right? The club should be empty. Why not make the most of it?â Today was already looking to be a pretty bad day considering what just happened at the Conclave. Both of them deserved a drink for sure. An actual grin instead of a forced one made it onto Hathorâs features, excitement being a pleasant change compared to the other emotions.âYou bet I do! And after todayâs catastrophe, Iâm sure she wouldnât mind. Let me just give her a heads up so she isnât surprised if she gets the same idea as us.â, she replied quickly shooting Tlaz a text that she was headed to the club with Hel in tow.
â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘ THE JADE JAGUAR â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘
Keys jingled before the distinct sound of an unclicking lock rang out, Hathor dramatically throwing the door open before slipping away to let Hel enter on her own as she worked to bathe the club in the turquoise and royal blue glow of neon lights. The Jade Jaguar was not what one would call seedy or dingy by any means, the area stated is luxury and upscale without being too over the top for those that just wanted to have a good time without draining their bank accounts. If it werenât for the catwalk stage with poles or the tables designed for a bit more of a personal dance that wasnât strictly VIP, someone might think it was just a fabulously themed nightclub. It was tasteful in its execution, the jungle nature of the theme ringing clear in its design and gave the feel of actually walking into a exotic paradise. It was no wonder why it was one of the more popular spots.
Hathor was unfazed by the glamour of mixed industrial and modern contemporary tones or relaxed soft light which created a soft ambience. Instead, she moved directly to her world within the Jade Jaguar, the fully stocked ceiling to floor bar which was complete with a swinging ladder for her to easily grab what she needed. Royal blue lights dazzled the back splash, lighting up the bottles and glass shelves. The bar itself stretched and curved, the front was wavy panels of turquoise that had its own neons to make it pop, appearing almost like a river in design. The black counters a smooth polished marble, easy to slide glasses and sleek to look at. âCome have a seat, Hel! What would you like to start with?, she asked, already pulling down bottles for her own drink.
A sudden buzz from her phone caught her attention, pausing for a moment to actually check her text messages. Bastetâs was deleted since she saw her at the Conclave, the text no longer relevant but the newest one was from Imentet when she promptly opened, just in case she needed to change her plans. Her pantheon was the only family she had, if they needed her then she would drag Hel along for the ride, especially when loss of family was still boiling in her system.
From: Tea Queen I know y'all busy, but bottom room will be ready Saturday for good destressing and decompressing. đđľ Felines get free treats and drinks 'til closing.
To: De Nilers You are a miracle! Count me in! Honestly, you lucked out on not being able to come. Iâll fill you in Saturday if no one else does it first. For now, a few well deserved drinks are in order.đşđˇ
Hathor quickly slipped the phone back into her pocket, her heart feeling a little lighter now that she was not only hanging out with a dear friend currently but was going to see her family on Saturday for a nice relaxing time. She wasnât sure if all of them would show but either way, she would never say no to some down time, drinks, and family. Those were all things for another day though, as the current solution to her situation was to get some drinks in and hopefully drown or numb some of her sorrows with a good buzz and company since she couldnât use her powers on herself.
Meanwhile, Hel was totally consumed by the clubâs aesthetic. Unlike Hathor, she wasnât yet used to. In fact, she wasnât used to any club at all. The Jade Jaguar was certainly an eye-opening experience for her. The soft, turquoise lights appeared oddly ethereal as Hel moved through the club. Observing every nook and cranny she could find. Discovering something new and exciting every time. From the boots to the poles - which she tentatively touched â and even the main catwalk. It wasnât like she had imagined. It was clean and sleek. When Hathor called her to the bar to have a drink, Hel ran her hand over the cold, hard marble top. âItâs so smooth.â She whispered, mostly to herself. Then she looked up at a questioning Hathor. Hel rarely drank, and when she did there was nothing fancy about it. It was either cheap, sparkling wine at a work reception or it was strong vodka when things got a little bit too much. âI-I donât know.â She admitted, as her eyes darted from bottle to bottle. There were more names on them than there seemed to be glasses to pour them in. Normally today wouldâve called for clean vodka but that didnât seem like the right choice in a club. Her eyes caught a few other things as well. Fresh strawberries, simple syrup, some more colorful drinks. âA cocktail!â She finally exclaimed. âSomething sweet.â
Hathor took a moment to try and nail down what she could whip them up. She had been debating on a few different ones and had taken down quite a few bottles for various options. Usually, she might have worked with a Sangria but she had a feeling that just wasnât going to cut it today. A cocktail would be nice and there were quite a few with a good flavor with not much needed ingredients. The quicker the better if she had anything to say about it and it needed vodka for sure after the day they had. A bright and shining smile played on her lips before she pulled out two hurricane glasses. âIâve got just the thing!â, she stated, scooping out some ice to place in the glasses as well as into a seperate shaker. She poured in vodka, peach schnapps, orange juice, cranberry juice into the shaker before adding in a little Chambord for some added flavor and flair, giving it all a good gentle shake. Hathor took no time in pouring both drinks, leaving off the drink garnishes this time seeing as she planned to have more than one and the added fruit just got in the way but she did slip in a straw for each one. âVoilĂ !~, she announced while placing it before Hel, taking a sip of her own and almost purring at the flavor on her tongue. This was exactly what she needed. Just a couple more of these babies and she would be back in business. âSo, what do you think?â
There was just no way Hel could ever guess what had gone into the cocktail beyond the vodka. In normal circumstances that would mean she wouldnât dare touch it. However Hathor made it, and even though it looked quite red even in the lighting of the club, it still looked delicious. The goddess of Helheim first took a tentative sip through the straw. Flavor exploded in her mouth and there wasnât even a hint of alcohol. Even though Hel had spotted vodka. It didnât even burn. âOh my god!â She exclaimed. The saying was something she mostly just picked up from mortals. Normally she would find it weird to call upon godhood, but it felt appropriate this time. âItâs delicious!â With that said she began to drink through the straw. Perhaps faster than she should. How could she know though, the drink tasted far too good to be dangerous. âI get why mortals come here now! This is amazing!â She added with a big smile before drinking even more. Before soon her glass was empty and she put it down on the counter, before making her bar stool rotate in circles. The swirls, which would normally feel odd, felt pleasant now. The lights became somehow interesting in her inebriated state. âCan you make more?â
âHm! Of course I can! Stopping at just one would be a buzzkill anyway.â, she answered, finishing off her drink before getting them started on another round. She was glad Hel was enjoying herself, hoping she could snag the other into coming back to the club again soon. It had been too long since they had really gotten to chat over drinks like this. âHere we go! One more for the both of us. Iâm going to go throw on some beats to listen to while we drink. Be right back!â That being said, she took her freshly made drink with her before heading to the sound stage, sipping it all the while. She wasnât going to be DJing at the moment but at least they could have some background music as white noise instead of the silent place plus dancing and just being silly like singing to the lyrics was just fun. It didnât take too long for music to pour out of the speakers, Hathor making her way back to the bar and having a seat once more, giving a small spin around as she did.
Hel just smiled at Hathor from over her straw as she was already drinking the second cocktail. The taste never dulled. It was always the same explosive, delicious taste that made Hel just want to down the entire drink. Though the straw made her pace herself. Not so much for the alcohol but just so she could enjoy every bit of flavor. Her thoughts and worries receded further back in her mind. Replaced by a pleasant, warm buzz. Then, quite suddenly for the Helheim goddess, music blasted through the speakers. It surprised her at first. Especially how she could feel the bass in her entire body. Under normal circumstances Hel wouldâve fled the scene. But the alcohol made her melt into it instead. With both hands on her drink and her mouth sucking on the straw Hel was moving her body on the barstool. Whipping her hair around as she tried to become one with the flow of the music in her own, slightly awkward way. To anyone with clubbing experience, it would probably have looked a little ridiculous. It didnât matter to her now though. She was here with Hathor alone. Who cared how she moved her body on the stool? âThis is amazing!â She yelled over the music, probably a bit too loud, as she put the emptied cocktail on the bar again. âIs it always this amazing?â
Hathor laughed with an ear splitting grin, spinning the bar stool until she was gazing out at the empty club. âI know, right?! If you think this is amazing though, you should really see it with the dancers. They are phenomenal, both the men and women alike. Diamond has helped me learn some of the more complex moves. It really does take a lot of strength and flexibility to appear that graceful. It keeps me in shape when I find myself too lazy to hit up a gym, Iâll tell you that.â, she replied before hopping off the bar stool, flicking her empty glass. âYou want another? Iâm making myself one.â, she questioned, headed behind the bar and swaying softly to the beat. She had a pleasant buzz and could feel her muscles relaxing. This is what she had needed, a few drinks and helping someone else smile.
âA gem taught you how to dance?â Hel asked, feeling only slightly confused. Of course a precious stone could teach Hathor to dance! Just like she was the eldest sister of a giant wolf and a world spanning serpent. It all made sense in her mind. Right until she realized she wasnât a goddess, her brothers had human shapes and a gem absolutely couldnât have taught Hathor how to dance. With a combination of shame and wanting to laugh at her own mistake she continued drinking from her cocktail through the straw. Seeing as the vastly more experienced Hathor had already downed hers and she didnât want to fall behind. So as Hathor asked for another Hel â with an overly grandiose gesture â put the glass on the counter while saying, at the top of her lungs: âYes!â. Then she looked out at the empty club, the same club Hathor had looked at. âAnd then you have to turn on the lights like you would on a club night and teach me how to dance!â She didnât ask because she wanted to learn how to dance. Even though she did. She asked because Hathor was lighting up so much in the club. The way she talked about it. About the dancers and the music. Clearly the Goddess of Many Names was really enjoying this.
She let Helâs slip up go, biting back a full blown laugh at the thought of an actual sparkling diamond teaching pole dancing of all things. Their pantheons had some interesting stories but if that one were true then it would be the most wild one she had heard or maybe the most ridiculous, she wasnât sure. Hathor nodded after her loud enthusiastic declaration to indeed make another drink and set to work, making note that she probably shouldnât let Hel have any more after this. The last thing she wanted to do was explain why she needed help getting a drunk Hel home. Who do you even call for that kind of help after the day pretty much everyone else had? Hathor was pulled from her thoughts when Hel spoke of dancing, her mind instantly scratching out that the other woman could mean pole dancing and guessed that she just meant dancing in general. She wasnât sure she was actually a good teacher but hey, you never know until you try.
âSure! Why not? Come on and follow me.â, she answered, handing Hel her drink and headed over to near the stage, placing her own drink on a random table nearby before moving to the back to get the lights fully on as if a show was about to begin and coming back to center stage. âIâm not sure how most like to do it. Everyone has their own style but you can usually never go wrong with just swaying your hips to the beat. Dancing is expression and letting yourself be in the moment without care. It doesnât matter how it looks, itâs all about fun!â, Hathor replied, getting a feel for the beat before letting her hips roll in time with the music, swaying as she bent her knees to shimmy down a bit before letting herself straighten back up, her hands gliding up the back of her neck to tease her hair as she raise her arms up in the air, hands gently resting on each other.
Hel followed Hathor as she kept sipping from her drink. When they approached the podium her heart skipped a beat. She wasnât sure⌠the podium made it feel so much more⌠real. But as Hathor put away her own drink and got on the elevation, Hel bit down and did the same. She listened carefully to what Hathor said, but then just kept standing still like a board. She never danced. Nobody danced in Helheim. Valhalla and FĂłlkvangr where the places of jubilation when life ends. Not Helheim. Yet Hathorâs moves and the music and the lights were infectious. She slowly moved her head and legs. It felt familiar, like she was doing on the bar stool. Soon the dancing bug moved up to her hips and before she knew it she was dancing. With her eyes closed so she could feel the beat and guide her. She wasnât dancing as well as Hathor but somehowâŚit didnât matter. It wasnât about not looking like an idiot now. It was about feeling good. She looked at the Many-Named goddess. Yes, she felt good. She felt happy and so what Hathor, that she knew in her heart.
N E P T U N E , G O D O F W A T E R N E P T U N E , G O D O F W A T E R
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đđđđđŚ Jason Fellwater đđđ đđŁđŁđđđĽđđĄđđ 38 đđđĽđđđĽ CEO of the Seattle Marine Conservatory and chairman of the Capitoline Charity Foundation
đŁđđĽđŚđ˘đĄđđđđ§đŹ
đŽđśđśđŤ
Kind
Charitable
Nurturing
đŠđ¨đŤ
Tempramental
Demanding
Stubborn
đđ đđđ§đđ˘đĄđŚ
Quite like his brothers and sisters Neptune wants to rebuild Rome in all its splendor in glory. While he supports his siblings in their own endeavors towards the shared goal, Neptuneâs vision of New Rome is often less haughty and vainglorious. He believes it was Romeâs unique approach towards it people, both citizens and those of foreign roots, made it special. From highest Consul to the lowliest plebian. Beyond that Neptune desires a humanity that ceases to despoil the oceans. A humanity that returns to the pristine and untouched seas.
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The seas dying. Sadly his greatest fears is already being made manifest. With the death of the great barrier reef, the over fishing of the oceans, the pollution and the endless oil spills. Neptune sees and suffers silently. Deep down though, he fears ascension. He fears his temper would take over and he would cleanse the waters in a devastating fashion. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
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đđđđĄđ§đđ§đŹ Neptune đđ˘đ đđđĄ God of Water đŁđđĄđ§đđđ˘đĄ Roman
đ đŹđ§đđ˘đđ˘đđŹ
The most reknown legend of Neptune is that of how he met his wife. One day Neptune saw the water nymph Amphitrite dancing in the island of Naxos and fell in love with her. He promptly asked her to marry him but unfortunately she refused. However, not discouraged by Amphitrite refusal, Neptune sent one of his servant, a dolphin to look for her. The dolphin found her, and pleaded Neptune's cause so persuasively that she changed her mind. As a reward for finding and returning Amphitrite to him, Neptune immortalized the dolphin by placing it in the heavens as the constellation Dolphinus. Neptune and Amphitrite had several children.
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Unlike some of his siblings, the fall from godhood was a terrible event for Neptune. He who loved the seas so much was now bound to the coast at best. Unlike his brothers he did not find his calling quickly. Instead he was contend to stare, day and night, out into whatever water there was nearby. Drinking to keep himself company. Only when the archaic trio rose to prominence during the industrial age did Poseidon rise up with them. But not for the reasons they had.
Neptune recognized the dangers of rampant industrialization. The smoke, the coals, the fires. Soon before others were afraid of it, Neptune felt the waters cry out. What else could he do but rise with his own siblings in an attempt to fight against it. But ecology never had a voice in history. Not until the late 20st century. For all those centuries he kept working on cleaner initiatives though. His company, Triton Ships. The company switched names several times in its lifetime. Eventually settling in the 21st century as Constellations LLC. A shipping and boat construction magnate. With Neptune still as sole shareholder. Constellations, unlike the companies created by his siblings, is not at peak economic power. Instead it has a long standing tradition of putting all its profits in R&D. Resulting in hyper efficient motors, ship designs and cleaner solutions for trans-oceanic shipping. Constellation ships are so desired that its yachts are a status symbol amid status symbols. Unable to be procured second-handily (enforced by an internationally abiding contract which has only been broken once), the only way to get an Constellations yacht is by donating half a billion dollars to the Amphitrite foundation. A sister non-profit company of Constellations fighting for maritime conservation.
All was going swimmingly from the board offices in Washington DC. Until Neptuneâs life was uplifted once more. Away from the oceans he loved so much, it carried him to Seattle. The lakes were a little consolation. Unable to reign from the offices, Neptune was forced to resign as CEO of Constellations. Though he remains the sole shareholder. Now, utilizing his massive wealth (which he generally keeps well hidden through various shelf companies) he has created another, more local Conservatory and was able to redirect his attention to helping his fellow man through the charity.
Janus, god of Beginnings & Ends Much like his brother, Neptune is dedicated to the creation of a new Rome. But unlike his brother, Neptuneâs means have been vastly different. Believing in uplifting and helping mostly the poorest, Neptune has spearheaded the effortâs charities. Despite a clear distance between the two gods, Neptune still dearly loves his brother.
Venus, the Victorius Words fail how much Neptune loves his sister. He would march through fire for her. Though in modern-day his mettle isnât tested so biblically. Venus is always available for one of Neptuneâs famous fundraisers. And even the rumor of his presence is enough to get event he oldest stuffed suits in Seattle to come and donate. Neptune, ever stubborn though, has only rarely asked his sister to actually help with the setup of the fundraisers. Something he hopes she understands. In truth, their relationship is so close that she can borrow his super yacht whenever he desires.
Freya, the Norse Socialite Where he loves Venusâ presence at his fundraisers that enrich his life, his relationship with Freya is much more transactional. Her socialite status often draws in those men not yet convinced by Venusâ presence at a fundraiser. She brings in the highly desired women along as well. Despite the shared jokes and perceived closeness, his relationship is pure business with her.
Hebe, the Greek Cupbearer Neptune has no real direct relationship with Hebe. But because his brother Mars trusts her, so does Mars. As a nod to the war god, Hebe is often invited along with him to the many events Neptune hosts. And he has always enjoyed the bits of youth she injected in his parties. Somethings thatâs desperately needed when dealing with an average of over the 55 at most events.
Ares saw the pink mist coming and knew what it meant. There was no defense against it. Yet as it encroached upon him he did not take it willingly. The glare he cast towards Aphrodite. He knew she disapproved of everything he was doing today. She disapproved of everything he did in the last century. No, he should understand. He wasnât the best lover, the best father. But something else gnawed at him as well. Nothing he did was a surprise. He knew he was predictable. Once she loved his intensity. The fire that burned within him, which he tried to stifle out now. Now that love seemed to have vanished. Then finally the pink mist absorbed him.
Memories were summoned in flashes. Sending him mentally tumbling down into a pit. With bursts of light coming from all sides. There was little to hold on to. Everything was fleeting. Sounds and voices faded. The only thing he could sense was the musk of fresh sweat. Finally he hit the water. Plunging deep into the unknown. Above him there was only light but his body sank deeper, and deeper. Until a hand plunged into the water from above, joined by a voice as clear as day: âLet me help you.â
The god of war rose from his trance-like state. Only a second had passed but it had felt like an hour. He wanted to be angry at Aphrodite. How dare she use her power on him like that!? But he couldnât. Something else was rising up. Trouble. Doubt. Danger. Instead of raging he let his head fall forward, looking down on the carpet as his stomach roiled over. Quite soon though, his body took control of itself again. Especially when the ever poorly timed Hermes rose from his slumber. The indignation⌠Ares felt his blood boil again. Even more so when Loki dared to open his damned mouth. If his mother wasnât holding his hand on her should, he wouldâve punched either or both in the face. But Hathor was still right. His mother needed him now more than ever.
When the Morrigan then spoke, Ares did feel a moment of elation. He was right. The so-called war goddess had no important information. Only vague talk about threats of fate. A concept Ares never believed in. A warrior, when he picks up the blade or the gun, decides his own fate. With every step he takes. With every choice he makes. He decides it long before he sets a foot on a battlefield, during the training. Warriors forge their own fate. But Aresâ sense of triumph quickly vanished when the Morrigan admitted she hadnât found his body yet. When his mother beckoned him closer, he did so. Heraâs whispers calmed his heart immediately. In truth Ares knew what he was. A hound. To be given a mission. It was why he never had a desire to dethrone Hades at the top of the empire his uncle had built. Now he was given his goal and like a hound he would find his brotherâs body. Right on time, the stranger who turned out to be Poseidon knelt beside Hera. Tangling his fingers with hers. Ares in turned offered a slight squeeze on her shoulder, signaling that he heard her loud and clear. Then he released her and walked out of the room. In his breast, the rage and hatred for all save a handful, that wouldâve exploded in the room was aimed now. Turned into pure focus and determination. The other ties, the other problems, the emotions that had overwhelmed him before. They all faded away. He would deal with them later.
âNabu!â One of the slave handlers yelled. Nabu, a young man at the age of 20 looked up from his meal. Some soggy stuff given to him in a clay bowl. It was small, but to his surprise it contained tiny bits of meat. âNabu, youâre up! Put the food down.â His handler yelled again. Nabu, instead, began to quickly scoop up the goo with his fingers to get as much in him as possible. After about four scoops his handler had gotten close enough to slap the clay cup out of his hands. âWhen I say youâre up, you head to the door. You got that?â The man, with those sapphire blue eyes, got up in his face before he pulled him up from the ground and pushed him along. Nabuâs heart was beating heavily in his chest. Ever since he had been hauled down the strange, subterranean place he felt dread come over him. They said that slaves went in but they never came out. Nabu sure had seen his fair share of corpses too. But also different things. Giant broken statues in places where no giant statue should be. He heard rumors of demon-flowers. Which blossomed if you got dark and would open up to reveal a monstrous thing that could tear you apart.
A rope held Nabuâs hand together, though it gave enough leeway so he could move them still. It was more about reminding him who he was. A slave. Expendable. The gate opened when one of the Sapphire eyes wielding a strange, golden-trimmed slate touched it. Beyond it was a long corridor. Both sides flanked with fresh water. Plinths rose from the water, holding statues that looked inwards. âLook out for the blue glowing ones.â His handler said. Several other slaves, armed with torches and desperate courage, pushed forward into the corridor. Observing every statue as if they could discern the meaning of its figure. They were weird. Showing human-like creatures but that had strange protrusions from their far too flat face. Nabu found himself staring at one statue. Until the distance lash of a whip woke him up from his own curiosity. âMove along Nabu! Youâre not here to stare!â Dutifully. Fearfully, Nabu continued on. There was one small side room running from the main route. None of the other slaves had entered it. It was dark, looked small and empty. Handlers never liked their slaves suddenly vanishing. But it almost felt as if something was calling Nabu towards it. Like a whisper at just the edge of his mind. Slowly he walked in, illuminating the small room. It was indeed empty. Save for a small totem. One Nabu picked up to examine closer.
It was cold. Before anything else, Nabu noticed that. It stung to hold for too long. There was no explanation for that, as the totem itself was simple polished black stone. Or perhaps, not. As Nabu looked at it, it seemed less opaque. Almost like it was dark glass. The slave strained to see something in the totem, and was met with an open eye, glaring at him from within the object.
He yelled, fell down and dropped the totem. Scrambling away from it before turning around and trying to make a mad dash towards the corridor. There his handler was already yelling for him. His mind chose not to process what just happened. He just needed the safety of others. Then, suddenly, people began to yell and scream and holler. Something cracked and gave way. Light faded. Stone fell. Blocking the entrance of the small room. Dust billowed up all around Nabu, who had to cough and protect his eyes. âNabu! Nabu what the hell did you do!?â His handler yelled from the other side. Nabu, confronted with the sealed entrance, just turned around to look at the dropped totem. Fearfully awaiting the demon to crawl out of it and eat him whole.
It was watching him. The eye looked almost human, but only almost. It was too large, its movement was too smooth as it tracked him from across the room, and it was also glowing. There was a hum in the air, and the walls spoke to Nabu, âHmmmmmmm, why do you run, slave? You are as surely dead out there as in here, slave.â
Nabu kept moving around. Hoping to lose the attention of the glowing eye. Behind the collapsed entrance he could hear the commotion growing. Stones were being dragged away. Within a few minutes more Mystics would move in to clear the rubble. When the walls began to speak Nabu whimpered and moved away from them. Trying to stay in between the totem and the walls. âI donât wanna die. I donât wanna die.â He kept whimpering. Mostly to himself.
âThey will kill you, slave.â The walls thrummed, âIf they clear the way, they will kill you. They brought you here to die.â
Nabu shook and tried to shield himself from the demon's gaze. Its voice seemed to vibrate the room, drowning out the shouts from beyond. It dominated his hearing, but as it droned on the slave found it was not the only one he could hear.
âBut you don't have to.â A feminine voice whispered in Nabuâs mind, âYou can live, Nabu.
His eyes opened. The strange presence was still there. But maybe something else as well? He didnât want to die, and right now he would do anything to live. âI just⌠want to live.â He said out loud. On the other side of the room two small tables with sand on top of it were carried before the rubble. Two Mystics with wands walked up to the tables and began to draw their runes in the send. Preparing their magic to remove the stone. âJustâŚplease⌠show me how I can live.â Nabu pleaded. Knowing that his fate would be sealed if the rubble was gone.
âSpeak the demon's name. Ungaaraad.â The second voice answered softly, âSpeak its name and it will grant your wish. Others will pay the price, but you can live Nabu. You can be safe.â
The slave approached the totem on his knees. It was still unnerving, but as the sound of moving stone grew louder, he knew he was doomed either way. So with the totem in his hands he said: âUngaaraad. Please, help. Ungaaraad!â
The walls stopped vibrating, and cracks began to appear on the totem. The same voice that had shook the walls reverberated from the demon's cage, âI answer, slave. Speak your hope, and your hatred. I require both. Speak.â
âI-I just⌠I just want to get out of here!â He exclaimed. Tears were welling up. He was just a boy tending the land. Loving a girl. How did he even get involved in all this!? His eyes looked out at the rubble. Light from outside began to peer in already. It wouldnât take long before they would grab him. Them, who had put him in ropes. Imprisoned him. Fed him gruel. âAnd I want them to die.â
The totem shattered. Light, noise, motion, everything stopped. There was a second between when Nabu made his wish, and when it was fulfilled, and in that second he saw a shadow made of teeth. Then he was alone, in the light. Far from Angehbad, standing tall on a grand prairie with a great gleaming temple calling him in the distance. It was a safer place. One made by another being than that which freed him.
That being stayed behind, in the dark. Waiting for the rubble to be cleared. âIâm going in.â Nabuâs handler said as enough of the stone was removed to crawl over it. He did so to be greeted with a massive, dark room. âNabu! You piece of crap. I swear to the gods this is one step too much.â He was clearly not amused. Soon after several more handlers crawled into the darkened room. The mystics manning the sand-tables remained behind. Though most of them found it odd that not even the torches were visible from the room.
Then, a scream. And another. They echoed from the room. The rubble was cleared. One man came running into the twilight of the room. Bloody, missing an arm. Screaming like he was possessed. Something seemed to grab him and pull him back into the darkened room. The wide eyed sand-table Mystics cleared and redrew their runes. Summoning fire and launching it into the room. To no avail. The darkness reached out at them as tendrils. Wrapping them up and pulling them into the room. Kicking and screaming.
It came for everyone. Mystics, Slaves, all were attacked as the darkness seemed to seep out of the room. Torches were extinguished and screams died in the throats of terrified men and women as they fled. Darkness spilled over people, and they did not emerge from it. Of those who ran, the barest fraction escaped. Nabuâs second wish saw the ornate statues heâd marvelled at painted red with the gore of those whoâd beaten and cared for him indiscriminately.
Behind the lucky few whoâd survived the room growled, and loping fanged creatures that scaled the walls with ease exploded outwards. To the survivors luck they seemed to scurry deeper into the labyrinth, rather than give chase. Behind them, just in the doorway of the chamber where so many had died, familiar faces peeked out, only to retreat back in when seen.
Terrors had been unleashed, and for explanation those who returned would find only a few words, crudely carved into the stone amidst the abattoir: A Slaveâs Price
It was a warning.
Nabu, a random slave, is forced into the Labyrinth for reasons unknown to him. His handler forces him ahead into a yet unexplored corridor. Where he observes the various statues with a critical eye. The Mystics remain behind, letting the slaves trigger all the traps or show where the golems are. Nabu, curious in spirit, found a small side chamber and despite knowing his slavers donât like it, jumps in. There he finds a small totem and picks it up. Triggering whatever was inside to look at him.
The slave scrambles back but the entryway collapses. A voice speaks to him, but heâs far too afraid to respond. Until the Patron herself speaks to him. Telling him to wish for one good thing and one bad thing to happen. Meanwhile outside the Mystics are already working to clear the rubble. Surely he would be punished for this. So he decides to make the wishes: get him out of here and kill those outside the rubble. The demon in the totem happily obliges. Nabu is teleported to the Plains of Sol.
When the rubble is cleared, several Mystics went inside the very dark room. Only echoes of shouts escape it. Those mystics remaining outside notice a strange entity within and decide to launch spells at it. To no avail. The monster grabs them too. Turning the entire corridor into a bloody mess before it crawls deeper into the Labyrinth. Leaving behind a final warning to the Mystics.
-3DP Created the Legendary Beast Ungaaraad. A terror of Anghebadâs labyrinth, Ungaarad is a servant of the Patronâs. Any who speak the beast's name free it from its prison, and gain their greatest hope, and hate. The patron will grant these things to them. Anyone who only mentions their hope, or their hatred, will find themselves devoured and the beast free for weeks or months before it reverts to a totem. Fail to speak the beast's name, and it will merely taunt you before collapsing the roof on your head.
-1MP Teleported Nabu to the Sunlit Temple.
-2MP Created Illusory Crawlers. Strange mammals with fur the color of rock, these creatures are blind carnivores that use their sense of smell to hunt. They are renown for their venom, which renders their victims paralyzed and nearly invisible, blurring into their surroundings. Using this venom they pick off groups in silence. They are now found in all Labyrinths.
-2DP Created Shades. Ghostlike entities that roam labyrinths, these creatures are mostly harmless, save for their proclivity to imitate people's voices and appearances and lead groups deep into Labyrinths. Many have lost their way, searching for a friend that had long since taken another turn. Some shades mimic the dead, and call to the living. These are less common, but certainly notable. They are now found in all Labyrinths.
-3MP Created Dark Branches. These sections of Labyrinths are often found behind false walls or stemming from secret passages. They are made from smooth, polished, black granite and are notable for their near impossibility to navigate. Distances are uncertain, turns can take you back where you came from, and rooms can be larger or smaller than they appear they should be. These paths are treacherous, but they are also a shortcut to other regions of the Labyrinth, for those who can navigate them. Moreover, Dark Branches often contain secret libraries. These small alcoves, filled with stone tablets, tell a tale of dark creatures lurking within the Labyrinth and what may be gained from them, should their names be uncovered. References to a prison, a chamber deep beneath the earth, which contains one of these creatures, are ubiquitous in secret libraries. They are now found in all Labyrinths.
Post Length: 8.9K Characters +4 Prestige >> The Mystics
As satisfying as shooting Shango would be, he knew it wouldnât kill the god. Not that it would. A bullet to the brain would just be a way to incapacitate him. To buy some valuable time. It was all planned for. The hidden bureaucracy of murder â which Ares himself had created in Seattle â had already been filed, cleared and approved. Shango, or whatever his mortal identity was now, would vanish from the earth.
Ares remained mostly deaf to the supposed social commentary of his Roman counterpart. Mars was a failure, really. What was a god of war without weapons, without a fight? He was wrong on all points as well. It didnât matter what The Morrigan knew or kept for herself. Before the day was done, Ares would know a lot more. There was nothing she could say that he wouldnât know already by the end of the day. In truth, Ares thought Mars just talked too much. So Ares never answered Marsâ question either. This wasnât a courtroom. The Yorubans had always hated the Greeks, as they had hated them. Though something deep inside Ares gnawed at him. Marsâ sudden appearance couldnât have been coincidence. The impulsive side of Ares just wanted to point the gun at the CEOâs head and pull the trigger. Just to shut him up.
Words that did matter came from Eros. Eros⌠his son. Ice cold fingers gripped his heart. Why did he appear now? In all these years, why now!? The disappointment cut into him. Eros wasnât wrong. Ares hadnât changed half as much as he wanted to. But at the same time, he had changed more in those last five years than he had in the five centuries before those. Sadly, this wasnât a situation he could just drop everything. Ares knew he was right in at least a small regard, even if Eros would never understand that.
Something Hathor wouldnât understand as well as she grabbed Aresâ wrists suddenly. He wasnât deaf to her words either. Slowly, steadily, he lowered the gun. Putting it back into the specially designed pocket of his winter coat. He quickly send a message on his phone. Grinding the gears moving outside to a halt again. He hated the fact that she was right. His mother needed him more now. Retribution could wait. Calmly, but with his back at The Morrigan, he walked up to his seated mother and put a firm hand on her shoulder. He was bad with words at times like these. He knew that, and he knew she did too. But that hand on her shoulder was more than a comforting gesture. It was a silent oath. He would find whoever killed his brother. There would be no trials. No jury. Not even a swift death. And as he held his hand on his mother, he looked Zeus straight in the eyes. Gauging his father. Would he be up for the task ahead of them? Had Zeus changed too much already that he would no longer want to enact vengeance? Or was Ares right for all those centuries now, and there was still a glimmer of the old Zeus below the façade?
âFather.â Hel received Loki with a coldness she reserved only for him. Even as they hugged, she kept her distance in all ways. Counting down exactly three seconds before she broke the hug. Caring little if it felt literally frigid. If life hadnât been cruel, she thought she would be able to love her father. But as it stood, his actions would bring about the end of the world. The end of her brothers⌠Maybe even the end of her. Even his mere presence was a threat. But that was not something Hel could show. So she had to resign to eternally measured politeness. The rest of the room was quickly devolving in a mess as the Greeks seemed to find a need to puke and curse at each other. Say what you will, but at least the Loki family was able to maintain its civil demeanor. Unlike many of Mount Olympus. Alas, when Hel broke the hug she turned around again to sit down. Not giving Loki a chance to string her along for a conversation. Not that she wanted to talk about her job, or the body she had found a few days ago, or the strange grave she only recently discovered, or the ghost she talked to in the hospitalâs cellars, or the beautiful flower she had seen growing at night, or how she deeply missed Fenrir and wished she hadnât been such a coward all those centuries ago, or how she could barely sleep⌠and when she slept she only had nightmares. No⌠she had nothing to talk about⌠nothing at all.
âHephaestus is dead and I donât know who killed him.â âââHephaestus is dead and I donât know who killed him.â
That bombshell alone was enough to pull Hel from her own mind. A god⌠dead. It had been.. a century since that last happened. The disruption amongst the undead⌠of course. Puzzles fell in place within Helâs mind. How could she not have recognized the pattern!? Another god⌠dead. Hel looked outside. Winter was coming. Would it be the winter? A shiver went through the goddessâ spine. Fear gripped her heart. She needed answers⌠ones she couldnât get through traditional means. She would need to find other ways. New insights. For now though, she remained seated. Patiently waiting for The Morrigan to explain herself further. Ignoring the Greek commotion entirely. They werenât important, nor were any of the new arrivals.
Though from the corner of her eyes she kept an eye on Loki. Making sure sheâd see every grin, every smirk, ever move at the corner of his mouth. Any indication that he knew something more than everyone else. Hel knew her father well enough. He could be involved just for the fun of it. Or to see the Greeks and Romans finally clash.
After Aresâ entrance, a slow trickle of gods and goddesses followed. From the Greek pantheon or not. Zeusâ arrival was met with a cold, disinterested should from the god of war. Danishes were delicious, but absolutely not worth getting up for and passing his father to get them. It was so obviously a ploy. Which only begged the question: who did Zeus want to shag at the Conclave? That was the only reason Ares could see why the King of Gods would go through so much effort. Athenaâs entrance was met with Aresâ owns narrowing. Her mere presence was enough to get Ares on edge. Of course she went straight of Zeus and his poisonous Danishes. At least he was happy to see her confrontation with Shango unfold. âPolloâs entrance was met with a slightly less hostile glare. Of course, the god was good in Aresâ books. He was just sizing everyone up as they entered the Conclave. To see who was here with a purpose and who was just here like a child attending an obligatory course. So far it would appear the later reason vastly outweighed the former one.
And then Ares smiled. Hera entered the room. She looked impeccable as always. A woman who stood her own against the King of the Gods. Ares could only admire her strength. Normally he wouldâve gotten up to give her a hug and a peck on the kiss. Though now he was entirely contend to watch her rip Zeus, Apollo and whoever else she got in her sights a new one. More gods trickled in. And then even one stranger who⌠oh this was perfect. Ares couldnât suppress the grin when the stranger puked all over his fatherâs shoes. If he was in private, he wouldâve laughed his damn ass off. Other still entered in. Even his boss, whom he greeted with a small nod. Aphroditeâs entrance was met with a lot more attention though. The mere sight of her created too much turmoil in Ares. Guilt, an emotion he had been wrestling with in the last seven years now, reared its ugly head. Yes, he had wronged her. Deeply. He only hoped they could start making amends after the Conclave. Or rather, he hoped that she was at least open to the idea of forgiving him.
âHephaestus is dead and I donât know who killed him.â âââHephaestus is dead and I donât know who killed him.â
There exists, for everyone, a sentence - a series of words - that has the power to destroy you.
The God of War seemed calm as he heard the news. Not even shocked. Almost disinterested. The room grew muted to Ares. The yelling and fiery rage of his mother became a muffled whisper. Distant. Unimportant. Movement, in the corner of his eyes, seemed to slow down. As if time itself went sluggish. His own thoughts consumed him. Invisible turmoil, only skin deep. For a good few seconds he just looked at his burning cigarette. Smoke rose from the embers like incense. He knew soldiers prayed like this. In small ways, with muttered words and big, fearful hearts. Always right before bloodshed. How long would he be able to contain his rage now? Not long. Not long at all. Blood would have to be spilled. In name of Olympus.
Slowly but deliberately Ares raised the cigarette and took one long drag as he pulled out his phone and began to type something. A message. With an address, a room number and a four-digit code. He sent it. None knew it yet, but outside the room gears started spinning. Preparations were made. Money moved as zeroes and ones automatically. Thick, black smoke bellowed from out of Aresâ nose. The cigarette itself was firmly put out on the tablet before him. Sure to burn a spot into the fake wood.
Then, Ares finally snapped. Without a word, without a cry or shout, he shot up. Sending his chair flying backward akin to Heraâs. With his left hand, he grabbed the table. A moment later it was flying out of his way with devastating force. With his right, he drew the silenced pistol from his coat and aimed it squarely at the Yoruban god Shango. There was nothing to see on his face. No bitter look of hate. No glee. No satisfied grin. He was cold, except for his eyes which burned with a fire that consumed forests.
âSlaves! Buy your slaves here! Theyâre young! Theyâre strong! Obedient! Broken, by the promise of Sallazar. I promise you at least three years in the mine before they shall succumb!â All other slavers shouted some variation of this at the slave markets. Some slavers had to do with raised wooden platforms. Others, more established ones, had their own stone carved podium. Upon which the bound humans and goblins stood. Often in the presence of guards ready to throw a slave down to the ground should he choose to misbehave. City guards were patrolling the streets here as well in greater numbers.
Silas walked through the throng of people with relative ease. He grew up in the slave market. Where his father had often invested in mine-slaves. With a discerning eye the man knew which slaves to get and which to slip. It was the little things. Nails, teeth, hair. Disease was a wretched thing that could destroy even the best of stock. You wanted it nowhere near your slaves. His sapphire eyes darted form stone podium to stone podium in search of some good slaves to work in the Labyrinth. Hauling out that which was found, or perhaps serve as fodder during the exploration. They were, after all, just slaves.
âAnything catching your eye?â Asked Nidar, another Mystic who had been stalking the slave market for suitable stock. Silas shook his head. âIâve found a handful of strong ones. Got two goblins as well.â
âGoblins are useless in the mines. How do you think theyâll perform in the ruins?â Asked Silas. Skeptical of his friendâs purchases.
âNo worries. The goblins are a gift for father on the farms. He can always use some extra help. Anyway, I heard Fasthus has some new stock. Maybe we should go check that.â
âShould we really work with the mage poisoner?â Asked Silas, sounding quite apprehensive. Most of the nobles had no issue with Fasthus and his methods, but it irked the young Mystic quite a bit that his poison could render oneâs magic entirely inert. Nidar didnât seem to care though, as he was already heading for Fasthusâ podium. The stone carvings upon the podium were all about that one, red tree he had found as a sapling. The tree that allowed him to break mage-slaves. Opening up a whole new market for Anghebad. They werenât exceptionally popular, but some nobles bought them as status symbols. On the two front corners of the podium stood two gnarly olive trees upholding the canopy. Allowing the slaver and his slaves some shade. Closer to the back there were various stone statues carved not in the shape of the usual olive trees but in the shape of the mystical tree of Fasthus. Around each were his moreâŚexotic slaves chained.
As the two mystics walked past one of the more unassuming slaves, what might have once been a healthy young woman now ravaged by hunger and spite softly spoke, seemingly to nobody in particular in off-key sing-song whisper, âDeep blue eyes, and yet still so blind. The defiler will soon meet his fate, may this city go tumbling after.â
The two looked at each other. Their rather new, sapphire eyes definitely made them stand out from the crowd. Yet there was something odd about the woman. Beyond her ravaged looks. She would make a terrible house slave because of that alone. Her bindings didnât help either. Two separate ropes around her arms were tightly drawn together. âLooks like Fasthus has trouble with one.â Nidar joked.
Silas was slightly more interested. His paranoia would not allow him to simply carry on after such a threat. The defiler? What did that even mean? He stepped in closer to the podium while yelling. âFasthus! Who is that woman over there?â
Hiseras, one of Fasthusâ younger sons, walked up, âFather is doing business elsewhere. But that woman, I donât know much about her except her ropes keep getting undone and she keeps saying weird things. Now, I donât think you are here for gossip. What are you actually looking for?â
âShut up.â Silas said as he crawled up the podium to get closer to the woman. Not a usual thing to do. Especially when not invited, but Silas knew he was protected by the Queen. All Mystics were. He stared the woman close in the eyes. âWe got a gift from a god, mages are get tests and rewards from thin air and the ground just opened up. Revealing secrets older than our city. But Iâm supposed to believe this is just coincidence?â He asked Hiseras, even though he was looking at the woman. His intuition was screeching in his mind. âTell me about the defiler.â He finally asked her.
The woman began giggling to herself, âYou have the intelligence to solve any puzzle, but not the wisdom to know where the boundaries between are. You have received a gift from a god, but you are not the only one, nor is there only one god. Our meeting is as coincidental as the rain pouring upon the soil.â
Silas remained silent for a while. A group of people was gathering around the stone podium now as well. Curious after what was unfolding. âWhatâs your gift then?â He asked.
The woman seemed no more serious than before, âWhy are you certain with the words of a slave. How could a slave know of the will of the gods unless they heard their voice? I am sure you are more interested in the words of the magisters and merchants. Some of them say that I am mad. Others say I am cursed. One claimed I was not human. None of themâ her face began to sour for a moment, before suddenly smiling again, âclaimed that I was gifted.â
âMagisters are too proud to admit others are better gifted at times.â Silas said. It wasnât a lie. The first God-Forged spell wasnât visible to the eldest of the Magister Caste. It was seen by a foreigner, Enura and a handful of younger mages. âMerchants only want silver. Theyâll spin whatever story they have to.â He continued as he examined the woman. âYou⌠can do things. Canât you? Tell me about it.â Right then Hiseras tried to interject. Raising only a finger but Silas saw it. He turned and snapped: âShut! Up!â Before calmly turning back to the slave woman. âTell me what you can do.â
The woman's voice lowered, but her tone became more naturally pleasant instead of the exaggerated happiness she spoke with before, âI can see beyond the walls. I can see beyond the sky. I can see how insignificant of a speck this city truly is.â
The Mystic smiled. Answers. Finally. And answers meant a reward. It was how you trained slaves, dogs and stupid people. So he held his hand over the strange womanâs bindings. Embers sizzled upon the ropes. Eating their way through the bindings until the woman was entirely free. âHow do you see so far?â He nearly whispered. âCan you teach it?â
âI can not see into your maze. All I see is the dark, circular maw leading to violence and confusion, as well as the crystal which breathes, though it seems you have already slain several of those guardians.â she stated, seemingly uncaring that her ropes were burnt.
Nidar and Silas looked at eachother. Concern was all over their faces. She knew a lot for a slave. Too much even. Did she see the Labyrinth? No, no she had only arrived recently on the slave market. She had to have. Which meant she wouldâve been a slave even before the Labyrinth appeared. âFind Hiseras. Tell him he got a customer for his slave. Pay whatever he asks. Donât haggle.â Silas said. Even though Nidar and him were technically of the same rank the other still obeyed and walked away. Silans, meanwhile, turned back at the woman and repeated his question: âCan you teach us how to see so far out?â
The woman paused, âThe price of my secrets is not my own freedom. Buy and free Anlil, and once she is safely free of this place and do so on the word of the sun, moon and stars, I shall tell you what I know regardless of whether it is kind to your ears. Do not think I can be deceived with hollow words or intentions.â she said, her eyes glaring into mystics.
Without hesitation Silas looked up and shouted: âNidar! Free Anlil!â The word âfreeâ instantly caused a commotion. Slaves were rarely freed. It happened so little that there wasnât even a formal way to do it. You just bought the slave and told them they were free.
âA-are you sure?â Nidar asked as he hurriedly came over. Together with Hiseras who heard silver speaking.
Silas didnât doubt thought: âDo it. Buy her and free her.â Nidar and Hiseras began to exchange words about price. Hiseras because he knew he could milk this cow for all its worth and Nidar for not wanting to pay half his worth to free a single slave. Eventually, and still surprisingly quickly, the two came to an agreement, shook hands and Hiseras went to get Anlil. âSheâs free.â Silas said.
The woman paused, seemingly as though the world faded her around her. âTake her one day away from the city and leave her there. I will tell you what I know, but I doubt you would wish for me to speak of such matters in public.â
âIndeed.â Silas said, nodding to Nidar. Who took the girl by the name of Anlil and led her away. Much to the amazement of the crowd that had gathered. In that confusion, Silas too took the strange woman with him. Heading towards the main gate as well. Only there their paths separated. Nidar took the girl over the main road. Which led to a handful of eastern tribes. Meanwhile Silas brought the mad woman to the Labyrinth itself. The place where the Queen herself was staying at for the most time now.
The woman convinced them to wait a day before discussing the matter, but she could stall them no longer, nor did she have any further need to. Whenever she finally started to explain herself, she started with, âAs you might know, the gods stir once again. The callous one granted you your azure eyes, while the kindly one is the one who granted me my sight. My gift is a certain closeness to the gods that allows me to be aware of what only they can see. I can teach you how to grow closer to the kindly one, but it would be a pointless endeavor as not within his good graces.â
The woman was speaking in riddles though. Silas leaned in. âWho is the kindly one? What does he teach?â He asked. Meanwhile Enura, the queen, stood a bit behind him. Going back and forth. Restless but suspicious. The rest of the Mystics were away, tending to their duties. But those who passed couldnât hide their curiosity.
âHe is the lord that which is beyond the sun and moon, who governs over the magic which binds god and man in dialogue and who acts to grant guidance and preserve hope. But your simplistic understanding of him is as a cat who is merely the god of night. It is by his will that I can communicate with him, but understanding it and plucking at the magical threads that connect the near and far.â she stated.
The night cat? Silas turned towards Enura. Who was already shaking his head. This woman was spouting nonsense. And she seemed rather hellbent on insulting those who quite literally owned her. Only mad people had such confidence. Silas, resigning that his search might be for naught, stood up and approached his queen.
âApologies.â He said, sincerely. âI thought we were on to something here but..â
âBut sheâs stark raving mad.â Enura was quick to add. Her piercing eyes still on the woman. âYouâre sure Hiseras wasnât spinning some tale about her unwinding her bindings? A ploy to profit from our curiosity?â
âI wouldnât put it past his father.â Silas admitted, looking around almost in shame. He hated this feeling. To have been defeated. It was a costly lesson as well. âI want to keep going. See if we canât at least squeeze something out of her. Something concrete. Something useful.â
The queen pondered for a second upon Silasâ insistence. âVery well. You got till midday. If she got nothing concrete, she goes underground as a hauler. But Silas, donât let her spin you a story just because you bought her for too much. If sheâs useless, sheâs useless and you drop her like a rock. You understand?â
The Mystic just nodded and the queen left. Having no patience for wasted time. She returned to the Labyrinth. Silas for his part returned to the women. âMy queen is getting impatient.â He looked up, trying to find the sun. âYou donât have much time left. Give us something concrete. Something we can learn.â
The woman seemed apathetic, âI have started to teach you, but I canât force you to listen. I am doing this to repay a debt, and nothing more. Should you reject my words, so be it. But perhaps I should start with something simpler. Mana is everywhere and it is far more versatile than simply burning ropes. But your senses are not heightened to the point where you can properly leverage this. You are shouting for it to bind to your will where as a whisper would be far more effective.â
Silas genuinely laughed at her. Oh how wrong he was at the market. This woman. If he was amongst the magisters, her mere existence would be shameful for him. If he was a magister he wouldâve killed her right here, right now. If only for her condescending nature and her straight up insults. âSure, I am taught by the extension of the nameless one but Iâm the one who uses his gift wrong.â He said with an almost mad laugh. âYou know nothing and you have wasted my time.â Silas stood up with the intension of dragging her to the pit himself.
Instead, as he heard something. It called for him. Like faint whispers upon the wind. Not echoing but seemingly slowly drifting. They emanated from a piece of stone they had retrieved from the pit. A part of a golem. Like all parts, it was intricately carved but entirely solid. The part was close, so he approached it. Running his fingers over the carved glyphs. His mouth slowly moved, making sounds he did not recognize himself. But as quickly as the sensation came, it also vanished again.
The woman casually stated, âIt seems as though the callous one has taken an interest in our conversation. If you will not listen to me, I can teach you how to listen to them.â
It was like coming down from a high. At first, the world felt open. Revealing its secrets to him. Then it vanished again. For a split second the world felt dull and empty but his normal senses returned. Showing him everything that was familiar. It was a start, and he would have to report it to Enura. But first he turned to look at the mad woman. âAnd why should I listen now?â He asked. âThe callous one took an interest. Not your kindly one. What would you know of it?â
The woman replied, âI could sense their presence because they permitted me to sense their presence. My gift concerns magic and prayer, those do not change depending on who you pray to.â
âThe Nameless One, your⌠callous one, he doesnât answer prayers. He doesnât listen to them. Never has. Not in 2000 years. You know how we know when stories are false? Itâs when we hear a hero talked to the god of magic. Or real magic. So how can you help me? Because magic⌠and prayer just changed.â Silas said, sounding genuinely fed up with the woman.
The woman replied, âI do not pretend to know the whims of the callous one, but magic is like a web. I can show you how to see the individual threads and how to pluck them. While I imagine that this could be difficult to find anything in the grand web of creation this way, who do you think is at the center of the web?â
Nadir and Silas, two Mystics, are shopping for good slaves to throw into the Labyrinth. They find few and an eager Nadir wants to visit the famous Fasthusâ stock. Fasthus being a slaver who manages to surprise magic and thus sells magical slaves. One young woman, as they approach, makes a prediction which catches the attention of Silas. A slightly paranoid Mystic. Who decides to question her further. The woman possesses some sort of magic thatâs not very well understood. She is also deemed mad.
Her seer-like powers intrigue the young Mystic, who decided to buy her. The madwoman refuses to cooperate though. Not unless they buy another slave and set her free. The slave in question, Anlil, is bought and led to her freedom. The next day the madwoman makes an attempt to teach the Mystics how to use augury. Enura, the queen, has her doubts as the woman tells them that the night cat, the god of the night, is actually also a god of magic. Something everyone doubts. Tensions rise as Silas decides the womanâs teachings are just mad ramblings. The Kindly One, as she explains it, does not look favorable at him.
Instead of having to change their ways, Qael decides to intervene and offers up an augury vision to Silas. And so the Mystics delve into the strange art of Augury, powered not by Sirius but by QaelâNaath.
Post Length: +10K Characters +5 Prestige >> The Mystics
The camp had been torn down and packed up, with goods carried on menâs backs or in carts drawn by quillats. The only thing that would be left behind was Titania, on her metal table. Some had objected to leaving her, while others had wanted to stay behind, but Carn overruled them, and they obeyed. Even Lothar had been swayed. The cloak at work, once again.
Now, it was time to continue down the road, with Carn taking his place at the head of the column. But he had not taken five steps before something else happened.
From across the crest of the hill came AuriĂŤlleâs raiding party. Gone for about eleven days with little warning ahead of time. They left on foot, but came back with two carts filled with food and some riches. At the head of the warband walked AuriĂŤlle. Confident. Bordering on cocky even. Behind her she dragged the Ketrefian nobleman. The man looked haggard, but mostly untouched. âHail Carnelian.â She shouted almost as a taunt. âI bring you a gift.â She pulled the noblemanâs ropes so heâd come forward. Then pushed him on his knees. âThe gift of information. This manâs a noble from Ketrefa. Could be useful to hear him out.â
For a moment, Carn only looked at her. Then, he shook his head. âItâs just Carn,â he corrected her, before stepping forward. âSo what do you have to say to me?â he asked the nobleman.
It would appear the sudden appearance before the nemesis of Ketrefa gave the nobleman a moment of courage. âThe city will never fall to the likes of you!â He shouted, before spitting at Carn. A moment later he was kicked in the side, hard, by AuriĂŤlle. After which she pulled him up and put him on his knees again while this time holding him by his neck. âAgain, whatâs happening in Ketrefa?â She ordered, her voice ice cold.
The nobleman looked up, his courage instantly broken. âThe city⌠You can never take it. The walls are god-made! Theyâve stood for 2000 years. Cadien has even sent us his own champion! You can never win. Never!â
âA competent attempt at a bluff,â Carn nodded. âBut the thing is,â he drew his sword, and rested it against the noblemanâs throat. âIâm Cadienâs champion. He forged this blade himself. And I have more than him on my side too - this cloak was woven by Neiya.â He flicked his wrist and drew a small trickle of blood. âNow then, do you have anything useful to tell me or is your actual goal here just to waste my time?â
âItâs impossible.â The wide eyed noble said. âThe champion wields the hammer. He brought peace to Ketrefa. United even the vile cultists sullying the name of Neiya in defense of the city. You⌠You cannot be. You cannot be!â AuriĂŤlle knocked him out right then, before looking up at Carn to say: âHe was getting frantic. You can negotiate himself further after he wakes up.â Several of her own warband pulled up the limp body of the nobleman and carried it away.
âSo marching already huh?â She asked. âA shame. I wanted some more fun. I heard about a few more farmsteads.â
âTime is short,â Carn told her. âWe should have started marching much earlier than this, but there was a⌠delay.â Then he frowned. âWhat exactly have you been doing?â
âHaving fun.â She teased with a smile while pointing back at the two carts. âSo whatâs with the delay? Any of the chieftains got in a fight?â
He shook his head. âNo, I have that under control now. The problem was something else. I had to leave Titania behind.â
AuriĂŤlle quite visibly frowned. âWhy?â Did they have a falling out? Did she break them apart? That was wonderful! Oh she would have to visit that piece of clearly holier-than-thee armor now!
âShe wanted me to kill you. I said no. She wanted me to burn this cloak. I said no. She kept second-guessing my decisions, and I said no. Gave us some armour before I left her, but for some of us it didnât even fit.â He shook his head in frustration. âI suppose you were right.â
The sorceress through her head back before doubling over from laughing. She couldnât believe it. She was gone for eleven days and in that time it all went to hell with Titania. That was amazing! For a second she wondered if she should mention she too got a little gift from Neiya. But then refrained from it. Carn didnât need to know, yet. âAlright, been a pleasure talking to you but Iâve got a lump of cold metal to have a chat with! Iâll catch up!â She said as she started to pass Carn and head back to where the camp first was.
Carn turned and placed a hand on her shoulder. âAurielle, wait.â
She stopped, almost let out a groan of annoyance but did roll her eyes. Whatâs next? A lecture? A plea? She didnât believe Carn was back to how Carn should be. There was still something soft about him. Maybe it was the whole deal with his brother. She turned around none the less. âWhat is it?â
âJust forget about her. Thereâs no sense in antagonizing an avatar.â
âIâm not going to antagonize her.â She exclaimed, sounding almost innocent as she did. âIâm just going to have a lovely chat with her.â If you didnât know AuriĂŤlle, youâd think sheâs sincere.
âYour last lovely chat with her nearly burned down the camp,â he said drily. âYou canât kill her and you canât change her views. Taunting her will only provoke her, and I donât want to lose you. Not again.â
âOh please.â She said she pulled her shoulder free. âIâll be fine.â Of course it was sweet of Carn to worry about her. Of course she wished he would do it more. It was cute. Just⌠not in front of everyone. âIf she wanted me dead she wouldâve killed me twelve days ago. She didnât then and she wonât do it now.â She turned around to walk away again.
All she heard was a resigned sigh. And a few moments later, a signal was given for the column to resume marching. She received various looks as she passed by the hundreds of men. Those who recognized her glared. But most did not, instead giving her looks of curiosity, attraction, or simple boredom. Many did not even notice her at all.
She waited a little until the camp was actually cleared. Overlooking the plains where they had resided. It was still scarred from the camp. With a strange, lonely table in the middle of it all. Looking rather like an abandoned altar than anything else. Unafraid AuriĂŤlle walked closer. âWeâre finally alone.â She said with a smirk.
The armour was silent. Then, in the blink of an eye, the earth surrounding AuriĂŤlle erupted. The stone morphed and warped into bricks, and coiled around her with lightning speed like a giant snake seeking to constrict its prey. It spun around her like a whirlpool, no doubt with enough momentum and coarseness to grind her into goo.
For a second it appeared as if AuriĂŤlle had been consumed. Then a humanoid figure made of stone shot through the coiling whirlwind of stone. Once through, the stone crumbled off, revealing AuriĂŤlle once more. Not untouched though. The stone had scraped her left arm, which was bleeding quite heavily. Though it looked worse than it was. Small nubs of horns were sprouting in between her hair. âSo you can hurt me without someone wearing you. Thatâs good to know.â She said rather casually. Though her heart was beating inside her chest. It made her excited! It had been so long since she was actually challenged. âYouâre not going to listen to me, are you?â
A stone tendril twisted itself around her leg, stopping her dead in the air. The tendril then hammered her against the ground with crackling force. Two stone towers then sprouted up on either side of her, before crumbling into tonnes upon tonnes of rock, raining down over her mercilessly. âNot only do you come to me, demoness, but you also carry with you your haughty, taunting demeanour! Itâs almost as though you are glutton for extermination!â
Shock went through AuriĂŤlle when the tendrils grabbed her. The force with which they threw her to the ground knocked more than just the wind out of her. With a nasty crack several of her bones broke. For a second her entire mind was overtaken by pain. Allowing her only to scream before the adrenaline made everything feel numb and distance. Then the shadows rose. She didnât think but just embedded her fingers into the ground. Right before the first bricks fell roots broke through the earth. Wrapping themselves around the sorceress. Moments after the last brick fell, the cocoon of roots pushed the stone off of itself to reveal the red-headed girl with larger horns cat-like eyes as if she was a flower. Roots were supporting her as her body was too battered to let her stand on her own. Wisps of smoldering cloth floated away into the air as she held the oaken branch against her chest. Healing the wounds while forcing: âTruce?â Out of her throat.
The weight on the roots intensified. Another set of towers had collapsed over her. AuriĂŤlle was still healing herself. The roots carried her some distance away from Titania and harm's way as well. Before they were crushed with a wet splat by the two new towers. The sorceress collapsed on her knees. Wounds were healing, but not fast enough. The growing horns on her head were beginning to curl now. âCould you stop!? I just want to talk! Iâm not even fighting back.â She yelled, at the top of her lungs. Before coughing up blood.
âI have nothing to talk to you about, and you have no business talking to me, you fiend! You spawn of evil! You wicked witch!â The line along the ground between them sprouted a wave of stone spears, shooting up like the jabs of a phalanx.
Some of the spears missed, others wouldâve hit her if they didnât crumble by AuriĂŤlle magic. One though. One looked as if it wouldâve hit her square in the stomach. But then it veered off. Pushed away by some invisible power to only cut her tight. The wound was nasty but not life threatening. âWhy--!â The ground beneath her exploded into a cloud of shrapnel, just barely mitigated by a quick-witted shield spell. â... Am I the evil one!?â The shrapnel she dodged melted into stone darts, swarming her like rabid hornets. She screamed out, finally fed up by the self-righteousness of Titania. âI freed slaves!â The darts that didnât hit her melted back into the earth, and rose back up as more spears, stabbing upwards from the soil at the positions she stood at just milliseconds earlier. âI broke their chains while you lay on your metal altar. Too--â Nearby trees fell over, and their trunks were sliced into bucklers, which were thrown after the sorceress like disks. â-- Too pure to even try and understand us mortals. What do you even know about me other than what you told yourself!?â
âYou selfishly follow your own desires and commit atrocities as easily as you breathe. When we first met, you attempted to destroy me for no reason other than that you felt like it. That alone tells me what sort of person you are.â The armour glared at her from its table. âIf you have freed slaves, you did it not for the freedom of those people; you did it because you enjoyed killing the slaversâŚâ The ground quaked again as though new stone towers began to form. âHave you any last words, fiend? Or will you simply gloat until the very end, like you do so well?â
She didnât gloat. Nor did she speak her last words. The second she saw those towers rise, lose stone flew towards her. Encasing her into what looked like a tomb before she was pulled away through the air. Far, far from Titania. Within the air AuriĂŤlle did her best to slow herself down with the wind, trying to aim where Carnâs army would be. But there was only so much she could do before the stone around her crumbled away again. She finally fell to the ground, breaking her bones again and making the fractures she had even worse. Yet perhaps whatever god there was of luck or fate would not see her perish just yet. The Oaken Branch touched her face. Slowly but surely healing the sorceressâ unconscious body.
She awoke hours later, in a lumpy bed on a rickety cart meant to carry wounded. The sun was high in the sky, but once her eyes adjusted, she saw that Carn himself was sitting nearby. He had not noticed her awakening, instead sitting on the back edge of the cart with a dagger drawn. Every now and then he would jab the blade into one of his fingers, and watch the flesh knit back together.
âThat was by far the stupidest thing Iâve done.â She said with a groan. Her body ached. The Oaken Branch, laying on her arm, was still doing its work. The blanket was stained with blood spots all over. Yet there was a little smile on her face. A smile of satisfaction.
Carn turned, and looked at her with a sigh of relief. Then the relief quickly faded, and he smirked. âNow you remember why itâs a good idea to trust my judgement.â
âWe had fun.â She managed to say before uttering an ow from some stiff muscle. Then her tone grew a little somber. âYou used to be that, you know. Fun.â
The smirk faded, and he fell into a long silence.
There was only one way really to interpret that silence. She laid back down, content to stare up at the blue sky. Clutching the Oaken Branch closer to her and checking if the necklace and disk she got were still with her.
Even though AuriĂŤlle was used â sometimes even preferred â silence, she hated it now. She hated it when it happened between her and Carn. They used to talk for entire nights. Now it felt like there was nothing to say. It was unbearable. âWhereâs EsirĂŠ?â She finally asked with a neutral, if not bit icy, tone.
Carn shrugged. âShe kept clinging to you, so I told her to give us some space. I reckon sheâs still nearby.â
She hated that answer. She hated what it meant. EsirĂŠ wouldnât come close till Carn left. She kept silent for some time. Until she asked: âWhy are you here?â
âBecauseâŚâ Carn began, but then his voice trailed off. âI think you know why,â he finally said, after a few moments of thought.
Suddenly an entirely different thought shot through her head. She set up to look at Carn. âSay it.â She said in a weird mixture of both plea and command.
âBecause I love you,â he confessed, almost too quickly.
AuriĂŤlle reached over to him, not caring that her body was in pain as she grabbed him by the collar and pulled him close for a kiss.
He returned it, and held it, as he wrapped his arms around her. But then, after a few moments past, he suddenly became conscious of several sets of eyes on them - soldiers walking behind the cart - and he reluctantly pulled away. âCome to my tent later tonight,â he whispered.
âNot afraid Iâll burn it down?â She teased, though she did release him. If it was up to her, she wouldnât have cared they were in a cart but well⌠he was the commander. So slowly she laid down again. With several ouchs and ows, realizing her body still wasnât in good shape. âYou shouldâve come with me you know.â She then said once down. âIt was really fun!â
Carn shrugged. âI did go back for you, but it was too late. Probably for the best, being honest. I spent months listening to that armour preach. Any more and I might have been driven mad.â
âHa!â AuriĂŤlle loudly proclaimed, before having a coughing fit. Still, she had a big smile on her face. âSheâs going to have the best time on this planet. Preaching against the goddess of love while only letting those who are apparently selfless wear her. Selfless? Here!? What does she want, a child?â The sorceress laughed out loud. âWeâre better off without her.â She then followed up as she calmed down a little.
Carn nodded slightly, as he looked ahead. âIâm expected to be at the front of the column,â he told her. âAre you able to join me, or do you still need to rest?â
âI should be able-â AuriĂŤlle tried to say as she tried to get up. Only for her body to sternly protest against any type of movement. Quite quickly she fell back down. âNope. Iâm going to be smart for once and not push it.â She admitted. âGo lead your army, Carn.â
Carnâs camp is being torn down, leaving behind the Avatar Titania. But right as they leave, AuriĂŤlle returns from her raid. Bringing with her riches but also a Ketrefian noble. Whom she offers up to Carn for questioning. The noble, in a fit of courage, says Carn can never break the city. It has stood for 2000 years and is protected by the champion of Cadien. At which point Carn says he too is a champion of Cadien. Much to the shock of the noble who grows near frantic and has to be knocked unconscious by AuriĂŤlle.
The sorceress then proceeds towards the Avatar of Gibbou, hoping to have a little chat. Except Titania wants nothing of the sorts and begins to batter AuriĂŤlle with divine might. Bringing about 6 towers crumbling over her. AuriĂŤlle manages to survive the onslaught through the combined force of Thaaâs Focus, her own power and the Oaken Branch. But soon realizes that sticking around the armor would mean certain death. She throws herself out of harms way and towards Carn. Though as she falls down upon the ground she is broken and badly wounded. Surviving only by the grace of fate which allowed her to land on the Oaken Branch.
When she wakes up sheâs in a cart together with Carn. They share a few terse moments and words until AuriĂŤlle, in an effort to break the silence, asks him why heâs here. After which the warlord finally admits he loves her as well. The two share a tender moment before Carn leaves AuriĂŤlle to rest.
Titania: 1MP/5DP -1MP Godly feat: Beat the ever-living shit out of AuriĂŤlle. End: 0MP/5DP
Post Length: +10K Characters +5 Prestige >> AuriĂŤlle -9 Prestige >> AuriĂŤlle for fighting off Titaniaâs onslaught for long enough to flee and survive +5 Prestige >> Carn
Ares barely comprehended the voice as he groaned. His mind was muddled, but his body registered the softness underneath. It was good. Safe. Nice. Nothing hurt. He hadnât fought yesterday. That was good. It meant he was at his peak. Everything was good. Everything was sweet. His mind drifted away again. Content to embrace the comfort for a little longer. Just a little longer.
Then he felt something different. Suddenly the comfort, the sweetness, it paled completely compared with the soft lips pressed on his. He didnât open his eyes as he reached out. Stroking who he knew was Julieâs cheeks as they kissed. He drew it out as long as he could, though eventually, she pulled back. Causing him to open his eyes. In front of him was a big cup of coffee, with wisps of steam flowing out of it. Held up by Julie wearing nothing but his white chemise, which looked far too big on her, and a big smile. âYou have to wake up.â She said softly.
Ares groaned again, took the cup, put it on his nightstand and then grabbed Julie and pulled her on top of him. She yelped and laughed as he embraced her and started kissing her. She playfully tried to fight him off but stopped as Ares began to kiss down her neck. For a second she let him, before pulling away again. âYou have to get up.â She repeated. Letting his head fall back, he released her. âYouâve got that big meeting in an hour, remember?â
How could he forget? He downed the coffee as if it was cold and went to the bathroom. Every morning in the mirror he could see the countless scars on his body. The long gashes on his back were the biggest ones. Though never the most painful ones. The most painful ones were on his wrists. Small cuts. Smaller than an inch. Julie had touched them all, though never asked about them. Someday he would talk about them to her. In honesty, there was a laundry list of things he would have to talk about. Today was not that day though. He shoved the thoughts away again as he started to get ready for the Conclave.
Half an hour later he was downstairs. Julie was in the kitchen, preparing fresh juice while dancing to some song on the radio. The second he stepped inside the kitchen she turned to offer him a glass of orange juice and a kiss. âBe good.â She said with a vixenâs smile before going upstairs. âI love you!â He shouted up the stairs. âAnd I love you! Now go, youâre going to be late for whatever it is youâll be late for!â She shouted and as always she was right. Ares downed the orange juice and jumped into his car.
There were many ways to experience rage in this world. But only in the last hundred years did humanity seem to have it down to an art. Road rage was something Ares experienced from time to time but not today. Today his BMW ripped through the streets of Seattle with ease and some recklessness. Something didnât fit right though. Why was a conclave called now? Ares hated not knowing. It had to be something big. He parked quite violently at the Universityâs parking lot. Not knowing and frankly not caring whether it was a spot for teachers or students or other people. Why did he have to go here of all places? Why didnât The Morrigan just ask? Ares couldâve set up a grand conference room in some hotel with catering and whatnot. Instead, theyâd have to sit in some stuffy room otherwise used by self-important tenured professors that pretended they mattered in society. Universities were places for his sister. For the so-called thinking people. He carried that disdain on his face as he marched through the halls. Through the windows, he saw the sun suddenly breaking through the clouds. What idiot chose to make today sunny?
Ares entered the room in perhaps a slightly theatrical manner. Opening the doors perhaps a little too forceful. The room was less than half empty. How could so many gods be so late still? Some of the gods present he knew, like Kore and Hypnos. But none were here yet that he talked to. So he just took his seat, happy with the fact that heâd be seated next to Apollo and pulled out a cigarette. Before anyone could possibly say anything, he lit it up, blowing out the first bored puff of smoke.
DracoLunaris
Lord Zee
sly13
