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The annual festival celebrating one of the patron Gods of Colchis Hephaestus, has arrived. The priests of Hephaestus rove the city bearing his symbol of the torch. The people come and line up, holding their own candle so that the flame is passed from person to person until the night is blazing with fire. By the light of their forges and the followers of Hephaestus, the blacksmiths of the city have come together to craft a hammer fit for an Olympian that will sit at the feat of the god’s statue in his temple. But unrest lies in the distance. The priests of Ares hold their own celebrations, and do not feel the same gratitude for the lame god. In their temple, they are roasting a huge boar as a sacrifice to the god of war. They and their followers will feast, and then they will move through the city to show the populace what it means to worship a god of true might.
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The annual festival celebrating one of the patron Gods of Colchis Hephaestus, has arrived. The priests of Hephaestus rove the city bearing his symbol of the torch. The people come and line up, holding their own candle so that the flame is passed from person to person until the night is blazing with fire. By the light of their forges and the followers of Hephaestus, the blacksmiths of the city have come together to craft a hammer fit for an Olympian that will sit at the feat of the god’s statue in his temple. But unrest lies in the distance. The priests of Ares hold their own celebrations, and do not feel the same gratitude for the lame god. In their temple, they are roasting a huge boar as a sacrifice to the god of war. They and their followers will feast, and then they will move through the city to show the populace what it means to worship a god of true might.
Fire and Brimstone Provincial Story - Colchis
The annual festival celebrating one of the patron Gods of Colchis Hephaestus, has arrived. The priests of Hephaestus rove the city bearing his symbol of the torch. The people come and line up, holding their own candle so that the flame is passed from person to person until the night is blazing with fire. By the light of their forges and the followers of Hephaestus, the blacksmiths of the city have come together to craft a hammer fit for an Olympian that will sit at the feat of the god’s statue in his temple. But unrest lies in the distance. The priests of Ares hold their own celebrations, and do not feel the same gratitude for the lame god. In their temple, they are roasting a huge boar as a sacrifice to the god of war. They and their followers will feast, and then they will move through the city to show the populace what it means to worship a god of true might.
The reports had come in earlier that day regarding the Halls of the Gods and Vangelis was not impressed.
Whilst it was common for the priests of the temples within the capitol to get along - to show respect to one another and give the time, efforts and space that each speciality of worship required for each God - there were occasions where such units of followers were set upon reaching loggerheads. And the priests of Ares and Hephaestus were two such groups that seemed to regularly coincide with issues of dominance and might.
The same was often spoken of the conflict between the divisions of Ares and Athena; both Gods and war in their own manners but with their focuses appealing to certain elements of combat.
Vangelis could not help but feel it was appropriate for the priests of the God of War to be the ones most ready to conflict with the others within the Halls of the Gods but in doing so they also risked the wrath of the divine beings to whom they brought insult in their firm beliefs that Ares was the greatest of them all.
When the report had come to Vangelis' desk - for it was one of those rare times in which he himself was in the capitol and could handle issues either instead of or alongside his brother Zanon - he was quick to understand the issue in that today was the annual feast of Hephaestus... and the priests of Ares had decided to hold one of their own as a sort of conflicting test of loyalty with the people. For the populace of Colchis could not all attend both festivities. And any absence might be seen as a deliberate choice of preference to the Gods upon whom the feasts were named in the honour of.
Pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment, his jaw becoming tight, Vangelis assessed the rest of the work upon his desk, declared it all to be subsidiary to that which had just appeared and headed to his chambers with a step that was quick and efficient.
It was within his bedroom that he changed, adopting several pieces of armour he might not normally wear across his shoulders and strapped around his waist. His bottom half was clad in the leather of a fighter and his boots came to his knees. His greaves her fastened into place over the top and he pulled his weapons into place. A solid gold band was positioned on his head as his crown for his rank as prince and he was then quick to leave his rooms.
Whilst his appearance was normally the least of his worries, today it mattered. Vangelis was careful to ensure that he wore the symbols of his rank without peacocking to the point where a God might feel he was measuring his own mortal status to the same level of excellence. He wore his weapons as a mark of respect to Hephaestus and his armour as just such a mark of loyalty to Ares.
For he was about to try and play mediator between two factions of the temples which meant mediator between two Gods. And he was not willing to permit Midas to be struck down by hellfire or rage-filled violence because mortals were stupid enough to tempt the Gods into a conflict of dominance.
"Zanon! Yiannis! Silas!" Vangelis had no idea who was still within the manor and not already seeing the preparations for each of the two events being held within the city and so simply called to all of them in the hopes that one or two would be around to aid him. If not, he would ride into the city alone and play supervisor upon the celebrations so that each operated as a call of worship to their own Gods, not a cry of disdain against the others...
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The reports had come in earlier that day regarding the Halls of the Gods and Vangelis was not impressed.
Whilst it was common for the priests of the temples within the capitol to get along - to show respect to one another and give the time, efforts and space that each speciality of worship required for each God - there were occasions where such units of followers were set upon reaching loggerheads. And the priests of Ares and Hephaestus were two such groups that seemed to regularly coincide with issues of dominance and might.
The same was often spoken of the conflict between the divisions of Ares and Athena; both Gods and war in their own manners but with their focuses appealing to certain elements of combat.
Vangelis could not help but feel it was appropriate for the priests of the God of War to be the ones most ready to conflict with the others within the Halls of the Gods but in doing so they also risked the wrath of the divine beings to whom they brought insult in their firm beliefs that Ares was the greatest of them all.
When the report had come to Vangelis' desk - for it was one of those rare times in which he himself was in the capitol and could handle issues either instead of or alongside his brother Zanon - he was quick to understand the issue in that today was the annual feast of Hephaestus... and the priests of Ares had decided to hold one of their own as a sort of conflicting test of loyalty with the people. For the populace of Colchis could not all attend both festivities. And any absence might be seen as a deliberate choice of preference to the Gods upon whom the feasts were named in the honour of.
Pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment, his jaw becoming tight, Vangelis assessed the rest of the work upon his desk, declared it all to be subsidiary to that which had just appeared and headed to his chambers with a step that was quick and efficient.
It was within his bedroom that he changed, adopting several pieces of armour he might not normally wear across his shoulders and strapped around his waist. His bottom half was clad in the leather of a fighter and his boots came to his knees. His greaves her fastened into place over the top and he pulled his weapons into place. A solid gold band was positioned on his head as his crown for his rank as prince and he was then quick to leave his rooms.
Whilst his appearance was normally the least of his worries, today it mattered. Vangelis was careful to ensure that he wore the symbols of his rank without peacocking to the point where a God might feel he was measuring his own mortal status to the same level of excellence. He wore his weapons as a mark of respect to Hephaestus and his armour as just such a mark of loyalty to Ares.
For he was about to try and play mediator between two factions of the temples which meant mediator between two Gods. And he was not willing to permit Midas to be struck down by hellfire or rage-filled violence because mortals were stupid enough to tempt the Gods into a conflict of dominance.
"Zanon! Yiannis! Silas!" Vangelis had no idea who was still within the manor and not already seeing the preparations for each of the two events being held within the city and so simply called to all of them in the hopes that one or two would be around to aid him. If not, he would ride into the city alone and play supervisor upon the celebrations so that each operated as a call of worship to their own Gods, not a cry of disdain against the others...
The reports had come in earlier that day regarding the Halls of the Gods and Vangelis was not impressed.
Whilst it was common for the priests of the temples within the capitol to get along - to show respect to one another and give the time, efforts and space that each speciality of worship required for each God - there were occasions where such units of followers were set upon reaching loggerheads. And the priests of Ares and Hephaestus were two such groups that seemed to regularly coincide with issues of dominance and might.
The same was often spoken of the conflict between the divisions of Ares and Athena; both Gods and war in their own manners but with their focuses appealing to certain elements of combat.
Vangelis could not help but feel it was appropriate for the priests of the God of War to be the ones most ready to conflict with the others within the Halls of the Gods but in doing so they also risked the wrath of the divine beings to whom they brought insult in their firm beliefs that Ares was the greatest of them all.
When the report had come to Vangelis' desk - for it was one of those rare times in which he himself was in the capitol and could handle issues either instead of or alongside his brother Zanon - he was quick to understand the issue in that today was the annual feast of Hephaestus... and the priests of Ares had decided to hold one of their own as a sort of conflicting test of loyalty with the people. For the populace of Colchis could not all attend both festivities. And any absence might be seen as a deliberate choice of preference to the Gods upon whom the feasts were named in the honour of.
Pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment, his jaw becoming tight, Vangelis assessed the rest of the work upon his desk, declared it all to be subsidiary to that which had just appeared and headed to his chambers with a step that was quick and efficient.
It was within his bedroom that he changed, adopting several pieces of armour he might not normally wear across his shoulders and strapped around his waist. His bottom half was clad in the leather of a fighter and his boots came to his knees. His greaves her fastened into place over the top and he pulled his weapons into place. A solid gold band was positioned on his head as his crown for his rank as prince and he was then quick to leave his rooms.
Whilst his appearance was normally the least of his worries, today it mattered. Vangelis was careful to ensure that he wore the symbols of his rank without peacocking to the point where a God might feel he was measuring his own mortal status to the same level of excellence. He wore his weapons as a mark of respect to Hephaestus and his armour as just such a mark of loyalty to Ares.
For he was about to try and play mediator between two factions of the temples which meant mediator between two Gods. And he was not willing to permit Midas to be struck down by hellfire or rage-filled violence because mortals were stupid enough to tempt the Gods into a conflict of dominance.
"Zanon! Yiannis! Silas!" Vangelis had no idea who was still within the manor and not already seeing the preparations for each of the two events being held within the city and so simply called to all of them in the hopes that one or two would be around to aid him. If not, he would ride into the city alone and play supervisor upon the celebrations so that each operated as a call of worship to their own Gods, not a cry of disdain against the others...
The youngest brother of the Kotas family had found himself lazing in the family manor as of late, with little to do that grasped his attention. When word received him that the priests of Ares were preparing to hold a day of worship, it had gotten him motivated to actually do something. He didn't realise that the days of worships fell on the same, but really it didn't bother him in the slightest anyhow.
His room had become a mess of crimson and bronze in the attempts to fully prepare himself to pay homage to war. Armour that he'd never think about wearing onto a battlefield, made purely to make someone look more fearsome than they might be, found it's way into the pile of things he might wear. The sound of metal clanging on metal, his shield a gong for all intents and purposes, echoed through the manor.
Finally, he'd actually managed to dress himself, a feat for the young prince, and was preparing to leave for the celebrations when the faint shout of his name reached his ears. His brother needed him, and if there was anyone he'd abandon a god for, it was his brother. Kicking off half the ornamental adorning as he ran down the corridors, twisting and turning, and stopped before his brother in the mouth of a doorway.
With a small pant to catch his breath, now fully aware his brother was in no danger that he may have at first assumed, the boy took his time to compose a thought, and spoke.
"Is everything alright, brother? I never took you for one to dress like a prince." Silas couldn't help but make the jibe in reference to his brothers appearance, after all it was so out of character. A playful smirk found itself sitting across his face, with a scanning glance downward at the eldest's garb. "Are you attending the celebrations within the city tonight?"
It seemed the most obvious assumption, given the warrior-esque dress, but Silas never knew quite what Vengelis was up to much at all these days.
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The youngest brother of the Kotas family had found himself lazing in the family manor as of late, with little to do that grasped his attention. When word received him that the priests of Ares were preparing to hold a day of worship, it had gotten him motivated to actually do something. He didn't realise that the days of worships fell on the same, but really it didn't bother him in the slightest anyhow.
His room had become a mess of crimson and bronze in the attempts to fully prepare himself to pay homage to war. Armour that he'd never think about wearing onto a battlefield, made purely to make someone look more fearsome than they might be, found it's way into the pile of things he might wear. The sound of metal clanging on metal, his shield a gong for all intents and purposes, echoed through the manor.
Finally, he'd actually managed to dress himself, a feat for the young prince, and was preparing to leave for the celebrations when the faint shout of his name reached his ears. His brother needed him, and if there was anyone he'd abandon a god for, it was his brother. Kicking off half the ornamental adorning as he ran down the corridors, twisting and turning, and stopped before his brother in the mouth of a doorway.
With a small pant to catch his breath, now fully aware his brother was in no danger that he may have at first assumed, the boy took his time to compose a thought, and spoke.
"Is everything alright, brother? I never took you for one to dress like a prince." Silas couldn't help but make the jibe in reference to his brothers appearance, after all it was so out of character. A playful smirk found itself sitting across his face, with a scanning glance downward at the eldest's garb. "Are you attending the celebrations within the city tonight?"
It seemed the most obvious assumption, given the warrior-esque dress, but Silas never knew quite what Vengelis was up to much at all these days.
The youngest brother of the Kotas family had found himself lazing in the family manor as of late, with little to do that grasped his attention. When word received him that the priests of Ares were preparing to hold a day of worship, it had gotten him motivated to actually do something. He didn't realise that the days of worships fell on the same, but really it didn't bother him in the slightest anyhow.
His room had become a mess of crimson and bronze in the attempts to fully prepare himself to pay homage to war. Armour that he'd never think about wearing onto a battlefield, made purely to make someone look more fearsome than they might be, found it's way into the pile of things he might wear. The sound of metal clanging on metal, his shield a gong for all intents and purposes, echoed through the manor.
Finally, he'd actually managed to dress himself, a feat for the young prince, and was preparing to leave for the celebrations when the faint shout of his name reached his ears. His brother needed him, and if there was anyone he'd abandon a god for, it was his brother. Kicking off half the ornamental adorning as he ran down the corridors, twisting and turning, and stopped before his brother in the mouth of a doorway.
With a small pant to catch his breath, now fully aware his brother was in no danger that he may have at first assumed, the boy took his time to compose a thought, and spoke.
"Is everything alright, brother? I never took you for one to dress like a prince." Silas couldn't help but make the jibe in reference to his brothers appearance, after all it was so out of character. A playful smirk found itself sitting across his face, with a scanning glance downward at the eldest's garb. "Are you attending the celebrations within the city tonight?"
It seemed the most obvious assumption, given the warrior-esque dress, but Silas never knew quite what Vengelis was up to much at all these days.
Not waiting to see if any of his brothers responded to his called, Vangelis was focused on making his way to the front door, intent on striding out through it, into the open courtyard out front, should he reach it without a halting call from a familiar voice. If he could drag with him fraternal aid on his mission it was a bonus. If not, he would attend to matters himself without the additional support and not waste time lingering around the house foyer in the hopes of one of his brothers making an appearance.
As it was, however, Silas was home and quick to respond to the call. His light and speedy frame - slimmer and shorter than his brother's but all the more useful in one-on-one combat and agility - saw him flying down the stairs at speed and coming into view of his brother quickly. His concern was clear in his queries but his manner and voice were calm and collected - as a Kotas should be. He even had the presence of mind and the compassion of self to joke with him over his attire. One that was a far cry from the sailor-esque garments Vangelis normally shrugged into in the morning. He could not blame the man for finding his raiment out of sorts, nor could Silas place blame when Vangelis only raised a brow at his humour rather than laugh or show signs of mirth.
Vangelis wasn't exactly known for his sense of humour.
"Attending, moderating and censoring." He confirmed with his brother, his attention on the bracers he was tying along his forearms before he then strode from the hallway, simply expecting his younger brother to follow. He did not hesitate upon the carved slabs of the courtyard for servant to arrange his transport - he simply headed directly for the stables himself, intent on saddling Windrunner as quickly as possible and heading down into the city without delay.
"The priests of the temple of Ares have announced their celebrations for the day, yet I fear it is less in an effort to herald his godly name and more to denounce that of Hephaestus." Vangelis explained quickly, as the two of them headed for the stables. He glanced towards his brother. "Without moderation, our city could become the battleground of divine egos, our people the punished for the originators of the contest."
Inside the stables, Vangelis was quick to saddle and tack up the charcoal coloured gelding that had been his loyal ride for years passed. The animal was spirited as ever, still as Vangelis forced the leather and tack upon him, refusing to yield to his eager step and disapproving gait. He had already been run that morning and his mature routine and way of life was being interrupted. His next words were punctuated with a haul upon the girth strap.
"I shall not have Colchis fall to the arrogance of mortals supposing they know the worth of a God. Are you to ride with me, brother?"
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Not waiting to see if any of his brothers responded to his called, Vangelis was focused on making his way to the front door, intent on striding out through it, into the open courtyard out front, should he reach it without a halting call from a familiar voice. If he could drag with him fraternal aid on his mission it was a bonus. If not, he would attend to matters himself without the additional support and not waste time lingering around the house foyer in the hopes of one of his brothers making an appearance.
As it was, however, Silas was home and quick to respond to the call. His light and speedy frame - slimmer and shorter than his brother's but all the more useful in one-on-one combat and agility - saw him flying down the stairs at speed and coming into view of his brother quickly. His concern was clear in his queries but his manner and voice were calm and collected - as a Kotas should be. He even had the presence of mind and the compassion of self to joke with him over his attire. One that was a far cry from the sailor-esque garments Vangelis normally shrugged into in the morning. He could not blame the man for finding his raiment out of sorts, nor could Silas place blame when Vangelis only raised a brow at his humour rather than laugh or show signs of mirth.
Vangelis wasn't exactly known for his sense of humour.
"Attending, moderating and censoring." He confirmed with his brother, his attention on the bracers he was tying along his forearms before he then strode from the hallway, simply expecting his younger brother to follow. He did not hesitate upon the carved slabs of the courtyard for servant to arrange his transport - he simply headed directly for the stables himself, intent on saddling Windrunner as quickly as possible and heading down into the city without delay.
"The priests of the temple of Ares have announced their celebrations for the day, yet I fear it is less in an effort to herald his godly name and more to denounce that of Hephaestus." Vangelis explained quickly, as the two of them headed for the stables. He glanced towards his brother. "Without moderation, our city could become the battleground of divine egos, our people the punished for the originators of the contest."
Inside the stables, Vangelis was quick to saddle and tack up the charcoal coloured gelding that had been his loyal ride for years passed. The animal was spirited as ever, still as Vangelis forced the leather and tack upon him, refusing to yield to his eager step and disapproving gait. He had already been run that morning and his mature routine and way of life was being interrupted. His next words were punctuated with a haul upon the girth strap.
"I shall not have Colchis fall to the arrogance of mortals supposing they know the worth of a God. Are you to ride with me, brother?"
Not waiting to see if any of his brothers responded to his called, Vangelis was focused on making his way to the front door, intent on striding out through it, into the open courtyard out front, should he reach it without a halting call from a familiar voice. If he could drag with him fraternal aid on his mission it was a bonus. If not, he would attend to matters himself without the additional support and not waste time lingering around the house foyer in the hopes of one of his brothers making an appearance.
As it was, however, Silas was home and quick to respond to the call. His light and speedy frame - slimmer and shorter than his brother's but all the more useful in one-on-one combat and agility - saw him flying down the stairs at speed and coming into view of his brother quickly. His concern was clear in his queries but his manner and voice were calm and collected - as a Kotas should be. He even had the presence of mind and the compassion of self to joke with him over his attire. One that was a far cry from the sailor-esque garments Vangelis normally shrugged into in the morning. He could not blame the man for finding his raiment out of sorts, nor could Silas place blame when Vangelis only raised a brow at his humour rather than laugh or show signs of mirth.
Vangelis wasn't exactly known for his sense of humour.
"Attending, moderating and censoring." He confirmed with his brother, his attention on the bracers he was tying along his forearms before he then strode from the hallway, simply expecting his younger brother to follow. He did not hesitate upon the carved slabs of the courtyard for servant to arrange his transport - he simply headed directly for the stables himself, intent on saddling Windrunner as quickly as possible and heading down into the city without delay.
"The priests of the temple of Ares have announced their celebrations for the day, yet I fear it is less in an effort to herald his godly name and more to denounce that of Hephaestus." Vangelis explained quickly, as the two of them headed for the stables. He glanced towards his brother. "Without moderation, our city could become the battleground of divine egos, our people the punished for the originators of the contest."
Inside the stables, Vangelis was quick to saddle and tack up the charcoal coloured gelding that had been his loyal ride for years passed. The animal was spirited as ever, still as Vangelis forced the leather and tack upon him, refusing to yield to his eager step and disapproving gait. He had already been run that morning and his mature routine and way of life was being interrupted. His next words were punctuated with a haul upon the girth strap.
"I shall not have Colchis fall to the arrogance of mortals supposing they know the worth of a God. Are you to ride with me, brother?"
Silas followed close at heel to his brother, when the issue became more apparent and clearly more serious than the younger sibling had previously assumed. He lost the humour in his face, trying his best to be serious, and retrieved a sword and shield from the door as he passed. A weapon, even if not used, was always a good deterrence for anyone that may wish to cause issue with the house of Kotas.
The younger brother had been excited for the celebrations held by the priests, but when his brother informed him that they were merely being held, or potentially, to undermine another temple's praise to their god, it left a sour taste in his mouth. It would have been bad for the family name, for his father and brother, if he'd simply shown up to take part. As they walked, Silas nodded and hummed while his brother spoke, and picked his pace up when they entered the stables, to attend to his own and his brothers horse.
He retrieved both saddles, and placed them over the stable doors so that they may be fit to the horses. Before his brother even asked him if he was going to attend by his side, the chestnut brown horse that Silas had taken as his own to get around the town was equally ready to go.
"Of course I'm going to ride beside you, why wouldn't I? Midas is my home, and I'd rather not see it come under the wrath of the gods because the priests are too proud to allow one another their time." The younger Kotas laughed as if the idea of anything else humoured him. His shield found the tie on his saddle, and the sword equally. "Do we ride to the halls of the gods now, or is there anywhere else you need to attend first?" The end of his question came with the grunt, hauling himself atop the steed, and finding place in the leather saddle beneath his legs. In reality, the issue at hand didn't really bother him as much as he was playing out. He didn't see the priests of the gods causing a serious enough issue that it took two princes to deal with.
The real reason that the youngest was going along with his brother was simply to learn, and to stand alongside him however he could. That was a true honour.
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Silas followed close at heel to his brother, when the issue became more apparent and clearly more serious than the younger sibling had previously assumed. He lost the humour in his face, trying his best to be serious, and retrieved a sword and shield from the door as he passed. A weapon, even if not used, was always a good deterrence for anyone that may wish to cause issue with the house of Kotas.
The younger brother had been excited for the celebrations held by the priests, but when his brother informed him that they were merely being held, or potentially, to undermine another temple's praise to their god, it left a sour taste in his mouth. It would have been bad for the family name, for his father and brother, if he'd simply shown up to take part. As they walked, Silas nodded and hummed while his brother spoke, and picked his pace up when they entered the stables, to attend to his own and his brothers horse.
He retrieved both saddles, and placed them over the stable doors so that they may be fit to the horses. Before his brother even asked him if he was going to attend by his side, the chestnut brown horse that Silas had taken as his own to get around the town was equally ready to go.
"Of course I'm going to ride beside you, why wouldn't I? Midas is my home, and I'd rather not see it come under the wrath of the gods because the priests are too proud to allow one another their time." The younger Kotas laughed as if the idea of anything else humoured him. His shield found the tie on his saddle, and the sword equally. "Do we ride to the halls of the gods now, or is there anywhere else you need to attend first?" The end of his question came with the grunt, hauling himself atop the steed, and finding place in the leather saddle beneath his legs. In reality, the issue at hand didn't really bother him as much as he was playing out. He didn't see the priests of the gods causing a serious enough issue that it took two princes to deal with.
The real reason that the youngest was going along with his brother was simply to learn, and to stand alongside him however he could. That was a true honour.
Silas followed close at heel to his brother, when the issue became more apparent and clearly more serious than the younger sibling had previously assumed. He lost the humour in his face, trying his best to be serious, and retrieved a sword and shield from the door as he passed. A weapon, even if not used, was always a good deterrence for anyone that may wish to cause issue with the house of Kotas.
The younger brother had been excited for the celebrations held by the priests, but when his brother informed him that they were merely being held, or potentially, to undermine another temple's praise to their god, it left a sour taste in his mouth. It would have been bad for the family name, for his father and brother, if he'd simply shown up to take part. As they walked, Silas nodded and hummed while his brother spoke, and picked his pace up when they entered the stables, to attend to his own and his brothers horse.
He retrieved both saddles, and placed them over the stable doors so that they may be fit to the horses. Before his brother even asked him if he was going to attend by his side, the chestnut brown horse that Silas had taken as his own to get around the town was equally ready to go.
"Of course I'm going to ride beside you, why wouldn't I? Midas is my home, and I'd rather not see it come under the wrath of the gods because the priests are too proud to allow one another their time." The younger Kotas laughed as if the idea of anything else humoured him. His shield found the tie on his saddle, and the sword equally. "Do we ride to the halls of the gods now, or is there anywhere else you need to attend first?" The end of his question came with the grunt, hauling himself atop the steed, and finding place in the leather saddle beneath his legs. In reality, the issue at hand didn't really bother him as much as he was playing out. He didn't see the priests of the gods causing a serious enough issue that it took two princes to deal with.
The real reason that the youngest was going along with his brother was simply to learn, and to stand alongside him however he could. That was a true honour.
Lukos moved through the city, highly annoyed that practically everything was closed. How was he supposed to get his hands on beer or wine if all the tavern owners were out celebrating the gods? Everywhere he went, people stood around with torches, asking him where his was. “I have very little to do with Hephaestus,” he’d said to more than ten people by now and had started to ignore the question. Some well meaning soul had shoved an unlit torch against his chest and then held their own torch out as though they were going to light it while it was still touching his shirt and he backed away, though he did hold the thing.
While it was held out away from his body, someone else lit it on fire, and Lukos glared at it, finding himself now an unwilling participant of the Hephaestus celebrations. He cared not an iota for the prowess of blacksmiths and the ringing sound of beaten metal gave him a headache. The burnt meat stench of the forges permeated the city and Lukos was attempting to shove his way back through the crowds so that he could get away from it. What he did find was waving a torch around worked wonders for parting a crowd. Men, women, and children fell away from him as easily as parting water with the threat of their god’s real fire immediately before them.
“I’ve gotta get me one of these,” he said to himself as he made his way along the streets. It didn’t seem to matter where he went, which back alleys he took, or how far he climbed up into Midas. Everyone was everywhere. He kept up his charming way of getting through the crowd, swiping the torch back and forth and leaving cries of anger, fear, and fury in his wake. Several people hit at him, but he was moving quick enough and the streets were crowded enough that it was hard for anyone to chase him.
“This is a worshipful time!” he’d shouted to one man who’d actually punched him in the back. “You should be worshiping!”
”You’re a jackass!” the man shouted back, but Lukos was already well out of the man’s reach and blithely heading towards the huge forge displays without meaning to. He didn’t know they were set up, nor that this street would deposit him straight into the square with an amazing view to boot. How lucky.
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Lukos moved through the city, highly annoyed that practically everything was closed. How was he supposed to get his hands on beer or wine if all the tavern owners were out celebrating the gods? Everywhere he went, people stood around with torches, asking him where his was. “I have very little to do with Hephaestus,” he’d said to more than ten people by now and had started to ignore the question. Some well meaning soul had shoved an unlit torch against his chest and then held their own torch out as though they were going to light it while it was still touching his shirt and he backed away, though he did hold the thing.
While it was held out away from his body, someone else lit it on fire, and Lukos glared at it, finding himself now an unwilling participant of the Hephaestus celebrations. He cared not an iota for the prowess of blacksmiths and the ringing sound of beaten metal gave him a headache. The burnt meat stench of the forges permeated the city and Lukos was attempting to shove his way back through the crowds so that he could get away from it. What he did find was waving a torch around worked wonders for parting a crowd. Men, women, and children fell away from him as easily as parting water with the threat of their god’s real fire immediately before them.
“I’ve gotta get me one of these,” he said to himself as he made his way along the streets. It didn’t seem to matter where he went, which back alleys he took, or how far he climbed up into Midas. Everyone was everywhere. He kept up his charming way of getting through the crowd, swiping the torch back and forth and leaving cries of anger, fear, and fury in his wake. Several people hit at him, but he was moving quick enough and the streets were crowded enough that it was hard for anyone to chase him.
“This is a worshipful time!” he’d shouted to one man who’d actually punched him in the back. “You should be worshiping!”
”You’re a jackass!” the man shouted back, but Lukos was already well out of the man’s reach and blithely heading towards the huge forge displays without meaning to. He didn’t know they were set up, nor that this street would deposit him straight into the square with an amazing view to boot. How lucky.
Lukos moved through the city, highly annoyed that practically everything was closed. How was he supposed to get his hands on beer or wine if all the tavern owners were out celebrating the gods? Everywhere he went, people stood around with torches, asking him where his was. “I have very little to do with Hephaestus,” he’d said to more than ten people by now and had started to ignore the question. Some well meaning soul had shoved an unlit torch against his chest and then held their own torch out as though they were going to light it while it was still touching his shirt and he backed away, though he did hold the thing.
While it was held out away from his body, someone else lit it on fire, and Lukos glared at it, finding himself now an unwilling participant of the Hephaestus celebrations. He cared not an iota for the prowess of blacksmiths and the ringing sound of beaten metal gave him a headache. The burnt meat stench of the forges permeated the city and Lukos was attempting to shove his way back through the crowds so that he could get away from it. What he did find was waving a torch around worked wonders for parting a crowd. Men, women, and children fell away from him as easily as parting water with the threat of their god’s real fire immediately before them.
“I’ve gotta get me one of these,” he said to himself as he made his way along the streets. It didn’t seem to matter where he went, which back alleys he took, or how far he climbed up into Midas. Everyone was everywhere. He kept up his charming way of getting through the crowd, swiping the torch back and forth and leaving cries of anger, fear, and fury in his wake. Several people hit at him, but he was moving quick enough and the streets were crowded enough that it was hard for anyone to chase him.
“This is a worshipful time!” he’d shouted to one man who’d actually punched him in the back. “You should be worshiping!”
”You’re a jackass!” the man shouted back, but Lukos was already well out of the man’s reach and blithely heading towards the huge forge displays without meaning to. He didn’t know they were set up, nor that this street would deposit him straight into the square with an amazing view to boot. How lucky.
Vangelis pulled himself into his saddle beside his brother having not doubted the man's loyalty. His question had merely been for the purpose of checking if Silas was joining him instead of seeing to other responsibilities that he might have. As Silas had internally supposed - two princes were not needed to corral a single event - and Silas had his own duties as a Lieutenant.
But when his younger brother also saddled himself and was in the process of becoming his second before Vangelis had finished asking, the crown prince knew the answer before it left Silas' lips. He had no doubts that Silas had already completed his other duties - for he was an efficient young man - or that he had simply determined that the festivals and their potential chaos was of a more urgent and severe matter to deal with in the moment.
Vangelis steered his mount from the stables and the two of them walked the animals across the courtyard and towards the front gates of the Kotas manor land, his words were louder now, passing over the light space between them and the sound of hooves on stony ground.
"Hopefully the festivals will each exist in their own spheres." He told the younger man. "And my concerns with result as invalid." But he didn't need to add that it was foolish to prepare based on optimistic assumptions. That was how people ended up dead or events devolved into mania because preparation was not put in place.
"Our target is the market." He said, when Silas suggested the Halls of the Gods. "From the northern quadrant it's a straight visual line to the Halls so that we can see if and when the priests march down from the temples."
If the priests of Ares stayed within the Halls of the Gods then there was little to be concerned. What was spoken in the temple of Ares was for Ares' ears and there was little Vangelis could do if they decided to herald the God of War as the most powerful. The issue would be if they descended into the city preaching the same message which might then promote the worshippers of Hephaestus to challenge them with assertions of his dominance.
The difficulty was going to be attending to the crowds with the appearance of young princes coming to join the celebrations, while actually functioning as peacemakers. Making nice and offering a smile was hardly Vangelis' strength as the afeared Blood General and Stone Prince. Yet, Silas was a personable royal that the people of Colchis warmed to easily.
Exiting the gates of their home, Vangelis prompted Windrunner into a strong canter; fast enough to transport them from royal residence to the common market place in good time but not so fast as to scare the populace into a panic or risk injuring denizens in their passing. He did not need to look over his shoulder to hear the hooves of Silas' own mount following behind...
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Vangelis pulled himself into his saddle beside his brother having not doubted the man's loyalty. His question had merely been for the purpose of checking if Silas was joining him instead of seeing to other responsibilities that he might have. As Silas had internally supposed - two princes were not needed to corral a single event - and Silas had his own duties as a Lieutenant.
But when his younger brother also saddled himself and was in the process of becoming his second before Vangelis had finished asking, the crown prince knew the answer before it left Silas' lips. He had no doubts that Silas had already completed his other duties - for he was an efficient young man - or that he had simply determined that the festivals and their potential chaos was of a more urgent and severe matter to deal with in the moment.
Vangelis steered his mount from the stables and the two of them walked the animals across the courtyard and towards the front gates of the Kotas manor land, his words were louder now, passing over the light space between them and the sound of hooves on stony ground.
"Hopefully the festivals will each exist in their own spheres." He told the younger man. "And my concerns with result as invalid." But he didn't need to add that it was foolish to prepare based on optimistic assumptions. That was how people ended up dead or events devolved into mania because preparation was not put in place.
"Our target is the market." He said, when Silas suggested the Halls of the Gods. "From the northern quadrant it's a straight visual line to the Halls so that we can see if and when the priests march down from the temples."
If the priests of Ares stayed within the Halls of the Gods then there was little to be concerned. What was spoken in the temple of Ares was for Ares' ears and there was little Vangelis could do if they decided to herald the God of War as the most powerful. The issue would be if they descended into the city preaching the same message which might then promote the worshippers of Hephaestus to challenge them with assertions of his dominance.
The difficulty was going to be attending to the crowds with the appearance of young princes coming to join the celebrations, while actually functioning as peacemakers. Making nice and offering a smile was hardly Vangelis' strength as the afeared Blood General and Stone Prince. Yet, Silas was a personable royal that the people of Colchis warmed to easily.
Exiting the gates of their home, Vangelis prompted Windrunner into a strong canter; fast enough to transport them from royal residence to the common market place in good time but not so fast as to scare the populace into a panic or risk injuring denizens in their passing. He did not need to look over his shoulder to hear the hooves of Silas' own mount following behind...
Vangelis pulled himself into his saddle beside his brother having not doubted the man's loyalty. His question had merely been for the purpose of checking if Silas was joining him instead of seeing to other responsibilities that he might have. As Silas had internally supposed - two princes were not needed to corral a single event - and Silas had his own duties as a Lieutenant.
But when his younger brother also saddled himself and was in the process of becoming his second before Vangelis had finished asking, the crown prince knew the answer before it left Silas' lips. He had no doubts that Silas had already completed his other duties - for he was an efficient young man - or that he had simply determined that the festivals and their potential chaos was of a more urgent and severe matter to deal with in the moment.
Vangelis steered his mount from the stables and the two of them walked the animals across the courtyard and towards the front gates of the Kotas manor land, his words were louder now, passing over the light space between them and the sound of hooves on stony ground.
"Hopefully the festivals will each exist in their own spheres." He told the younger man. "And my concerns with result as invalid." But he didn't need to add that it was foolish to prepare based on optimistic assumptions. That was how people ended up dead or events devolved into mania because preparation was not put in place.
"Our target is the market." He said, when Silas suggested the Halls of the Gods. "From the northern quadrant it's a straight visual line to the Halls so that we can see if and when the priests march down from the temples."
If the priests of Ares stayed within the Halls of the Gods then there was little to be concerned. What was spoken in the temple of Ares was for Ares' ears and there was little Vangelis could do if they decided to herald the God of War as the most powerful. The issue would be if they descended into the city preaching the same message which might then promote the worshippers of Hephaestus to challenge them with assertions of his dominance.
The difficulty was going to be attending to the crowds with the appearance of young princes coming to join the celebrations, while actually functioning as peacemakers. Making nice and offering a smile was hardly Vangelis' strength as the afeared Blood General and Stone Prince. Yet, Silas was a personable royal that the people of Colchis warmed to easily.
Exiting the gates of their home, Vangelis prompted Windrunner into a strong canter; fast enough to transport them from royal residence to the common market place in good time but not so fast as to scare the populace into a panic or risk injuring denizens in their passing. He did not need to look over his shoulder to hear the hooves of Silas' own mount following behind...
She would know that voice anywhere, but Skylla was having far too much fun watching him make an ass of himself. Mostly because the people of this city deserved it. She had left the small house that she and Lysander shared, having found herself bored and interested in the festival for something to do. Hephaestus was not her patron god, but she knew when it was time to give reverence to a god. It was a festival, after all. So she'd trailed through the city with a torch that had been handed her almost as soon as she had stepped onto the street.
Following the crowd, she walked with one hand holding her torch and another wrapped around her middle, observing people instead of actually joining in with the worship. It wasn't of interest to her, mostly because she enjoyed doing her worship in private. There was nothing wrong with that, Skylla just didn't really enjoy being among people.
Especially a bunch of people who were carrying lit torches about. Coming to a stop with the collective group of revelers, Skylla stood toward front of the group, watching the square with feigned interest. Honestly, she was more interested in the fact that there had been talk of two separate festivals on the same night. Ares' festival would have at least put food and wine into her belly, which she seemed to favor much more than holding a torch.
Glancing back, she continued to listen for the sound of Lukos' voice, pleased that he was coming more in her direction than before. Then he was coming into view, waving his torch about in order to get people to part from him. Someone called him a jackass and Skylla actually snorted out loud, having to bite down on her bottom lip to ward away the sharp smirk that settled on her features.
The problem was that he was just a little too far for her to reach as he started in the direction of the square. Using her own torch, she pushed sideways through the crowd in order to meet him before he deposited himself into the square. Close enough to touch, her timing was just right in lifting her own torch to knock against his as he waved it about. Stilling both of them, Skylla tilted her head a little to the side so that she could see Lukos' face.
Her other hand reached forward to press against the center of his abdomen, her fingers taking the liberty of feeling at the ridges of muscle beneath his shirt. "You're being very loud, Captain," Skylla greeted sweetly, taking a step toward him in order to press him back a single step. "I don't think you truly want to become the center of attention," she nodded her head back toward the square. "I hear there's better fun to be had at the temple of Ares," a smile played on her lips and she took another step closer to him, aiming to step him back another step and ignoring the irritated stares of the other revelers.
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She would know that voice anywhere, but Skylla was having far too much fun watching him make an ass of himself. Mostly because the people of this city deserved it. She had left the small house that she and Lysander shared, having found herself bored and interested in the festival for something to do. Hephaestus was not her patron god, but she knew when it was time to give reverence to a god. It was a festival, after all. So she'd trailed through the city with a torch that had been handed her almost as soon as she had stepped onto the street.
Following the crowd, she walked with one hand holding her torch and another wrapped around her middle, observing people instead of actually joining in with the worship. It wasn't of interest to her, mostly because she enjoyed doing her worship in private. There was nothing wrong with that, Skylla just didn't really enjoy being among people.
Especially a bunch of people who were carrying lit torches about. Coming to a stop with the collective group of revelers, Skylla stood toward front of the group, watching the square with feigned interest. Honestly, she was more interested in the fact that there had been talk of two separate festivals on the same night. Ares' festival would have at least put food and wine into her belly, which she seemed to favor much more than holding a torch.
Glancing back, she continued to listen for the sound of Lukos' voice, pleased that he was coming more in her direction than before. Then he was coming into view, waving his torch about in order to get people to part from him. Someone called him a jackass and Skylla actually snorted out loud, having to bite down on her bottom lip to ward away the sharp smirk that settled on her features.
The problem was that he was just a little too far for her to reach as he started in the direction of the square. Using her own torch, she pushed sideways through the crowd in order to meet him before he deposited himself into the square. Close enough to touch, her timing was just right in lifting her own torch to knock against his as he waved it about. Stilling both of them, Skylla tilted her head a little to the side so that she could see Lukos' face.
Her other hand reached forward to press against the center of his abdomen, her fingers taking the liberty of feeling at the ridges of muscle beneath his shirt. "You're being very loud, Captain," Skylla greeted sweetly, taking a step toward him in order to press him back a single step. "I don't think you truly want to become the center of attention," she nodded her head back toward the square. "I hear there's better fun to be had at the temple of Ares," a smile played on her lips and she took another step closer to him, aiming to step him back another step and ignoring the irritated stares of the other revelers.
She would know that voice anywhere, but Skylla was having far too much fun watching him make an ass of himself. Mostly because the people of this city deserved it. She had left the small house that she and Lysander shared, having found herself bored and interested in the festival for something to do. Hephaestus was not her patron god, but she knew when it was time to give reverence to a god. It was a festival, after all. So she'd trailed through the city with a torch that had been handed her almost as soon as she had stepped onto the street.
Following the crowd, she walked with one hand holding her torch and another wrapped around her middle, observing people instead of actually joining in with the worship. It wasn't of interest to her, mostly because she enjoyed doing her worship in private. There was nothing wrong with that, Skylla just didn't really enjoy being among people.
Especially a bunch of people who were carrying lit torches about. Coming to a stop with the collective group of revelers, Skylla stood toward front of the group, watching the square with feigned interest. Honestly, she was more interested in the fact that there had been talk of two separate festivals on the same night. Ares' festival would have at least put food and wine into her belly, which she seemed to favor much more than holding a torch.
Glancing back, she continued to listen for the sound of Lukos' voice, pleased that he was coming more in her direction than before. Then he was coming into view, waving his torch about in order to get people to part from him. Someone called him a jackass and Skylla actually snorted out loud, having to bite down on her bottom lip to ward away the sharp smirk that settled on her features.
The problem was that he was just a little too far for her to reach as he started in the direction of the square. Using her own torch, she pushed sideways through the crowd in order to meet him before he deposited himself into the square. Close enough to touch, her timing was just right in lifting her own torch to knock against his as he waved it about. Stilling both of them, Skylla tilted her head a little to the side so that she could see Lukos' face.
Her other hand reached forward to press against the center of his abdomen, her fingers taking the liberty of feeling at the ridges of muscle beneath his shirt. "You're being very loud, Captain," Skylla greeted sweetly, taking a step toward him in order to press him back a single step. "I don't think you truly want to become the center of attention," she nodded her head back toward the square. "I hear there's better fun to be had at the temple of Ares," a smile played on her lips and she took another step closer to him, aiming to step him back another step and ignoring the irritated stares of the other revelers.
People liked festivals, sometimes far too much. Finding it as an excuse to imbibe and enjoy it excess, Nike had faint memories of the celebrations back in Taengea as a child. Her home kingdom's people seemed to enjoy celebrations the most, for her childhood memories had flashes of people slumped over their own feed, too intoxicated by their own liquid consumption, or even just sprawled out on the streets unaware that it was already daylight and the night had long gone.
Back then, young Veronike had imagined that she would grow up like that. But now, as a disciplined military trained young lady, she merely had a distaste for anyone who had no control over their alcohol intake. Luckily for her however, it seemed Colchian's observed celebrations in a different manner.
Nike had gotten the chance to observe the celebrations for Hephaestus and Ares for the first time back after the first of her campaigns, when there had been a brief reprieve between her leaving the kingdom to do her duty. The young soldier had been fascinated, but also on guard for her seniors had warned her of how rowdy the priests of Ares could get when the worshippers of the two gods disagree. While it did not fall under her jurisdiction, for the City guards would see to that, she was still wary, and for the day, had slipped her personal dagger in her boot before making her way to the Agora Plateia.
The woman wasn't on duty, for her whole unit had been given some time off after a partciularly gruelling campaign, but that did not mean she wasn't automatically on the edge of her seat. That seemed to be the factory setting for Nike ever since she took it upon herself to become a militant, and as her slender body (well hidden by the loose tunic and leather vest she chose to wear) slipped into the crowds of worshippers starting the festival, her eyes roamed the area watchful as they were. She had not wanted to come, and had instead planned to stay indoors, yet as the strong chants and cries of the Hephaestus worshippers grew longer, her curiosity got the better of her.
She personally did not choose to worship neither Ares nor Hephaestus, although she did thank the latter god for providing her with a strong shortsword and her loyal dagger. Still, Nike's preference was to Athena, for the goddess of War and Wisdom seemed more up her alley. Afterall, Nike could not have survived so long on the battlefield with only pure muscle, something she had very little of if she compared herself to her male enemies, so the woman had mostly relied on wit over brawn. Finding herself in a small corner as she watched the bobbing lit torches of the marchers towards the square of the city where the forge was erected, she could almost feel the ripple of electricity as many also broke from the crowd in hoods, and headed for the temple of Ares, their faces obviously dissatisfied with plans forming in their heads.
Watching the worshippers was proving to be fascinating, if not a little unnerving.
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People liked festivals, sometimes far too much. Finding it as an excuse to imbibe and enjoy it excess, Nike had faint memories of the celebrations back in Taengea as a child. Her home kingdom's people seemed to enjoy celebrations the most, for her childhood memories had flashes of people slumped over their own feed, too intoxicated by their own liquid consumption, or even just sprawled out on the streets unaware that it was already daylight and the night had long gone.
Back then, young Veronike had imagined that she would grow up like that. But now, as a disciplined military trained young lady, she merely had a distaste for anyone who had no control over their alcohol intake. Luckily for her however, it seemed Colchian's observed celebrations in a different manner.
Nike had gotten the chance to observe the celebrations for Hephaestus and Ares for the first time back after the first of her campaigns, when there had been a brief reprieve between her leaving the kingdom to do her duty. The young soldier had been fascinated, but also on guard for her seniors had warned her of how rowdy the priests of Ares could get when the worshippers of the two gods disagree. While it did not fall under her jurisdiction, for the City guards would see to that, she was still wary, and for the day, had slipped her personal dagger in her boot before making her way to the Agora Plateia.
The woman wasn't on duty, for her whole unit had been given some time off after a partciularly gruelling campaign, but that did not mean she wasn't automatically on the edge of her seat. That seemed to be the factory setting for Nike ever since she took it upon herself to become a militant, and as her slender body (well hidden by the loose tunic and leather vest she chose to wear) slipped into the crowds of worshippers starting the festival, her eyes roamed the area watchful as they were. She had not wanted to come, and had instead planned to stay indoors, yet as the strong chants and cries of the Hephaestus worshippers grew longer, her curiosity got the better of her.
She personally did not choose to worship neither Ares nor Hephaestus, although she did thank the latter god for providing her with a strong shortsword and her loyal dagger. Still, Nike's preference was to Athena, for the goddess of War and Wisdom seemed more up her alley. Afterall, Nike could not have survived so long on the battlefield with only pure muscle, something she had very little of if she compared herself to her male enemies, so the woman had mostly relied on wit over brawn. Finding herself in a small corner as she watched the bobbing lit torches of the marchers towards the square of the city where the forge was erected, she could almost feel the ripple of electricity as many also broke from the crowd in hoods, and headed for the temple of Ares, their faces obviously dissatisfied with plans forming in their heads.
Watching the worshippers was proving to be fascinating, if not a little unnerving.
People liked festivals, sometimes far too much. Finding it as an excuse to imbibe and enjoy it excess, Nike had faint memories of the celebrations back in Taengea as a child. Her home kingdom's people seemed to enjoy celebrations the most, for her childhood memories had flashes of people slumped over their own feed, too intoxicated by their own liquid consumption, or even just sprawled out on the streets unaware that it was already daylight and the night had long gone.
Back then, young Veronike had imagined that she would grow up like that. But now, as a disciplined military trained young lady, she merely had a distaste for anyone who had no control over their alcohol intake. Luckily for her however, it seemed Colchian's observed celebrations in a different manner.
Nike had gotten the chance to observe the celebrations for Hephaestus and Ares for the first time back after the first of her campaigns, when there had been a brief reprieve between her leaving the kingdom to do her duty. The young soldier had been fascinated, but also on guard for her seniors had warned her of how rowdy the priests of Ares could get when the worshippers of the two gods disagree. While it did not fall under her jurisdiction, for the City guards would see to that, she was still wary, and for the day, had slipped her personal dagger in her boot before making her way to the Agora Plateia.
The woman wasn't on duty, for her whole unit had been given some time off after a partciularly gruelling campaign, but that did not mean she wasn't automatically on the edge of her seat. That seemed to be the factory setting for Nike ever since she took it upon herself to become a militant, and as her slender body (well hidden by the loose tunic and leather vest she chose to wear) slipped into the crowds of worshippers starting the festival, her eyes roamed the area watchful as they were. She had not wanted to come, and had instead planned to stay indoors, yet as the strong chants and cries of the Hephaestus worshippers grew longer, her curiosity got the better of her.
She personally did not choose to worship neither Ares nor Hephaestus, although she did thank the latter god for providing her with a strong shortsword and her loyal dagger. Still, Nike's preference was to Athena, for the goddess of War and Wisdom seemed more up her alley. Afterall, Nike could not have survived so long on the battlefield with only pure muscle, something she had very little of if she compared herself to her male enemies, so the woman had mostly relied on wit over brawn. Finding herself in a small corner as she watched the bobbing lit torches of the marchers towards the square of the city where the forge was erected, she could almost feel the ripple of electricity as many also broke from the crowd in hoods, and headed for the temple of Ares, their faces obviously dissatisfied with plans forming in their heads.
Watching the worshippers was proving to be fascinating, if not a little unnerving.
Maleos was a devout followed of Ares, he attended every possible festival, celebration or event in his honour, and when he was away and unable to attend, he still made sure to make sacrifices in his name. As a solider, and one that had devoted his whole life to becoming one, Ares was the only choice of God for him. While he still believed in the others, and paid tribute to them when it was appropriate, it was not nearly as often as tribute and prayers were given to Ares.
So of course, Maleos was there, cleaned up and dressed up in his nicest clothes. He had arrived early, helping where ever he was needed, and he planned on devoting his entire day to the celebrations. He wasn’t sure how he felt about potentially disrupting the other celebration being held in the city that day, but he was not one to question the priests of Ares. They knew better than Maleos when it came to appropriately praising Ares, and he was nothing more than a soldier and a follower of the god of war.
He knelt at an altar, the smell of the sacrificed boar roasting wafted through the temple, and voices could be heard as the priests and followers sang praise to Ares and held conversations among themselves. Maleos had broken off from the group for the moment, and instead had chosen to pray to Ares.
His prayers typically consisted of the same things, asking for his hand in guiding him towards the elevation in title that he sought, asking for blessings when it came to battles, and the chance to continue to live and serve the glory of Colchis, and praising the God for everything he had been given so far in his life.
Now with the title of Lieutenant still fresh upon his name, Maleos felt he needed to prove himself even more, to prove he was worthy of the title, and of the even further elevated title of Captain someday. And he knew that he would need Ares on his side to continue down the path of glory and victory that he had tread on so far.
When his prayers finished, he stood once more, turning from the altar, he made his way back to where the crowd of Ares worshippers had gathered. He stood there silently, eyes scanning the crowd and waiting for the feast that was to come before they would march through the streets.
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Maleos was a devout followed of Ares, he attended every possible festival, celebration or event in his honour, and when he was away and unable to attend, he still made sure to make sacrifices in his name. As a solider, and one that had devoted his whole life to becoming one, Ares was the only choice of God for him. While he still believed in the others, and paid tribute to them when it was appropriate, it was not nearly as often as tribute and prayers were given to Ares.
So of course, Maleos was there, cleaned up and dressed up in his nicest clothes. He had arrived early, helping where ever he was needed, and he planned on devoting his entire day to the celebrations. He wasn’t sure how he felt about potentially disrupting the other celebration being held in the city that day, but he was not one to question the priests of Ares. They knew better than Maleos when it came to appropriately praising Ares, and he was nothing more than a soldier and a follower of the god of war.
He knelt at an altar, the smell of the sacrificed boar roasting wafted through the temple, and voices could be heard as the priests and followers sang praise to Ares and held conversations among themselves. Maleos had broken off from the group for the moment, and instead had chosen to pray to Ares.
His prayers typically consisted of the same things, asking for his hand in guiding him towards the elevation in title that he sought, asking for blessings when it came to battles, and the chance to continue to live and serve the glory of Colchis, and praising the God for everything he had been given so far in his life.
Now with the title of Lieutenant still fresh upon his name, Maleos felt he needed to prove himself even more, to prove he was worthy of the title, and of the even further elevated title of Captain someday. And he knew that he would need Ares on his side to continue down the path of glory and victory that he had tread on so far.
When his prayers finished, he stood once more, turning from the altar, he made his way back to where the crowd of Ares worshippers had gathered. He stood there silently, eyes scanning the crowd and waiting for the feast that was to come before they would march through the streets.
Maleos was a devout followed of Ares, he attended every possible festival, celebration or event in his honour, and when he was away and unable to attend, he still made sure to make sacrifices in his name. As a solider, and one that had devoted his whole life to becoming one, Ares was the only choice of God for him. While he still believed in the others, and paid tribute to them when it was appropriate, it was not nearly as often as tribute and prayers were given to Ares.
So of course, Maleos was there, cleaned up and dressed up in his nicest clothes. He had arrived early, helping where ever he was needed, and he planned on devoting his entire day to the celebrations. He wasn’t sure how he felt about potentially disrupting the other celebration being held in the city that day, but he was not one to question the priests of Ares. They knew better than Maleos when it came to appropriately praising Ares, and he was nothing more than a soldier and a follower of the god of war.
He knelt at an altar, the smell of the sacrificed boar roasting wafted through the temple, and voices could be heard as the priests and followers sang praise to Ares and held conversations among themselves. Maleos had broken off from the group for the moment, and instead had chosen to pray to Ares.
His prayers typically consisted of the same things, asking for his hand in guiding him towards the elevation in title that he sought, asking for blessings when it came to battles, and the chance to continue to live and serve the glory of Colchis, and praising the God for everything he had been given so far in his life.
Now with the title of Lieutenant still fresh upon his name, Maleos felt he needed to prove himself even more, to prove he was worthy of the title, and of the even further elevated title of Captain someday. And he knew that he would need Ares on his side to continue down the path of glory and victory that he had tread on so far.
When his prayers finished, he stood once more, turning from the altar, he made his way back to where the crowd of Ares worshippers had gathered. He stood there silently, eyes scanning the crowd and waiting for the feast that was to come before they would march through the streets.
Lukos hadn’t wanted the torch he was using to scatter people like a wolf among lambs, but he liked it now that he had it in his fist. A man stood in his way and he swiped hard, with a “Move,” accompanying the motion, when his torch abruptly clacked against another. The flames combined for a single moment and in the orange light thrown across the side of his face, casting the right side into shadow, Lukos looked sharply into the face of- “Skylla? Fuck you,” he laughed, lowering his torch in order to get it out from under hers and away from their clothes. The last thing they needed was to be two human torches in the midst of a crowd. Colchis would really have the flames of Hephaestus then. Her fingers pressed against his stomach and he pulled it in just a little bit, glancing down. It was evident what she was after and he wouldn’t say no.
"You're being very loud, Captain," she said and Lukos arched a dark brow at her. Her hand pressed harder into him as she stepped forward and he allowed her to make him take a step back, though he wasn’t sure why she was doing it.
“The action is that way,” he gestured with his torch toward the forges. There, in the center of the square, he could see the shadows of the blacksmiths, hammers rising up and down, being flung across the crowds. The air stank of molten metal but he was growing used to the clogging feeling of it in the back of his throat. He looked down into Skylla’s face and planted his feet down so that they weren’t moving anywhere without his say so. He’d let her be bossy to a point, but they’d reached his limit.
"I don't think you truly want to become the center of attention,” she said, indicating the square behind her. She took another step closer, and he sensed she wanted him to back up again, but he braced himself so that her body came into contact with his, but he remained immobile. Skylla didn’t seem overly concerned and went on "I hear there's better fun to be had at the temple of Ares.”
“Fun and Ares don’t usually go in the same sentence,” Lukos remarked, but glanced at the forges. He did not care at all about them. Nor did he really give two flips about the Ares festival either. Lukos wasn’t exactly devout to any one god. The one he prayed to most was Poseidon, but that was due to the fact that Lukos wanted to keep in the god’s good graces. The Aegean was his primary location and keeping on the sea god’s good side was paramount.
“Fine,” he said. “We’ll go to your Ares festival.” Lukos didn’t slip an arm about her waist like he might have if there was more room. Instead, he took her by the hand and began waving his torch again to scatter people. “Out. Of. My. Way,” he sang in a deep, entirely-too-gleeful tone as they made their way through the streets. It took some doing, and losing hold of Skylla more than once, but they finally reached the entrance to the Hall of the Gods. Inside, worshipers of Ares stood waiting for a feast. The scent of roasted boar filled the air and Lukos breathed it in, smirking.
“Look at that,” he said to Skylla, pulling her up beside him so that he could hook an arm around her neck. “You do have good ideas, sometimes.” his insult was meant to be a tease but he wasn’t bothered if she took it wrong.
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Lukos hadn’t wanted the torch he was using to scatter people like a wolf among lambs, but he liked it now that he had it in his fist. A man stood in his way and he swiped hard, with a “Move,” accompanying the motion, when his torch abruptly clacked against another. The flames combined for a single moment and in the orange light thrown across the side of his face, casting the right side into shadow, Lukos looked sharply into the face of- “Skylla? Fuck you,” he laughed, lowering his torch in order to get it out from under hers and away from their clothes. The last thing they needed was to be two human torches in the midst of a crowd. Colchis would really have the flames of Hephaestus then. Her fingers pressed against his stomach and he pulled it in just a little bit, glancing down. It was evident what she was after and he wouldn’t say no.
"You're being very loud, Captain," she said and Lukos arched a dark brow at her. Her hand pressed harder into him as she stepped forward and he allowed her to make him take a step back, though he wasn’t sure why she was doing it.
“The action is that way,” he gestured with his torch toward the forges. There, in the center of the square, he could see the shadows of the blacksmiths, hammers rising up and down, being flung across the crowds. The air stank of molten metal but he was growing used to the clogging feeling of it in the back of his throat. He looked down into Skylla’s face and planted his feet down so that they weren’t moving anywhere without his say so. He’d let her be bossy to a point, but they’d reached his limit.
"I don't think you truly want to become the center of attention,” she said, indicating the square behind her. She took another step closer, and he sensed she wanted him to back up again, but he braced himself so that her body came into contact with his, but he remained immobile. Skylla didn’t seem overly concerned and went on "I hear there's better fun to be had at the temple of Ares.”
“Fun and Ares don’t usually go in the same sentence,” Lukos remarked, but glanced at the forges. He did not care at all about them. Nor did he really give two flips about the Ares festival either. Lukos wasn’t exactly devout to any one god. The one he prayed to most was Poseidon, but that was due to the fact that Lukos wanted to keep in the god’s good graces. The Aegean was his primary location and keeping on the sea god’s good side was paramount.
“Fine,” he said. “We’ll go to your Ares festival.” Lukos didn’t slip an arm about her waist like he might have if there was more room. Instead, he took her by the hand and began waving his torch again to scatter people. “Out. Of. My. Way,” he sang in a deep, entirely-too-gleeful tone as they made their way through the streets. It took some doing, and losing hold of Skylla more than once, but they finally reached the entrance to the Hall of the Gods. Inside, worshipers of Ares stood waiting for a feast. The scent of roasted boar filled the air and Lukos breathed it in, smirking.
“Look at that,” he said to Skylla, pulling her up beside him so that he could hook an arm around her neck. “You do have good ideas, sometimes.” his insult was meant to be a tease but he wasn’t bothered if she took it wrong.
Lukos hadn’t wanted the torch he was using to scatter people like a wolf among lambs, but he liked it now that he had it in his fist. A man stood in his way and he swiped hard, with a “Move,” accompanying the motion, when his torch abruptly clacked against another. The flames combined for a single moment and in the orange light thrown across the side of his face, casting the right side into shadow, Lukos looked sharply into the face of- “Skylla? Fuck you,” he laughed, lowering his torch in order to get it out from under hers and away from their clothes. The last thing they needed was to be two human torches in the midst of a crowd. Colchis would really have the flames of Hephaestus then. Her fingers pressed against his stomach and he pulled it in just a little bit, glancing down. It was evident what she was after and he wouldn’t say no.
"You're being very loud, Captain," she said and Lukos arched a dark brow at her. Her hand pressed harder into him as she stepped forward and he allowed her to make him take a step back, though he wasn’t sure why she was doing it.
“The action is that way,” he gestured with his torch toward the forges. There, in the center of the square, he could see the shadows of the blacksmiths, hammers rising up and down, being flung across the crowds. The air stank of molten metal but he was growing used to the clogging feeling of it in the back of his throat. He looked down into Skylla’s face and planted his feet down so that they weren’t moving anywhere without his say so. He’d let her be bossy to a point, but they’d reached his limit.
"I don't think you truly want to become the center of attention,” she said, indicating the square behind her. She took another step closer, and he sensed she wanted him to back up again, but he braced himself so that her body came into contact with his, but he remained immobile. Skylla didn’t seem overly concerned and went on "I hear there's better fun to be had at the temple of Ares.”
“Fun and Ares don’t usually go in the same sentence,” Lukos remarked, but glanced at the forges. He did not care at all about them. Nor did he really give two flips about the Ares festival either. Lukos wasn’t exactly devout to any one god. The one he prayed to most was Poseidon, but that was due to the fact that Lukos wanted to keep in the god’s good graces. The Aegean was his primary location and keeping on the sea god’s good side was paramount.
“Fine,” he said. “We’ll go to your Ares festival.” Lukos didn’t slip an arm about her waist like he might have if there was more room. Instead, he took her by the hand and began waving his torch again to scatter people. “Out. Of. My. Way,” he sang in a deep, entirely-too-gleeful tone as they made their way through the streets. It took some doing, and losing hold of Skylla more than once, but they finally reached the entrance to the Hall of the Gods. Inside, worshipers of Ares stood waiting for a feast. The scent of roasted boar filled the air and Lukos breathed it in, smirking.
“Look at that,” he said to Skylla, pulling her up beside him so that he could hook an arm around her neck. “You do have good ideas, sometimes.” his insult was meant to be a tease but he wasn’t bothered if she took it wrong.
It was almost time next year Maximus will join the Fifth Phalanx and continue the family tradition of being great warriors. Maximus was excited at the prospect of joining Colchis' long history of great warriors. The 17 year old had been training non-stop since he was six years old for this moment. Not many recruitys would say that they've had the knowledge of the Phalanx, military tactics and harsh training that Maximus had. He came from a family of warriors and they lived to serve Colchis.
There was a cold feeling in Maximus' heart as though he swallowed a bag full of cold water. There was always that lingering doubt within him that what if he fails or what if he loses it on the battlefield dishonoring his family? Those were questions that plagued him the closer he was at recruitment. "Don't focus on the future," Maximus father would tell him. "Focus on the here and now where it belongs."
Maximus breathed deeply mentally trying to repel the bad thoughts that were in his head. The doubts will do nothing but stymie him in a promising career as a soldier what matters now is the celebration of the Greek God he worshipped: Ares. He wasn't even halfway there and Maximus can already smell the Boar roasting by the Ares' priests. It was a shame that Maximus arrived too late, It would be lovely to witness the priests sacrifice the animal to the God of War.
Of course Maximus was walking through another celebration of a God: Hephaestus. A lot of singing and dancing was done in honor of him the God of smithing and crafstmenship. Though Maximus prefers Ares he understood the uses that Herphastus provides. The young man hurried to Ares so he can pray for his blessing. If anything, Maximus really needed it for what is to come.
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It was almost time next year Maximus will join the Fifth Phalanx and continue the family tradition of being great warriors. Maximus was excited at the prospect of joining Colchis' long history of great warriors. The 17 year old had been training non-stop since he was six years old for this moment. Not many recruitys would say that they've had the knowledge of the Phalanx, military tactics and harsh training that Maximus had. He came from a family of warriors and they lived to serve Colchis.
There was a cold feeling in Maximus' heart as though he swallowed a bag full of cold water. There was always that lingering doubt within him that what if he fails or what if he loses it on the battlefield dishonoring his family? Those were questions that plagued him the closer he was at recruitment. "Don't focus on the future," Maximus father would tell him. "Focus on the here and now where it belongs."
Maximus breathed deeply mentally trying to repel the bad thoughts that were in his head. The doubts will do nothing but stymie him in a promising career as a soldier what matters now is the celebration of the Greek God he worshipped: Ares. He wasn't even halfway there and Maximus can already smell the Boar roasting by the Ares' priests. It was a shame that Maximus arrived too late, It would be lovely to witness the priests sacrifice the animal to the God of War.
Of course Maximus was walking through another celebration of a God: Hephaestus. A lot of singing and dancing was done in honor of him the God of smithing and crafstmenship. Though Maximus prefers Ares he understood the uses that Herphastus provides. The young man hurried to Ares so he can pray for his blessing. If anything, Maximus really needed it for what is to come.
It was almost time next year Maximus will join the Fifth Phalanx and continue the family tradition of being great warriors. Maximus was excited at the prospect of joining Colchis' long history of great warriors. The 17 year old had been training non-stop since he was six years old for this moment. Not many recruitys would say that they've had the knowledge of the Phalanx, military tactics and harsh training that Maximus had. He came from a family of warriors and they lived to serve Colchis.
There was a cold feeling in Maximus' heart as though he swallowed a bag full of cold water. There was always that lingering doubt within him that what if he fails or what if he loses it on the battlefield dishonoring his family? Those were questions that plagued him the closer he was at recruitment. "Don't focus on the future," Maximus father would tell him. "Focus on the here and now where it belongs."
Maximus breathed deeply mentally trying to repel the bad thoughts that were in his head. The doubts will do nothing but stymie him in a promising career as a soldier what matters now is the celebration of the Greek God he worshipped: Ares. He wasn't even halfway there and Maximus can already smell the Boar roasting by the Ares' priests. It was a shame that Maximus arrived too late, It would be lovely to witness the priests sacrifice the animal to the God of War.
Of course Maximus was walking through another celebration of a God: Hephaestus. A lot of singing and dancing was done in honor of him the God of smithing and crafstmenship. Though Maximus prefers Ares he understood the uses that Herphastus provides. The young man hurried to Ares so he can pray for his blessing. If anything, Maximus really needed it for what is to come.
The festivities were well underway by the time Kalypso had arrived on the scene. The young teen found herself gazing at the torches with amusement. Her mother had excused her, insisting that she had another client to deal with, a private affair. One that Kalypso would be trained in soon enough. She wasn't blind to her mother's work, but it had brought food on the table, a luscious home in the upper levels of Midas, so of course, she couldn't complain. -Go and light the torches for me, or better yet, go to the festivities for Ares.-
Still, Kalypso found herself unable to decide. To be surrounded by the pounding noise of metal against metal as a hammer was shaped for Hephaestus, or to partake in sacrifice for Ares. An issue that Aphrodite herself never faced, for despite being wed to Hephaestus, that didn't stop her from finding herself in Ares' arms. Yes, Kalypso enjoyed the tales of her patron goddess, one who knew how to use her wiles and charms just so. She only dreamed that one day she would do the same. Already, she knew that she had developed quite nicely as puberty has some of its small mercies, despite the struggles it wrought.
As fingertips curled around the ignited torch she held, she watched an utter madman wave his torch to part the crowd. Unable to stop the giggle that escaped her lips at the man's antics, she found herself still lost in her silent musing. Hephaestus or Ares, the creative God or the war God. Honestly, she thought the priests made the decision hard for the common man to decide between, and eventually she found herself shoved in the general direction of the masses that had decided to pay their respects to the more fit God.
Don't get me wrong, I do admire the creation of Pandora and the madness that resulted, I much prefer a god that isn't lame. Vain thoughts, but Kalypso prided herself on her youthful appearance, the fact that she was in relatively good health, and a willful spirit. All things the God Hephaestus did not have.
Fully intent on following the two that had caused her great amusement, the teen slipped through the crowd, torch lighting up her mischievous expression as she sought to see whether or not this festival for Ares would be worth the trip. Either way, she didn't have to be back until dawn. That was when her mother's customer would be gone, and even if she had respect for her mother's profession, that didn't mean she wanted to watch.
Slipping inside the Hall of Gods was a simple enough task, as she joined the throng that was already there. Already, she heard the priests start their prayers of devotion to the God of War, one of Aphrodite's many lovers. A smirk crossed her lips as she found herself admiring the form of one of the statues, hoping one day that she would come across someone who had a fiery will and assets to show for it. A selfish wish, but the young teen was blithely unaware of the consequences that she may have wrought for discarding one God over another. At least she would enjoy the taste of boar. And maybe get something else out of this adventure as well.
At the very least, the madman that waved his torch to part the crowd was here, and somehow she felt the man would provide more amusement throughout the night. However, he seemed otherwise occupied. So, instead her gaze fell upon another man that kneeled at the altar, saying prayers that were probably more responsible than her own selfish ones. Yet what could she say, she was one of the misguided youth, vain and selfish even at this age. While both would do her well in her future career, they would not help her become otherwise attached.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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The festivities were well underway by the time Kalypso had arrived on the scene. The young teen found herself gazing at the torches with amusement. Her mother had excused her, insisting that she had another client to deal with, a private affair. One that Kalypso would be trained in soon enough. She wasn't blind to her mother's work, but it had brought food on the table, a luscious home in the upper levels of Midas, so of course, she couldn't complain. -Go and light the torches for me, or better yet, go to the festivities for Ares.-
Still, Kalypso found herself unable to decide. To be surrounded by the pounding noise of metal against metal as a hammer was shaped for Hephaestus, or to partake in sacrifice for Ares. An issue that Aphrodite herself never faced, for despite being wed to Hephaestus, that didn't stop her from finding herself in Ares' arms. Yes, Kalypso enjoyed the tales of her patron goddess, one who knew how to use her wiles and charms just so. She only dreamed that one day she would do the same. Already, she knew that she had developed quite nicely as puberty has some of its small mercies, despite the struggles it wrought.
As fingertips curled around the ignited torch she held, she watched an utter madman wave his torch to part the crowd. Unable to stop the giggle that escaped her lips at the man's antics, she found herself still lost in her silent musing. Hephaestus or Ares, the creative God or the war God. Honestly, she thought the priests made the decision hard for the common man to decide between, and eventually she found herself shoved in the general direction of the masses that had decided to pay their respects to the more fit God.
Don't get me wrong, I do admire the creation of Pandora and the madness that resulted, I much prefer a god that isn't lame. Vain thoughts, but Kalypso prided herself on her youthful appearance, the fact that she was in relatively good health, and a willful spirit. All things the God Hephaestus did not have.
Fully intent on following the two that had caused her great amusement, the teen slipped through the crowd, torch lighting up her mischievous expression as she sought to see whether or not this festival for Ares would be worth the trip. Either way, she didn't have to be back until dawn. That was when her mother's customer would be gone, and even if she had respect for her mother's profession, that didn't mean she wanted to watch.
Slipping inside the Hall of Gods was a simple enough task, as she joined the throng that was already there. Already, she heard the priests start their prayers of devotion to the God of War, one of Aphrodite's many lovers. A smirk crossed her lips as she found herself admiring the form of one of the statues, hoping one day that she would come across someone who had a fiery will and assets to show for it. A selfish wish, but the young teen was blithely unaware of the consequences that she may have wrought for discarding one God over another. At least she would enjoy the taste of boar. And maybe get something else out of this adventure as well.
At the very least, the madman that waved his torch to part the crowd was here, and somehow she felt the man would provide more amusement throughout the night. However, he seemed otherwise occupied. So, instead her gaze fell upon another man that kneeled at the altar, saying prayers that were probably more responsible than her own selfish ones. Yet what could she say, she was one of the misguided youth, vain and selfish even at this age. While both would do her well in her future career, they would not help her become otherwise attached.
The festivities were well underway by the time Kalypso had arrived on the scene. The young teen found herself gazing at the torches with amusement. Her mother had excused her, insisting that she had another client to deal with, a private affair. One that Kalypso would be trained in soon enough. She wasn't blind to her mother's work, but it had brought food on the table, a luscious home in the upper levels of Midas, so of course, she couldn't complain. -Go and light the torches for me, or better yet, go to the festivities for Ares.-
Still, Kalypso found herself unable to decide. To be surrounded by the pounding noise of metal against metal as a hammer was shaped for Hephaestus, or to partake in sacrifice for Ares. An issue that Aphrodite herself never faced, for despite being wed to Hephaestus, that didn't stop her from finding herself in Ares' arms. Yes, Kalypso enjoyed the tales of her patron goddess, one who knew how to use her wiles and charms just so. She only dreamed that one day she would do the same. Already, she knew that she had developed quite nicely as puberty has some of its small mercies, despite the struggles it wrought.
As fingertips curled around the ignited torch she held, she watched an utter madman wave his torch to part the crowd. Unable to stop the giggle that escaped her lips at the man's antics, she found herself still lost in her silent musing. Hephaestus or Ares, the creative God or the war God. Honestly, she thought the priests made the decision hard for the common man to decide between, and eventually she found herself shoved in the general direction of the masses that had decided to pay their respects to the more fit God.
Don't get me wrong, I do admire the creation of Pandora and the madness that resulted, I much prefer a god that isn't lame. Vain thoughts, but Kalypso prided herself on her youthful appearance, the fact that she was in relatively good health, and a willful spirit. All things the God Hephaestus did not have.
Fully intent on following the two that had caused her great amusement, the teen slipped through the crowd, torch lighting up her mischievous expression as she sought to see whether or not this festival for Ares would be worth the trip. Either way, she didn't have to be back until dawn. That was when her mother's customer would be gone, and even if she had respect for her mother's profession, that didn't mean she wanted to watch.
Slipping inside the Hall of Gods was a simple enough task, as she joined the throng that was already there. Already, she heard the priests start their prayers of devotion to the God of War, one of Aphrodite's many lovers. A smirk crossed her lips as she found herself admiring the form of one of the statues, hoping one day that she would come across someone who had a fiery will and assets to show for it. A selfish wish, but the young teen was blithely unaware of the consequences that she may have wrought for discarding one God over another. At least she would enjoy the taste of boar. And maybe get something else out of this adventure as well.
At the very least, the madman that waved his torch to part the crowd was here, and somehow she felt the man would provide more amusement throughout the night. However, he seemed otherwise occupied. So, instead her gaze fell upon another man that kneeled at the altar, saying prayers that were probably more responsible than her own selfish ones. Yet what could she say, she was one of the misguided youth, vain and selfish even at this age. While both would do her well in her future career, they would not help her become otherwise attached.
The young physician was utterly delighted that the Captain seemed to react so well to her. Instead of beating her down like he might have done if he were actually in a bad mood, he started to drag her along with him. Smirking playfully at her old playmate, she ended up passing her own torch off to some random person in the crowd. She had no need of it and Lukos was making great use of his own torch enough for her to be rid of her own. That left her more able to navigate the people, losing Lukos once or twice in the process.
Skylla was very much aware that Ares was not always fun, but she had heart talk of a feast. If it got them food and drink, the physician would be the best little follower of Ares in Greece. There was no question of that. Not to mention, tensions were bound to get out of hand between the two festivals and Skylla could not and would not miss some rowdy action in this boring as hell city.
When they made it to the temple of Ares, Skylla almost purred when Lukos pulled her more toawrd him, laying an arm across her shoulders to keep her close. One of her hands slid along his back and she grinned up at him. The compliment (honestly, she was going to take it as such because the alternative feelings were exactly the same) left a further quirking of her lips. "Contrary to what you believe, I do have a brain," Skylla commented, her hand pressing against his lower back. She started to try and guide them toward the line fo the temple.
"Honestly, food and drink sound so much more fun than watching pyres burn," she pointed out, giving Lukos a side glance. "And I love roast boar," she breathed then, a gleeful little hum escaping her. Her own gaze wandered the people in the line and those already in the temple, wondering how long her temper would last and if she could remain patient until they were given their turn. "Do you have something against Ares, Captain?" Skylla asked suddenly in order to make some sort of conversation that hopefully would not trail back to what their conversations always did.
His very silent, unpronounced frustrations at her having left the island behind years ago. Lukos held grudges and she wasn't going to play into them right at that moment. She wanted to have a bit of fun before they devolved into heathens.
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The young physician was utterly delighted that the Captain seemed to react so well to her. Instead of beating her down like he might have done if he were actually in a bad mood, he started to drag her along with him. Smirking playfully at her old playmate, she ended up passing her own torch off to some random person in the crowd. She had no need of it and Lukos was making great use of his own torch enough for her to be rid of her own. That left her more able to navigate the people, losing Lukos once or twice in the process.
Skylla was very much aware that Ares was not always fun, but she had heart talk of a feast. If it got them food and drink, the physician would be the best little follower of Ares in Greece. There was no question of that. Not to mention, tensions were bound to get out of hand between the two festivals and Skylla could not and would not miss some rowdy action in this boring as hell city.
When they made it to the temple of Ares, Skylla almost purred when Lukos pulled her more toawrd him, laying an arm across her shoulders to keep her close. One of her hands slid along his back and she grinned up at him. The compliment (honestly, she was going to take it as such because the alternative feelings were exactly the same) left a further quirking of her lips. "Contrary to what you believe, I do have a brain," Skylla commented, her hand pressing against his lower back. She started to try and guide them toward the line fo the temple.
"Honestly, food and drink sound so much more fun than watching pyres burn," she pointed out, giving Lukos a side glance. "And I love roast boar," she breathed then, a gleeful little hum escaping her. Her own gaze wandered the people in the line and those already in the temple, wondering how long her temper would last and if she could remain patient until they were given their turn. "Do you have something against Ares, Captain?" Skylla asked suddenly in order to make some sort of conversation that hopefully would not trail back to what their conversations always did.
His very silent, unpronounced frustrations at her having left the island behind years ago. Lukos held grudges and she wasn't going to play into them right at that moment. She wanted to have a bit of fun before they devolved into heathens.
The young physician was utterly delighted that the Captain seemed to react so well to her. Instead of beating her down like he might have done if he were actually in a bad mood, he started to drag her along with him. Smirking playfully at her old playmate, she ended up passing her own torch off to some random person in the crowd. She had no need of it and Lukos was making great use of his own torch enough for her to be rid of her own. That left her more able to navigate the people, losing Lukos once or twice in the process.
Skylla was very much aware that Ares was not always fun, but she had heart talk of a feast. If it got them food and drink, the physician would be the best little follower of Ares in Greece. There was no question of that. Not to mention, tensions were bound to get out of hand between the two festivals and Skylla could not and would not miss some rowdy action in this boring as hell city.
When they made it to the temple of Ares, Skylla almost purred when Lukos pulled her more toawrd him, laying an arm across her shoulders to keep her close. One of her hands slid along his back and she grinned up at him. The compliment (honestly, she was going to take it as such because the alternative feelings were exactly the same) left a further quirking of her lips. "Contrary to what you believe, I do have a brain," Skylla commented, her hand pressing against his lower back. She started to try and guide them toward the line fo the temple.
"Honestly, food and drink sound so much more fun than watching pyres burn," she pointed out, giving Lukos a side glance. "And I love roast boar," she breathed then, a gleeful little hum escaping her. Her own gaze wandered the people in the line and those already in the temple, wondering how long her temper would last and if she could remain patient until they were given their turn. "Do you have something against Ares, Captain?" Skylla asked suddenly in order to make some sort of conversation that hopefully would not trail back to what their conversations always did.
His very silent, unpronounced frustrations at her having left the island behind years ago. Lukos held grudges and she wasn't going to play into them right at that moment. She wanted to have a bit of fun before they devolved into heathens.
"Contrary to what you believe, I do have a brain," Skylla put her hand on his lower back and he let her push him towards the line of people waiting for food. He rolled his eyes at her and stood behind some dark haired man who had hair as curly as his own. Skylla always liked to point out her good qualities to him, which he usually ignored. He would decide if she had any or not, and most often, there was only one quality of hers he was interested in. Because Lukos sure as shit wasn’t going to sit there and politely listen as she rambled on about medicine or whatever else she liked to discuss with people who gave half a damn.
"Honestly, food and drink sound so much more fun than watching pyres burn," Skylla said as they waited in line. Lukos glanced behind them at a girl who couldn’t have been more than fourteen or fifteen, if his guess was right. Too young to be of any true interest, he turned back around and looked Skylla.
“I like pyres,” he shrugged. “But I like food more.”
Skylla sniffed audibly, reminding him of a rabbit scenting the morning air with her adorably small nose. "And I love roast boar," she hummed in excitement. The line was long and time crawled by. Eventually Lukos dropped his arm from around her shoulders and crossed them over his chest. He stood on tiptoe, muttering under his breath, nearly knocking into the man in front of them but not quite. Definitely in the man’s space, though. "Do you have something against Ares, Captain?"
Lukos quirked his brows at her. “Huh? Nothing except that his priests are shit at people managing. Look at this fucking line.” He’d looked back at one of the priests while he spoke as the man neared them. The priest glared in his direction, giving him a rude gesture, which Lukos returned with an ugly face. Once the priest passed out of sight, Lukos’s features relaxed and he arched a brow at Skylla. “That’s a random question. Do you?”
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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"Contrary to what you believe, I do have a brain," Skylla put her hand on his lower back and he let her push him towards the line of people waiting for food. He rolled his eyes at her and stood behind some dark haired man who had hair as curly as his own. Skylla always liked to point out her good qualities to him, which he usually ignored. He would decide if she had any or not, and most often, there was only one quality of hers he was interested in. Because Lukos sure as shit wasn’t going to sit there and politely listen as she rambled on about medicine or whatever else she liked to discuss with people who gave half a damn.
"Honestly, food and drink sound so much more fun than watching pyres burn," Skylla said as they waited in line. Lukos glanced behind them at a girl who couldn’t have been more than fourteen or fifteen, if his guess was right. Too young to be of any true interest, he turned back around and looked Skylla.
“I like pyres,” he shrugged. “But I like food more.”
Skylla sniffed audibly, reminding him of a rabbit scenting the morning air with her adorably small nose. "And I love roast boar," she hummed in excitement. The line was long and time crawled by. Eventually Lukos dropped his arm from around her shoulders and crossed them over his chest. He stood on tiptoe, muttering under his breath, nearly knocking into the man in front of them but not quite. Definitely in the man’s space, though. "Do you have something against Ares, Captain?"
Lukos quirked his brows at her. “Huh? Nothing except that his priests are shit at people managing. Look at this fucking line.” He’d looked back at one of the priests while he spoke as the man neared them. The priest glared in his direction, giving him a rude gesture, which Lukos returned with an ugly face. Once the priest passed out of sight, Lukos’s features relaxed and he arched a brow at Skylla. “That’s a random question. Do you?”
"Contrary to what you believe, I do have a brain," Skylla put her hand on his lower back and he let her push him towards the line of people waiting for food. He rolled his eyes at her and stood behind some dark haired man who had hair as curly as his own. Skylla always liked to point out her good qualities to him, which he usually ignored. He would decide if she had any or not, and most often, there was only one quality of hers he was interested in. Because Lukos sure as shit wasn’t going to sit there and politely listen as she rambled on about medicine or whatever else she liked to discuss with people who gave half a damn.
"Honestly, food and drink sound so much more fun than watching pyres burn," Skylla said as they waited in line. Lukos glanced behind them at a girl who couldn’t have been more than fourteen or fifteen, if his guess was right. Too young to be of any true interest, he turned back around and looked Skylla.
“I like pyres,” he shrugged. “But I like food more.”
Skylla sniffed audibly, reminding him of a rabbit scenting the morning air with her adorably small nose. "And I love roast boar," she hummed in excitement. The line was long and time crawled by. Eventually Lukos dropped his arm from around her shoulders and crossed them over his chest. He stood on tiptoe, muttering under his breath, nearly knocking into the man in front of them but not quite. Definitely in the man’s space, though. "Do you have something against Ares, Captain?"
Lukos quirked his brows at her. “Huh? Nothing except that his priests are shit at people managing. Look at this fucking line.” He’d looked back at one of the priests while he spoke as the man neared them. The priest glared in his direction, giving him a rude gesture, which Lukos returned with an ugly face. Once the priest passed out of sight, Lukos’s features relaxed and he arched a brow at Skylla. “That’s a random question. Do you?”